which-qsmp-egg-would

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

How it feels to write them, honestly

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

GLASS BRACELETS

Chapter 1

Next

---

Tequilla's memories are like a mirror. But its been broken and scattered around this massive nook of an island far from Poll's own. It feels like the two of them should be able to repair the whole thing and get his memories back – they've found several shards already – but it's like they never have enough pieces to get a good look at the full picture.

Poll has done their best to help him remember though! They sit down every morning and try to figure out which of his dreams might have been memories, and they visit the mystery house all the time, just like they are right now.

Poll sits on the cold wood floor of an orange, dust filled bedroom in front of a short oak bookcase, sifting through its contents for any kind of clue. They aren't exactly sure what they and their brother are really searching for. Notes? Maps? Maybe something to help him find his moms and dad…

Poll's tail lashes. They shake their head, ignoring the stray thought. “Found anythin’ yet, TQ?” 

Tequilla hums a no from the other side of his old bedroom, sat in a chair a bit too small for him at a table too short, hunched over the papers he sifts around in his claws.

“mm, me neither.” Poll sets another book onto the stack next to them where they sit on the wooden floor. “Other than y'havin’ a lot of Magic Treehouse books. Don't know how you read them all.”

“Yyou read slow.” Tequilla reminds them.

Poll huffs, cracking open another dusty book as Tequilla continues to rifle through the room that used to be his own. It became a much easier task once they cleaned up the signs strewn across it. Although Tequilla was adamant about not destroying them, so they ended up piled on top of the bed instead.

“Maybe this i-is something?” Poll looks up at their brother, eyes drifting to the paper held in his hand. It's a child's drawing just like the rest of them. Although its a lot more scribbly than the others. There's an egg drawn in orange crayon with a frowny face - probably TQ - and a large white figure with a big smile and mustache. Surrounding the figure are black scribbles. Poll squints at the drawing. 

“...Nah, looks like some of th’ others we've found.” Poll waves away the drawing. There's plenty of drawings of the funny bear guy from summer camp strewn around amongst the doodles of parents holding hands and houses, but none of them have sparked anything.

TQ whines, a loud frustrated noise, dragging the drawing back into the pile.

Poll tugs on their claws, reaching a wing towards TQ. “Trade?” They offer. Tequilla nods his head and stretches out his wing too, touching gently. Poll stands, shaking itself out like a dog. They tilt their head at him, opening their wings like a second set of arms. “Hug?” Their brother nods, tucking his wings and tail tightly against his body, relaxing as he feels Poll's scales slide across his clothes, enveloped by warm darkness and the tight squeeze of its arms. “Do you need a break, bubba?”

He shakes his head. “N-nneed answers.”

Poll rumbles soothingly, carding through TQ's hair. “We gotta keep lookin’. We'll find it.”

“May-be it's in th-the underwater cave. T-the one t-that…” He trails off.

“The one that th’ octopus mom lived in?”

“Mmhm. Maybe t-that has ssome clues.” Tequilla mumbles.

Poll pokes the back of his head. “Nuh uh. We tried that an’ it didn’ end well.” That's kind of an understatement, but Poll knows it's kind of a touchy subject right now. They tried to swim down and investigate the cave weeks ago. Tequilla started to panic a couple feet down and papa had to pull him out of the water. He said he had a pounding headache after so they decided to not push it any further. The look of terror on its brother's face is burned into it's memory though. They feel bad for grabbing his tail.

Tequilla sniffles. “Wwhat if I-I do-n’t find aanything-ing?”

“This house is so big, I'm sure we'll find somethin’. If not, I'll help jog your memory.” Poll assures him.

“...Like the cart-oons?”

“Like the cartoons.”

Tequilla buries his face further into Poll's chest, finally reaching his arms around to squeeze Poll just as tightly. “Promise?”

“Promise. Let's have papa take us home now.”

“Okay…”

—

Tequilla flops onto the couch face first, growling muffled against the fabric.

Poll climbs onto the couch too, shuffling to sit directly on top of their brother's prone back. 

“You gonna make it, TQ?” Poll sticks their claws into his hair, scratching lightly. 

He grumbles, swatting at Poll with his tail.

“C'mon bubba, let's play a game, I'm sure that'll cheer you up.”

“No.”

“C’moooon jus’ one game, I'll even let you pick what we play.” Poll bribes.

Tequilla stays silent for a moment. Then sighs. “hhide n’ seek?”

Poll beams, scrambling off their brother to stand and cover their eyes. “Okay you hide first!”

“One, two, three, four, five…”

—

“Ready r'not, here I come!” Poll uncovers their eyes immediately glancing towards the more common hiding spots in the house. Behind the couch… under the coffee table… behind the door… nope. Tequilla is nowhere to be found. They sneak out of the living room, wings flared for balance as they tiptoe into the kitchen. He's not in the pantry, or the fridge. (Papa told them both off for that last time.) Poll glances outside briefly, but doesn't spot the tell-tale dents in the grass that their claws make. They skip back through the house, checking the bathtub, the toys room, laundry baskets, blankets, pillows; no brother to be found.

“Where is he hiding…” Poll mumbles to itself. Have they missed a hiding spot? it doubts he would hide in their closet, and there's no way he would hide under their bed since the present is there-

“Oh no,” They hiss, tail still. “Oh no no no no no.” Poll sprints to their shared bedroom, pushing the door open with enough force to make it bounce off the wall.

Tequilla stands next to the bed, holding a small orange wrapped present, brows furrowed.

“Poll? What is t-this?” He holds the present up towards them, gently, as if it were made of glass.

“You weren't supposed t’ find that.” They blurt suddenly, hand coming up to cover their mouth to silence the traitorous noise.

“I w-wasn't ssupposed to…?” Tequilla asks with a look of confusion and concerning bleeding from the exposed side of his face.

“If y'knew I had it, you woulda been so upset with me.”

Tequilla reaches forward for Poll, “Why?”

Poll flinches back. “Because I broke my promise!” They cry. “I told you that I was gonna help you find your memories but I lied an’ didn' tell you about the present n’ I know I should've but I didn' want you to be upset with me-”

“Slow,” Tequilla assures. “Why?” He reiterates.

“Because…” Poll considers lying again. But if lying got them here, then lying even more will just make it worse, right? “Because I got it… I got it from your mom.”

Tequilla looks down at the small present clutched in his claws. The look in his eyes when he meets Poll's makes their chest tight.

Betrayal. Total betrayal.

“Y..you m-met my mmom? Wh-whhich one? When ddid th-this happen? Where was she? Did she mmiss me?”

Poll takes a breath past the lump in their throat. “It was th’ goat one, she said her name was Doll like the toy an’ she was really nice. It was at Christmas, you were asleep an’ I had left my gloves at th’ mystery house, I saw footsteps and… she was at your statue, she had brought a present for you. She missed you a lot.”

Tequilla hugs the present tight against his chest. He shakes, tail twitching as his wings open subconsciously. “Th-then why isn't she here n-now? Why didn't I knnnow she was around until nnnow?” He lowers his head, a single horn presented toward his sibling. “Yyyou lied t-to me.” 

Poll shrinks under his threat display. “I'm sorry,” they whisper, “I just-”

“NO.” Tequilla yells, a sound louder than Poll had ever heard from their brother. “NO. NO NO NNO NO NO!” His wings are fully flared now. “I don't wanna talk to you, I d-don't w-wanna hear it!” He stomps, pulling his messenger bag from the floor and slinging it around his shoulder with a dull thud. 

“Please, Bubba-”

“NO, I'm n-not going to be the brother of a liar! I hate you!” He shoves past Poll, running for the back door.

Poll begs through tears. “Please TQ I don't-”

Tequilla throws the door open; Poll flinches as its hinges rattle from the force. “I'm g-going to find my real fam-ily a-and find my mmmemories on my own. I-I don't need you.”

Their brother sniffles, wiping tears and snot from his face, and turns sharply, dashing for the underbrush of the forest. 

They pursue, begging their brother to come back. They didn't– they didn't MEAN to, they were just so so scared– Poll dodges branches and bushes and vines, crying out, until-

Their foot catches on a root and they plummet to the ground. 

Dazed, they push themself up, watching distantly as blood drips from their muzzle and onto the forest floor below. The orange blur of their brother gets farther and farther away.

Poll sobs. Big, ugly, gasping things as that orange blur becomes one with the dark green around it. It curls into itself, wings wrapped like a shield around it.

The smell of thunderstorms and grass and salt fill the air, barely detectable under the overwhelming smell of blood in their nose. A cold hand brushes against their wing. Their papa stands over them, body reflecting a dark thunderstorm over snow covered mountains, projecting concern to its ward. Poll cries harder, reaching up to its papa. Stardust lifts the dragonling into its many arms.

“I messed up, papa.” Poll croaks.

“I messed up so bad.”

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Hey have I talked about the 4 Ghosts AU before

this au has lived rent free in my head since I came up with the recycling lore (aka, since like SEPTEMBER LAST YEAR) and I'm probably not gonna make AAAAANY sense.

The premise is that - you know how Tequilla has been recycled only once, in RRR? - Instead of his one canon recycle, hes actually been through this process 4 times (with the final 4th one being partially unsuccessful)

So instead of 4g!TQ having 4 parents, Its one parent per iteration if that makes sense.

So when Tequilla goes through his death and unsuccessful recycling in RRR, he slowly gets his memories back. But it becomes clear that they aren't HIS memories. They're someone elses. Then, the first of the ghosts appear. Eventually he's haunted by 3 of his past lives.

Tequilla's parent was Doll, The green soul's was Aurelia, Red was Belladonna, and Blue was Gin.

the 4th ghost, the last to appear and the only one to get reabsorbed into TQ's soul, is, well, TQ. The little piece of himself left behind when he died.

So you may be wondering: How did his past selves appear? WELL IM GLAD YOU ASKED, BECAUSE I THINK ABOUT IT

C O N S T A N T L Y.

So the way that the recycling works is that they reuse the body, the egg itself, and the soul is left untethered. They pass on into Death's arms while the body that used to be theirs is reused. This means that TQ's body used to hold three souls before him. Its their body as much as it is His, in a way.

(Its also important to know that the egg's forms are like. Vessels for their memories if that makes sense. When you remove the memory, the body "resets".)

Normally, thats that. The previous soul moves on while a new, younger one takes their place.

Unleeeeeess you, oh I don't know, fail to reset an egg. Leaving a gap in their now tattered memory/soul that calls out to the souls that used to resonate with it.

tldr, his death and revival pulled the souls out of the afterlife and now they're all stuck with this amnesiac kid.

Aaand since that body ALSO used to be theirs, they have a bad habit of like. borrowing it.

Green soul is the only one that is actually halfway decent at pretending to be TQ. Blue and Red on the otherhand, not so much.

I just. have so many thoughts about this au. My sister is telling me to make a coraline au with them as we speak.

I'll probably remember some other stuff after I post this lol

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Anyone else miss q!bbh with the eggs..?

this clip is probably my favorite transition/edit from my old compilations lol (you can watch this one here)

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Hello everyone! We have a huge announcement for you!

Poll found a sibling! Everyone welcome to the family, Poll's brother, Tequilla!

Tequilla (full name Tequilla Ibuprofen) was, for whatever reason, living in the woods near Poll's home. He gave them quite a fright! He's pretty anxious right now, and doesn't talk beyond one word mumbles yet, but he'll probably warm up soon.

(ask questions please please please please please pl-)

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

I just realised that I can just write out a drabble of a scene I've been imagining between Poll and Tequilla. I don't just have to draw them.

hm.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Tequilla's first adventure!

"Are you ready for your first trip, TQ?"

Tequilla grips his messenger bag and nods, bouncing on his heels out of excitement.

Their sibling flaps their hands excitedly. "Okay, just remember th' rules: no wanderin' off without tellin' Papa, no dangerous activities, and remember to hold on tightly to Papa's tail while we travel. Oh, and you're probably gonna feel dizzy while we travel. I'm experienced so I won't get sick!" Poll exclaims proudly. They've been discussing this trip with Stardust for a while now, wanting Tequilla to finally get to experience a "Star Trip" as Poll puts it.

Poll ensures their flower crown is on snuggly, then tugs on one of Stardust's wings. "We're ready papa!"

Stardust nods and, within a blink, the family is standing in a small forest clearing.

Poll paws at their eyes, fighting off dizziness, while Tequilla shakes their scales from head to tail.

"Weird." He mumbles.

"Mmhm," Poll hums, "but papa picked out a good spot. It says that there's this really pretty flower field nearby, and th' ocean a little ways behind us s'really pretty at this time of year."

Tequilla stares off into the woods, distant.

"...Where...?" He asks.

"Oh, uh.." Poll looks up at papa for a moment, head tilted. "Papa says we're several island down the archipelago, apparently."

Tequilla points at a spot. "Look."

"A... path? What'sa path doin' all the way out here?" Poll questions. They look a little ways past the trees, trailing the path with their eyes. "...D'you wanna investigate? Maybe there's some kind of secret thingy someone's left behind, like treasure!" It bounces on its toes, secondary wings flapping.

Tequilla nods, hesitantly.

Poll squeals happily. "Is that okay with you, Papa?" Stardust stares at Poll, communicating in the way they always have. Poll chirps, "Okay papa! we'll be careful!" It takes it's brother's hand and walks quickly down the path. "So whatdoya think we'll find at the end of this? Shinies?" They gasp. "What if it's a super cool powerup that'll let us fly super duper high like the birds?"

"I hope it's toys." Tequilla whispers.

"Toys would be super cool!" Poll shouts. "Wait wait, I think I can see something, c'mon TQ-" Poll runs ahead, dragging the increasingly excited Tequilla behind them.

They stop short as the structure comes into view.

"Woah." Tequilla mumbles.

"Is that...?"

"A house?"

Tequilla nods.

"D'you think anyone lives there?"

He shakes his head, pointing towards the house. "Vines."

"Yeah, it looks like noone has lived here for a little while. I didn' even know there were people livin' this far out on the archipelago. Where d'you think they've gone?"

Tequilla ponders for a moment, then shrugs.

"The d-door is open." Tequilla points out.

"That sounds like an invitation t' me," Poll grins devilishly, "Let's look around."

"This place looks like noone has been in here in months." Poll observes. "Oh, they have a super cool TV, too! Maybe if th' owners of this place don't mind, we can make this our cool hangout spot. Like a treehouse but cooler!"

"Only i-if I g-get the top fl-floor." Tequilla compromises. Poll pumps their fist then looks up, ears perked.

"There's an upstairs! Let's go look at it." Poll drags Tequilla up the spiral staircase to the first door, sticking their heads out of the frame.

Poll gasps. "It's a pool! It looks kinda nasty though... Oh there's sunbathing towels too!"

"Beach tow-els." Tequilla corrects.

His sibling thwaps him with her tail. "Picky. There's 5 towels, d'you think that that many people lived here? That seems like a lot." Poll looks at each towel. "Aw man, they've got your color but not mine."

Tequilla points at the bundled up blue towel.

"Yeah but 's'not my blue." They whine.

TQ rolls his eyes. "Next door?" He glances up the stairway, tail flicking.

"Yeah, maybe that's where they keep their goodies!" Poll cheers. "Or maybe the bones of the previous owners are up there!" They wiggle their fingers menacingly. Tequilla snorts and ascends the stairs until they meet a short door. It takes some force to open, but eventually the door releases.

Both go silent.

"TQ? Is this...?"

"A Kid's room." Tequilla confirms Poll's suspicions.

"It's so dusty..." Poll reaches for one of the signs. "Like noone's been in here for a very long time." Poll pulls their wings tight against their body. "Maybe they just moved away, right TQ?"

"..."

"..TQ?" Poll repeats in a small voice.

Tequilla's eyes dart around the room.

"I d-don't kn-kn-know." He whispers.

They listen to the silence of the untouched room.

"Do... do you think they were an egg? Like us?" Poll asks. Tequilla traces the circles on his arms. "Who do you think they were? Do.. Do you think that I knew them?"

Tequilla shakes his head and steels his expression, taking on the big brother role. He squeezes Poll's hand and watches as they wipe away their tears.

"L-let's Investigate. Let's fin-d out whoo it is."

Poll sniffles and nods, refusing to let go of it's brother's hand.

They search every inch of the house, through every door. Just above the child's bedroom is a rope bridge leading to a small cliff, atop which a gazebo with a pink bed sat.

Moving back into the main living room, they spot a side door just across from the stairway. On one side is a door to the outside, and on the other is a locked door, through which they can see a purple bed.

Following the door outside, they follow a path to a small lagoon, with little bits of light trailing down into its depths.

They look at every sign they can find, but not a single name is said on them. Only the words "Mom" or "Dad".

They work their way back up to the swimming pool and walk around the deck. Hidden behind the wall an overgrown garden sits with a green nest nestled in the dirt.

Poll and Tequilla sigh, having completely run out of ideas.

"Maybe they really did jus' move away.. But why are the signs still here? Wouldn' they 've taken those?" Poll tugs at their ears.

"Wait." They say, pointing to a suspicious spot. "Look there!"

"'s another path!" Poll hops over the short wall and begins running down the worn path. "Maybe there's somethin' there that can tell us who lived here!" They dissappear behind the stone, leaving Tequilla behind to chase after them.

He fights through the brambles, barely enough to break through his tough scales, and follows the very worn path, until he reaches Poll.

It's covering it's mouth with it's hand, ears pinned back and wings trembling. Tequilla almost asks whats wrong before he follows their gaze towards...

"Tequilla?" Poll asks, in a very small voice. "Do you... do you know what this is?"

His heart pounds in his chest. This can't be right.

Before him is a memorial for a lost egg.

An egg with his name.

"R.I.P. Tequilla Ibuprofen"

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

They finally found something! It was tucked away in the locked room, but with help from Stardust they managed to get in. It confirms that Tequilla used to live here, and that he used to have parents...

Where did they go?

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

The First Memory

-----

Tequilla wakes up slowly in the dim morning light, his sibling still fast asleep next to him. It's laying nearly sideways in their bed, clutching a blue bunny stuffie that has been here far longer than he has. Their leg twitches as they dream. He's been happy, living here for this past month.

Has it really only been a month? He feels like there should have been some kind of celebration for that milestone.

He's been getting those faraway feelings for as long as he can remember. Which, admittedly, is not that long. His earliest memory is waking up in that forest all alone, wander for several days foraging for scraps, running and hiding (where did he learn those skills? Who taught him?). He wonders if his memory has always been bad. Poll told him that she hasn't noticed him forgetting anything lately, so maybe he just bumped his head. That's how it goes in the cartoons. You just bump your head a little and get amnesia, right? Then your friends show you something familiar and every memory comes back all at once.

Maybe they've been doing it wrong or something. The child's drawing, the bedroom, even his own grave haven't stirred any memories. Not even the items he's carried in his bag for weeks have stirred anything. Sometimes he considers getting rid of them, they're junk items anyways, but there's a weird gut feeling that makes him feel icky if he tries.

He wishes he knew what happened to them. He hopes they know he's okay. They seemed to care about him.

He wishes he missed them.

Tequilla paws at his eyes and sniffles. He's got to be the big kid now.

His mind feels fuzzy from sleep, eyes bleary.

From the kitchen, a voice emerges, loud and happy and full of love.

"Tequilla, my little peanut, come get your breakfast!"

Carefully, he slides out of bed. Poll's papa doesn't make breakfast very often, so this must be a special treat. Maybe it's for that celebration? He really feels like a month is cause for celebration.

The click of his claws on the hardwood echos in his mind as he pads down the hallway. The light from the windows startles him temporarily, and he rubs at his eyes to make the feeling go away. "Stardust," he mumbles, "what d-did you make for br-breakfast?"

...

He blinks a few times at what he's seeing.

There's a woman in the kitchen. Her curly brown hair cascades down her face and up into a bun, held up by a ribbon bow. Her face is full and wonderful, with golden eyes and large curling horns adorning her head. Her ears droop like his, but with soft brown fur on the inside and outside. Her outfit is overwhelmingly pink, consisting of a large poofy dress with many layers of tule and puffy short sleeves, frills decorating the ends of the sleeves and collar. Around her waist, nestled under her breast, is a large pink ribbon. Her feet are bare, but her wrists are adorned with large golden bands. She's a fat woman, something she always took pride in. She's only a few inches shorter than Dad.

"M..." Tequilla reaches out towards her, taking a short step forward.

She smiles and laughs, extending her hands out in an offering of a hug. "C'mere baby."

"M-momma!" He sobs, running to her with reckless abandon, burying his face in her plush dress.

She hugs him close and wipes the tears from his eyes. "What's wrong baby? Did you have a nightmare?"

Tequilla nods, leaning into her hand. "Momma I mmissed you s-s-so m-much." He struggles to speak through his sobs.

She tuts, crouching down to his level. He feels like a hatchling again, crying over breaking his marker by accident. "I'm not going anywhere, peanut."

"Wh-where did you go? Why can't I ffind you?" He asks through tears.

She cups his face. "I haven't gone anywhere, baby, I'm right here. That must have been some nightmare you had, huh?"

"I guess." He mumbles. "Where's... Wh-where's..." He trails off.

"C'mon golden boy, I've got your breakfast over here." She pats his shoulders, stands up, and pulls him along behind her.

He looks around the room, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Everything feels tilted in his mind's eye, slightly too bright. Too saturated.

"Momma? Where's... Wh..." His tail wraps around his leg. "Why can't I remmember their n-names? Why can't I r-remember their f-faces? What happened to mme, Momma? Where did I g-go?" He shakes her arm, tugs on her dress, does anything to get her to turn around and look at him.

Finally she turns around, a gentle smile on her lips. Her face is obscured now, like it's been scrubbed away by a sponge and covered over with marker. The bright world around him peels and bleeds away like an old painting, leaving just him and the woman in a dark void.

He hugs her tightly, eyes closed so he doesn't see what used to be her face. She strokes his hair as everything melts away.

Slowly, the world around him returns. He can feel the tears streaming down his face, the cold tile under his claws, the lights of the early morning. He squeezes tighter onto whatever he's holding onto.

What is he holding ont-

Tequilla jolts back, looking up at a concerned Stardust. His eyes catch onto their goatlike horns.

His cheeks burn. "S-s-ss-s-s-" He covers his mouth. "S-sorry, Stardust," he says with a little more concentration. "I d-d-don't know what that was."

It looks at him in the same way it looks at Poll when it communicates.

"S-sorry, I still can't understand you. I'll-I'll go wake up Poll."

Stardust grabs his hand, stopping him in his tracks. It holds his hand between two of it's own. It presses his hand against his heart, and it's own where a human heart would be.

He hasn't figured out how to understand Poll's papa yet, but it's meaning seems clear.

"Th-thankss, D- Stardust."

He walks back to the bedroom, tracing the markings on his arms.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Reduce Reuse Recycle

It is finally time for Tequilla's backstory! This has been a story long in the making. It's nearly as old as him! I have been ITCHING for the chance to share this with all of you so I really hope you enjoy this fic.

PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT THIS FIC CONTAINS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING MATERIAL. For the sake of anyone wishing to go into this with absolutely no spoilers however, I will be putting the content warnings into the ALT text of the following picture. I hope you all enjoy :)

Click on the alt for content warnings!

---

There's something pressing in on him, building pressure in his ears and a burning in his lungs. Light shimmers above him, endlessly drifting farther and farther away and he descends into the darkness below. 

He reaches a hand out to the light. ‘No. This can't be it.’

A hand reaches for him, reaches, brushing against his cold claws.

His burning, panicked lungs force him to breathe, to try and recognize the figure above him. He sees blue, pink, brown, gold. blue, pink, brown, gold. And then…

—

“Momma!”

The little orange dragon giggles as he bounds up to his mom. Sharp claws tug at her large skirt. He woke up bright and early to come visit her gazebo, up on the hill that overlooks their little nook of the island. She glows against the warm tones of the sunrise where she sits on her wooden chair overlooking the ocean. Her pink dress compliments the sky as her curly brown hair compliments his own, framed by her curled horns and long ears.

She laughs with him, lifting him up into her arms. The golden bands on her wrists brush coldly on the underside of his arms. “Hello my little peanut, good morning darling.” She kisses his nose, and he kisses hers in return. “You just keep growing don't you baby? Pretty soon I won't be able to hold you like this anymore.”

Tequilla squirms and giggles as she hoists him onto her lap.

Momma laughs, squishing his face. “You look so much like me these days, peanut.” She pokes his face, intentionally getting a laugh from him. “But who gave you these freckles! Do you have another parent I don't know about? Where is he?” She feigns searching around the area. 

He bats her hands from his face. “M-omma!” he laughs.

“Alright, alright. Tell me peanut, what brings you up here this morning? I can tell by that look in your eye you've got something to tell me.”

“Bea-ch today.” He says, pointing towards the ocean. 

“Oh,” She scratches the back of her neck. “Today is beach day? Are you sure?”

Tequilla nods. “You a-and dad said- said.”

She strokes his hair and sighs. “That's true, we did promise you beach time after the last time.” She draws her communicator from a pocket in her dress and opens it, looking through the list. “Dad and Pipi are still asleep, do you want to wait for them? You know how much your Pipi loves the beach trips.”

Tequilla presses his hand against his mouth and furrows his brows. Dad wouldn't go into the water because of his leg. And Pipi is really protective of him in the water. And he really wants to go right now.

“Now please.” He finally says. His wings readjust as he wiggles.

“Alright,” she sighs, closing her communicator. “Your Mom is awake so let's go get her first, okay? We can grab the beach towels from the pool deck and your clothes too.” She picks Tequilla up again, out of her lap and onto the wooden floor where she can hear his claws click.

He holds onto her dress as they cross the rope bridge that connects her gazebo and the roof of his house. It sways slightly in the wind and movement of their bodies. His tail flicks and vibrates excitedly.

They descend the stairs, past Tequilla's bedroom, and onto the deck of the second floor. He scoops up his and his Momma's beach towels from by the pool as she walks around the corner and up to the large garden plot where his Mom sleeps. There are large lumps of dirt where she likes to fall asleep, amongst stones and small plants beginning to sprout.

She knocks on the wooden frame of the plot, calling out to the dirt covered lump in the middle. “Good morning Belladonna~” She sings, “Up and at ‘em, Tequilla wants to go to the beach and I need you to help him get dressed.”

There's stillness for a moment.

Then the mound begins to shift.

Slowly, a head of star leaves emerges from the dirt, large black-purple berries like buns on the sides of her head stand out against the green. She stretches, soil falling from her thin arms and chest. Her flower tail emerges last, shaking itself free of debris. She squints at the two of them, backlit by the ever rising sun.

“Doll. Sprout.” She nods to each of them.

“G-good mor-ning Mom.” Tequilla grins.

“Good morning Donnie.” Doll says, far more focused on their egg than the nightshade dryad in front of her.

The dryad lifts herself from her soil bed, running a hand between her leaves as she opens up the chest tucked just behind the plot. “So I'll get the kid dressed while you grab everything else, yeah?” She shrugs on a well worn, light weight white dress like a dandelion from the chest.

“Mmhm!” Tequilla answers, “Momma s-said tha-at I get to go to the beach.”

“Oh, so we're finally doing that? I thought that Doll and Gin would never let you leave the nook again after-”

Doll clears her throat, glaring at her co-parent with a silent ‘not here.’. She takes the beach towels from Tequilla and ruffles his hair, careful to not catch his horn. “I'm going to get everything ready at my gazebo. I'll meet you at the front door.”

She disappears around the corner with a huff, dress swaying.

The dryad pokes Tequilla. “They have me dress you because I'm the only one that can fit through your little door frame, did you know that, kid?”

Tequilla nods, feeling his tail wrap around his leg anxiously.

Donnie glances at it, and rests a hand on his face. “Don't worry about it sprout, it doesn't bother me any.” Her own flower tail subconsciously wraps itself around his.

She places her hand on his back as she leads him to his bedroom, up the stairs and through a door too small for a man but just big enough for a child. She tells him to pick out whatever outfit he wants, just as long as it is beach appropriate. The last thing they need is for him to burn his scales again or get caught by a particularly curious catfish. He emerges from the closet several times, each time showing off a different outfit as Donnie vetoes parts of the previous one. Eventually, he decides on an olive green shirt paired with dark blue swim trunks.

They pass Papa’s room as they go down the stairs, walking quietly as they listen to his snores through the locked door.

Doll is waiting just outside the front door, tapping her foot impatiently, arms full of everything they'll need for the beach trip. She had changed out of her large poofy pink lolita dress, and into… essentially the same thing, but shorter with even more frills that cover her from hips to mid thigh. The top of the swimsuit is also decorated with ruffles, and Donnie notes just how low cut the front is. In the center around her waist, of course, is Doll's signature bow. All to hide the problem, of course.

The dryad whistles, clearly trying to get a rise out of the hybrid. “Looking fancy, princess.” Tequilla bounces out from behind Donnie and hugs his mother tightly.

“You l-l-look pretty, momma!” He beams.

“Aw, thank you peanut. I'm sure that if Donnie could swim,” She glares at her, smiling in a devilish way that really makes Donnie remember she has horns, “She would have an even prettier swimsuit.”

Donnie huffs, readjusting her dandelion dress. “It's salt water,” she says pointedly, “Do you have any idea what that does to my leaves?” Her tail flicks in annoyance.

“Hence, the umbrella.” Doll rolls her shoulder, making the rainbow umbrella propped against it bounce. “You'll get to stay on the beach while I have fun with my egg.”

She readies a retort, but is interrupted by a very frustrated child voicing his displeasure by silently tugging on their skirts.

Doll immediately pivots, her voice taking on a much softer and more motherly edge than the voice she uses talking to Belladonna. “I'm sorry peanut, were we ignoring you? Here, take the towels and we'll start walking to the beach if you're ready.” She lets Tequilla lead the way, the egg walking triumphantly in front of them like a general. Donnie grumbles, annoyed at how quickly Doll forgot about her, yet follows closely behind anyway.

–

Doll is already wincing by the time they finish the short walk to the beach.

Tequilla runs ahead of them, flopping onto the wet sand with a thud. He wiggles, trying to bury himself into the beach like a desert lizard he saw once.

It takes her a moment to catch up to him, putting her luggage down gently in the sand before crouching in front of him. There's a smile on her face but her eyes are serious.

“Peanut, can you tell me the beach rules?” She prompts.

“N-no kicking ss-sand towards people,” he counts on his fingers as he recites them from memory. “No wan-dering away without supervision, no diving w-without pipi, a-and no venturing far.”

“And why do we not venture out too far?” She asks, brushing sand from his scales and hair.

“Because the beach ends quick.” he says carefully. They've told him this hundreds of times but her kid can be too adventurous for his own good sometimes. The beach itself is… safe, mostly. She scratches at her midriff absently. The area they usually go to is well scouted, with jutting rocks marking where the beach dips suddenly into the cold ocean floor far beneath. The beach is littered with shells and soft rocks from years of waves. Occasionally if they dig around they can find sea glass and small pieces of metal under the grains of sand. Tequilla loves to bring Gin here to dig with him.

“Momma?” Tequilla pulls on her golden bands. “Play?” He asks, pointing towards the ocean.

She glances at the salty expanse of water, and winces.

“I'm sorry baby,” she brushes his hair from his face as she speaks, “I'm still feeling tired from last time. But I'll be right here while you play, okay?” She and Tequilla glance at where she had put their stuff. Donnie sits on her now unfurled green beach towel, the large rainbow umbrella already open and propped up in the sand.

Her own beach towel is also laid out neatly under the umbrella.

“Make sure to stay in our line of sight, baby.” She calls out behind her as she stumbles towards the umbrella. Tequilla lets out an affirmative, excited baa in return, the sound of splashing water following immediately afterwards.

Doll collapses onto the towel with a huff of exhaustion. Pain pulls at her muscles and forces her to wince.

Donnie prods her side with her flower tail, brushing lightly against the slick fabric of the swimsuit. “Y'know, if you actually rested and stopped wearing your corset all the time that would probably heal a lot quicker.”

The hybrid lowers her head and glares at Donnie. “I don't know what you're talking about.” she growls.

She rolls her eyes at the clear display of aggression. “Well, it's pretty hard to not notice the swimsuit, princess. Your usual one is a lot more revealing. You're hiding your bandages. Did you even get Gin to check it out?”

Doll doesn't respond. She watches her son as he splashes water around with his wings.

Belladonna glances between her co-parent and her kid.

“You don't want the sprout to feel guilty, huh.” She doesn't even bother to frame it as a question.

“He has no reason to feel guilty, it's Aurelia's fault.”

Donnie groans. “Oh, cut the shit, none of us expected a shark to be there in the first place, don't blame this on the octopus.”

“She could have at least warned me that they're aggressive,” she pouts, “they weren't aggressive like THAT where I'm from.”

“Doll. You don't even remember where ‘where I'm from’ even is.” She says deadpan.

That finally makes her take her eyes off of Tequilla. 

“At least I wasn't dug out of the ground by some nutcases in lab coats and transplanted to a tropical island.” Doll leers. “Maybe if you were bigger than a bush they would have had a harder time kidnapping you.”

Donnie whips up to her feet, glaring down at Doll as her tail cracks like a whip behind her. “Well at least I didn't choose to come here willingly!”

Doll rises to her feet too, now towering over the much shorter dryad. “Well excuse me,” She stomps her foot in the sand, “I guess next time I'll know better than to trust a postcard that looks EXACTLY like my sister's handwriting. I'll anticipate that it's going to lead me to an island full of crazy people and murderous bears!” Her ears flick, face dark. Her ears and cheeks are flushed with emotion.

Donnie seethes at her. “Yeah, well… w…” she trails off, looking towards the ocean with a look of growing panic.

“Well what, what other insult do you have to sling at me?” Doll shouts.

“Doll.”

She groans in anger, eyes following the dryad's gaze. “What could possibly…” Her eyes go wide as ice floods her veins.

“Doll?” Donnie says quietly.

The beach is empty.

“Where's Tequilla?”

Doll bolts upright, injury be damned. She runs through the sand, feet sinking as she feels the grains below her bare feet push against her skin, getting more waterlogged as she approaches the water. He should have surfaced by now, she thinks, He's a better swimmer than I am by now. 

She scans the waters, looking for any sign of her son.

Nothing.

Suddenly, just a few feet ahead, she sees bubbles.

Without a second thought she dives into the water. The bandages around her wound fill with salt water, making the injury itch. But the adrenaline in her veins is drowning out everything but her son.

Her eyes sting as she opens them, but through the hazy vision of salt water she can see Tequilla thrashing, panicked, trying to resurface. Precious bubbles of oxygen escape his lips. She doesn't know how long he's been down here, but she has to get him out. 

His hand reaches out to hers and four fingers meet five. 

She gets her arms under his and tries to swim up, but is met with resistance from below.

Her eyes scan him, trying to find what could be keeping him here. His body shudders. 

His tail.

His tail is caught in something far below them.

Her own lungs are screaming for mercy, but she can't pause for even a moment, not while her baby is in danger. 

She dives, gripping his tail and the offending object, not even taking a second to process what was keeping him in its clutches.

She rips his tail free, blood oozing slightly from where it was caught.

Tequilla begins to float upwards and she follows, grabbing hold of his far too small body as she hauls them both up to the surface. The light of the sun glimmering ever brighter as they ascend.

It feels like an eternity has passed when they finally break through. She gasps roughly as fresh air enters her lungs. 

“Come on Tequilla, just a little farther,” She rasps as they approach the beach.

She holds her son close to her chest as she swims, trying to keep her own heart from escaping her burning chest as she feels how still he's become.

“Hold out just a little longer baby, please hold on.” She mutters.

It feels as if they're crawling towards the shore.

Finally, finally, finally, she feels her toes touch sand.

There's a ringing in her ears she didn't notice until just now. It fades as she hauls herself and her child onto the sand, and she becomes acutely aware of how Belladonna is screaming her name. She doesn't even acknowledge her. She crouches over Tequilla and prays that his heart is in the same place as hers.

“Go get Gin and Aurelia.” She says between chest compressions.

Donnie hesitates. “But.. Doll-”

“Don, go get them now!” She yells.

She doesn't even look up as she hears the sound of footsteps as Donnie runs back into the forest. She just continues her chest compressions.

“Please peanut, come back to me, I'll give you anything you've ever wanted.” she pleads. She plugs his nose as she gives him mouth to mouth, then continues with her compressions. “I- I promise I won't fight with your parents ever again, just please baby-” she gives him mouth to mouth again, gives him chest compressions until she's sure she must have broken a rib, again and again and again.

But he remains still.

Unmoving. Unbreathing.

Lifeless.

Dead.

Her baby is dead.

“No no no no no,” she cries, clutching his clothes, his face, all far too small and young for a fate like this. “No no please, this has to be a joke, I-I can't go through this again.” She presses her head against his chest, hearing only silence. “Please Tequilla, don't leave me again.” she sobs.

The tide washes up against her feet. She needs to move him, get him away from that wretched ocean.

“I'll take you home baby.” She says to his body. It's already becoming cold under her hands as she lifts him into her arms. His limbs are limp in her grip. She tucks his wings and tail in just like he always would. It's more comfortable that way, he says. She brushes the soaked hair from his dulling cheeks and limps into the forest. He's coming home with her.

—

The other parents meet her just outside the house. Gin is barely dressed in the early afternoon light, far too bright for the tragedy that has befallen them. His short black hair is ruffled up and sticking out, clearly showing the gnarly scar over his eye. He and Tequilla match in that way. He's in a white tank top and dark sweatpants, leaning hard against his cane. Aurelia looks similarly underprepared. Her tentacle hair shifts around as water drips from her, soaking the grass below. Her ringed pattern shifts to bright hues from stress. Doll can see her tieing on her robe as she approaches.

Donnie meets her halfway, her eyes never leaving Tequilla.

Doll's composure finally breaks. She falls to her knees and sobs, clutching Tequilla's cold body as if it would bring him back.

Her co-parents crowd around her, shouting over each other, clambering to see their son.

The dryad tentatively brushes his drying hair with her fingers. “Is he…?”

“Dead.” Aurelia confirms. She crouches next to his body, inspecting it gently. “What happened, Doll?”

“I looked away for… for just a moment…” She looks up to Gin, stood above them in barely disguised horror. “Gin…? What do we do now?”

His knuckles go white as he tightens the grip on his cane.

“I don't know.” He says slowly. “I just don't know.”

“That was his last life.” Aurelia says. 

“Maybe we could take him to the Federation.” Donnie says. “They brought him back once, maybe they'll do it again.”

“That never worked for the others.” Aurelia points out.

Doll chuckles hollowly. “What other choice do we have?” She looks to Gin. “Do you think you could take him? They'll listen to you.”

“I don't…” He hesitates.

“Please, Gin. I can't. I just… can't do it.”

He sighs. “Yes, I'll do it. I'll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Gin. Bring his bag too. He'll want that when he.. he wakes up.”

Gin nods.

—

Gin never thought he would be back here so soon.

It's been a very long time since he worked for the Federation. It at least felt like one. Could it really have only been a few months?

If he hadn't gotten injured, hadn't disobeyed orders in that exact moment, he wouldn't be… he wouldn't be in this mess. Hurt. Crippled. Demoted.

…

Attached.

Taking care of an egg was meant to be a punishment. Some form of atonement. He was just supposed to monitor the thing until further notice, integrate himself with the assigned family, do something useful. Instead he got attached. And look where that got him. Stood in front of the place that ruined his life, pristine white walls mocking him. A dead child in his hands. and a small bag draped over his shoulder. 

He knocks on the doors.

And IT comes out to greet him. That damn bear. It towers over him, staring with that blank eyed smile beneath a brown mustache.

“Hello.” It greets him. “You are not allowed in this facility until further notice. Please leave the area now.”

“I can't do that.” He says.

“Why?” It asks.

He takes a deep breath. “My.. assignment,” MY SON, his mind screams, THAT'S MY SON, “My assignment has ended. This is causing significant distress to the other residents. His death was an accident, and they sent me to request that he be given another life.” Slipping back into the character of a mindless office drone comes easily, the emotional distance making the feeling of his dead son pressed against his hands farther away.

His boss stares at him for a long, long moment. 

It grabs Tequilla from him.

“Wait, wait please take his bag too. He'll want that when he wakes up.” Gin pleads. He places the bag atop Tequilla's chest.

“Yes. Yes. Ha Ha Ha.” It says. “I hope you enjoy the island. Please vacate the premises.”

The door slams shut before he can answer.

—

The place he's in feels familiar, yet not at the same time. It is dark and light, feeling and not. He floats in the everything nothingness. He feels something touch the edges of his consciousness, a flash of black lace, dark lipstick, a sunhat. A frown, a promise, a large hand. It beckons him, apologizes to him. Promises that it will protect him however it can. He trusts her, leans in, whispers back something that he can't remember.

And then he wakes up.

He gasps, memories of drowning still fresh in his mind. He coughs trying to expel the water that is no longer in his lungs.

“You've woken up much quicker than the others.”

His head whips around, and he finally notices his surroundings. He's in a white room, something he's far too familiar with. The memories of the tests he and his clutch were put through far too vivid in his mind. He strains against his bindings, strapped roughly and painfully to a cold metal table. He's in a fully white outfit that he has no memory of wearing before. There's lab equipment all around him, and a scientist at his side. He turns to him and growls. 

“Tsk, that's not very polite. Where's my thanks for bringing you back to life?” The scientist asks, his faceless form void of expression. 

Tequilla tries to speak, but the burning in his throat and fear in his heart cause him to stutter far too much to make out even a syllable. 

The scientist seems to understand what he was trying to say. “Yes, you did die. Due to drowning it would seem. Terrible way to go, dreadful. Nothing that we can't fix, of course.” He must see a glimpse of hope on Tequilla's face, because he quickly corrects; “That doesn't mean you're going home to mommy and daddy. They knew that they only had two chances with you. Instead we're going to save some resources.” He walks slowly around the table he's strapped to, adjusting the equipment that Tequilla has no hope of understanding. “Do you know how expensive it is to create one of you? Of course we do them in batches of twelve, it's such a nice even number of eggs. But between the cloning and the incubation and the genetic manipulation? The costs add up. Luckily for us,” He turns a dial with a sharp click. “There's an easy solution to this dilemma. Reduce, reuse, and recycle.” 

In one swift motion he clips something to Tequilla's ear, a sharp sting following just behind. Tequilla yelps and lunges to bite his hand, but misses.

He glares at him, rubbing the assaulted hand. “Rude.”

Tequilla huffs and growls at him, low and afraid.

“Oh it's not like it will hurt. And even if it does, it's not like you'll remember by the end of it. You'll just be.. a blank slate, in a way. A body is just a vessel for memories and experiences after all. If you don't have either, well you're back to square one. Just like a newborn egg, fresh off the printing press~.” He says in a singsong voice.

The dragon begins to start struggling in earnest, whimpering and baaing and crying. He calls for his Momma, his Mom, his Dad, his Pipi, ANYONE to come and save him as the scary man in the scary lab coat in the scary white room readies the machines that will ensure he'll never live to see another sunrise.

“Take a deep breath and close your eyes, dragon.” The scientist says as he brings a bright light down onto his eyes. “Or don't. It doesn't matter to me either way.”

A humming sound fills the air.

And everything goes white.

—

His head is ringing. 

The world tilts around him, his head rings and throbs in time with the sirens behind him, but he's out. He escaped. The scientist used… Something. To steal his memories. And he thought it was working for a while there! But then he… he…

How did he get out here?

He's standing just outside of a white building. There's alarms blaring from it. He doesn't know what it is or why its making that noise, but he knows he needs to get away from it. He runs, runs towards the nearest trees he can find. Trees mean home.

Home? Is that right? There were trees at his home, right? He knows that if he just follows the path he'll end up home. 

His run slows to a stop as he looks around. He doesn't know where he is. There's a bag over his shoulder. His bag. He hates to be without it. There's no scars on his arms like there should be. Not even a trace of them. And there's blood caked under his claws. He remembers swiping the scientist as he escaped. Why is there blood under his claws? He decides to worry about it later. He hears a stick snap behind him and continues running into the forest beyond. Maybe he'll find what he's looking for there.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's in a tree somewhere. How did he get here? His muscles burn with exhaustion. He wracks his mind, trying to remember what happened before, but comes up blank. Absolute zero. A sob leaps into his throat for reasons he can't even remember. There's blood under his claws. He'll have to wash that out before it gets icky.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's in some kind of burrow. How did he get here? His stomach growls sharply. He tries to remember what happened before, but comes up blank. He can't worry about that now. He needs to find food. He doesn't know why he knows this. He doesn't know anything at all.

—

Tequilla wakes up. He's by a small pond. How did he get here? Fear clutches the edges of his senses, telling him he needs to keep moving. That there's something out to get him. He tries to remember what that is, but comes up completely and entirely empty. His claws are clean. He doesn't know why that confuses him.

Tequilla wakes up. Tequilla knows nothing.

Tequilla wakes up.

Tequilla wakes up.

Tequilla wakes up. 

Tequilla knows nothing.

—

Tequilla wakes up, but somehow it feels different this time. Despite this, he's still very confused and frightened to realise he has no idea where he is. There's a bag over his shoulder. His bag, something tells him. It's covered in dirt by now but it's definitely his. He's covered in dirt too. Plenty of scratches against his scales. He's in clothes that used to be white, now stained various shades of brown and green and red. There's something tickling the side of his face. He panics and pulls at it, only to realize too late that it's attached to his ear which is attached to him. He hisses as it is pulled free from his ear, followed by a droplet of blood. It's a tag, a white tag. Like something you could put on a cattle. “Res: 1” it says. He wracks his mind, trying to remember what happened to him and where he is.

But he comes up blank. Completely empty.

He continues to wander the forest for several days, listlessly trying to figure out where he is and where he's going. Something feels different. Sharper. Like his mind is working when it previously wasn't. He doesn't think about that. He focuses on getting food and shelter. He just knows that he has to keep moving until he finds somewhere safe.

snap

He freezes, and looks forward to where he heard the sound of a branch snapping.

There's a person there.

They're short, shorter than he is. Their scales are blue with yellow bands and diamonds adorning it. They stare at him with dark blue eyes, a pink flower crown holding back brown hair. Large ears flop as they tilt their head. Wings twitch behind him and their tail wags. They're the first person Tequilla has ever seen. 

They smile wide, practically vibrating with excitement. “Hi, I'm Poll! What's your name? Do you wanna be friends?”

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Before Home

(Note: this will contain canon typical allusions to child death, injury, experimentation, dehumanization(?) etc. Nothing more intense than you would see in a QSMP cutscene I think)

"Poll." Tequilla says quietly, breaking the silence of their game.

Poll hums in response, focused on stacking the rocks in front of them. It and Tequilla are trying to see who can build up the highest tower, and despite the score being 0-3, they're still trying their best. Papa made sure they bundled up before they came out, since the cold weather was coming in and they're still hatchlings. Tequilla has his face half buried in a weirdly patterned scarf while Poll wears a big sweater.

"You remember, ri-ight?" Tequilla asks, laying freshly fallen autumn leaves around his tower. Poll refrains from poking fun at him for decorating instead of building.

Instead they tilt their head towards him. "Remember what, TQ? Th' score?" they ask.

He shakes his head. "From before."

Poll whines, "Before whaaaat?"

Tequilla struggles for words, pulling on his fingers out of frustration. "From... before home." He finally settled on.

"Oh!" It exclaims, flapping its secondary wings. "You mean before we found this place? Yeah I remember a lot'a stuffs! Like that time Papa took me to the flower field and I made this," They point to their flower crown excitedly, "and this other time when it took me to th' ocean. It was scary bein' underwater but papa was really quick. Oh and there was this other time-"

"mm mm." Tequilla interrupts, shaking his head and hands. "Before, you said you came from f... fe.." His eyebrows furrow hard. Poll already knew today was a hard word day for their brother, so they stayed patient. "F-from Feds. The ba-ad people."

Poll feels like they've been dropped in the ocean again, a cold icky feeling spreading under their scales. They open their mouth, trying to respond, but clam up instantly. It looks away from its brother, trying to bring its attention back to the pile of rocks.

Tequilla's tail shimmies onto their ankle, their brother's quiet way of showing affection.

"I was curi-curious. You told me yyou were from there, bbut you d-don't talk about it. Tell?" Tequilla asks politely.

Their wings pull up higher onto their shoulders, shrouding them slightly as they curl into themselves, tail thumping against the dirt and ears pinning to clearly telegraph their upset.

"Why don' you tell me about your nightmare fr'm last night?" Poll bites back.

His wings flare out unconsciously. "You... know." Poll DOES know why. Tequilla's nightmares are scary, even scarier because he doesn't know what is happening in them. "But y-yyou don't tell me your night--mares either."

Poll huffs. "Do I gotta?"

Tequilla nods quickly. And Poll can't argue with their little brother. Papa said they're grounded if they did that.

It thumbs the bands on its arms. "Can we still build?" They whisper.

Tequilla nods, grabbing more pebbles from the pile.

Poll sighs, forcing their big wings to return to a more neutral position. "Before papa adopted me, I lived in white walls.” A lab, it's memories supply, the scary people said it was a lab.

“I was a little egg at the time, an’ I didn’ even have my flowers.” They had a number, not a name. It's burned into their mind still. Egg J-3.

“I think… that there were others there too. I don't remember their names. There were exactly a dozen of us.” They place 12 stones within the stone walls. “The scary lab coats said that they needed t’make sure we were healthy so we could be adopted. So we had to go through a bunch of tests n'stuff.” The phantom sensation of a surgical blade against their shell makes them shudder.

“It wasn’… always bad. There was this fun colorful room we would go t’ after tests. I think there were big people there too, but I don' remember them very well. There was a spot where another egg and I would play with Linkin Logs.” It was Egg J-4. it's sparse memories taunt them, you can hardly remember her handwriting.

“Th’ tests weren't very fun.” Poll struggles to place their next stone correctly. Part of the wall crumbles under their claws. “We would do brain puzzles ‘nd compete to see who could climb the fastest. My least favorite was writing.” They avoid telling him about the bad ones that even they struggle to remember. The fights. The water. Hide N’ Seek. The samples. They remember one of the younger kids getting a chip in their shell during that. They remove a stone from the center of their build, adding it to the walls.

“Um…” They wrack their memories for anything else that doesn't sting. “I think after a while the other kids started getting adopted.” They remove two more stones and add them to the walls. J-10, J-6. They chuckle hollowly. “I remember one of them played tag with a lab coat. They ran out of the play room!” Another stone removed. J-1. “I think some of them got adopted while I was gettin’ my shell checked..” J-4, J-5, J-9, J-12. The walls get higher. “The um. The nice lady that sang us to sleep sometimes said that a few got sick and had to sleep elsewhere. J-8, J-11. Two more stones gone. “I don't remember what happened to the rest,” Poll removes one stone, leaving one in the center. J-2 just never returned from testing one day. The lab coats never talked about them. “But I was alone when they said I was gonna to take a nap until my parents arrived. But then I was adopted by papa! A-and now everything is okay! I have a home and a family just like they said. A-and I'm.. I'm…”

The walls of their tower crumbles, burying the center pebble.

Poll hiccups, blue hands reaching up to paw at sudden tears.

“It's okay now,” they sob, “I ha-have a home and a family. I have you and papa and our friends.” It curls in on itself, wings shaking like the leaves in the trees as it cradles itself in its arms. It whines. “Hurts…”

Tequilla crawls over to them quickly, knocking over his own tower and barreling over theirs. He pulls them into a tight hug, wings wrapping protectively around them. He headbutts them gently, drawing a wet giggle from their lips. “No cry.” Tequilla demands, muffled by his scarf. “Y-you are okkay. No scaries. M’ your b-big brother, So I have to protect you.”

Poll laughs through tears, pushing Tequilla away with no force. “N-noooo you're my baby brother, I got to protect you.”

“Nuh uh.”

Poll smooshes Tequilla's face with their dirty hands. “Nnnn, I'M older-”

They squeak, suddenly feeling a hand on their shoulder. They crane their neck upwards, now staring at their glowering papa.

It paws at its eyes again, trying to hide the evidence of their meltdown. “We weren't fighting papa, we were just playing!”

Poll looks at Tequilla, who glances between them and nods. “Just playing, S-stardust.”

It's gaze softens, taking in Poll's condition. Poll can see a calm ocean in their appearance and soft features shifting on.

Poll still doesn't know how they can understand Papa when Tequilla can't, but they're definitely too tired to figure it out. They just know that papa is offering uppies.

Papa lifts both of its slightly shivering dragon children into many arms and walks them back to the house. Poll rests their head against papa's chest, and relaxes to the distant sound of crashing waves.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

I've started remembering things recently.

It's not much, just little things. I haven't told Poll yet. I don't want to get them excited.

The first memory I got was of my mom. One of them, anyway. The old tattered drawing we found shows all of... my parents. It was the pink one, the goat hybrid that looks like me. Or I guess I look like her? I'm not sure if it was a memory or a dream, now. I just remember her face. Her voice. Her warmth.

I wish all my memories were that vivid. I wish I didn't remember them at all. Maybe things would be easier. But no. I miss them too much to think like that.

(Do I really miss them? or does the kid I think I used to be do?)

It's been little things since then. The smell of Pipi's cooking. Nightmares of monsters that I know are real. (They don't come close to this house, or even the surrounding forest. I don't know why. Maybe Poll's papa scares them off somehow.)

Lately though... I don't know.

Sometimes I wonder about the kid that used to be me. Did he want this? Did he know what would happen? Does he miss them?

(Do they miss me? or him?)

I dream about him sometimes. Its always vague, fleeting things. They come with fragments of memories and pounding headaches that make my teeth hurt.

Sometimes he's tiny, barely up to my knee with short hair and bright eyes. He toddles and reaches up to someone with a blurred face and tv static voice. They coo and smile at him. Call him "Baby" or "Sprout" or "Hatchling".

Sometimes he's a little bigger. Bandages cover some of his scales and there's a shine missing from his eyes but the love is still there. He sits with someone, repeating the same word over and over again, stutter after stutter. They bring him places, to meet new people, to see new things. Those memories are even fuzzier.

Sometimes... He's hurt. A gift ignored, a new battle scar on a kid way too young. Once, just once, I saw the kid I used to be caught weaponless. Somewhere dark and high up and dangerous. I don't really remember what happened that morning after I woke up. I just remember feeling sick.

I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like to talk to him. Would he be angry I took over his life? I wonder if he would have liked Poll. I bet he would have. He seems like a much nicer kid than me.

I hope his parents don't miss him. I hope they miss me.

I hope that...

Hm. I'm getting a headache again.

I think I'm ready for a nap again. I think I'm ready to dream again.

I don't know if I'm ready to remember.

But he deserves to not be forgotten.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

There's a neighborhood near my house.

It's a long way through the woods, past the rivers and rocks and trees. Saying it's "near" is probably not right. But there's nothing else around here, definitely nothing as close as that neighborhood.

It's just a couple rows of houses, like the kind you would see in a cartoon or something.

I don't like going in it.

It's not because I'm scared. I'm a big kid that doesn't get scared by stuff like that anymore.

I can still look at it. From a distance.

It's just that the streets are dark, and it feels like there's something that should be there. Maybe it's because they kind of look like my house and we live there, so something must live in those houses too, right?

But those houses in that neighborhood are broken. The roofs are caved in, windows gone and doors meant for someone much bigger than me to come in and out, in and out, are ajar or splintered. They're empty. Maybe there's animals living in them, taking over the empty space that no one else will occupy anymore. Making it their own.

I visit it sometimes. Tequilla asks where I'm going, but I just tell him I'll be right back. I haven't shown him the neighborhood. I don't think he would like it.

Maybe that's a habit I'm getting from Papa.

I don't really do anything when I visit. I try to keep away from the houses and dark streets.

I'm not sure why I keep coming back here. Maybe I'm just hoping the houses aren't lonely without their friends. I can keep them company, from a distance.

Maybe I'm hoping I'll see a resident.

When I first found this place, not too long after we moved in, wandering around the forests in search of secrets and treasures, finding that long faded trail and following here, I wondered what happened to them. I came up with all sorts of theories.

Sometimes I came up with stories where they all left to fight a monster and found somewhere better to live. A happily ever after.

Sometimes I imagined that they burrowed into the earth like moles, or flew into the sky like birds, and left their lonely homes behind.

Sometimes I would just hope that they decided to leave.

I try not to think about it now. I try not to think about how still and empty this place is now. I try not to think about the people that lived here, what happened to them, when, how, why.

I try not to think about how there might have been kids just like me living there. And what happened to them.

Instead I sit.

Just outside the neighborhood.

And keep the houses company.

I know just how lonely it can be when you're left behind.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Merry Christmas! Enjoy this little story :D

-------

Post Mortem Presents

“Papaaa I forgot my gloves at th’ mystery house, can we go grab ‘em real quick?” Poll tugs on its papa's tail, giving them its biggest puppy dog eyes.

Stardust tilts their head at them.

“Nah TQ is napping, I don't wanna wake him up. We can just go now. Pleaaaase?”

Papa flicks its tail, but nods.

Poll thanks him, running to its room to retrieve its cold weather clothes. It shrugs on a fluffy oversized pink jacket, tucking their wings inside. They throw on some dark baggy pants, carefully getting their tail through the extra hole without tugging on their checkmark tail tip too much. Finally it grabs the snowshoes Papa found that fit them, feeling more like a drawstring bag with a solid round sole than an actual shoe. She taps her chin, thinking, then dives into the clothes pile, picking out a purple skirt and slipping it on over the pants. 

“Perfect!” They exclaim. They flip up their hood and tuck their ears inside.

They run over to papa, tugging on his tail again. “Ready to go papa!”

With a tug in their stomach and a disorienting jolt, they appear in front of the mystery house. It looks just the same as it did when they first came here, and the second time, and the times after that. Only this time…

“Snow!” Poll shrieks. They stomp around, throwing the snow up in the air to watch it flutter down around them.

Stardust crosses its arms and watches Poll.

“Right, right, th’ gloves.” Poll dusts snow off their jacket. “I think I left it when we were tryin’ t’ get into the locked door.” There's a door in the mystery house that they haven't managed to get into. It's always locked with no key in sight, the only thing visible inside is a purple bed. Like their skirt!

Standing in front of the locked door, they see that there's nothing there. “Hmm,” they hold their chin, “maybe I left it on th’ roof? By the garden?” He bounds up the cold stairs, Stardust trailing behind him.

Nothing. Just snow. They whine, frustrated. They must have left them somewhere!

Stardust nudges the snow with its claw, revealing dark green gloves. Poll gasps. There they are! It crouches to grab them, but recoils.

“Papa,” Poll whines, “They're frozen solid.”

It picks up the gloves for them, turning it around a few times to see that it is indeed frozen solid. It glances at Poll.

“Noooo I don't wanna go home yet, it's pretty here.” Poll cries.

All at once, Poll notices an unfamiliar set of footprints in the snow. There's their round ones, and Papa's constantly shifting ones, but there's another. It's big, bigger than Poll's, and kind of boot shaped. It trails from the door to the roof, past the garden and towards…

Towards the statue with their brother's name on it.

“Papa you stay here, I'm gonna investigates.” Poll says, patting Papa's arm. It stares at him. “Yes I'll be careful, if I need you I'll scream really really loud.”

Poll runs off before Stardust can respond.

—

Breaking through the treeline, Poll sees the statue. It's covered in snow, just like everything else. The candles that cover the front of the stone however, have been cleared of snow and relit. And sitting on the stone next to them, is a woman.

She's big and fat like Poll is, with long curly brown hair that is tied back with a pink bow. Her entire outfit is pink and frilly, with long puffy sleeves keeping her warm in the cold winter air. She's also wearing a skirt, although one with much more layers than its own. Poll realises a little slowly that she has long brown ears and a pair of curled goat horns. There's a sad expression on her face, her arms curled around a present wrapped in orange.

Poll takes a step forward, the crunch of its snowshoes loud in the snowy silence.

The goat lady looks up, scared, before her golden eyes finally settle on Poll. They soften and she calls out to them.

“Are you lost, honey?”

Poll shakes their head. “My name is Poll, what's your name?” They ask.

The woman hums. “My name is Doll. What are you doing all the way out here, honey? I don't recognize you. Are you from Horchata or somewhere else?”

“Horchata?” Poll asks, tilting their head. Their tail swooshes behind them, just barely dipping into the snow below.

Doll gestures vaguely. “This island, Horchata island. I don't know why it's named that.” She laughs lightly. “Are you from around here?”

“Nuh uh. I'm from a few islands away.” They don't know the name of their island, they just know it's really big.

Her eyebrows raise. “Gosh, what brings you all the way down here then?”

“I forgot my gloves.” They flex their hands out in front of them to demonstrate.

Doll's eyes soften further. She clears a spot next to her of snow and pats the stone. “How about you come sit next to me and warm up by the candles, baby.” Poll, with absolutely no sense of stranger danger, accepts and sits next to her. She grabs one of its claws gently, warming it in her hand. “You're an Egg, right?”

“Yeah! Are you?” Poll asks, basking in the warmth she gives off.

Doll laughs. “No baby, I'm a goat hybrid. I just figured that you were an egg because of your hands. And that tail I see wagging under your skirt.” Poll flushes, pressing their tail against their leg. Doll squeezes their hand. “Don't feel ashamed baby, I have a tail too. It's just tucked into my pants so it doesn't freeze off.” She stares at Poll, scanning them for something. “I'm sorry if this is sensitive, but do you have a parent? Have they gotten all your tasks done today?”

“I have my papa, but what tasks?” Poll asks.

“Maybe they have a different system on their island.” Doll mumbles.

Poll stares at Doll, trying to decide on something to say.

“I like your horns, Miss Doll. I have horns too, see?” It pulls its hood down, pointing at the long bumps on its head. “Mine are still growin’ though, see?”

Doll covers her mouth and barely hides the wide grin on her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she cups Poll's face with both hands, the warmth very appreciated on its frozen features. “You're just a little faun, aren't you baby? Your ears are so cute I can't stand it.” She thumbs the sensitive tips of Poll's horns, “These probably won't pop until spring, although that's just from my experience in being around some deer hybrids back home, and…” She pauses, then draws her hands back sheepishly. “Sorry, I just got excited to see another egg. You remind me a lot of my son.” 

“Your son?” Poll asks, tilting its head.

Doll nods sadly. “We lost him almost seven months ago.”

“Where did he go? Did he get lost? I'm really good at findin’ my way in forests so I can help.”

She shakes her head. “No baby, he died a long time ago.”

“Oh.” Poll feels dumb. They didn't want to upset their new friend. “I still miss some of my clutchmates sometimes. I don't know if they're alive or not. I always thought they must be, out there, but…” Poll starts tearing up. “ngh, I don't wanna cry, I'm a big kid now.” They rub their eyes hard.

Doll tuts, taking the present from her lap and placing it onto the snow below, before scooping Poll into her arms and hugging them tightly. “Shh shh, it's okay honey. I'm sure they're out there and missing you just as much as you miss them. You'll find them eventually.”

Poll sniffles, taking in as much of Doll's warmth as possible. “I hope so. I hope your son ‘s out there too. What was his name?”

There's a fond tone in Doll's voice. “Tequilla. Tequilla Ibuprofen.”

Poll's blood runs cold.

They look up at Doll, eyes now pricking her own eyes.

“T-Tequilla?” Poll stammers. They can't believe it. One of TQ's parents being at his memorial statue? He'll be so excited!

Doll waves her hand around. “I know, it's a silly name. He was named by his Father. They joked that there was alcohol in his little messenger bag and the name stuck.”

Poll should tell her that her son is alive, right? It would make her super happy! And it would make Tequilla super happy. And maybe it would jog his memory and he could figure out what happened and reunite with her. And then.. and then he'll leave and not live with Poll anymore and they'll live alone again and their brother won't talk to them anymore EVER again. 

Would Tequilla really leave if he reunited with his Momma? Would he even look back? 

Would he miss them?

Or would he be happier with his old family?

Poll doesn't want to be alone. Never ever again.

“Um…” Poll tries to think, rationalize, but the only thing they can hear is Doll's breathing and its own erratic heartbeat. They'll be alone again. “Um, I think it's a good name.” They finally say. “Wh- what was he like?” Good, deflect. Keep her from noticing that you won't meet her gaze.

Doll hums. “He was wonderful. He was always the sweetest boy, and very talkative. He had this stutter than he struggled with once he got old enough to talk, and we didn't really have the resources to do speech therapy with him. But it never did seem to deter him. He was.. adventurous. We always tried to keep an eye on him but he would slip away if we missed him for even a second. And oh, he was clingy. The kid practically lived at my heel or one of his other parent's. He was also very brave. He was never upset that his right horn would never grow; he was more occupied with the fact his crack made him match his Dad's scar.”

That's definitely its brother. “So um… is that present for him?” They ask, gesturing towards the orange box in the snow. 

Doll nods. “We never did get to celebrate Christmas with him. I wanted to bring him a present, so he knew I still cared for him. But… well I know he'll never see this. He's gone.” She goes quiet for a long moment. “Here.” She presses the present into Poll's tiny hands. “I want you to have it. So that at least someone will get use out of it.”

Poll looks down at the present in their hands, and feels the immense guilt wash over them. If they told her now, she would get angry.

“Thank you miss Doll.” They mumble.

Doll smiles, ruffling Poll's hair. “I'm going to leave now. There's too many memories here. You should probably meet back up with your papa. I'm sure they're getting worried for you by now.” She stands and dusts off her skirt. “Merry Christmas, Poll.”

Poll watches as she walks away, into the forest away from the mystery house.

They clutch the orange wrapped gift in their hands.

And hide it in their coat. They'll put it away under the bed where Tequilla won't find it.

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

And now you're in too deep. That truth will destroy you. Are you happy now?

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Technical difficulties, please standby while i fix my FREAKING REBLOGS

[which-qsmp-egg-would]

Ill just..... reblog it all again in a minute. I guess.

then delete the previous reblog? i guess?

NONE OF IT IS POSTING IN THE RIGHT ORDER NOOOOOOOOO