Some kind of writer of fanfic...

Person B: "You run away at the first signs of confrontation."

Person A: "I do not!"

Person B: "You are literally walking away as we speak."

Person A: "Am I not free to roam around anymore?"

the five stages of grief were never meant to be a checklist your character moves through in chronological order across three chapters. Let me save you from writing a grieving character who is simply having scheduled emotions:

⊹ Grief is not primarily crying. i know that sounds wrong but hear me out. a lot of grief looks like doing laundry. cooking something the person liked and then not being able to eat it. watching a show they recommended and never told anyone you finished it. grief goes very quiet and very domestic for long stretches and then ambushes you at completely unreasonable moments like a petrol station or a Friday at 4pm for no reason at all.

⊹ people who are grieving often seem fine. not because they're suppressing or being brave or in denial, but because humans are genuinely capable of functioning and being devastated at the same time. your grieving character can make jokes. can go to work. can have a good day. can feel guilty about the good day. can feel guilty about not feeling guilty. grief has a very active internal bureaucracy that has nothing to do with what's visible on the outside.

⊹ Grief also changes shape over time in ways that aren't necessarily about getting better. the first year is often adrenaline, there are things to do, people around, ritual and structure. year two is frequently harder because the adrenaline is gone and the world has moved on and expects you to have moved on with it. your character being more visibly undone eighteen months later than at the funeral is not a pacing problem. it's accurate.

The Mighty Nein spend a day in Nicodranas, reuniting families and causing several members to question their next steps...

We can even tie in Scott here if we wanted to. Scott has met Louis before, maybe on good terms, possibly on Bad! But Scott KNOWS that body jumper, maybe Louis is his Sudo-step Sire? (His actual Sire was just a random guy in an ally way(cannon)) Maybe Louis has tried/has possessed Scott in the past? Whichever way, Scott knows this man, and knows that he is like him in action but not intention. Idk if that's better or worse for Scott tho...

Person B: "Literally ask anyone else. You know I'm a pacifist."

Person A: "But it's not the same if it's not you."

obsessed with whatever the fuck aj and drift have going on

So... what if Pyro comes back corrupted... a continuation of the Brick Train, we're all suffering together

Started by Qinny [1] [2]

~~~

It was off putting, the way that it wore Pyro's face. A smile that was just too tight, that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Oh Gods his eyes…

That's what hurt the most. Scott wouldn't, couldn't, look Pyro in the eyes anymore. Not after they started turning that dark purple, bruised beyond something normal with cracks under the skin. He would have given anything to have that smile back, to look Pyro in the eyes and see his best friend again.

Corruption lies in sweet words. And Gods did it sting every time.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Pyro's voice, soft and gentle somewhere over him as Scott held onto him tightly, his chin against the top of Scott's head. "Didn't you want me to stay with you?"

He hated that he indulged in the delusion, chose to believe the gentleness was genuine. Scott let this thing touch him, let it hold him close and fill his head with lies.

He swallowed thickly, throat tight with emotions that threatened to break through. "Yeah. I did," Scott admitted, the weight of it settling more on him than it did the corrupted thing trying, and succeeding, to get in his head. "I really missed you."

"Well, I promise I'm not going anywhere. We can go back to the way things used to be, just like when we were kids." Scott hated that he could hear the fake smile in his voice, hated that he wanted to believe him.

It's not him, Scott choked back a sob, because it was already a broken promise. Pyro had gone somewhere, and hadn't come back. Not really. It's not him.

Pyro ran his fingers through his hair, arms around him tightening, squeezing him in a familiar way, painfully soothing that only made Scott screw his eyes closed to keep from actually crying. "It's going to be alright Scott. I've got you. You've been so strong, it's okay to let go. I'm right here."

It was all a lie, Scott knew that deep down. But… just a little longer couldn't hurt… right? A little longer to pretend that it really was Pyro.

It was selfish, it was greedy, it wasn't safe, to let the corruption this close. But Scott couldn't help it, longing desperately for Pyro's arms around him, for gentle reassurances and apologies, for the quiet moments between the two of them.

"Did… did you think about me? After you left Tegrith?" Scott shouldn't be asking, he really shouldn't ask. Any response wouldn't be real, it would be a lie.

And yet…

"Of course," Pyro's voice was smooth, too gentle and easy. It was exactly what Scott wanted, to hear him say it, and yet it didn't bring any comfort. It only burned worse, like adding tinder to a raging inferno.

"I thought about you every day. I thought about coming home for you, to come back and take you with me to Moffa," Pyro continued, fingers still delicately raking through Scott's hair. His voice, low and gentle, seemed to rumble through his chest that Scott could feel as he huddled against it. "It was lonely, being without my best friend."

Scott's fingers tightened against the fabric of Pyro's shirt, trying to find a warmth from the body pressed against his own that wasn't there anymore. Instead of fire, he only found more cold.

"Oh, Scott," Pyro sighed softly, and it hurt knowing the soothing nature of his arms around Scott was exactly what he desperately wanted to be real. "It's going to be okay. You'll see. We're going to be alright."

Scott didn't stop the tears that spilled down his cheeks, silent and cold, as he felt Pyro press a gentle kiss at the top of his head. There was no heat behind it, no warmth to sooth him.