NOTE: Written for this round robin/challenge by the lovely @jinwoosbabyboo -- it's open for anyone, by the way, so consider yourself tagged if you're interested! (:
The smell of antiseptic mingled with the earthy scent of Vagrant's Land while the pop-up clinic buzzed with organized chaos. Patients with various illnesses and injuries stood around waiting for the moment they'd be called back and have their ailments treated or cured.
The welcome tent’s fabric flapped in the soft breeze as you let the nurse manning the check-ins know why you were there. When you were shown inside, you noticed the open space had been outfitted with portable medical equipment to create a busy hive of treatment cubicles and testing areas.
You glanced around the crowded space until you found him. Taller than most of the room, intent on his work, and confidently in his element, Dr. Zayne scribbled onto the clipboard a nurse was holding toward him. Finishing his last marking, he looked up, cool hazel eyes thawing ever-so-slightly and dented with a happy crinkle as he straightened and dismissed your escort.
"Right on time," he murmured, grabbing two latex gloves, a yellow file folder, and his medical bag.
"Miracles can happen when you least expect them," you teased with a grin.
Zayne started to usher you toward a makeshift examination corner since all the cubicle curtains were closed. "Medical miracles, maybe," he quipped. "But you being on time? That’s a phenomenon even science can’t explain."
You laughed softly, sitting down as he gestured to a folding chair and rested his medical bag on the wobbly table next to him. "Careful, Dr. Zayne, your bedside manner is slipping."
With an amused shake of his head, he reassured, "This shouldn't take long. Just a quick exam, same as always."
You nodded, rolling up your sleeve as he pressed his cool fingers to the inside of your wrist and got started. His touch was warm but impersonal, his attention fixed on his readings. He moved methodically, pressing the tips of his fingers over your heart and chest.
Though the process was clinical, you couldn't help but study Zayne with fondness — the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the way his nostrils flared when a loud noise interrupted him, the way his breath became a tickle on your cheek when he leaned in to adjust his stethoscope.
That was the moment you heard his voice.
“Don't tell me you're afraid now,” Sylus demanded from the clinic's entrance, making nurses and bystanders alike stand to attention, as if they couldn't help but wait for his next directive. “I could put you two into far worse situations.”
Two hooded boys in medical masks shuffled in behind him, the defiant puff of their chests doing little to hide their apprehension. At Sylus' words Luke scowled but didn’t argue while Kieran kept glancing toward the exit like a cornered animal. Giving them a pointed look toward the nurse they were supposed to follow, he took a few steps forward before his eyes landed on you.
The vision of the leader of Onychinus halting in place with a satisfied smirk spreading across his face was unnerving enough to straighten every spine in the vicinity. But he barely noticed as he waved off the boys and made his way toward you.
Then his eyes flicked to the person next to you. To the stern yet striking man whose face was so close to yours he was practically stealing your fucking air from you.
Jaw tightening — the only outward sign of his discomfiture—Sylus strode toward you with deliberate, measured steps, his posture casual but predatory.
A fluttering of wings had taken flight in your stomach as soon as you'd heard Sylus' gravelly voice, but for the sake of Zayne's time and not raising any eyebrows in the semi-public setting, you'd resolved to find Sylus after your check-up. Unfortunately for you, Sylus never much cared about the concept of discretion when it came to you.
Stopping behind you, he placed the edge of his palm on your shoulders, spreading his fingers across your chest in a rather over-the-top display of possessiveness.
Doctor Zayne hadn't even looked up at the interruption and had moved on to digging for a tool in his medical bag when the hand-shaped barrier blocked his access to your heart.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?" Though the words were casual, his tone was wrapped in barbed wire.
"Sylus!" You said, hoping the breathlessness in your voice wasn't too noticeable. Looking up at his sharp features, which managed to be frustratingly beautiful even upside down, you smiled and moved his hands from your chest to your biceps, patting the tops of them twice. "I didn't know this is what you meant when you said you were taking care of some business with Luke and Kieran. Shouldn't you be with them?"
A low chuckle emerged from his throat, laced with both amusement and menace. "I was, sweetie. That is, until someone else piqued my... curiosity." His hands slid slowly down to the crooks of your elbows and then disappeared. Suddenly, the chair next to you was occupied with your boyfriend's imposing form, eyes boring into Zayne's unflappable figure. "I didn't realize doctors from Linkon City made special appointments when they visited Vagrant's Land."
“I volunteer here once a month,” Zayne said matter-of-factly. He didn’t look up as he re-focused on his examination of you, ignoring Sylus' eyes — one, a muted scarlet, the other an angry vermillion — trained on every movement. “It’s a good way to reach those who can’t make it to a hospital.”
Sylus’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a tight smile. “How noble of you. I see you're very—” His eyes lingered on Zayne’s hand, still resting against your chest. “—thorough with your patients.”
"Sylus," you cut in quickly. "Have you met my childhood friend, Zayne? We recently reconnected when he became my doctor."
But Sylus' attention didn't move from Zayne.
“Any good doctor is thorough,” Zayne replied, turning to jot down notes into your file. His voice was calm, almost bored, as if Sylus’s presence barely registered. “If something's off, it's important to work on her as soon as possible."
“I’ll bet it is,” Sylus muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.
Recognizing the simmering menace in his tone, you jam your elbow into Sylus' narrowing your eyes in a silent warning. Your string of bad luck continued however, when, after he placed a dramatic hand over his elbow, Sylus went back to watching your childhood friend with the kind of intensity that made most people fear for their lives.
Zayne, of course, was not most people.
“Do you mind?” Zayne asked, flicking a quick glance at Sylus through his lashes. “I’m trying to work.”
“Not at all,” Sylus replied smoothly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Another tense few minutes pass, and the balloon of pressure in your chest expanded second by second as the tension between Sylus and Zayne crackled like static.
You were caught between irritation with Sylus for his uncharacteristically territorial behavior or shock with Zayne, who was acting more aloof than usual, almost like he was... purposefully fueling Sylus' ire.
“So, Sylus,” you said brightly, trying again to diffuse the situation. “Why'd you bring Luke and Kieran here?”
“Do they seem like the guys who'd show up to update their vaccines if I didn't drag them myself?” he shot back with a smirk, jerking his head toward the cubicle Luke and Kieran were in.
“That’s admirable,” Zayne remarked, his tone neutral. “More people should take an interest in the well-being of others.”
“That's me, a real caretaker," Sylus drawled, eyes narrowed. And just like that, any hope for the peace you'd been building toward popped like a bubble. "Though I can't say I'm as hands-on as you, doctor. At least... not in public."
"A shame." Zayne raised an eyebrow, his expression faintly amused. “Hands-on can be very effective when done correctly.”
The implication hung in the air, subtle but deliberate. You groaned internally, feeling like a rope in an increasingly taut tug-of-war.
“Alright, enough,” you snapped, looking down at them with your hands on your hips. “Sylus, this is just a check-up. Zayne, stop provoking.”
Both men fell silent, though the charged atmosphere lingered.
Sylus had the nerve to look almost... chagrined for the first time in his life, which alone worked wonders on your frustration — though from the way he stood and rested his hand on the back of your neck, it might've been more placating than chagrined.
Zayne, who also stood up, simply adjusted his glasses, his composure as unshaken as ever.
“I’m done here,” Zayne said, handing you a slip of paper. “I've updated the schedule according to your upcoming work trips. Other than that, you're fine.”
“Thank you, Zayne,” you smile warmly, stuffing the paper into your bag.
Zayne nodded, then turned to Sylus and held out his hand in a begrudging truce. “She’s in good health. You can relax.”
For a moment, you stared at Sylus' stoic expression and worried all hell would break loose in Vagrant's Land. Then, he linked his hand with Zayne's and gave it a firm, business-like shake, turned you around, and led you back to the entrance to wait for Luke and Kieran.
You couldn’t help but glance back at Zayne as you walked. He'd already moved onto his next patient, but caught your eye when you look around. And you could've sworn that Zayne, Doctor Zayne, your childhood friend, winked at you.
Once you were far enough to feel the afternoon breeze sweep over you, Sylus' gaze softened as he searched your face. “You feeling alright?” he asked, looking at the place where her aether core rested. His voice was quieter now, the edges of his tone no longer sounding so ruffled.
“I don't know. How should I feel after I've been pissed on by my boyfriend at my doctor's appointment?” Though you try to sound angry, it comes out as nothing but pure amusement.
At your smile, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and the corner of his lips curved. "Pissed on? I'd never do something so crass, kitten." He leaned down, his breath gliding over the crook of your neck like a feather, and rasped, "You know I'm more of a biter."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
landoscar (i took this one more as a sentence prompt and cheated bc i couldn’t make my brain work up anything else ok)
It’s starting to rain when Lando leaves the library, phone squished to his ear. He didn’t bring his umbrella and he’s already regretting leaving the house in the first place.
“‘Lo?” Oscar’s sleepy voice answers finally.
Lando feels a pang of jealousy and something else at the fact that Oscar’s already in bed; blames that for the whiny tone of his voice when he says, “I’m only just on my way home and I’m starving.”
Luckily, Oscar’s a nice flatmate. The best, in fact. “I’ll make you a sandwich or something,” he says mid-yawn. “Ham?”
Down the line, Lando can hear the rustling of sheets like Oscar is getting out of bed, ready to go and make good on his word. He’s so nice it’s painful sometimes.
Not painful enough that Lando is willing to sacrifice the sandwich he’s promised, though.
“Please,” he pleads miserably, crossing the road. “I’ll be, like. Ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
He’s starting to feel slightly bad about waking Oscar up, considering how exhausted the other sounds. But then Oscar mutters, “I’ll go sort it, ok? Love you, bye.” and hangs up the phone.
In the middle of the street, Lando stops abruptly, drawing is own phone away and staring at it with a blank expression. Love you, bye.
Love you, bye.
What the hell was that?
Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic about it.
It's the mark of a cruel god that the first thing Oscar registers is comfort—warmth pressed in on both sides where he's bracketed, cradled between their bodies—because it makes the subsequent rockslide of everything else (pounding headache nausea confusion memory panic what did we do what have I done oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck) so much worse by comparison.
For a second it steals his breath, the dream-nightmare-reality of it; years (literal years: hours stacked on days on weeks on months) of forcing this down, burying it, locking it away in a vault with no key, except it turns out the key all along was one bottle of Grey Goose and two dimpled smiles and now the vault is open, Oscar is ripped open, his secrets arranged at their feet for easy viewing.
He needs to leave; he can't be here when they wake up, won't survive the fall out, the awkward kindness and badly-hidden regret and letting him down gently—fuck, he can't, it'll kill him, he needs to go.
It should be easy to slip away, to leave something he was never meant to be a part of in the first place, the extraneous third piece in a matched set—a pair, something that by definition comes in two and stops there; Oscar's always been a number they didn't need to count to—but the tied knot of their bodies hold him in place as he tries to inch carefully through the tangle of limbs and warmth, stuck fast in their gravity.
"Stay," Max mumbles into his shoulder, voice rough with sleep, and Lando, eyes still closed, hums in agreement, arm tightening around Oscar's waist, and Oscar doesn't—he can't—this isn't—there’s no way this is real, but: "Oscar, stay," Max says again, and there's no mistaking that he means it, and Oscar—bewildered and included and held and wanted—stays.
It took me a hot minute to realize you were saying,
N: The color green
U: Coming home
S: Music
... and not asking me to write about you. LOL
You didn't specify, so I assumed Azris.
Verdant walls thick with moss, but your back is pressed against unforgiving stone. It cuts into the places I want my teeth, the places I try to get my teeth. I cannot reach.
Like it knows your heart, the flame of your hair curls around the jagged walls and reaches for the moss, for a softer landing. You want me to reach for you, to hold you. The look in your eyes tells me so. I ignore it.
Held in place by your thighs, my fingers dig into the meat of them. When you bleed, I will drink from you. That’s the softest promise I can make.
Your pupils are dark, heavy where they linger on my lips. They ask a question I can’t answer. Not here inside the shadows of our secrets.
But I want.
Shame is a lustful creature that wraps around my throat. Offended by my thoughts, agonized by the air I stir with each breath, it squeezes. The desire inside me feels like destruction. My stare dips down to where your lips part, the tip of your tongue tasting them, asking me if I want to. I don’t answer.
The inside of you is a closeness that I am not afraid of, a heat I chase rather than shy away from. It welcomes all of me.
When the light of dusk spills through the cracks in the ceiling where the water cascades down, streams of citrus fall in glittering waves over your face. It strikes me that we cannot hide in the dark forever. My shadows retreat behind outstretched wings, and I close the space between us.
You taste like dreams, and I shatter.
Honey pours from me.
A sweet nectar made from the pieces of you I’ve collected, like bits of pollen hidden between the petals of something much softer than the words you like to sharpen. I fill you with it, then warmth spills onto me, your fire flowing out of you with a soft cry.
Now I know what I wish had remained a secret.
I belong I belong I belong.
Updated tag list for 2026. If I added or removed you by mistake, as always, just holla at ya boi to be taken off or put on.
Yeah so the poll said you lot wanted Scar, so I used one of my old AU idea outlines and whipped this up in three days with the help of my cat sleeping beside me. This one is SO messy and long. I didn't even bother spacing the paragraphs out properly, I'll come back and do it later
Due to length reasons, the full AU explanation for clarification will be at the bottom, cuz this one got LONG!
Etho is kitsune hybrid, Bdubs is also a fox hybrid, Cleo's a zombie hybrid, and Scar's a vex hybrid ((its an old recessive gene from Cleo's side of the family)).
Clockers family AU, except Scar, despite being the youngest of two, has the middle child curse of being forgotten and was one day accidentally left behind in the park and attacked by a dog, being found and rescued from the attack by his uncle, Cleo's younger brother, who is also a vex hybrid. The very same uncle was also similarly neglected and overlooked as a child ((Like istg I made a whole OC outta him..... but this AU is where he started)) and got hurt many times because of it, refused to let the cycle repeat and took Scar, raising him himself whilst cutting contact since he knew what would happen if Cleo found out. Years later after making friends and stuff and ending up on Hermitcraft Scar recognizes his parents and brother... but they don't recognize him yet.
I decided not to add it in, but in my hcs vexes and vex hybrids have these vexbonds! like avian flockbonds, and similarly crucial and magical and necessary. Full vexes can die if they don't have vexbonds, and hybrids may just get really sick. Though a few have died, its very rare. But they're still very important, the way having a kidney is important. Luckily, the vexbonds form not only to other hybrids but to fullblood vexes as well! So Adam (Scar's Uncle) survived on those vexbonds, maybe a small one to another vex hybrid he met and made friends with, and when Ryan was a baby and they first met, they vexbonded quickly.
More notes at the bottom!
______________________________
Ryan didn't know he was the forgotten child.
Not really.
He just knew that Mama and Dad smiled bigger when his big brother Bdubs did something funny.
He knew Dad always remembered Bdubs' favorite foods but not his.
He knew Mama would spend hours helping Bdubs with school projects, while Ryan usually wandered outside to catch butterflies or chase allays through the woods until someone eventually called him home.
Sometimes they forgot where he'd gone. Sometimes they forgot he was outside at all. Sometimes they forgot him at the store. It happened enough that Ryan had learned to make games out of it. If nobody remembered he existed....he'd see how long it took before someone did.
Ryan had learned, by the age of four, that being forgotten wasn't always forever!
Sometimes it was only ten minutes. Sometimes it was an hour.
Once, it had been almost the whole afternoon before Mama came running through the marketplace with panic written all over her face.
She'd hugged him so tightly afterward that he'd squeaked. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
Ryan had nodded because Mama had been crying, and he didn't like it when Mama cried. After that, she'd bought him a cinnamon bun bigger than his head.
Ryan liked being invisible.
Not because he wanted to disappear. Because disappearing came naturally.
Vex magic did funny things.
Sometimes he'd giggle and vanish halfway through dinner, startling Mama into nearly dropping a plate.
"Ryan!"
He'd pop back into sight, laughing so hard he snorted.
Mama -though Dad called her Cleo- would clutch her chest dramatically.
"You are going to be the death of me."
"But it was funny."
"It was, Ryan." Then she'd sigh. "...Please don't do it while I'm holding knives."
His grandparents always laughed.
"That's our one little vex."
Well...
Not the only one. He was just the only *little* vex in the family.
His mom's brother was a vex hybrid too! He and Ryan even had a vexbond! Uncle Adam even gave him flying lessons and taught him about his magic!
"Don't fight it."
Ryan frowned. "I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm really not."
"You scrunch your nose."
Ryan immediately relaxed his face. "...Oh."
Adam chuckled. "There. Just let it happen naturally."
The world around Ryan blurred to anyone else. The colors melted. Then— He couldn't see his hands anymore.
Ryan squealed happily, "I did it!"
Adam grinned despite the dark circles under his eyes.
"Told you."
"Can I scare Bubby?"
"...Within reason." Ryan immediately bolted inside. Adam sighed. "I said within—"
A loud shriek erupted from somewhere upstairs. Bdubs yelled. Ryan dissolved into delighted laughter.
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. ...Close enough."
Ryan liked Uncle Adam.
Uncle Adam never forgot where he was.
Never. Even when Ryan slipped into invisibility. Even when he flew halfway into a tree with clumsy vex magic, his big leathery wings weren't strong enough yet to fly on his own. Even when Ryan wandered farther than Mama said he should, Uncle Adam always found him. It was almost spooky.
"You can tell where I am?"
"Yeah!"
"How?"
Adam smiled. "...adult vexes know baby vexes."
Ryan tilted his head.
"You do?"
"We do."
Ryan accepted this immediately. "Cool."
Adam smiled again. A little sadly. "Yeah."
Sometimes Ryan noticed strange things.
Like how Uncle Adam became tense whenever Mama raised her voice.
Not even at him. At anyone.
His shoulders would stiffen. His smile would disappear. His eyes would flick toward the nearest exit.
Ryan never understood why. Mama wasn't scary....Usually.
Ok, Mama with the axe was scary but she only ever threatened Dad with it.
~!~
Dad liked Bdubs. Ryan knew that.
Not because Dad didn't love him. Ryan thought Dad probably did.
Bubby was a fox ike dad. But Scar had magic the way Dad did, just Dad had kitsune magic, and Scar had vex magic. But Dad said Scar's magic did feel a little different than other vexes', because of his yokai blood. Dad even had cool eyes! One red eye and one blue eye.
Papa loved him. Etho just... forgot.
Forgot Ryan was sitting beside him. Forgot Ryan wanted to show him the shiny rock he'd found. Forgot Ryan had asked a question. Forgot Ryan was still waiting.
Bdubs always got answers.
Ryan usually wandered off before anyone noticed.
Mama tried.
Ryan knew she did.
She remembered birthdays. Made soup when he got sick. Read stories before bed. She hugged him. She kissed his forehead. She loved him.
She just... Forgot where he'd wandered.
Again. And again. And again.
Ryan had started leaving little trails. Not because Mama asked him to. Just because it made finding him easier.
It was after one of *those* days that Grandpa gave him his nickname.
Ryan had tripped over a tree root and scraped his knee open.
He'd whimpered exactly long enough for Grandpa to scoop him into his lap.
"That's going to leave a scar."
Ryan sniffled. "...Really?"
Grandpa nodded solemnly. "Guess we'll have to call you Scar now."
Ryan sniffled through the tears. "Scar?"
"The bravest little Scar I've ever met."
Ryan liked that. Scar sounded... strong. After that everyone used it. Eventually even Ryan forgot that once upon a time he'd only answered to Ryan.
~!~
The meetup at the park felt exciting. Scar was six years old. Bdubs was eight.
Mama had convinced Uncle Adam to visit for once, in his nineteen-year-old way.
Dad packed lunch. Bdubs immediately challenged everyone to races. Ryan wandered into the trees.
Not because he was upset. Just because the woods were interesting. Allays flitted between branches. A pair of wild vexes watched him from above.
One swooped low enough for Ryan to laugh.
"I'm not supposed to go too far."
The vex chirped. Ryan followed anyway.
By the time he realized he couldn't hear the others anymore, the sun had started moving.
He didn't know a server-wide alert went out, causing his family to leave before his uncle could even get there. He didn't know that he hadn't realized he wasn't with them.
"...Mama?"
Nothing. He wandered farther.
"Dad?" Only birds. He found the path again eventually. The park. Empty. Ryan frowned. "...Hello?"
No answer. He waited. Maybe they were hiding.
"Bdubs?"
Nothing. The allays gathered around him first. One tugged gently on his sleeve. Another floated worried circles around his head.
"I'm over here!" Ryan waved both arms. "They forgot me again! And it's not the store this time!!"
The allays scattered, looking for a fox hybrid, a zombie hybrid, and another little fox.
Surely, they'd come back.
~!~
They didn't. Hours passed. The light faded into orange, and the stars began to peek through in the sunset. Ryan's throat hurt from shouting. His stomach growled. The allays returned with berries.
Still no Mama. Still no Dad. Still no Bdubs.
Ryan sat alone on the swings until the metal became cold beneath him.
"...They forgot me."
The words sounded different out loud.
Bigger. Real.
He didn't notice the dog until it was too late.
~!~!~!~
On another server...
Scrapper -the nickname Adam had gotten long ago but had never told his family, for reasons even he wasn't sure of, frowned at the coordinates in his communicator.
He'd almost ignored Cleo's message.
Almost. Then the emergency lockdown between servers happened.
Nobody was allowed through portals for an hour. Nobody was allowed to travel. By the time restrictions lifted...
He figured they'd all be gone.
Still. Something twisted in his chest. Calling.
Just enough.
He stepped through the portal anyway.
The park was empty.
"...Figures."
He shoved his hands into his pockets. Kids laughed in the distance. Families packed up picnics. No Clockers. No Cleo. No Etho. Neither of his nephews.
He sighed. *Should've known.*
He turned and froze. A wild vex dove toward him. Panicked. Not aggressive. Terrified. It grabbed his sleeve and pulled. Pulled again.
"...What is it, kin?" He chittered questioningly. *Hurt?-danger?-help?*
It screeched *danger-pup-attack-danger!* Then shot toward the woods, then stopped and looked back.
Scrapper's stomach dropped. He could feel his vexbond, the only vexbond he had with a hybrid instead of fullblood, pulse all of the sudden.
"No..."
The vex flew again. Faster. Scrapper followed, his own huge wings flapping hard.
He knew this feeling. He hated this feeling.
Running through unfamiliar woods because no adult had noticed a child was missing.
He remembered doing exactly this, except he was the child then, unnoticed by his parents and his own big sister.
Wandering off unnoticed until he was basically a street child, being hurt and taken advantage of.
The barking echoed through the trees.
Then a scream.
High. Young. Pain.
Scrapper's heart stopped.
~!~
The clearing looked like chaos.
A massive feral Rottweiler snapped wildly.
Tiny wild vexes clawed at its face.
Allays darted desperately around it.
A little vex hybrid boy lay curled beneath it. Covered in blood.
"No!"
Scrapper's sword cleared its sheath in one motion, not any normal sword but a sword every Vex hybrid was able to summon like their fullblood kin.
Magic exploded outward. Vex claws tore across the dog's muzzle.
It lunged. He met it head-on.
Steel. Magic. Teeth. One final slash.
The animal fled yelping into the forest.
Silence. Then tiny sobs.
~!~
Ryan's face hurt.
Everything hurt. He couldn't breathe. His leg hurt the most. It felt like it was snapped in half.
"Ryan! Ryan, look at me, little rocket..."
The little boy blinked through tears.
"...Uncy?"
Scrapper dropped to his knees.
"Oh god." Carefully, so carefully, he gathered the half-dead six-year-old into his arms. "Ryan? It's okay."
Ryan buried his face against his uncle's chest. "It hurts."
"I know, little rocket."
"They..." Ryan hiccuped. " ...they forgot me again."
Everything inside Scrapper went cold.
Again. Not once. Again. Like with him.
"...Again?"
Ryan nodded. "They leave me lots."
Like it was normal.
Like it wasn't even worth crying about anymore.
Scrapper closed his eyes. For one horrible second... He was twelve again.
Standing knee-deep in floodwater, gasping, shivering, coughing up water and bits of blood. Wondering whether his family would notice if he had drowned, had been killed in the flood.
No. Not again. Not another child.
Not his own nephew.
He couldn't let the cycle repeat itself.
~!~
The healer didn't waste time.
"Oh stars..."
The older woman immediately ushered them into an emergency room.
~!~
Hours later...
"The leg will heal." The healer rubbed tired eyes. "It won't heal perfectly with what we have here. You'll have to do follow-ups somewhere else." Scrapper nodded once. "The facial injuries missed the eye." Another nod. "He's lucky there'll only be scarring, nothing permanent on his face."
Lucky.
Scrapper looked through the observation window.
Ryan slept surrounded by bandages. Tiny. Bruised. His face was already swelling.
Scrapper didn't feel lucky.
But then again, his nephew was alive.
"There is something else." The healer held up a chart. "I noticed repeated wheezing during treatment."
Scrapper frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I ran a few tests." She hesitated. "He has asthma."
"Asthma?"
"It's manageable. He'll need inhalers. Regular checkups nwo and then. And whoever was caring for him should have noticed years ago."
Silence. Scrapper stared at the floor. "...Yeah."
His sister and her husband should have.
~!~
Scrapper silently made one promise to himself after he got home, bringing Ryan with him and tucking him into the spare room of the house he'd built himself. His residential world was more open-minded and let you build your own house if you so want. He'd certainly made on good enough.
It wouldn't be too hard to make a new room for his nephew either, and the boy needed to be around another vexblood anyway.
And god, Scrapper couldn't let what happened to him happen to his nephew. Not ever. He'd cut contact with his sister and take custody quietly if that was what it took.
Whatever bridges had to burn. Whatever names he had to abandon. Whatever family he had to leave behind. This child would never again have to wonder whether someone was coming back for him.
Because now...he always would.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~
The first week felt like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.
Scar couldn't decide.
The little house sat on the edge of a quiet residential server, surrounded by tall spruce trees and gardens that hadn't quite decided whether they wanted to be vegetable patches or flower beds.
It was... Peaceful. Too peaceful.
Scar kept expecting someone to come take him home.
No one did.
~!~
"...Can I help?"
Scrapper looked up from the kitchen. "With what?"
"Dinner."
"Oh! Uh, you can stir."
Scar climbed onto a stool, unsteady from his still-healing leg. After several minutes of very serious stirring, he looked over. "...Are we waiting for somebody?"
"No."
"...Just us?"
"Yeah. And the cats."
"...Oh."
Scrapper glanced sideways. "...Is that okay?"
Scar nodded. "...I've never had dinner with just one person before."
~!~
The first time Scar wandered into the woods, Scrapper nearly had a heart attack.
He'd only been gone twenty minutes.
Scar came limping back with pinecones tucked under one arm and two wild allays following him.
"...Hey, Uncle Scrapper."
Scrapper was already halfway down the porch. He dropped to one knee and scooped the six-year-old up. "Tell me before you leave."
Scar blinked. "...Why?"
"So I know where you are."
"...You want to know?"
"Yes."
"...Every time?"
"Every time."
Scar stared. "...Okay."
It sounded like the strangest rule in the world.
Three days later...
"UNCCY!"
"What?"
"I'm going outside!"
"Okay! Stay within the fence area, okay?"
~!~
Scrapper was... strange. Not bad, weird. Just... Different.
It was different having someone remember him.
~!~
"You don't have to hide."
"I'm not."
"...Scar."
"Yeah?"
" ...I can literally feel where you are."
Silence. Then the air shimmered beside the bookshelf.
"...Forgot."
"You say that every time, my little rocket."
~!~
The nightmares started after the bandages came off.
Scar woke up screaming.
Every. Single. Time.
Scrapper never complained. He simply padded into the room, hair a mess, rubbing sleep from one eye.
"You wanna talk?"
"...No."
"Okay."
"You'll stay?"
"'Course."
Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't.
Sometimes Scar sobbed in vex-speak aand hand to be held for a long time while his uncle purred.
Scrapper just sat on the floor until Scar fell asleep again.
Living with another vex was... Different.
There were things nobody else had ever taught him.
How to fold his wings so they didn't ache. How to sharpen his claws without cracking them. How to tell illusion magic apart from instinctive invisibility. How to listen for wild vexes , how to speak to allay.
Someone he could finally speak wild vex to.
Scar soaked it all up like a sponge.
"...Mama didn't know any of this."
Scrapper smiled faintly. "Not many zombie hybrids do."
"You had to learn it?"
"...Mostly from wild vexes."
"...Really?"
"Really."
Scar looked horrified.
"...Isn't that dangerous?"
"...Sometimes."
He didn't mention learning because no adult had bothered except for the occasional fellow vexbloods he ran into on the street.
By the end of the year...
Scar stopped asking when he was going home.
One evening, while helping water potatoes, he quietly asked. "...Can I stay here forever?"
Scrapper nearly dropped the watering can. "...If that's what you want."
Scar nodded. "It is."
"...Okay."
And that was that.
~!~!~!~!~!~!~
Three years later—
Scar was nine when the moving van arrived next door.
He watched from the fence. "So many people..."
Scrapper followed his gaze. "...Looks like siblings and a friend."
Three teenagers, a dog-avian with blond fur and black raven wings, and a mer-avian with pink hair and similarly black puffin wings.
Three younger kids. A wolf-avian with black raven wings (again) and silvery gray fur contrasting her brown hair, and two small avian boys, one with red hawkish but also parrot-like wings and one with yellow canary wings, but like his brother, hawk-like. Probably bird mixes.
And one very science-y looking vex hybrid -probably a friend- trying to carry three boxes at once. The stack immediately toppled over.
Scrapper opened the door. "...Need help?"
Every head turned.
The oldest boy looked exhausted.
"...You sure?"
"Positive."
The girl beside him sighed. "We're probably going to owe you."
Scrapper shrugged. "Neighbors help neighbors."
By sunset, all of what little the kids had brought with them was inside.
Someone had remembered to buy groceries. The younger kids had stopped looking terrified.
And Scrapper somehow had six extra people eating dinner.
Even Scar wasn't entirely sure how that had happened.
Introductions happened over spaghetti.
"I'm Martyn." The blond teenager grinned. "This menace is my twin, Lizzie."
"I heard that."
"You were meant to, dear sister."
The pink-haired girl rolled her eyes.
"Our little sister is Pearl."
The oldest of the younger three gave a polite wave.
"Hi."
"The chaotic menace of a baby brother is Grian."
A boy with bright eyes immediately climbed halfway onto the table to look at Scar.
"Your wings are HUGE."
"They're not."
"They totally are."
"They're medium."
"They're huge."
"They're medium."
Jimmy leaned around his brother.
"I'm Jimmy."
"...Hi."
"And this is Cub."
The green-eyed vex hybrid awkwardly lifted a hand.
"...Hi. I'm their friend, i just escaped the foster system so im staying with them."
Scar's eyes immediately lit up.
"You're a vex!"
"...You're a vex!"
"Did you just notice?" Scrapper grinned at both vexlings.
All three pointed at each other simultaneously. Like the Spiderman meme.
"...Cool."
"...Cool!"
"I'm sensing another apprentice."
~!~
Within a week... Cub had accidentally taught Scar three new illusion tricks, and Scrapper had taught Cub how to heal himself with his magic properly.
Within two weeks... Grian had somehow convinced Scar to help him build a treehouse.
Within three... Jimmy had adopted every injured animal within a two-mile radius.
Scrapper watched the chaos from the porch.
"...They're good kids."
Martyn, who had come over asking about some legal help, laughed.
"They're disasters."
"They can be both, little one."
"I'm not little, Uncle S!"
~!~
The first traumadumping happened completely by accident.
Kids had a way of doing that.
It started because Jimmy asked why Scar limped. Scar answered honestly.
"My parents left me behind in the park and a dog bit me."
"Oh."
Jimmy looked down.
"Our dad threw stuff at us."
Silence. Pearl quietly spoke. "And our mum forgot to feed us sometimes. Lizzie had to do it."
Cub stared at his hands. "I don't remember my real parents."
Grian picked at a loose thread.
No one knew what to say.
So they all sat together.
That helped anyway.
After that...
It became normal.
Not every day. Not even every week.
But sometimes someone would say— "...Can I tell you something?" And everyone else would listen.
No judgment. No interrupting.
Just... Listening. Watching. Keeping what secrets they were told.
~!~
Scrapper never stopped them.
If anything...
He quietly made hot chocolate. Or tea. Or cookies.
Then pretended not to notice if everyone somehow migrated into his living room and asked him what he thought.
He was the one who really helped with the talks and the processing.
Martyn started referring to him as 'the group therapist (who also needed his own therapist)'.
~!~
Then Mumbo spawned.
Nobody was quite sure how he appeared.
One day, there simply seemed to be a tall, awkward bat hybrid, Scar's age, standing outside the neighborhood foster home, staring nervously at the group playing in the street.
Scar wandered over.
"Hi!"
"...Hi."
"You wanna play?"
"...I'm not very good at... people."
Scar considered this. "...Neither am I, sometimesI."
"...Really?"
"I disappear by accident."
"...Oh."
"...I'm Mumbo. I got adopted by the people in that house. They're nicer than most foster homes I've been."
"I'm Scar! I live with my uncle cause of an... incident!"
"...Friends?"
Scar held out a hand.
"Friends!"
And just like that, the little family grew by one more.
~~!~~~!~~
Scar was thirteen when he finally asked.
Not because he hadn't wondered before. Because he hadn't wanted to.
Some questions felt... Heavy.
This was one of them.
"Uncle?"
"Hm?" Scrapper didn't look up from where he was repairing one of the porch railings.
"You never told me."
"Told you what?"
"...Why you took me. After the dog."
The hammer stopped. For a long moment... Nothing. The evening breeze rustled through the spruce trees.
"...You remember that?"
Scar snorted. "I've got scars on my face, and my leg is crooked. Kind of hard to forget how it got that way."
"...Fair."
Scrapper set the hammer aside. "...Come sit." The porch swing creaked softly beneath their combined weight.
"I wasn't going to tell you until you asked."
Scar nodded. "I figured."
"...You sure?"
Scar looked toward the trees. "Yeah. I think I am."
Scrapper folded his hands together. "You remember what you told me?"
Scar frowned. "...After the dog attack?"
"Mhm."
"...Not really."
"You said..." His uncle's voice became very quiet. " 'They forgot me again.' "
Scar felt something twist in his chest. He remembered now. "...Oh."
"I asked what you meant."
"...You said..." Scrapper swallowed. "...You told me they left you a lot."
"I did."
"You did. And I believed you."
Scar blinked. "...Just like that?"
"Yes."
"...Why?"
Scrapper laughed. Not because it was funny. Because sometimes there wasn't another sound to make. "...Because......Someone used to say the same thing."
Scar tilted his head. "...Who?"
"...Me."
The word settled between them.
Scar stared. "You?"
Scrapper nodded once. "My name wasn't always Scrapper."
Scar frowned. "...I know."
"...Mama called you Adam."
"...Yeah."
"I never understood why you hated it."
"...I don't hate it." Scrapper looked out across the yard. "It just belongs to someone I used to be."
He was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke again, it wasn't dramatic. Just... Matter-of-fact.
"I wandered off a lot."
Scar looked down. "...Me too."
"...I know. My parents stopped noticing. I learned how to survive because I had to. I learned magic from wild vexes because nobody else could teach me. I got into fights. I slept outside. I almost drowned in a flood once."
Scar's head snapped up. "...What?"
Scrapper shrugged. "The river overflowed. I got caught in it. Almost drowned. I remember wondering..." He smiled faintly. "...whether anyone would notice if I didn't come home."
Scar couldn't breathe. "They didn't?"
"I never told them. I never told Cleo."
Scar frowned. "...Why?"
"Because..." Scrapper sighed. "...She was a kid too. Not as little as me, no, but still a kid."
Scar stared. "...But she......"
"...She never noticed."
The words hung heavily between them. Not cruel. Not angry. Simply... True.
"When I found you..." Scrapper rubbed absently at an old scar across his knuckles. "...I didn't *just* see my little nephew."
"You didn't?"
"I saw..." He struggled for the words. "...A little boy saying the exact same things I used to say."
Scar's eyes stung.
"I was nineteen. I didn't know what the right thing was. I only knew..." Scrapper's voice cracked. "...I couldn't leave another little kid in that situation."
"You thought they'd keep forgetting me."
"...Yeah."
Scar was quiet. "...Do you still think that?"
Scrapper didn't answer immediately. When he did... His voice was gentle.
"I think they loved you."
Scar looked surprised. "...You do?"
"They did.......just....." He paused." I also think love isn't always enough."
Scar stared at the yard.
At the trees they'd planted years ago. At the fence he'd helped paint. At the house they'd rebuilt together, after a creeper explosion.
"...I've wondered."
"Hm?"
"...If they were looking for me."
Scrapper nodded slowly. "I wondered too. I still don't know."
"They're not evil." Scar finally whispered.
"No."
"They just..."
"...Forgot."
"...Yeah."
Another pause.
"You know..." Scrapper smiled faintly. "...I was terrified."
"When?"
"The day I brought you home."
Scar blinked. "...Really?"
"I was nineteen. I barely knew how to take care of myself. I definitely didn't know how to raise a six-year-old."
Scar laughed. "You were awful at cooking."
"I was."
"You burned water."
"I did."
"You almost washed my favorite sweater with red dye."
"...Once."
"You still can't fold fitted sheets."
"No one can."
Scar leaned sideways until his shoulder bumped Scrapper's. "...Thanks."
"For what?"
"...Coming back."
Scrapper's eyes widened slightly.
Scar looked toward the woods beyond the fence. "...You always came back. If I had nightmares. If I wandered. If I got sick. I stopped wondering if someone would." His voice became very small. "...Because I knew you would."
Scrapper didn't trust himself to speak.
Instead...
He reached over and ruffled Scar's hair. Exactly the way he had when Scar was six.
~!~
Hermitcraft was supposed to be a fresh start.
Safe.
That was what everyone said
A place where builders, redstoners, explorers, and absolute disasters somehow managed to coexist.
Scar was thirteen.
They'd met Xisuma at a small convention, and after a few more meet-ups, he invited a few of them to his server.
Before they left... Scrapper insisted on one thing. That they kept in contact and visited, and that if anything felt like too much, they came home.
~!~!~!~
Hermitcraft was enormous.
The spawn alone was bigger than any spawn Scar had seen, besides the hugest public servers.
He'd barely finished introducing himself before-
"Kid?"
The voice hit him like lightning.
*No.
No no no.*
Scar turned around.
Etho.
His ears looked a little grayer.
There were lines around his eyes now.
But... It was him.
Scar forgot how to breathe.
"Oh." Etho -his father, his *father*- smiled politely. "...Sorry. You reminded me of somebody."
Scar's stomach twisted. "...Did I?"
"Yeah. You've got..." Etho gestured vaguely toward Scar's wings. "...The same hybrid type. Not many vex hybrids around."
"...No." Scar smiled. Somehow. "...Nice to meet you."
"You too."
Then he walked away. Only once he rounded the corner did Scar's knees threaten to give out.
"...Scar?"
Grian, who had apparently followed him, caught his elbow. "You okay?"
"...They're here."
"...Who?"
"My family."
Silence. "...Oh."
"They didn't recognize me."
Grian looked back toward the plaza. "...Are you sure?"
Scar laughed. It sounded hollow. "I've got a different name. My face is..." He unconsciously touched the scars across his cheek. "...Different. I was six. It's been..." He'd stopped counting. "...Years."
"They don't know."
"...Do you want them to?"
"Not.... I don't know!"
~!~
That night...
Five communicators pinged at exactly the same time.
**Emergency Family Meeting
Location: Uncle Scrapper's.**
~!~
Scrapper already had tea waiting. "...That bad?"
Scar sat down. "...They're on Hermitcraft"
The mug nearly slipped from Scrapper's hand. "...Who?"
Scrapper looked at Scar. "What do you want to do?"
Scar didn't hesitate. "Nothing."
"Then nothing happens."
No speeches. No advice. No pressure. Just support.
It became an unspoken rule. Nobody mentioned Ryan. Nobody mentioned Adam. Nobody even hinted. Not because they were lying. Because it wasn't their story to tell.
Scar noticed Etho watching him sometimes.
Never rudely. Just... Watching.
As if trying to remember something.
Bdubs noticed too.
"...He's weirdly familiar."
"What do you mean?"
"I dunno."
"The way he laughs? The way he flies?"
"...Something."
Cleo noticed something else. She never mentioned it to Bdubs. Only to Etho.
"...He's about the right age."
Etho closed his eyes. "...Yeah."
"...Don't."
"I know."
Sometimes, late at night, the Hermits sat around a campfire.
Stories drifted through the air.
Old servers. Old adventures. Old mistakes.
One evening, someone asked if anyone had siblings.
Bdubs smiled faintly.
"...I've got one."
Scar froze halfway through his tea.
"...Had." The smile disappeared. "...I don't know anymore."
The campfire became very quiet.
"...I'm sorry," Gem murmured.
Bdubs shrugged.
"I was eight. My little brother wandered off. We..." His voice cracked. "...We didn't notice." Nobody spoke. "We thought he was with Mom. Mom thought he was with Dad. Etho thought he was with me. By the time we realized..."
He couldn't finish.
Scar stared into the fire.
His hands shook.
Under the table, Grian quietly squeezed his wrist. Just once. Enough to say *I'm here.*
Cleo spoke for the first time.
"...His name was Ryan." Scar's heart stopped. "He was always wandering. He liked Star Wars. And allays. "He'd disappear with his vex magic." A tiny laugh escaped her. "...Scared me half to death."
His asthma hit fast when he was overwhelmed. Hands shaking. Vision blurring. He fumbled for the inhaler clipped to his belt. Before he could, someone gently handed it to him. It was Cub.
"...Breathe, vexling."
Scar took the inhaler. One puff. Then another. The attack slowly eased.
"...Thanks."
Cub shrugged. "...Anytime."
Silence settled between them.
Scar stared up at the stars. "...they really miss me?"
Cub took a long time answering. "...I think they miss Ryan. Not you, exactly."
Scar frowned. "...What's the difference?"
Cub looked toward the campfire. "...Ryan doesn't exist anymore. You do, little brother. Ryan became you. You *are* Ryan.... but you're also Scar."
~!~
Back home...
Scrapper listened over the communicator as Scar recounted everything.
Finally...
"...Do you think they know?"
"No....Do you think they deserve to?"
Scrapper looked at his nephew for a very long time. "...I think...that's not our decision."
Scar blinked. "...Even after everything?"
"They're our family too. I love my sister. I am also terrified of her. Both can be true."
Scar buried his face into Scrapper's shoulder. "I'm scared."
"I know."
"...What if they find out?"
Scrapper wrapped one wing around him. "They might. And if they do......You'll still have a home to come back to."
~!~!~!~
Etho liked the quiet of the mines. It was rhythmic. Predictable. You strike stone, stone breaks, you move forward. There were no ghosts down here, no heavy silences like the ones that settled over his house whenever Bdubs brought up the old days, or whenever Cleo stared at the server roster too long.
Today, the lower tunnels were loud. A teenage excavation crew—Scar, Grian, Mumbo, and Tango—had decided to go mining, and Etho had decided on his own to tag along as the "responsible adult," with an extra supply of torches. He didn't like leaving the kids of the server completely alone in potentially dangerous places.
"Watch the overhang, boys," Etho called out, his voice echoing in the deep cavern. "The gravel looks loose up there."
"I've got it, Etho! It's totally safe, look!" Scar’s voice was bright, energetic, and completely reckless. He was leaning precariously over a ledge, pointing his pickaxe at a vein of diamonds. "I am a master miner, nothing can stop—"
A sharp, deafening CRACK rippled through the stone above them.
"Scar, get back!" Grian yelled, his wings flaring in panic.
Everything happened in a fraction of a second. The ceiling gave way. A massive cascade of deepslate and gravel roared downward like a gray tidal wave. Mumbo lunged, grabbing Tango by the collar and pulling him into a safe alcove. Cub dove for Scar, but the dust was blinding.
"Scar!" Etho shouted, his ninja-kitsune reflexes kicking in as he bolted toward the collapse.
Through the cloud of suffocating dust, he saw the heavy stone clip the side of Scar's helmet. The teenage vex hybrid went instantly limp, collapsing onto the stone floor just as the rest of the gravel buried the tunnel behind them.
"He's hit! I think he's out cold!" Grian ran over alongside Tango, his feathers covered in gray dust. "Scar!!"
Etho was beside them in an instant, his fingers pressing against the side of Scar's neck. A pulse. Strong, but irregular. Scar's chest was heaving, a terrifyingly familiar wheezing sound beginning to rattle in his throat.
"He's having an asthma attack!" Etho hissed. He fished into the pouch on Scar's belt, finding the inhaler and administering it with shaky but practiced ease. He’d helped Scar with this before, since Xisuma and Doc had made sure the entire server knew about how to help each other with things like this, but seeing the kid completely unresponsive made his own chest tighten. "Grian, Tango, get Xisuma on the comms. We aren't risking a local respawn or a messy patch-up. Head trauma and breathing issues mean World Hub Protocol. Now."
The World Hub was a stark contrast to the cozy, chaotic builds of Hermitcraft. It was massive, clinical, and white-paneled, governed strictly by the surprisingly ethical and non-corrupt Council of Admins.
Because Etho was the oldest player present at the accident, he was the one who had to sign the intake forms. Grian, Mumbo, and Cub had tried to crowd into the emergency portal, but the Hub guards had pushed them back. Only one guardian or servermate was allowed in the high-tier medical bay until the patient was stabilized.
"I'll stay with him," Etho had told the anxious teens, giving Grian a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Go back to the server. Tell the others he's stable. I've got him."
Now, the room was quiet except for the rhythmic, magical hum of the Hub's health monitors.
Scar lay in the center of the sterile white bed. The clothing he usually wore had been replaced by a simple, plain shirt.
Etho sat in the plastic chair beside the bed, his mask pulled down around his neck to let himself breathe the sterile air. He looked at the kid. Really looked at him.
Without the theatrical hats and the loud voice, Scar looked incredibly small. Fourteen. Just a kid. The deep, jagged scars across his cheek and jaw stood out sharply against his pale skin. The crooked leg, apparently from an old injury according to Cub, was easier to see. Scar's cane had been left behind in the cave.
Etho felt a sudden, familiar pang of guilt mixed with curiosity about the boy beside him. How did he get those scars? How did his leg get so crooked? He has mentioned being raised by his uncle, but never once has he said why.
Etho rubbed his face, his gloved fingers catching on the edge of his mask where it rested around his neck. The silence of the World Hub medical bay was heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic, low chime of the health monitor.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He couldn't shake the heavy, hollow ache in his chest. It was the same ache that always showed up whenever the server got too quiet, or whenever Bdubs got that distant, glassy look in his eyes.
He shook it off and studied the young vex hybrid. His gaze caught on Scar's ears.
They were pointed, long, and distinctly Vex-like, just like Cub's. But as Etho studied them in the sterile light, he noticed the faint, almost imperceptible trim of soft, downy silver fur along the ridges. It was thinning, nearly unnoticeable unless you were looking for it, but it was there. And the magic lingering in the air around the bed—it didn't just smell like ozone and the sharp scent of the Vex. There was a faint strand of some other magic that felt exactly like the kitsune magic humming beneath Etho’s own skin.
Etho swallowed. No. Don't do this to yourself. It's just a coincidence. You do this with every vex kid you meet.
He glanced at Scar's tail. It was long and thin, like most vexes, and even that sharp tip that the kid would probably be able to use in battle once he got older. But while all vexes had fur on their tails, Scar's seemed more silvery and thick.
Hm. Maybe a slight mix. Not enough genes to declare a fully mixed hybrid, like Doc with his creeper-and-goat stuff since birth, but still had a few traits.
A soft whimper broke the silence.
On the bed, Scar stirred. The movement was clumsy, his brow furrowing as he shifted, trying to pull away from the discomfort of the head injury. He rolled onto his side, turning his back toward Etho as he curled slightly.
Etho softened. For all of Scar’s theatricality, bravado, and ridiculous shenanigans, he was still just one of the kids on his server. And Etho, despite being, well, himself, was deeply fond of them.
He reached out, intending to brush some of the boy's brown hair behind his ear so it wasn't splayed everywhere, and froze.
There, on Scar's neck, not quite on the back but not on the side either, was a birthmark, shaped and shaded remarkably like a planet Earth.
Etho's brain blue-screened for a moment. Was he hallucinating? Was it just a coincidence?
Shaking, he inhaled through his nose, realizing he'd never really focused on Scar's scent.
It was faint, buried under the sharp, wild tang of Vex magic, but it was there. The distinct, unmistakable scent that belonged entirely to his own bloodline. A kitsune's tracking instinct didn't care about a different name. It didn't care about a theatrical voice or a hidden face.
It knew its own pup.
Etho stared at Ryan Scar's face and slowly, looked pass the scarring.
Ryan.
Ryan was right here. His son was right here.
________________________________
AAAAND THAT'S WHERE YOU GUYS TAKE THE WHEEL!!! I know, it's too long and decides too much, blah blah. You guys asked for Scar, I gave you Scar.
as for the Au draft- ((Btw this is imported from the original separate AU idea explanation I wrote up so there may be some inconsistencies, ignore those bc what is said above overrules this.))
Etho and Cleo are the boys parents in this AU except.
Scar is a vex hybrid. bro probs gave Cleo (zombie hybrid) so any heart attacks going invisible with illusion magic as a lil guy. It's a weird family thing. They have an uncle on Cleo's side whose also a vex hybrid.
Etho favored Bdubs, and Scar was always neglected and would wander off and stuff. Scar's OG name was Ryan, but their grandfather nicknamed him Scar after he got one on his knee from a fall and was trying to cheer him up. IDK Cleo did her best to be attentive buuuuut yeah.
Now, the brother Cleo had I mentioned? Yeah it's a bit of generational trauma. He was also overlooked often.
His birth name was Adam but he eventually was nicknamed Scrapper by his street friends and prefers that name. Not that Cleo knows this. She doesn't know he was neglected enough that he would just wander the streets on his own a lot and get into trouble. And fights. One time when he was a teen he almost drowned in a flood and no one noticed. Granted, he always hid everything, even after trauma from being an Unsupervised kid in gang territory happened.
Being the only vex (still living, they had more a few gens back) in the family besides their cousin didn't help. He usually learned vex stuff from fullblood vexes that hung around and few other vex hybrids in the neighorhood and their great-grandparents when they were alive.
Scrapper eventually grew rather estranged from Cleo, even changing his tag so it'd be harder to find him by communicator, and wandered servers on his own. Of course, he was still a good guy- he came to meet his nephews a lot of times. He was neglected, but he wasn't ever gonna be a neglector.
Then one time, when Bdubs was 8 and Scar was 6, Cleo halfheartedly convinced him to meet them in a park. Just bc y'know. He might be a crazy little brother but he's still hers right? And Etho is kinda fond of the 19-yo anyway. Bdubs likes his fun uncle and so does little Ryan! Ryan especially, Cleo swears Ryan probably did some vexbond thing with Adam, that her brother isn't telling her about.
Then a multiple-server issue happened and the Council of Admins had everyone stay put or quickly leave to their home servers. The Clockers, unaware that Ryan had wandered off into the woods as he usually did without their notice.... kinda left.
Scar/Ryan, meanwhile, had gotten very lost in the woods and after a few hours was led back by some of the allays he met! But his family wasn't there. Again. They'd left in the store or at home a few times, but not in the middle of nowhere like this!! Scar screamed for them till his voice was sore, but no one came. They hadn't noticed or put a message in their server's chat that he was missing.
Meanwhile, once the server issue was resolved, Scrapper, he got onto the server in a halfhearted hope that maybe they were still waiting at the coords Cleo sent or maybe he could ask around as to where they lived. But some sixth sense had him heading towards the park and it's woods.
Scar, meanwhile, being six, wandered back into the woods when he got attacked by some wild rottweiler that had gone feral. Being six, he was tiny and couldn't fight back that well, though his vex magic did spur up a little. Oh and the wild vexes in the area were trying to fight the dog off. But it was still bad and this is where the scars on his face came from, and one of his legs got broken pretty bad.
AND THIS IS WHEN SCRAPPER GOT LED BY A FRANTIC VEX TO THE SCENE.
Of course, being an adult vex hybrid with claws and teeth and magic and a sword the dog was finally sent off. Scrapper quickly got back to his nephew and comforted the six-year-old. When he asked Scar what happened, Scar said 'they forgot me again'.
Quickly figuring out what was going on (and asking a few more questions), Scrapper knew what was happening. He knew the cycle was repeating.
But he couldn't let what happened to him happen to Scar.
So he took Scar back to the little server he lived on and got him to a healer there.
The face wounds had missed destroying his eye and stuff, but they would scar pretty visibly, and the leg break was set as much as possible, but it was a messy break and the leg still healed crooked a little, so Scar would have to get more treatment later on.
So Scrapper raised Scar after that and out of fear, cut off contact from Cleo.
Scar did make some friends! Martyn and Lizzie (twins) were Pearl, Grian, and Jimmy's (aged in that order) older half-siblings, and since all their folks were shit they got custody when they were 18 and the avians happened to move to the same server the vex boys were on, alongside their foster kid friend Cub, also a vex hybrid.
Scrapper noticed the teens struggling and immediately inserted himself into the situation and became a bit of an uncle figure to them as well, and Scar did make pretty good friends with Grian and Jimmy, the former of whom was only a year younger. Mumbo came along later, having also been a foster kid, but the nearby foster home was finally a good one.
Years later, after joining the Hermitcraft server somehow, Scar recognized his parents and brother. They did not recognize him. He resolved not to get recognized, and Grian, Pearl, Mumbo, and Cub didn't spill when they joined. Scar does try to avoid them, however.
Oh and Clockers pov none of have realized that Scar is Ryan yet. They do know now looking back they really shouldn't have forgotten him so much, and they know they lost him somehow but they don't know if he's alive or out there or anything. Cleo still wonders about 'Adam' and where her little brother is now and what he's been up to since all these years she's barely known him.
Oh and the kids def go home to their uncle Scrapper a lot, he knows all the tea of the server and stuff. He Knows bc Scar told him. Honestly Scrapper knows he can't fault Scar for not saying anything bc he would be afraid as well. And Scrapper knows his sister's temper all too well from the few times it was unleashed on him.
Etho, Bdubs, and Cleo have all wistfully noted that Scar is not only a vex hybrid but the same age as Ryan would be now. They have also all, guiltily, mentioned Ryan in those nights when the Hermits and Co all gather and talk and infodump or stuff.
But eventually a bunch of the hermits are mining and a cave-in happens and Scar gets a head bonk.
so of course since he's out-cold they do the protocol of taking to an actual hospital in the World Hub server (biggest and most important inter-server hub, has a bunch of stuff, where the Council Of Admins operates too) and while it's happening Etho FINALLY happens to notice the old birthmark on the back of Scar's neck.
Also, Scar's birthmark looks like Earth bc i say so. oh and i also imagine Scar's ears to be a bit foxlike! It was easier to see when he was little, nowadays not immediately noticeable. he and his uncle, like some vex hybrids, have tails, and Scar's is more furry than others- the fur is thicker and softer.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
not tagged by anyone – doing it cause I wanna 🤷♀️ working on something silly and stupid because why not
“Are we going to talk about this?” Eddie asks, before Buck’s ready for them to talk about anything.
Buck swallows. “What?”
“Buckley.”
It’s really too bad that Buck likes being a firefighter so much because he’s going to have to quit his job, move out of Los Angeles, and become a fucking hermit in Alaska.
“Listen, I—”
What’s he supposed to say? Sorry I’ve been staring at your crotch. I’ve climbed out of my years-long depression and realized I want to live the rest of my life with your dick in my mouth.
not tagging anyone – everyone is free/encouraged to post their own!
Helloooooo!!!!! For the sentence + a ship ask may I request Buddie (obviously) + ‘Where do we go from here?’
mwah! happy writing 💖 @circledwithaheart
Buck takes a deep breath, dares to step towards Eddie.
For months, he didn't where here was with Eddie, dancing around each other like they couldn't find the lines defining their relationship– if there were any at all.
But here, now, it feels like they're on the cusp of something. Buck admitted he didn't know how to go back to being Eddie's friend after everything that's happened the past year. After a flipped tablet, a rushed flight home, Nashville and road trips, it wouldn't be so crazy.
“We can't go back to what we had before,” Buck says, taking another step across his living room. Eddie stands still, watching him with an expression Buck can't read.
“And my question still stands,” he prods. Not giving Buck an out exactly, but not showing his cards either.
Buck lays his on the table.
“We can't go back, and I don't want to,” he says, coming to stand in front of Eddie. “Because I think we can have something better. Something I think you want too.”
“What's that?” Eddie asks, voice barely a whisper.
“Something we've been building for years,” Buck says. He reaches up tentatively to cup Eddie's cheek. They're so close he hears the hitch of Eddie's breath. “Something like magic.”
Eddie's hands grasp the fabric of Buck's shirt at his waist, like he needs to ground himself. His gaze flicks down to Buck's mouth. “Magic,” he whispers.
Buck smiles, leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth– a question.
