#i was hurt this morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

essentiallykpopandbl · 1 year

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I don't normally talk at lengths about kpop related things, especially on Tumblr, because I feel there are enough other fans in the world adding to the conversation. Yet, I am going to break that for a moment because I finally got around to watching RM's mv for Wild Flower that came out a few days ago. Do you know when you watch something and the meaning comes across loud and clear and it hits you and you just sit a little stunned but also a little sad. And you know you will never see that thing the same way again? Well that happened this morning. I have had Wild Flower on repeat since it came out but due to my lack of fluency in korean, all I could go off of was a few words I picked up, the vibe, feeling, and emotion of the song. I had a feeling RM was singing about his struggles with his life in BTS. But oh boy did was I so unprepared.

"When everything I believed in grew distant.

When all this fame turned into shackles.

Please take my desire away from me.

No matter what it takes.

Oh let me be myself"

That part almost broke me. I can't imagine what it is like to be in his position. Leader of arguably the best known K-pop group. Often the voice of an entire industry due to the position his group is in. The pressure to be what his members, company, industry, and country needs him to be. He is RM of BTS. And I know he has talked about this before but he is also Kim Namjoon. A boy who fell in love with music with no idea what he will become. And I am worried it is what he has become that will one day break him. But it's his second verse that made me want to write this.

"Where's my end finally gonna be?

Everything's so exhausting from A to Z

When's this wretched mask finally gonna come off?

Yeah, me no hero, me no villian

I'm barely anything

Idling repeats, memories turning vicious

Lying in a field, I set my sights on the skies

Now, I can't remember what I wanted so badly

I trusted I was happy, now a mere memory

Yeah I been going, no matter what's in front

No matter what it may be

Memories of holding onto dawn's edge and spitting things out

Society's all for the loudest voice

And here I am, still speaking silence

It's an aside, a boat in full bloom

To face all the prejudice and misunderstandings

I dont care much for being tossed into the air

Grounded on my own two feet

Amongst the flowers without names

I can't go to the stars again, I cant

Underfoot I just go

To a destination without a purpose

Not even knowing my own sadness

Even making friends with the shadows

I be gone"

You can feel his heart as he is rapping this verse. The sadness and fear he has at losing himself. I think as fans, we often forget what some people give up when they reach that level of fame. But on the flip side, no one truly knows what it means to be RM of BTS. Even the other members, RM's biggest support system, dont know that feeling. They know what it means to be a member of BTS, but to be the voice that RM is always expected to be? They don't know that. But when RM talks.... is it his voice? Or is it the collective voice of the other members and the industry he is representing? Does he answer based on what he thinks is expected of him? And if so, does that cause him to have even less of a voice? At what point does the need to speak for others suffocate someone.

I find it interesting that he brought up the shadows, because SUGA also raps about the shadows often. How they grow and can overtake everything when the light on them becomes too strong. I find it terrifying the thought of it being easier to be swallowed, or friends, with those shadows then to keep looking at the light. But when the light is blinding and the stars are scary, maybe the darkness is comforting.

While the song is sad it is also hopeful. When he talks about burning fireworks to flowerworks, it feels very reminiscent of the Phoenix. Something that rises from the ashes and comes back more beautiful. I think RM is battling those demons and what is threatening to burn him down but I believe what comes out of it is that much better. And I hope that is what we are seeing through this song. That RM is finding a way to be Kim Namjoon. That the world has not taken everything from him in their expectations of who he is. That somewhere, Kim Namjoon is finding his own voice. And that voice will be just as loud and beautiful as RM's is. Because I have a feeling Kim Namjoon has very interesting things to say.

#kim namjoon #wild flower #rm of bts #bts #kpop #kpop boy group #i was hurt this morning #comparing fire to flowers #i just lost it #this song and mv are gorgeous #i rambled again

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i-like-to-look-at-your-back · 2 months

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Sleeping off

#wolfstar #harry potter #the marauders #padfoot #remus lupin #adelaida art #finally finished! after over 9 months! it's my baby now #I've started it with a totally different mood in mind - bc my mood was at a bottom of a very big hole then #but time passed things changed and here we are with a more tough night but only one shoulder hurt and it's early morning and quite pretty #and we can sleep off the night and it's all good #madame pompfrey will fix those scratches in 15 seconds or less so i call it a win

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emkini · 1 year

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I think about Zuko and Ursa a normal amount

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #zuko #ursa #atla fanart #em draws #illustration #I had heart of stone from SIX playing on loop while drawing both of these #because I enjoy hurting myself #I am on a fucking roll right now apparently #cannot go five seconds without drawing something #the stuff I've been posting is so incredibly self-indulgent but y'know what. I do not care #normally i'd have a modicum of shame but nope #if I want Zuko to look sad in his mom's robes then that's what he's going to do <3 #privileges of being an artist #yes it's 4:30 in the morning shut up #id in alt text #edit I fixed his wack ass face

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starrystevie · 6 months

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hurt/comfort | mentions of anxiety and trauma | crossposted to twitter

"what's that?" eddie murmurs into the quiet darkness of their bedroom.

dread piles into steve's stomach. he wants to tug his sleeve over his hands so eddie can't see the writing on his palm anymore. wants to hide the pen marks by holding onto his hips instead.

"it's nothing," he whispers back, attaching his lips to the underside of eddie's jaw. he knows his boyfriend melts at the kisses he puts there. knows it will distract him from asking any more prying questions.

the ink is smudged, hardly legible anymore after a day at work. between washing his hands and shuffling papers and rubbing subconsciously at his palm when that certain type of anxiety knots into his gut, the pen marks from earlier are halfway to disappearing until he starts it all over again the next morning.

steve can't help it. he thought that moving in with eddie, having his support, would make it easier to cope with it all. thought that having someone else to help hold him accountable was the answer.

yet here he is, writing a list on his hand every morning, just to help him remember simple things.

he turns on the coffee pot in the morning, makes a note of it on his palm, crosses it out when he turns the pot off and tells himself over and over that it's actually off and he's not imagining it.

he locks the door and writes "LOCKED" in all caps so he doesn't come home halfway through the day to check and make sure it's actually locked.

he brushes his teeth, he feeds the dog, he puts his wallet in his briefcase, he closes the refrigerator door after breakfast and writes reminder after reminder on his palm in sticky black ink.

it helps, really it does, when steve's mind starts to wander in a boring meeting and he gets that hot rush of guilt of forgetting something burning through his veins. he'll look at his hand under the table and scan over the notes, find what's looking for, and try to breathe.

he'll read it over and over, the crossed out "coffee pot" or the "wallet in bag" or the "fed duke", until he feels like it sinks in, blinking back into real time to focus.

it's some strange mix of anxiety and lack of control and head trauma, robin thinks.

steve can't talk to a lot of people about it, embarrassed that he can't remember doing simple fucking tasks, but robin gets it. gets him. robin lets him swing his legs into her lap and pulls his hand up to her face so she can inspect the notes from the day to piece them all together.

it was her idea in the first place to write on his hand. she had suggested paper first but that was too easy to lose especially if he couldn't remember setting it down. she traces over the ink and lets him vent about feeling like a failure or stupid or some type of broken, reminding him gently that none of them got out hawkins without scars.

but steve hasn't let eddie see that yet, too afraid of breaking whatever they've made together, too afraid of scaring him off with his cracked brain and clenched jaw. too afraid of being built so wrong that he'll look like a once shiny penny covered in rust-colored problems.

so he digs his fingers into his palm, nails slicing into flesh & ink, and presses his lips fiercely into eddie's jaw to stop him from spilling any secrets. lets his tongue sneak out as an apology for not showing him his jagged edges. lets his teeth bite against the words he wants to say.

"baby," eddie whispers, his gentle callused hands trailing over steve's arms to settle on his clenched fist. he shakes his head against eddie's chin, bites at his neck again, ignores the way the love of his fucking life is trying to peel his fingers open to see it. see him.

steve feels raw, a live wire, one second away from snapping into sparks of electricity. he shakes his hand free and curls it around the small of eddie's back, tugging him closer, hiding his shame.

"it's nothing," he repeats, voice shaky and rough against eddie's skin.

if he just slots his leg right, if he just presses into eddie right, if he just tips his head and rolls his hips and plays his cards right, he can avoid all of this all together. he can take eddie's mind away from the writing on his hand and convince them both everything is okay.

but it's not that easy, it never is, because there fingers wrapping around his wrist at an awkward angle to pull his hand back and heat flares up in his cheeks. eddie's going to see, going to ask, going to figure out that steve is broken beyond repair and it's all thanks to one too many blows to the head & one too many times of fucking up & one too many times of leaving the goddamn door unlocked.

"i just-" he bites out, trying and failing to pull his arm out from eddie's grasp. maybe some part of him wants to come clean and get the inevitable over and done with. "-they're just some notes okay?"

and now eddie's looking between him and his palm with those eyes that hold love and the pity that he hates, so he blinks away, jolts to get his arm free again. he doesn't want pity, he doesn't want puppy dog eyes, he doesn't want the reminder that he can't-

but then there's lips pressing oh so gently to the hand he rubbed raw earlier when he could have sworn he didn't triple check that he paid the water bill. there's the flutter of eyelashes against his fingertips as eddie trails kisses over the thing that makes him feel less than.

steve doesn't fight to pull his arm back anymore. his shoulders drop, his muscles relax, and that ball of dread in the pit of his stomach eases away into something that feels more like acceptance.

"that's smart," eddie mutters against his palm. "to help you remember?"

and just like that, it isn't secret anymore. just like that eddie's peeled back the layers of bravado and nonchalance and seen steve for the mess he is.

he kisses the notes like it's the easiest thing to do and maybe for eddie it is. maybe taking a piece of steve's hurt is what they found each other for. maybe eddie was made to understand every inch of steve from the inside out like the way a vine instinctually knows to follow the sun.

steve resettles his face in eddie's neck, nods and breathes him in so he has him deep in his lungs. "it was robin's idea."

"she's smart too, then." eddie hums and drops steve's hand gently, letting it wind back around him so he can tangle his in steve's hair. "does it help?"

"yep," steve mumbles.

"how have i never noticed you scribbling on your hand everyday?" eddie asks with his lips pressed into the crown of steve's head.

"i didn't want you to see. i'm pretty good at hiding."

he can feel when eddie takes in a deep breath. feel when his chest expands and collapses before whispering "start adding 'eddie loves me' on there."

steve shakes his head with a small grin, his heart beat slowing from an anxious jack-rabbiting speed to something more eddie paced. "i never need a reminder of that one."

#this headcanon is brought to you by my own head trauma and anxiety causing me to forget literally everything!!!#zoom in on the 4 photos i took of my curling iron this morning to prove it was off #steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie hurt/comfort

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crabsnpersimmons · 3 months

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This one goes out to all the slow burn enjoyers, the dense Y/Ns, and the soft robo jesters that suffer in silence!

Inspired by @bamsara's “Solar Lunacy” fic.

If you feel like reading my ramblings and want to experience more heartbreak for fictional jester blorbos, check under the cut where I detail all the planning behind the frames!

so i heard this song for the first time in a while and the opening lyrics immediately made me think of moon, so i was daydreaming some scenes and then i decided to thumbnail some ideas:

and it all went downhill from there as everything became a metaphor and a parallel to each other, which i will now go into detail on!

you thought the animatic itself was sad?

*writing muse laughs maniacally* IT'S ALL A METAPHOR

Frame 1. "turn down the lights" We start with a back view on Moon. The lights are out, the Moon is out, but we do not see his face. The music and the greyscale atmosphere are enough to establish the weight of the moment and the weight on Moon’s mind.

Frame 2. "turn down the bed" We cut to a shot of Moon's body, kneeling on the ground of the daycare, like a padded cell. Moon’s hands are twitching with the effects of the glitch, with purple sparks coming from his hands. We still do not see his face.

Frame 3. "turn down these voices inside my head" Cut to an extreme close up on the dark half of Moon’s face. Now we see his face, but only a portion of it. His left eye is wide open, red and glitching out. The voices in his head can refer to the glitch but also his repressed feelings. Or maybe it could be Sun's voice in their shared headspace.

Frame 4. "lay down with me" Y/N's hand enters the frame from the upper right corner, lowering down to meet Moon where he kneels on the ground. Only a corner of Moon's face appears on the bottom left corner of the frame, his starry nightcap beginning to cover his glitched left eye.

Frame 5. "tell me no lies" An full shot of Moon on the floor and Y/N standing in front of him with their hand stretched towards him. A light spills out from behind Y/N, creating a boundary between them.

Now we see more of Moon. It is only when Y/N enters the frame—enters his world—that Moon’s body is shown in its entirely. When Y/N is here, he is no longer fragmented. He is whole.

Frame 6. "just hold me close" pspspspsps Playfully, Moon extends his own hand, beckoning Y/N to come closer, to join him. His right hand crossed over his body as he uses the playful gesture to hide his true feelings—to put distance between him and Y/N. His hat continues to cover his glitching left eye. He doesn’t want to worry Y/N.

Frame 7. "don't patronize" In response, Y/N’s hand pats Moon on the head, returning his playfulness. Moon looks surprised by the action. Moon, notably, does not lower his hand—perhaps he has forgotten it or perhaps his invitation is still open.

Frames 8-9. "don't patronize me" Moon rotates his faceplate so Y/N’s hand is touching the side of his faceplate, a more intimate gesture than a head pat. However, his hat is in the way. At this angle, his starry nightcap fully covers his glitchy eye and the dark side of his face, hiding his defect and acting as a veil between him and Y/N. A self-imposed boundary. So close, yet thinly separated. It's better this way. It's safer this way.

The lyrics are broken up by Y/N's arm, both to illustrate how the song is sung ("patronize" is drawn out and "me" is briefly added in before the chorus starts) but also to show how Y/N interrupts Moon's resolve, highlighting the irony between the visuals and the lyrics. Demanding not to be patronized, yet Moon happily accepts this play at intimacy. Don't patronize me, I am weak for it.

This is also the only instance where the red light of Moon's eyes glow and tint the surfaces around it. Visually, it makes it look like Moon is blushing (heavily inspired by @restinsodaroni's art). But also, in this moment of honesty, Moon's intrinsic light spills out, colouring the greyscale world. In this brief moment of honesty, Moon touches the world with his own colours, his own light.

(and this is also where i forgot to clean up the shading on Y/N's arm, but it's okay it doesn't need to be perfect it simply needs to be. And Moon will still love Y/N even if they are a continuity error.)

Frame 10. "'cause I can't make you love me if you don't" A parallel to a frame 4, Y/N retrieves their hand away and immediately Moon is reduced to the corner of his faceplate in the frame. Only now his glitched eye is fully covered by his hat.

The lyrics here (and in the next frame) in particular grow lighter to emphasize Moon's diminishing resolve and agency.

From here on out, the lyrics here are broken up, carrying on this theme of fragmentation. Y/N is pulling away, Moon is breaking up, the words are breaking up. Everything is coming apart.

Frame 11. "you can't make your heart feel something it won't" Y/N turns to leave. The lyrics, broken up as before, highlight the irony of the situation. Y/N, a human, can’t feel something they simply don’t feel. Whereas, Moon, the machine, feels something his code never intended him to feel.

Frame 12. "here in the dark in these final hours" Another full shot that parallels frame 5, as Y/N steps towards the light and Moon leans forward into the space Y/N once occupied. Y/N is leaving—that which makes him whole is leaving. And he is only capable of making it to the boundary where the light cuts into the darkness. The "final hours" suggest it might be the end of Y/N’s shift, or perhaps this scene takes place right before the glitch takes over—the final hours that Y/N has with the true Moon. Either way, time is running out—and only Moon knows it.

There is a contrasting display of body language here. Moon is on the floor leaning towards Y/N with his hand still left out. Whereas Y/N is turned away, walking away, and has already slipped their hand away and into their pocket. Y/N is closed off while Moon is limply open. Y/N is actively moving while Moon is on the floor, waiting, hoping, for that which he lacks the agency to reach for himself.

Frame 13. "I will lay down my heart" A close up on Moon’s hand, rising up again, perhaps to beckon Y/N back once more. This is a slight parallel to Y/N's hand reaching out to Moon. While Y/N can freely reach out and touch Moon, Moon cannot. He can't enter the light and more importantly he can't risk potentially harming his relationship with Y/N—be it through the glitch or by his feelings. He can only lay down his heart—put aside his feelings or hope that someone will pick up his pieces and make him whole.

Frame 14. "and I'll feel the power" Still on a close up on Moon’s hand, now clenched in slightly. This initially was going to have the glitch effects. However, I felt it more meaningful for it to be left without. Leave it up for interpretation why Moon pauses his hand. What is the power that he alone feels and stays his hand?

Frame 15. "but you won't, no, you won't" A parallel to frame 1, a view of on Moon's back with his hand stretched out towards the light, and Y/N walking into the light spilling through the open daycare door.

The placement of the lyrics suggest two different “you won’t”—Y/N who won’t realize Moon’s feelings, and Moon who won’t dare speak them into reality.

Another note on the parallel to frame 1, this time we also see Y/N's back, but it is notably different from our view of Moon's back. With Moon, we literally see inside him through the hole for his loop. However, Y/N is shrouded in shadow, just a solid, obscure silhouette against the bright light of a world Moon—and Sun for that matter—are closed off from. We don’t see into Y/N, just as the Daycare Attendant doesn't have any vantage point of Y/N's life beyond their time at the PizzaPlex. (The unfortunate reality of a being a character made for the purpose of being a vessel for the reader.)

Frame 16. "'cause I can't make you love me" We finally cut to face Moon head-on, frozen in place with his hand stretched out, unable to cross the boundary into the light. His eyes have gone dark. Where we began by seeing bits and parts of Moon, and never seeing his full face—now we, the viewer, see the full Moon, open and vulnerable—unbeknownst to Y/N.

Frame 17. "if you don't" But in the dark, behind closed doors, there is no one to perceive him—no one to receive him. The light dwindles as the daycare doors are closed. Moon stays frozen where he kneels. It is no longer the glitch that plagues him, but a far deeper dread.

But a lone streak of light peaks through the gap in the daycare doors. Perhaps that is just enough. A silver lining. A frail hope. A single, ethereal thread out of darkness and into light.

Thanks for reading and watching!

We'll be back to our regularly scheduled fun and games shortly!

#fnaf moon #fnaf dca #dca fandom #so this idea had me by the throat ever since I heard this song again #I've never done an animatic before but I wanted to give it a shot #the opening lyrics already reminded me of moon right off the bat #but then i kept listening and started thumbnailing some frames #it was actually the frames with moon receiving the head pat and turning his faceplate that convinced me i had to do this lol #the sweetest images resulted in this work of angst #thank you if you read all this!#i promise to post something cute soon to balance things out #and no promises but i will say the second verse of the song is PERFECT for sun #“morning will come and I'll do what's right just give me 'till then to give up this fight” /lyrics #hahaha it hurts :')#crab art #traditional art #digital art #traditionally inked and digitally coloured #animatic

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dustykneed · 4 months

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very important question for all of the trek fandom ‼️(lol)

#star trek #star trek tos #tos #star trek aos #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #spock #jim kirk #mcspirk #triumvirate #star trek meme #personally im a bones #who wouldnt want to wake up absolutely cradled in pillows #heaven on earth imo #one of mine ripped real bad so i had to throw it away and literally two weeks later i woke up in the morning and immediately #bruised half my ass by violently acquainting my pelvic girdle with the windowsill #hurt like a fuckin bitch #which is why more pillows is always correct

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fence-time · 3 months

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Sigh @thehappyromeo

#fence posts #zedaph #hermitcraft #hermitblr #this combined with that postabout how people should start drawing zed with his canon tit size…#I’m just giving the people what they want #I undid his top surgery . like Prometheus #every day he cuts them off every night they grow back (I draw them on <3)#can you tell I’m tired #it’s 2 in the morning this is rushed and my head hurts #I think I will start drawing him in more off the shoulder jumpers #he deserves it <3 #okie I’m going t9 bed.

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temperamentalaquarius · 3 months

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Dick having nothing of his parents but a poster on his wall. Half a dozen children have answered to his name(a name Mary Grayson would have never called anyone else), he is just the first. He is forced to watch as something that could only ever be given is twisted into a duty that has to be earned. His legacy is an echo of an echo of a voice he can no longer remember. With every one of their deaths, he is made a murderer, and Mary is complicit; just another piece of the Graysons that Gotham bloodies. Time will take the rest, grinding away at Mary and John Grayson until their faces are lost to stylized shapes and hard outlines- a customer service smile depicted in a 14 year old photograph superimposed over them. Still he clings to a drawing of his parents in free fall, their colors fading every day. Colors that are now worn by someone else.

#dick grayson #nightwing #Robin #batfam #bitch i might wing #I...slammed my knee against the corner of my nightstand this morning #Dick will hurt in solidarity #but really this makes me want to chew drywall

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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year

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:-O

#me as an interior designer: more fucking colors. i want this room to hurt my eyes #i live in envy of the casually colorful house exteriors in Mexico. its bullshit. why cant american houses be pretty colors?#also me: do i properly outline the dimensions of a room for proper perspective? no. fuck it. no ruler for lines we do this by eye and by #hand. and then im sad when it comes out wobbly lol #i started drawing this at 4am the other day and decided to finish coloring this morning instead of working? idk y #naruto #uzumaki naruto #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kkir #kakairu

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realpokemon · 11 months

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WHAT GOT YOU HOSPITALIZED IN SINNOH???

i was TRYING to take a mini vacation to this godawful region. i wont lie i havent posted about it because i do Not Remember What Happened

#pokemon #unreality #pkmn irl #sighhhhh good morning tumblr sorry my medical update is late #my head hurts like a fuck #i am psyduck

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factorialsotherfandoms · 7 months

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A birdhouse. What they find is a birdhouse, sealed up in reinforced deepslate. It had not been so much a trail as following Tubbo as he frantically searched various places and their surroundings, and a bit of good luck in that Pac had a spyglass on him. Tubbo leads, Fit guards, and Pac is here because he cannot let anyone suffer the Federation longer than they must.

That it took them this long to notice Philza was missing honestly makes him feel a little sick. A man who claims so many close friends, and still it took 3 days for any of them to notice. Pac wonders - if nobody had seen his own kidnappings, would it taken them as long?

It doesn't really matter. They are here now, and they can only do their best.

It is hard to get inside. Once they do, the place is… beautiful. Full of birds, and vines, and if it were not for something that Pac cannot quite place would look like one of Tallulah's builds.

Tubbo moved first of the three, not nearly as cautious, not scouring for traps as Fir does, or anxiously checking for danger like Pac.

The birdhouse is shaped like an L, part it hidden. As soon as Tubbo sees it, he screams "Phil!" and also vanishes behind the wall.

Pac and Fit do not hesitate. They launch themselves the few steps forwards to see.

Fit yells "shit" and follows Tubbo to the floor.

Pac… Pac takes the moment to look, heart in his throat. There are more birds - hummingbirds - all around, both sat on the floor and caged up above. In the centre is a plinth, and on it a book, an empty shelf on either side.

Philza is curled on the floor before the plinth, surrounded by bloody, torn feathers. Hus wings are even more a mess than before, and it is clear he curls around something.

More worrying - Tubbo is shaking him, yelling and sobbing his name, while Fit taps his cheek and asks for a response. Neither works.

Pac does not know Philza well, but he does know this is bad. It is not a build like any other Federation build, but he knows a torture room when he sees one.

Even one as pretty as this.

"Babygirl," Fit calls him, and Pac flinches. "Can you look at me? You love this shiny head, don't you? Wanna see it?"

Pac shakes himself. He pulls out a sharestone and sets it beside the group, checking over the list of who is online.

No doctors on the island, Philza's other friends offline, nobody like that - just…

Forever's communicator comes online.

Pac does not hesitate to private message him, givinf him the name of the sharestone, and to bring blankets, healing potions, and hot chocolate.

Done, he kneels between Tubbo and Fit, the former sobbing apologies and the other trying again.

"I asked Forever to come with blankets," Pac whispers.

Fit nods, flicking Philza's forehead and finally earning a response.

Philza sluggishly raises his head, empty, dead eyes blinking in Fit's direction. He reaches a hand out, and fails to reach; Pac takes it up, freezing cold.

"There you are," Fit's smile is tense. "Birdbrain got you good, huh?"

They all know it's not birdbrain but shock; the blood all around, the vacant expression… with Philza's arm uncurled, Pac can see what Philza was holding. A ducky floaty, and a red beanie.

He swears.

Fit looks, and swears as well.

Tubbo, seeing them, breaks into sobs.

Pac uses his free arm to pull Tubbo into a hug just as the sharestone whirs.

"Hey Pac, what sort if sleepover needs-" Forever freezes in his words for a moment, before yelling for Philza, and joining the group on the floor.

Forever throws a few splash potions at him, before grabbing the blankets. Pac is somewhat pushed aside but, with the sobbing Tubbo in his arms, maybe that is for the best.

Somehow, Fit and Forever get Philza sitting, while Pac manages to convince Tubbo to breathe. He watches as they convince him to drink a potion, then as he's given the mug of hot chocolate and grasps it in his hands. Philza leans heavily against Fit, but his eyes remain on Forever.

The ducky and the beanie remain firmly in his lap.

"What happened?" Fit speaks for all of them. "Do you remember?"

Philza nods, but it still takes him a while to speak, "I... Here."

Shaking hands draw a book from his inventory, and hand it to Forever.

Forever reads aloud the story of the old crow, and the room is grim.

"But wait," Tubbo finally calms himself enough to pipe up. "The ducky is still in the maze. How's it here too?"

"At least one is a very convincing fake," Fit says. "If not both."

Pac, who has been kidnapped more than anyone else in the room, and has seen another happen, can almost see it play out. His hands shake as he grips Tubbo a little tighter.

"The ducky in the maze," he whispers. "It wasn't about Chayanne; it was about Phil."

"It's so fucking stupid," Philza groans, taking a sip of hot chocolate and earning a little more life. "I should have seen it. Tallulah doesn't write like that, she knows I'm an idiot and has to spell it out. A bit too much sometimes. And Chayanne wouldn't write a book at all, just leave me a scrap with coordinates on, or maybe a trail of potato crates. I just-"

Forever leans over and pulls Philza from Fit's chest to his own, capturing him in a desperate hug, whispering reassurances Pac cannot hear he is sure.

"Fucking Feds." Fit sums up the room.

"It's not your fault," Pac says the words everyone always told him. "The Federation is... too good? at this."

"It's fucked up," Tubbo agrees. "And on Tallulah's birthday? They got you good, man. What if-"

Pac squeezes Tubbo's shoulder, "they are too good at this. It's not Philza's fault."

"Played us like fiddles," Fit agrees. "All of us. Nobody thought the ducky would be about you not Chayanne even after you vanished."

"Do you want to go home?" Forever ignores their conversation. "There's a sharestone; we can get easily back."

Philza shakes his head, his voice breaking as he says "I want my children."

They really should make a bunk room in the Order, Pac thinks, both for situations like this and for when Cellbit is up until the small hours struggling over puzzles.

He does not think of his own son, still missing, and the empty house he, too, must go back to.

With Missa so infrequently there... Does Philza feel the same?

He must do.

An empty house made for a family, haunted by their absence, the eternal knowing you were not enough... Pac built a whole new home on the island, and still cannot escape his family's ghosts. How they can Philza, when he sleeps in his children's bedroom?

"There are still houses in the Favela," Pac says, it the most central place he can think of. "You could go there? We used to stay there all the time; there's space for Tubbo and Fit too."

"You come as well," Fit butts in.

Pac would object, but Philza examines him, then gives an exhausted nod.

"Okay," he merely says.

"We could call Wilbur?" Fit suggests. "Once we're at the Favela. I know its not the eggs, but..."

But, if what he has been told is correct, the fabled Wilbur is one of Philza's children just the same.

Philza nods, and Forever scoops him up. Tubbo scuttles from Pac's grasp to grab the floaty, while Fit passes Pac Tallulah's beanie.

He clings to it, her hat.

Fit gives him a knowing smile and takes his hand. "Favela, then."

"We can invite people to come chill as they get online," Tubbo suggests.

It sounds like a solid enough plan; Philza is already half asleep, and surely someone has enough medical knowledge to check on him? Even if not, the expression of how many people care... It meant a lot to Pac, embarassing as it was. It surely would to Philza too.

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp fit #qsmp tubbo #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp forever #qsmp pac #rescue mission #hurt/comfort #this feels like a really bizarre option but eh I went with it #morning crew do a rescue! forever gets called in later #Pac knows Philza the least but understands perhaps the best #idk #take this or leave this its here now #hope you found something to enjoy!

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