Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a really good idea in the beginning.

A few scattered texts in a group chat, an idea forming.

Don't tell FUCK WILBUR SOOT, they'd whispered in between calls and Amazon pages.

The only ones besides them that knew were the admins of MCC, so that they knew in advance not to give FUCK WILBUR SOOT a fake Halloween skin.

It was a group costume, after all. They wouldn't need to change a thing.

It was such a good idea. They'd loved it. Everyone would love it.

But now that he's in their dressing room, and he has the wig and sweater in his hands...

Why can't he stop shaking?

"Just get it over with...just put it on and be done with it."

His hands won't move. He just keeps staring at the mirror.

"Get it over with...get it--"

"Gree-on..."

The next thing he knows, he's shoving his wings arms through the holes of the sweater as fast as he possibly can.

"I'm sorry Sam, I'm sorry, I'll put them back on--"

He's backed into a corner. There's nowhere else to go. He can't end up like Taurtis.

"Good, good! Here, I even got you your favorite snack!"

He has a bag of chips in one hand and Yuki's knife in another. He takes it, ripping the plastic apart without a second thought. He can survive the plastic but he can't survive the knife, he can--

"Gree-Grian, what the hell are you doing!?"

The bag's been pulled away from him. Oh void, Sam's angry. He didn't eat it fast enough, he's going to kill him--

"Grian, look at me. Please."

The voice coming from Sam's mouth doesn't sound like Sam. He doesn't look like he's keeping him in the corner either. If anything, he looks like he's backing away.

But Sam would never do that. Sam wants to trap him here.

"...not Sam?"

"No, I'm not Sam. Sam is a piece of shit who the entire Hermitcraft server is probably going to publicly flay if they ever find him, and I will be buying tickets. Look at me."

He tries to look past Sam, past the shed, past everything--

He's in the dressing room. Joel's staring back at him.

"Can I touch you--"

"Please."

He spits out the plastic from the wig packaging as fast as he can. He hopes he didn't get far enough to actually swallow any of it.

As soon as he does that, Joel wraps him into a hug. His parts of the costume lay somewhere next to the door, as his eyes unhelpfully point out.

"We can still cancel this. Be the team with all fake costumes, that'd be a funny bit. Maybe if we're all ourselves, they won't replace it--"

"No! We've gone too far with it, everyone's already paid for their stuff, I can't just back out!"

He wants to stop doing this so, so badly, but he can't. He'll be labelled as a coward, Callum will hate him, FUCK WILBUR SOOT will be disappointed when he finds out the original plan, Sam will come back and--

"Okay, okay...can I at least tell everyone else to not joke about you being FUCK WILBUR SOOT?"

Void, yes. He'll go into a meltdown in seconds if that happens.

"Yeah, you really should."

Joel takes out his communicator, and he tries his best to stay as far away from the dressing room mirrors as possible. This is going to be a very, very long day.

They finish with Rocket Spleef Rush.

It's one of the few times in MCC where he can actually use his wings, so at least he's got that going for him.

He feels wrong. There's a rocket launcher in his hand, and every once in a while he'll hit a piece of ground and fire it.

But it doesn't feel like he's firing it. It just feels like his hand is going through the motions on its own.

There's a beep sounding from his other arm. He doesn't look over, but his brain Watches it without him.

"My Watch is telling me I'm stressed."

When did his voice become so dead sounding? It barely even feels like his voice.

Is it his voice? He doesn't feel like he opened his mouth.

There's a snort from somewhere in his earpiece. Someone else is talking.

"FUCK WILBUR SOOT"

He blocks out the rest afterwards. He can feel his mouth replying to some sort of question, but he doesn't really process it all too well.

He just keeps playing. Dying. Watching.

And suddenly he's no longer in the sky and FUCK WILBUR SOOT is leaving to go back to his realm but staying on the call and Joel is texting the admins about...something? He didn't really process what he said before he started typing.

"Grian...Grian, I need to see your ear so I can disconnect your mic. We're going back to the dressing room."

...what?

"But Witchbolt hasn't..."

"You're more important. We can look at Witchbolt later, there's always vods."

He doesn't reply. He just lets Joel take his communication device and lead him away from the pack.

They're in the dressing room now. He feels Joel take something off of his head and throw it onto the floor.

"The sweater wasn't made for avians, right? You had to make slits into it?"

He nods. He's too tired to do anything else.

"Then it would be easier for me to...if I cut it off, will you be okay?"

He breathes in, trying not to imagine Sam with a knife to his back.

"Just...don't let me Watch..."

"Alright. Face the wall."

He tries to keep as many of his eyes closed as he can. He doesn't even feel the knife go through the sweater. One moment he has one on, and the next he doesn't.

"It's over. I put in a request to Noxcrew and they should have it...here! Put this on."

He Watches as Joel throws him some sort of hoodie. This one's clearly made for avians though, so its easier for his hands to put around him.

He still doesn't feel like he's the one doing it though.

And--oh. It's a parrot hoodie.

He likes parrots.

"I'm going to put my hands on your shoulders. If that isn't okay, let me know."

He feels hands on him and doesn't resist. He's just there. Floating through everything.

"Do you feel that?"

His mouth is dry.

"...barely..."

"Okay, so you're definitely dissociating...how about you do something with me? Count to ten. It doesn't have to be out loud."

He does it as well as he can, then makes a chirp noise to try and convey as such.

"Alright, now do it backwards, but you've gotta say the number three when you get to it."

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four...

"Three..."

Two, one.

"Good, good. Can you go forwards again, but with two and six?"

One...

"Two..."

Three, four, five...

"Six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

Oh. He did the rest out loud.

"Are you doing better, then?"

"...maybe? I can talk, so..."

"It's okay if you're not instantly better right now. You were stuck in that thing for a while."

"Oh...thank you."

"Of course."

There's a knock on the door.

"You can come in, Callum."

"What? How'd you know--"

"Eyes are being jerks to him, I think."

The door opens as Callum nods from behind him. He decides not to turn around, since he doesn't really need to. More effort than it's worth right now.

"Ah. Hey Grian! Just wanted to check in on ya. Do you want to know who won, or--"

"No, I'll Watch it later."

"Got it, got it. Are you two gonna be here for a while? Should I get you some snacks?"

"Yes please, especially water. I need some hydration right now."

"Get some for me too. It was pretty exhausting..."

"Alright, hold tight! I'll be right back!"

It's been a few hours since the game. Callum went back to his world maybe half an hour ago?

The two of them are both just chilling out on the floor when another knock sounds through the door.

His eyes are closed enough (finally, thank void) to the point where he doesn't know who's behind it until he speaks.

"Hey guys! We need to close the server soon, so it's probably time for you to head back to your worlds, okay?"

Joel replies to Scott as he stretches out his wings, mentally preparing himself for Xisuma's pestering about why he stayed off world so late.

"Got it! Thanks for letting us stay as long as you have, Scott."

"Of course. Grian doing better?"

"I'm good. Thanks."

"Alright. Have a good night!"

The two of them eventually find themselves at the portal room. One to Hermitcraft, and another to Joel's own private server.

"See you later?"

"Yeah. And...thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

He steps through, finally being greeted by the sight of the Boatem Hole...and the admin he's likely given many a nightmare over the years.

"You were gone for a while."

Yup. Here it goes. Might as well mess with him if he's gonna be overprotective.

"Just for your information, Eggs-guy-summer, I've been doing many productive things."

"Like finishing the back of your bases?"

Ouch. Low blow.

"Okay, no, seriously. The MCC admins texted me a few hours ago, told me to make sure you were alright when you came back to your home world."

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense.

"I'm doing better now, seriously. It was just more Sam stuff."

Xisuma nods. They don't need to say anything more on the topic. They've had that conversation once before.

"Hmm...want me to stay at the nest for tonight, just in case?"

"That is a bed, I do not nest you mother--"

He bursts into laughter before he can even finish his sentence.

Yeah, fuck it. A sleepover sounds nice tonight.

It's still not a nest though. He is not a bird.

"Okay, okay..."

"Great. I'm glad you're alright. Now, shall we go?"

He nods, walking back towards the alley with Xisuma in tow.

His friends really are something, aren't they?