Archive of Our Own

Bad had always healed fast, unnaturally fast.

Of course, there was a reason for this. You couldn’t look at his void fur, white eyes, and literal horns and not figure that he was a demon. It had its perks, fast healing is one of them. It was way too necessary to be too much of an advantage though.

Demons weren’t exactly common in most servers, they’d nearly been hunted to extinction countless times. There wasn’t anything especially precious to pick up, though some fashioned demon wings or horns into decorative pieces. It was mainly done out of fear, which is why Bad never could find it in himself to let himself hate the hunters.

But he had every reason to.

He was rushing through the forest, around 16 years old, with ratty brown clothes and a stone sword clenched between his fingers. He had chanced going into a village, needing to get some seeds. He had brought an emerald he had mined, but he hadn’t meant to be seen. It had been instilled in him from a young age- don’t let them see you. Even if he couldn’t remember his parents' faces, he remembered their words.

But he’d been seen.

“Come on little monster,” A laughing voice came from behind him, closer than last time. “We just wanna talk.”

His breathing was coming out shallow, head pounding in beat with the heavy fall of his leaps. He just had to get to the clearing, the trees here were too dense for him to fly, but if he could just get to the clearing…

He didn’t bother to try and reason with them, he knew it wouldn’t work. He unclipped the cape he had used in the town to cover his wings, it was only getting in his way. His wings weren’t feathered or pretty, they were like bat wings. They had dark claws at the end, the thin membrane of the wings was just as dark.

“You can’t run forever, you fucking devil.”

He knew that; his sides burned in discomfort. He was by no means out of shape, but he was younger than the men behind him. He was tall, but still growing. They were laughing to themselves as they chased him.

A sharp pain exploded in the back of his calf.

He tumbled face-first into the dirt, dry leaves and gravel scraping against him. He reached behind him, hands finding the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his leg. He yanked at it quickly, swallowing back a wave of nausea and blinking spots from his eyes.

“I GOT IT!”

He was yanked to his feet, arm twisting painfully behind him as he was spun around to face the man who had him. He was huge, easily long enough to overpower him even as Bad struggled for all he was worth.

“Aww, it’s so ugly. You think it’s scared?” The man cooed, tight grip already forming bruises on his arms. “Maybe we should get a picture with it before we get to work.”

Words jumbled in his throat, the temptation to try and reason with the man. He knew it wouldn't work, he hadn't tried to talk a human out of their fear of him for years now. He went feral, hissing and snapping at the man in his desperation.

But then the man’s two friends were caught up, helping to restrain him.

Bad might’ve been the size of a small adult at the time, but his demonic strength wasn’t fully developed yet. He could do little to help himself when he felt his face get shoved into the floor harshly. Arms were restraining his own, a knee jabbed harshly on the junction between his wings. His breathing was shallow, his efforts doing little to jostle the men holding him down.

“These will be worth more than any ore, are any trading villagers coming through town soon?”

“In a few days, we’ll have to make sure we don’t tear them.”

His heart was beating erratically, choked half-sobs threatening to burst forth at the casual conversation. He felt the cold metal pressed against the top of his wig, ready to tear away from his limb. He bit his lip on his fangs as he tossed his head back and screeched. He arched his back, finally managing to throw the man off balance- but it was too late.

The man’s uncontrolled slice carved a tear through the middle of his wing, a frustrated shout echoed above him. He didn’t stop struggling, his tail whipping back and forth frantically as he clawed at the men’s hands. They threw a lazy strike with the knife catching his other wing near the edge and then coming down again towards the edge of the other wing. His movement became more frantic, desperate to save himself. He wasn’t hurting anyone, why couldn’t they-

His vision grew hazy, primal instincts fueled by adrenaline and pure terror taking over his muscles. He drove his claws across the man closest to him’s chest. Blood splattered across his inky fur, filling his mouth as he snapped at a stray punch.

“-out of here!”

His head was pounding, teeth snarled and posture defensive. He waited with bated breath as his vision focused, as he began to recognize the blood staining him. Till he saw the bit of the hunter’s torn flesh tossed senselessly in the grass before him.

Was he a monster?

His hands shook against his sides, the urge to hunt tickling the back of his consciousness. Was it his fault, or was it self-defense?

He winced harshly as a light breeze rushed over his wings, he was still standing, posture tense and defensive as his claws dug into his thigh in an effort to restrain himself. Finally, his energy faded, the men nowhere to be seen.

His stance remained for a moment before he registered the sudden pain in his body- and boy was there a lot of it. His knees gave out, collapsing under him. His back was the most prevalent of his pains. The tear in his wings was all-consuming, he felt as though he’d never recover.

‘Devil,’ The men had spat at him.

He pushed the thought from his mind, trying in vain to reach the tear in his wing. He stopped after a moment, the pain from twisting his back stealing his breath, and sending pulsing waves of shock down his spine. Bile rushed to coat the inside of his mouth.
He choked on a sob, it tore through his throat, burning and aggravating it. It was nothing compared to the supernova of red-hot pain coming from his wings, seared into the back of his mind. His vision blacked out momentarily before fading back in with stunning swiftness. The transition left him dizzy, and he barely managed to shove himself onto his side to vomit onto the grass tickling his chin.

His breath shuddered in his chest, heaving sobs shaking his body.

He wasn't in danger from bleeding out, he could feel the wings slowly begin to stitch themselves back together, the pins and needles sensation gearing up But he was in for a long few nights, maybe even a week. He pressed his forehead into the cool dirt, dimly hoping he at least wouldn't get an infection.

He was alone.

By the time Bad joined the Dream SMP, he had changed so much from that scared boy. He was still kind and gentle, still openly trusting and affectionate. But trust had different levels for him, and his demonic nature was not an easily accessible level to reach. He wore darker clothing to melt into the shadows if needed, a hood to cover his horns and provide himself an extra moment to slip away.

Perhaps the most noticeable change was the dark cloak clasped around his neck. It had a fairly complex system of buckles ataching it to his hoodie with an extra clasp to attach it to his armor. It covered his wings perfectly, with no amount of twirling giving them away. The cloth attached to his back and the cloak beneath his wings could be explained away as an extra layer for warmth.

Of course; he made sure to take care of his wings- despite wishing he didn’t have to for some days. He would stretch them out in the privacy of his room, take trips to the nether in the dead of night to exercise them whenever he felt antsy or gross. Maybe it wasn't as often as he should have exercised them, but it wasn't especially unhealthy. It was a good way to dispel nervous energy, and he found himself enjoying those nights.

Practically everyone on the server knew he was a demon, there was no hiding that. But everyone had been understanding about it, hybrids much more commonplace here. His skin was covered in pitch black fur, and his eyes were stark white after all. But aside from the tail which sometimes dragged on the ground beneath his cloak or rustled the fabric, his friends couldn’t see any of his extra appendages or protrusions.

He liked it that way.

The scars on his wings didn’t bother him anymore. No matter what they represented, or how the memory was still seared into his nightmares. He wasn’t ashamed of his wings, just cautious. Perhaps even overly so, but he didn’t care. It was fine.

His wings were a part of him that he could not change, he wasn’t someone to hate, a part of himself that wasn’t his to control.

But he did dream about what it would have been like to be born human sometimes- to not have to worry about attaching extra cloth under his cloak to ensure no one would look up and see his wings, to not worry about maintaining hygiene on his wings, tail, and claws without drawing attention to them. To not be hated for his born-elements. To be normal.

He didn’t hate his wings.

He just didn’t care for them very much.

Skeppy

“For the last time, Skeppy, we’re not gonna go looking for sand right now!”

“WHY NOT?”

“Because there are mobs! And it’s late, Skeppy. We can go tomorrow,” Bad replied, fully exasperated. He loved Skeppy, he really did, but he could be so frustrating sometimes. Leaving the comfort of home near midnight for sand was very far down on his list of priorities. Skeppy didn’t even need it for anything either, he just wanted sand.

“But I wanna go now,” Skeppy whined. His gaze was fixed pointedly out the window, headbox blocking his expression. Bad knew he would be smirking, Skeppy loved to rile him up. He wouldn’t be surprised if Skeppy was doing this just to mess with him. “And the beach is right there.”

Bad pursed his lips, refusing to cave. He just turned away with a huff, opening the fridge. “How about I make you a cake instead? Niki showed me a cool trick for icing it yesterday.”

Skeppy tilted his head a bit, seeming to consider it. He was stubborn, but then again he also loved cake. “Cake and cuddles?”

He couldn’t help the amused chuckle that spilled from his lips, sending a smile at Skeppy from where he was walking into the kitchen. “Alright, cake and cuddles.”

Skeppy settled down as Bad started the batter, singing some upbeat song at the top of his lungs. He tried to coerce Bad into joining him, but as he didn’t know the lyrics it was futile.

Bad just giggles to himself at Skeppys' dancing around. "Alright, that's cooking, so we can have some later. Okay?"

Skeppy stopped to send him a grin over his shoulder. "Okay, you know what that means."

Bad rolled his eyes putting the mittens on the counter. "What does that mean, Skeppy?"

"Time for cuddles!"

Bad just laughed as Skeppy pulled him almost frantically towards the couch, tripping over his cloak as Skeppy cackled. Skeppy took off his box, ruffling his hair up as he set it down on the coffee table. Bad's heart swelled at the sight, the honor for being trusted like this wasn't lost on him. Skeppy just snorted and rolled his eyes at Bad's look, pushing him against the armrest, Bad quickly opened his arms for Skeppy to settle down against his chest. Their giggles continued for another minute as they shifted around. Bad more so than Skeppy, which didn't go unnoticed.

These times were great, except they were hard on his wings, especially when his wings were already stiff. He'd been meaning to stretch them out for a few weeks now, but since he'd just moved in with Skeppy he hadn't had time. It was always movie nights or projects he'd put off, he just hadn't had time or energy to go flying.

His wings were aching.

"Bad, are you okay?"

"Mhmm," He hummed, tensing his back in an effort to stop shifting. The smile he shot at Skeppy didn't quite meet his eyes, and Skeppy didn't look amused by it for a second.

"Baddd-"

"Sorry, sorry," He giggled nervously, spare hand moving off Skeppy's back to grasp his arm. "I just..."

Skeppy's expression softened, he wiggled back to sit on his shins. Bad tried not to feel exposed under Skeppy's gaze, but it was difficult. When Skeppy had explained the importance of the headbox, Bad had understood. He felt so seen under Skeppy's unfiltered gaze, it always felt special to him. But right now it just made him nervous.

"Hey, what’s wrong?"

He shifted anxiously, only to stop with a hiss. He sat up a bit, taking the pressure off his wings. Now Skeppy really looked concerned.

"Promise you won't hate me?" His voice came out smaller than intended, his shoulders hunched inward.

"I promise."

He took a breath, hands going up to unfasted the cloak as he shook his wings out. There was a moment of complete shock on Skeppy's face before he smiled. His wings weren't completely extended, just enough that Skeppy could see their general shape- like he would hold them before trying to take off. Skeppy leaned forward with a giggle, rubbing his thumb along the claw at the end.

"Dude, why didn't you show me this before? We totally could've traveled so much easier!"

Bad couldn't help his own giggle, extending his wings more to work out the aching in them. "Sorry."

"What? Don't apologize, dumbass-"

"Language!"

"Yeah, yeah," Skeppy waved him off, fully immersed with tracing his finger's over Bad's wings. Bad just chuckled to himself, burying his head in Skeppy's shoulder as he relaxed. It felt nice to have someone touch his wings without intent to harm. He couldn't remember anyone ever doing so, and it only felt right that it would be Skeppy to do so. Skeppy had been the one to really make him feel like he had a home. "You better stretch them out more, I can't imagine it's fun having them all compressed beneath your cloak all the time."

"It's not," Bad agreed. "That’s why I couldn't get comfortable."

Skeppy pulled him from his neck with a glare, flicking his nose to make his discontent clear. "Dude, what the heck."

Bad just gave him a sheepish grin as Skeppy slid himself from his spot to begin rearranging them. Eventually, they settled with Bad resting his legs across Skeppy's lap, wings extended lazily behind him across the seats. Bad was still taller, but Skeppy didn't seem to mind.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you hid them for this long,” Skeppy admitted. He reached out to trace his hand over them lightly for a moment before turning back toward the window and pressing back into Bad’s shoulder easily. He let out a small content hum at the position. “Yeah, that’s definitely more comfortable. What about you? I’m not smashing your wing, am I?”

“No," He giggled a bit breathlessly. “It’s fine.”

His chest felt lighter, secure in the knowledge that he could take off his cloak at home if he wanted. He didn’t think he would way too often, but maybe he could just slip a wing out for a quick stretch in the house. That would be nice.

Bad hummed, the vibrations buzzing against Skeppy’s head as he sang softly. The rain was still pouring outside, a comforting ambiance to accompany the moment. It wasn’t long before both had half-closed eyes and the humming quieted.

“Hey, Bad?”

“Yeah?”

“Does this mean you can fly me places now?”

"Skeppy!"

"It's an honest question!"

Tommy

“It’s fucking freezing out here!”

“Language,” Bad mumbled back, not bothering to put too much heat behind it. He needed that heat, because it was cold.

They’d been walking for what felt like hours now, trying to make it to Technoblade’s base- why he’d built it in the middle of this frozen wasteland was beyond him. Either way, Bad was more annoyed with Tommy’s constant complaining than the weather.

Though that may just be because his demonic heritage kept him warmer than ordinary humans.

Come to think of it, Bad couldn’t imagine how cold it must be for Tommy. He glanced at him worriedly, pursing his lips at his red-tipped nose and frosty skin. He had the small heat from his infernal nature to keep him warm, and even then he was freezing. The wind came from behind them and was blowing snow into Tommy’s hair and building up on his collar.

“Tommy, how far off are we?”

“Like ten minutes?” Tommy estimated. “Should be fine, BBH.”

Bad knew very well that it likely wouldn’t be fine. Tommy would get sick if they were out here much longer, and much of his visit to Techno would be wasted. And if it was wasted, Tommy would whine for days, and on the trip back. He really had no choice, did he?

He sighed, throwing the black cloak off of his shoulder and slipping one of his wings out. It was cold, but his wings were sturdy enough and warmer than Tommy was. He wrapped the wing behind Tommy, the claw latching onto his sleeve to provide a barrier between him and the frigid wind.

Tommy looked at him in shock, staring at Bad as if he’d grown a second head. “What the fuck.”

“Langage!”

“No, no, no, BBH. Don’t language me!” He exclaimed, running a gloved hand lightly against the wing with wide eyes. “I didn’t know you had wings! Have you been hiding them behind your cloak this whole time? Why are they so warm? Won't this hurt you, are demon wings really that sturdy?”

“Whoa, Tommy. Hold on a second, one question at a time,” He couldn’t help but giggle. Tommy’s gloves were gentle against his wing, much more so than Bad had expected. “Yeah, I’ve always had wings. Demon wings are similar to bat wings, which generally do well in the cold anyway. I can stand extreme temperatures, don’t worry.”

Tommy’s mouth was open in a little ‘o’ shape. Bad felt the itchy anxiousness calming some as Tommy continued feeling his wings. Finally, his hand ran over the scars on his wings, his expression shifting minutely as Bad made an effort to not pull away. “Bad?”

He looked forward, putting a small smile on his face. “Yeah, Tommy?”

“Why are your wings so fucked up?”

He stayed silent for a moment, forgetting to reprimand Tommy as he tried to phrase his answer. “People don’t like demons, Tommy. It’s all healed up though.”

He couldn’t see Tommy’s reaction, but he felt how Tommy’s gloved hands ran carefully over the puckered scars. Bat wings had the tendency to scar, though the demonic side of him was what made the scars so much more visible. They were a light grey color against the pitch-black wings. He remembered being told wing scars were cause for shame when he was younger- for letting themselves be vulnerable to a human. He was so far from then.

“Come on Tommy,” He nudged him with his arm, shooting him a quick smile. “We’re nearly there.”

“Right,” Tommy replied, sounding a bit unsure.

They trudged on in silence until the distant smoke from Techno’s house was only a bit away. Bad couldn’t help but be relieved, even if his wings didn’t get cold easily, he felt safer with them tucked beneath his cloak. “Tommy, could you… not say anything about that?”

Tommy ran one last hand over the inside of Bad’s wing before letting go so Bad could readjust his cloak over it. Wings folded up nice and tight, and he knew that Tommy wouldn’t be able to see them anymore.

“Of course, BBH.”

Ranboo

They had been mining together all day, armor weighing down Bad’s bones and urging them to return home. Ranboo had lost his earlier in the week, prompting him to ask Bad to go on a mining trip with him. It was always smart to bring someone with you strip mining, and especially so as Ranboo didn’t have any armor but some iron boots.

Ranboo was a hard worker and extremely determined with his goals. He was the sort of person to walk for days on end to achieve his tasks, and Bad was fairly similar when it came down to it. So by the time they finally decided they had worked enough- it was very dark outside.

This wasn’t much of a problem for them, seeing as Bad’s eyes were like living flashlights, and Ranboo could see well in the dark as well. But the clouded sky above them was concerning, it looked like a downpour could start any minute. Small drops of water were already falling, letting out soft sounds as they hit the leaves or stone below.

“Maybe we just keep going?” Ranboo suggested uneasily.

“I don’t know,” Bad replied hesitantly. He knew Ranboo was exhausted, his shoulders drooped ridiculously low for his tall stature. But obviously, they weren’t going to be able to go through the rain. Even if Bad gave Ranboo his chest plate, he had forgotten to bring a helmet. Helmets always fit oddly around his horns, and even the more customized ones were uncomfortable in the mines.

He glanced at Ranboo, his heart breaking at the hopeless look on his face. Ranboo had never seemed to hide his emotions too often from what Bad knew, though he’d never seen him this upset before. Upset for something he couldn't control about himself.

Bad understood.

“I have an idea.”

Ranboo’s eyes were conflicted and confused as Bad unbuckled his chest plate, handing it to Ranboo before taking a calming breath and flicking his cloak over his shoulder. Bad didn’t look at Ranboo as he stretched the wing as high as he could to form a sort of overhang. It wasn’t perfect of course, Ranboo would have to crouch and duck his head the whole way home, but it was doable.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, just a sec.”

Ranboo fastened the chest plate, buckles tightened a bit firmer than strictly necessary before ducking under Bad’s wing. They started forward, Bad’s arm looped around Ranboo’s to keep them going at the same pace. It wasn’t an especially far walk, so he wasn’t really worried about getting too tired.

“I didn’t know you had wings.”

“Not many people do,” He replied plainly. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

Ranboo gave an easy nod. “Okay.”

A beat passed. “Is that a demon thing?”

Bad couldn’t help a small giggle at the hesitant question. “Yeah, it’s a demon thing. Not all demons have it I don’t think, like how not all demons have flaming red skin.”

“I don’t know, Bad. You looked pretty pink yesterday when Skeppy-“

“Hey!” Bad protested, pouting down at Ranboo where he was crouched. He had a mischievous grin on his face, smugly remembering Skeppy’s over-the-top attention-grabbing tactics. “You Muffinhead, I’m being nice to you!”

“Yes, thank you for that,” Ranboo agreed, only sounding a bit joking. “Just making an observation.”

He let out a small huff, a grin twitching at the edge of his lips. They reached the edge of the treeline just then, Ranboo scanned for any stray eyes as Bad picked up the pace to reach shelter. Thankfully, they were near Bad’s mansion.

“Come on in.”

Ranboo tilted his head a bit hesitantly. “Don’t you already live with someone?”

“Skeppy’s off adventuring,” Bad explained as he closed the door behind them. “We have a guest room, and he won’t mind either way. Go get comfy- that armor can’t feel good to crouch in, and I’ll grab some hot chocolate, okay?”

“Thanks, Bad,” Ranboo laughed, already loosening the buckles.

Bad just smirked at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair before pointing to the guest room’s door.

Sam

Bad had been scared plenty of times before.

He’d been scared to tears, scared enough for his bones to shake or his tail to wrap around his shin anxiously, he’d been nervous enough to crush potion bottles held in his hands. After a time, he had grown more used to it for the sake of survival. Living on the brink of multiple wars at the same time would do that to you. But he would never get used to the type of fear that kickstarted your adrenaline in frantic bursts of energy and desperation.

The fear from seeing your friend balancing on the edge of a cliff.

When the Crimson had instructed Bad and Ant to trap Sam with the egg, Bad had barely hesitated. The egg had promised him his best friend back, the power to protect his friends, and a whisper of hybrids and even demons being equals under the egg’s control. The offer was tempting, temping enough for him to lose himself to its effects, to surrender control.

Sam had seemed fine from what he’d overheard from Puffy and Tommy, expressing some concern at Sam being more neutral towards the egg but overall saying he seemed alright. Bad had checked in on him- to play scout for the egg of course, and he had seemed alright. Shaken up, but alright. Bad didn’t move to comfort him, knowing he likely wouldn’t be welcome.

He should have made sure, should have stayed with Sam. Shouldn’t have messed everything up in the first place and succumbed to the egg’s control. Should’ve been a better friend.

All the well wishes and good intentions in the world couldn’t take away the reality of Sam standing without armor on the cliff of L’Manburg’s grave.

“Sam, please come down from there” Puffy pleaded. Her voice was shaky, enough so that Bad couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been sleeping at all lately. “You don’t have to do this.”

Sam didn’t reply, gaze empty as he continued to stare down at the crater. From where Bad was standing, he could see angry scrape marks running up and down his arms, deep and vicious. As if he had been eaten alive by rats.

“Come on, big man. You can’t do this.”

Sam said nothing, one leg lifting off the ground to swing lazily back and forth over the edge. Bad felt his heartbeat racing in his ears, deathly still as he watched. He didn’t want this- nothing was worth this.

His gut twisted, the idea of Skeppy being gone for good if he didn’t let the Crimson take what it wanted seemed to cling to his mind. There were no elytra allowed on the Dream SMP, the water in the pit had been cleared out by the thick red vines coating it, and Sam wasn’t in any position to place down a water bucket.

“Sam, it’ll be alright, just step down from there.”

Sam pitched forwards.

Bad was moving before he realized it, startling Puffy as he nearly knocked her over when he dashed from the shadows. He heard the others gathered around the pit screaming. He threw aside his trident, uncaring whether or not he lost it as he quickly moved to unclasp his cloak without a second thought.

The buckle made a harsh sound as he unclipped it, it was deafening to his ears. The cloak slipping off his shoulders as he ran forward for all he was worth and threw himself off the cliff. He couldn’t hear anything but the wind rushing in his ears, and his pounding heartbeat. Couldn’t see anything but Sam’s falling body just out of reach. Couldn’t feel anything but the sun and wind on his wings, how his hood was slipping off his head from the speed, how his breath heaved painfully in his chest.

He slammed into Sam way faster than should be healthy for either of them, Sam’s shoulder nearly knocking the breath clean out of him. He didn’t pay it any attention, already straining his wings to slow their descent. His muscles screamed at him, threatening to tear against the harsh winds. He painstakingly flapped them, their path downwards spiraling and stuttering along.

He curled around Sam as best as he was able when the ground was still approaching faster than he'd like, holding Sam on top of him when he felt himself fall backward. The stone dug into his extended wings, bruising him even as the dust around them flew into the air. The impact did knock the breath out of him, and his pained attempts to regain his breathing were halted only to check on Sam. Sam’s chest was moving, Bad didn’t bother to move him, staring up into the sky blankly as he wrestled for control of his mind.

He was dimly aware of someone pulling Sam off of him, a hand settling uncertainly on his shoulder. He could hear the Crimson screeching at him, its cries were softer than before. Like there were blinds that he hadn’t been able to use before. He blocked it out as best he was able, suddenly aware of how painfully violated his head felt. He could feel the Crimson’s touch over his memories, coated in junk obscuring good memories with his friends. Junk coating over anything the Crimson wanted him to forget, he felt used.

“̷̧̡̨̛̣̠̝͚̺̺͈̤̝̝̘̮̻̬͑͐͌̉̅̏̀̀̋͒͜S̷̤̻͇̞̦̬̣̰̺͓̽̾͝t̸̨̢̬̲̟̰͇̼̳̻̜͇͖̣̪̫̑͊͗̐̏̎o̵̺͑̒́͑͂͆̋̊͛̃͐̽̽͆̐̈̊͐̌͆͊̈́̔́͛͒͝͝p̵̠̻̱̼̝͔̬̣̘̺̫̪̟͇̓̆̅͌͑̾̋̈̐̂̒̀̊̎̍̊̉͌̕͘̚̕͝͝.̴̨̨̛̘͇͓̦̤̗̘̰̥̻̫̫̩̝͖͇̩̲͉͖̹̣͖̝̭̋̉͆͝”̸̢̛̦̻̠̰̟̞̠̜̱͂̋̂̆͋͆̕͜͜

“Come on, Bad. Look up already.”

He blinked, nothing really registering for a moment as his eyes flicked around.

He couldn’t see what everyone else could see, couldn’t see how his cloak lining was flickering between different shades of pink violently. He was sprawled out on the ground, wing splayed out flat on either side of him from his descent. It was artistic from where the others stood like he was a newly fallen angel.

But Bad saw none of that, could only hear harsh static in his ears, feel throbbing pain from his wings and the hurricane raging in his mind. Memories long suppressed or newly distorted being sorted out as soon as the Crimson’s presence was being pushed out of his mind. He wanted it gone.

A hand was on his forearm, sturdy but unimposing. He didn’t recognize it, he couldn’t see who it was. It could be a bloodvine, curling around him to take him hostage or bring him back under its control. He tried to rip his arm from the grip, but it was firm and his effort to steady his breathing concerned a lot of his energy.

“Bad, can you hear me?”

His throat ached, he was vaguely aware that he hadn’t been using it much. Ant had been speaking for them more lately due to Bad’s dwindling energy. The Crimson had been feeding off of them, slowly but surely. Bad more than the others due to his demonic heritage being more resilient to that sort of thing. Like he was made to feed it like he was made to serve its every whim. the Crimson had told him so, praised him for being what he was. Even though it assured him that he wouldn't be a freak anymore once the Crimson was in control.

"̸̮̈́Ḓ̴̚ŏ̴̙ṉ̷̀'̷͈̽t̴̝̿ ̶͕͊d̷̠̕ḛ̵̽s̶̢͊e̵̘r̸̞ẗ̶̻́ ̸͓̀y̸͖̍o̷͛͜ü̷͈r̷̟̓ ̶̝̆o̶̙͌n̶̫͛l̷̢̐y̶͇̐ ̷͈̔v̸͂͜a̴͕̎ḻ̶͗ù̴̞e̸̥.̴̻̿"̵̰̊

A weak guttural growl slipped from his throat, broken in some areas like he had water being pushed down his throat. The Crimson was pushing against the mental walls he had drawn up, pushing its way through the cracks and battering against the metaphorical locked door. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything. He whined, exhausted and desperate to keep hold of his mind. He had to be safe there.

“Come on, you’re so close. Focus on my voice, Bad-“

"̷͙̋C̵̮͠ā̴͇l̶͇͐m̶̼͑ ̷̰̌d̷̩̎ö̵͓́w̸͖͐n̵̳̈,̴̺̂ ̸̟͘ ̵͍͝l̶̞͊̀͜i̵͍̺͐̅t̶̝͓̭̿͑t̶̢͕̏͝l̴͇͆̕ē̷̻̂͜ ̸̨̓s̷̩͐e̴̞̅r̸͙͂ṽ̵̰a̵͚̽ň̴͜t̴͕̆.̶̧̃"̷͕̑

He screeched as the Crimson tore open his mind, enrapturing his thoughts and clouding over his mind with a red haze even as he tried desperately to force it back. The sound wasn’t human, his tail and wings shifting where he couldn’t see them. His tail wrapped around his leg in an effort to ground him, it only reminded him of the vines. He struggled to haul in breath after breath, fighting desperately where no one could see.

“Bad, can you hear me?”

It was a different voice from the others, shaky and uncertain. It sounded like Sam, and he instantly latched onto it. He had jumped, Sam had jumped and he had to make sure he was okay. His arm twitched as he unclenched his claws from where they’d been digging into his arms. He shakily moved it towards where he thought the voice had come from, clasping onto the hand that reached out toward him.

Sam looked fairly human by all standards, light green scales being the only thing visible when his gas mask was pulled over his more hybrid characteristics. It was his scales that Bad latched onto, ensuring it was the pad of his thumb running over the scales. Sam was safe, he’d saved him, the last few minutes cemented in his mind.

“Okay, you’re okay. I’m okay.”

He didn’t stop fighting, pushing forwards to drive off the Crimson’s influence over his mind. But Sam’s voice was grounding, proof he had broken free. Proof he wasn’t too far gone. Proof the Crimson wasn’t indestructible. The Crimson was hissing in his mind, the words he had heard so clearly were more harsh and painful now that he was fighting back.

“You saved me, and you’re doing so good. You don’t have to listen to it.”

He choked on his breath, chest heaving. His hand tightened reflexively, only to hastily let go when his claw threatened to break Sam’s skin. He latched it back around his arm, eyes wide and unseeing.

“̷̠̂̉͂Ȳ̵̥͈̦͇̼̗͇͝͝͝ͅǪ̵͉̱͎͇̦̖͚̤̞̙̐̍͐̇͝U̷̝̫̯̫͍̫̗͕̙͖̇͘ͅ ̴̢̱̳͇͈͇͙̈́͗͗̀̄͗̕͝B̵̮͔̦̤͂͐̅̏̏̌́̌͝͠E̶̘̘̤͇̍̀̒̈̆͑̿L̷̰̠̤̙̝̲̉̓͂͌̃̇̀̾̈́̚Ó̸̡̬̲̱̜͍̦̃̂̊͐͑N̵̡̼̘͈̩͓̄Ģ̶̢̨̗̥̘̩̙̟̤͐̍̔ ̸̤̘̮̆̑͗Ţ̵̦̥̦̳͈͉̽̓̆̓̿̓͘̕̕͝Ǫ̸̧̞̳̬̙͈̣̭͂ ̴̡͍̬̗̱͑͒̿̄͆̒̚M̸̞͓̜̅̆͆̊͑̅͘͜E̴̖̾”̶̱͐̓

The Crimson’s warbled voice spilled from his mouth, only Antfrost seeming to understand what it was telling him. As soon as he heard it, Ant threw his trident away with a hiss. Attention became divided, some trying to focus on Ant suffering through his own breakdown while others tried to help Sam coax Bad out of his.

“Don’t give up, Bad. We’re here for you, you’re doing great-“

"̷̢̖͔͚̫̮̮͈̘̞̥̫̉̈́̍̓̌̈́̔̿̒̍̕̚D̵͖̗̠̤̈́Ơ̵̹͔͔͔̌̄̍̑̍̎̒̕͝͠ ̷̛̫̌̍̃̓̀͂̐͒̉̓N̷̡͚̟͈̜̰̞̻̙̪̽̾̀̈́̓̋͜ͅȌ̷̡̱̺̬̘̮͇͙͇͗̿͌̇̓T̴̼̼̜̭̭̦̣̬̗͍̬͉̒̎͠͠͝ ̶̛̮̬̻͗̿̅̐̀̈́̚͝F̸̡̡̡̳̪̱͎̥̪̉͊̒̓̇A̴̼͂̆͗̐̓̉̏̆͋̕͝I̸̢̖͓̞̾L̷̨̦̼̫̼̠̱̩̇̈́͌͗̾̌̊̄͜ͅ ̵̢̹̯̹̥͚̤̉̆͛̔͂̅̌͝M̴̡̠̯̣͙̺̯̞̖͔͇̝̃̀̿̒̚ͅĒ̸͔͎̞̩͙̱̄͂̊̎̈̔͆͘.̴͕̲̭͇̮̱̮̘̩̞͍̾͐͒̑̓͘͜"̷̪̝͆̃̒̔̉

A full-body shudder ran through him, his muscles unable to stay tense any longer. The ringing in his ears seemed louder, accompanied by the odd quirks and growling from the Crimson. Everything hurt, and he shook under the weight of it all. He felt so small.

"Bad, you're almost there. You're stronger than this."

That reminded him of Quackity, how Quackity had resisted the egg's call. His speech about power, and true strength. Bad remembered how powerful he felt when he saved Sam for that brief moment, how strong and dependable he felt when he was able to shield Ranboo from the rain, or Tommy from the snow. How accepted he felt when he first showed Skeppy his wings.

Skeppy would never want him to drown himself out for his case.

He struggled, slowly but steadily forcing out the Crimson. He knew he didn't need it, knew that Skeppy wouldn't agree with what the Crimson was telling him. He steadied his breathing as well as he was able, feeling himself latching onto memories, old and new, to give himself strength. Dumb jokes, the forming of the Badlands, giving Tommy Chirp, meeting Skeppy. Everything was important, everything fueled him.

"̴̢̡̩̬̝͛̈́̑̄̿T̵͙͖͔̜̝̄̓̇͗̚͘ͅH̵̲̭͖̑͗̈́̑̆͋̇̀͘͜E̶̡̛̓̉̾̆͑͆Y̵̢͔̞̬͓͌͛̐ ̷̡̢͕̪̭̍͊̂̊͑̋͌̕͠D̵̯̮̍̕O̴̡̫͙͔̓̎͝N̵̢̹̞̰͇̝̫̊'̴̢̎̓̇̏̊̔T̷͓͙̻̞͈̖̗̬̣͈͑͋̂̒͑̍̀̔̊̚͜ ̴̧̡̝͓͖̪͇̬̤̍̐̕ͅM̴̧͇͕̳̟͈͋̑̏̈̑A̸͇͎̮͕̻͆̄̊̍͌T̴̡̹̝̝̦̣͗͘T̸̘͙͈̘̊̇̓͠Ḛ̵̱̗͉̣͖̏̓̾̎̐̿̿̐R̶͈͋͑́̄̂̄̕.̶̡̲̩̽͑̄͆̄͐̈́̚͝͠"̸̧̡̤̠͚̝̯͎̟̦͐̐̅

"Yes they do," He gasped out. He remembered everything about his friends, everything that made them unique and special and them. Everything he had grown to love about them. His cloak darkened as if stained by blood. The Crimson was forced out, he felt its slimy presence drained entirely from his mind. He heard its screaming cut off abruptly; almost as if he had heard it with his ears rather than his mind.

It was quiet.

People were muttering, but he couldn't make out what they were saying as he came back to himself. His claws were crusted with blood from his palms, he flexed them and felt it crack. He straightened his spine as well as he was able, taking quiet breaths rhythmically as he felt someone check his temperature.

"Bad?"

He blinked his eyes open, feeling tears soaked into the fur around his eyes. Puffy was crouched above him, obviously uncertain. He couldn't blame her.

"Hey, Puffy."

She laughed, leaning over to give him q quick hug before offering her arm. "It's good to have you back."

He latched on, letting her pull him to sit. Sam was sitting to his side, looking exhausted but content nonetheless. Tommy was latched onto him, face buried in his shoulder. Bad hesitantly reached out, smiling sheepishly when Sam grabbed his hand. "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that," Sam replied. He hesitated for a moment. "I can feel that it's gone. It cried out, I think everyone heard it, and now I can't feel it anymore. I can't believe I almost-"

Tommy shushed him and seemingly held on tighter if possible. He was glaring at Sam, mouth still pressed against Sam's shirt. "You're fine. You're okay, and you're fine and I'm going to fucking destroy that egg for what it did to you."

Bad winced despite himself, shrinking further as Tommy turned his ire to him. "Don't you fucking dare blame yourself BBH or I swear I'll take those stupid fucking horns of yours and-"

"Alright, alright!" Sam exclaimed, pulling Tommy closer to him. "I think he gets it, man. Why don't you help me to one of those cots set up over there."

Tommy nodded stiffly, sending Bad another glare before helping Sam to his feet. Bad sent an incredulous glance at Puffy, finding no sympathy there. "He's scared," She said by way of explanation.

"O-kay."

Puffy just laughed at his startled expression. "Can you stand? I think you should probably get to a cot, Karls running to get regens and healing pots from his house."

Bad considered it, tensing his legs before sending her a nod. "Yeah, but I might lean on you a bit."

"That’s fine, Bad."

He giggled tiredly, feeling as though he'd run a marathon through the nether. She helped him to his feet and he couldn't help a small wince. His wings didn't feel broken, but they felt overly strained and bruised, and he was sure one of his ribs were broken from the rough landing. His vision was wonky too.

He limped along, Puffy supporting the majority of his weight with ease.

“I didn’t know you had wings, Bad,” Puffy offered, a bit nervously. She smiled gently at him as she proceeded to lead him to sit down on the bed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

"Sorry," He replied weakly. "I guess everyone knows now."

Puffy immediately saw through him, shaking her head a bit. "Bad, no one's gonna treat you any differently. And if they do, I'm sure Sam or Skeppy will make them regret it a hundred times over before I even find out."

Bad couldn't help but giggle at that, only half because of his nerves. He hesitated a moment after settling down, looking up at the sky and her. "I still want to wear my cloak."

Puffy just smiled, hand squeezing his. "That's fine, no one can force you one way or another. But I expect to see you taking care of them, Bad."

A huff came from outside his vision, only a bit strained. "Yeah, Bad. Imagine not taking care of your wings."

"Oh, hush you," Puffy scolded, wry smile betraying her.

Quackity just laughed, plopping himself down next to Bad with no hesitation. "I mean, seriously Bad. How fucking lame is that?"

"Language!"

Bad didn't see the relief in Quackity's eyes at the familiar phrase. He just saw Quackity groan playfully, shaking his head at the sky. "Come on Bad! You just threw yourself off a cliff, I think I can swear at you. If you don't let me, I'll cry."

He growled in response, eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

The second he said it, he regretted it. The mischievous look in Quackity's eyes immediately followed by loud dramatic sobs. "Quackity!"

"Bad," He warbled, grin not quite hidden. "How could you say that to me."

He rolled his eyes, slapping at Quackity for his dramatics. "You can't do that any time I-"

"What’d you do to make him cry this time, Bad?"

There was a moment where Bad didn't recognize the voice before his breath stalled in his chest and his eyes shot wide open. He lurched straight up. Maybe that was a mistake, his stomach lurched in his chest, head-spinning violently at the sudden motion.

"Whoa, whoa!" Multiple sets of hands pressed against him to steady him or to push him back onto his back. He didn't pay them any attention, eyes soaking in every aspect he could see before him. He stayed sitting up.

"Skeppy?" His voice cracked, hands shaking in disbelief.

Skeppy just smiled, sliding himself beneath Bad's knees to sit across the bed. He took Bad's hand, squeezing it with a nonchalance that made Bad's heart hurt. As if Skeppy hadn't been dead by all standards, as if Bad hadn't been the cause for his disappearance. "What, you didn't think I’d be gone that easily did you?"

Just like that, Bad felt his composure break. He practically jumped forward, Skeppy catching him easily with waiting arms. He felt so overwhelmed, his entire world flipped on its head for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Skeppy didn't say anything, just humming lightly as he ran a hand carefully over Bad's wings. Quackity had a hand on his arm, Puffy's on the other. He felt more people settle down around him as he melted down, supporting him.

"Badboyhalo, I'm guessing the cat's out the bag now?" Tommy asked playfully. Bad couldn't help wet chuckles from escaping, shooting Tommy a grin in return.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Thank fucking prime, I call first flight after you rest up!"

"No fair," Ranboo shouted, Bad could see him a few feet to his right. He was sitting beside Ant. "I call second at least!"

He let out a laugh, chest warming by the easy acceptance. "What am I, a taxi?"

"You'll get used to it," Quackity quipped.

"Not if you don't let me THROUGH," Karl gripped, shoving Quackity from his perch on the bed to set down an armful of potions. "Give the man some space, nimrods!"

Bad giggled at Quackity's whining but refused to let go of Skeppy as Karl started checking over his wounds.

"You know I heal fast, Karl."

"Yeah but still," Karl stressed. "It'll help with the pain."

Bad felt affection swell in his chest for his friends as he let his eyes slowly droop. "I love you guys," He mumbled.

He had never felt more loved.