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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

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❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... Part One:

(WARNING: Depictions and mentions of abuse, neglect, physical harm, self-harm, depictions and mentions of wounds and blood, self-harm ideation/actions, and Reader at one point is thought to be dead/almost dies. Viewers discretion is advised...) (Side note: Wolverine and Sabretooth are brothers, and their relationship is platonic, and Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Lance, and Todd join the X-Men/Brotherhood after the X-Men/Brotherhood lose Reader and have changed)

• They weren't always the way they are now. There had been a time when they were hopeful, happy, cheerful... Or maybe it was obvliousness, their subconscious the only part of them to understand that something was wrong.

• You can't remember much of anything past the age of five, but you remember some parts of your childhood. It was spent with a mutant group, ones who had taken in or had others like yourself, who were honed to be soldiers. To be unstoppable weapons. You thought they were good for the longest time. Too long, to be honest. You weren't smart back then the way you were now. You didn't understand jokes or sarcasm or much beyond facts in a book. You didn't really understand that the others, the kids and the adults, didn't like you. That they thought you were annoying. Useless. Simple. Someone not worth the effort. Someone unworthy of being with them. Someone unlovable.

• When training, you tried your best, but you weren't naturally aggressive in the way they said you should be. That for a feral mutant, you weren't much of one. You tried to be quick, tried to be kind, tried to go along with what they told you to do, who they wanted you to be. But you just... weren't that. You weren't ruthless, weren't violent, you cried when you killed a moth by accident, what was to be expected? But you still, somehow, did well enough to be allowed to stay. To not disappear. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered to do anything about you, one way or the other.

• The kids thought you were weird. You looked weird, acted weird, talked weird. They thought you weren't bright. They certainly made jokes at your expense, you knew that, you simply couldn't understand the jokes and sarcasm they used. It hurt. It hurt, bad enough that you grew quieter, more sullen and downtrodden. You weren't as happy or talkative as you once were...

• It came to a head when you caught the ire, the hatred, of your two "mentors"... Two of the three adults ferals, the ones you heard whispers of late at night, talking about how you might be related to them, perhaps a clone... You weren't sure what you did, just that when they found you that day, you were dragged off into a lone room, given no explanation or warning. Their faces were filled with a blind rage, a freezing wrath, and the next thing you know you're being yelled at. Loud, furious roars, a tight, bruising grip on your arm, and no way out... And suddenly-

• SLASH!

• A searing pain filled your senses, and you're crying, trying to hold a hand to the wounds on your face, hoping to stop the pain, the hurt, the redredredred- They order you to stop crying, to stop wailing, or they'll give you a reason to. And so you cover your mouth as best you can, sucking in sharp breath after sharp breath, blinded by the blood dripping down your face. It stains the floor, once clean, a filthy, ugly crimson, garnet-colored ichor growing into a small puddle. They huff, but go to leave, only telling you to clean yourself up. And then they're gone, and you're on your own, and nothing is right anymore.

• Over the next two weeks, you keep your head down and stay out of everyone's way. No more talking than needed, no direct eye contact, and no being around anyone for longer than you're required. You weren't blind to it anymore, were you? That you weren't safe. That you weren't cared about. That you were alone. And with that realization, you grew to dread being near them, near the other kids and the adults and anyone else who was around. But... you had the beginnings of an idea. One that could end your suffering... It would be risky, but... At this point, you'd rather risk the threat of death than stay another day.

• It's at night when you make your move. It's quiet, dark, chilly. You aren't dressed for the weather, and you aren't prepared for whatever is out there. All you have are the clothes on your back and the boots on your feet. You make it mostly all the way, out of the compound, facility, whatever they called the place yo- they, lived in. There's snow out, thick sheets coating the ground and flakes of it dancing down from the sky. It's beautiful... You wished you could have enjoyed it, but there wasn't time to do so. You made your way from the field towards the woods, the icy dirt crunching beneath your feet...

• "Wh-? Reader, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

• And then you're running, as swift and fleet as you can, as far away as you can run. Your feet carry you through the frosty woods, stirring up small bits of snow as you race by, the wind howling around you as you flee for your life. Sometimes your feet nearly slide out from under you, having stepped onto an ice patch, but you quickly right yourself and go faster, forcing yourself to keep going no matter what you hear or how much it scares you...

• Until you eventually reach a seething, ice-studded rocky outcropping. The beginnings of a river spill over a ledge, crashing into a foaming, roaring current, twisting away into the wintery night. You're stuck. And then the worst possible thing happens- they find you.

• "Reader. Get back here. NOW."

• You take a step back, pulling your hands closer to your chest. The noise is almost unbearable, being so close to the raging water so close to you. They only take a step closer, an angry, annoyed look on their faces... "Get over here. NOW. Or you're going to be in even worse trouble." A whine hums in your throat, a pathetic sound. You take another step back, and feel a subtle shift in the rock beneath you. "That's it, I SAID-!"

• CRACK!

• The ground beneath you breaks, sending you tumbling down into the rocks and water below with only a scream as your last words. And soon, all you know is the icy touch of water filling your lungs and the sting of rocks on your skin...

• You weren't sure how you initially woke up... You weren't sure you were even alive... But with a weak, gurgling gasp, you cough up the water sitting in your lungs, gagging into the dirt as you try to hold yourself up. When you eventually finish with one last rasping breath, you crack open your eyes, looking around you. You're by the river, lying in the dirt and rocks and silt of its shore, which is surrounded by endless snow-capped trees and endless sky. And somehow... You feel a small pang of hope. You made it, after all. You weren't dead. You were... free. Of course... now you had to actually get to where people were. Find food. Maybe drink some of the water from the river...

• You weren't quite sure how long you had stayed in the wilderness, scrounging up small, half-starved animals and barely surviving the few times you tried to take on larger prey. Having your cheek ripped open by an antler and having a bear bite through your arm weren't fun experiences, but you had learned that while you could hunt some prey, the larger, more filling prey wasn't what you could go after. You'd learned plenty of things from your time alone in the wild, but your loneliness still grew. It was always festering under the surface. You were glad once you stumbled into a small town, dragging yourself through an alley to spy on the normal going-ons of humans. You hadn't really seen or met a human since before you were five, and you only had the hatred of the X-Men/Brotherhood to explain them. Which led to your decision to scout the woods around the sleepy town, to find a way to read them before you met anyone. And what a thing you found: A small, dusty yet cozy abandoned cabin, just right for you to move into.

• And so that was how your first year was spent, foraging bones and rocks from the forest and hunting animals, selling their pelts or even the whole bit of prey to make a living. You came up with a small story for any townsfolk who asked about you, saying you had an ill family parent to take care of and a relative who visited from time to time to make sure your schooling got done (it was all a lie. You had to say something, and saying you were a mutant child who escaped a dangerous group of bigger, meaner mutants was a no-go). They more or less bought it. They didn't press for any information after that besides occasionally asking if the fake family members were okay. All in all, you had been doing... alright...

• You didn't reveal anything beneath the surface of your skin. You didn't talk about your nightmares, of being back with them, of being hurt, of being laughed at, of being killed- You didn't mention how you got hurt when you hunted, how you sometimes used your own claws to do the hurting for you, slicing them through your skin until blood ran like water- You couldn't bring yourself to deal with your panic attacks, your paranoia and inner turmoil, the fact it hurt to think-

• Yet it didn't last more than three years...

• You weren't sure how they found you. You weren't sure if it was an accident, or if they knew you were alive the entire time, or if someone tipped them off. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, because they'd stumbled on the little town and had found you within a few days. Seeing them for the first time in so long... You only felt a rising, bubbling feeling of blind fear. It didn't matter if their faces went all weird and soft, or that they tried to get near you, you didn't care- You ran, you bolted, running deep into the woods and not looking back for a second. It didn't matter what you left behind! You had to move, you had to run, you had to fleefleeflee-!

• It shouldn't have surprised you when something thunked into the earth next to you, thin and sharp and leaving an odd smell behind. It shouldn't have surprised you when your old mentors managed to find you, their eyes dark with something that wasn't hate or malice... But you didn't think it would be any better. You know a few of the others, older now than when you last saw them, are close by. You keep your claws out, your face set into a fearful snarl, ready to flee or bite or scram at a moment's notice.

• "Oh, cub... What did we do ta ya?" You do your best to keep an eye on both of them, which proves difficult. They're on either side of the small clearing, each watching you with sharp, unwavering eyes. It doesn't help that when you try to move further away, as far as you can from them, they only move towards that side, keeping themselves in your way of escaping. Their scents are off, something dark and deep and somber, not their old usual fury and annoyance. Their claws aren't out, either... It's strange, for people who want you dead... (Right? They want you dead, to kill you, right?) "Shhh... Cub... I know a lot has happened... I know yer scared, an' yer hurtin', an' I know it's our fault. I know nothin' we do er say can make up fer it... But... please... please give us a chance ta help ya. Please... all we want is ta help ya. All we want is ta give ya what we should've from the beginnin'..." Your eyes dart between them fearfully, a soft whine building in your throat. This is worse than your nightmares. This is your nightmares come to take you back. And you can't have that.

• You try to dart out of the clearing, trying to dodge past the hands that go to grab you-

• But large, warm hands grab the back of your shirt, tugging you back into an iron grip. "Cub, calm down, please! We promise ya we aren't gonna hurt ya! Yer safe, yer okay, yer not gonna be hurt-" You don't pay it any heed, kicking and scratching and biting at what you can, doing everything in your power to break free from the arms keeping you captive. It does nothing. All that happens is the arms tightening and a flurry of panicked words filling the air. "Kid, cub-! Just, calm down fer one minute! We can talk this out-! Please, ya gotta stop fightin' us, ya gotta stop fightin' me! I know yer scared, I know, just, please-!" It doesn't matter what either man says, as all it earns from you is a fearful scream as you struggle harder. The scents around you are rife with sorrow, salty and cold and damp like earth after rain. You hear a wounded noise come from them, but you don't stop your attempt to escape the hold on you. A long, hurt sigh whooshes out, followed by the hold on you pinning you further.

• "I'm so sorry, cub... But we can't let ya keep goin' on like this. Yer hurtin' yerself. And we just can't let that happen."

• And just like that... something presses into your flesh, a sharp sting, which is gone just as quick. A hiss escapes you, your hands suddenly clawing so you can feel at where you were stung. "Shhh... don't worry, cub... It's justa small sedative... It won't hurt ya, all it's gonna do is make ya all sleepy an' tired..." Your eyes widen, then with a small shriek you try to tug yourself away. You can already feel the drug seeping in, a buzz at your skin and thoughts. The more you struggle, the more your thoughts cloud up, earning more movement from you as you do your best to snap out of it. Something akin to a sob breaks loose from you as your tugs and scratching grows weaker, the drug nestling into your system and numbing your limbs. Your mind keeps growing more muddled, thick and soft and syrupy... A hiccup pushes past your lips, being met by a hand patting lightly at your hair. It's weight feels good, the warmth sending you deeper into your tired state. When you try to speak, the words leave you, turning into a sleepy mumble, your body slumping into the hold around you. Everything feels quiet... barely there... So soft... So calm... Hardly any thought stays inside you as your breaths soften, the fear and fight leaving you as you stumble into unconsciousness...

• "Good cub... Just go ta sleep... We'll help ya feel better, that's it..."

• They're careful, one of them holdin' their kid while the other alerts the others, letting them know they have Reader with them and that they had to use a sedative to calm 'em down. It feels so surreal, seein' their once bright kid so... tired. So scared. So hurt. Bein' near 'em, even tha other teens, scared them enough that they were runnin' inta freezin' weather, all ta stay away from 'em. But... They can't let 'em go. Not again. The last time they let 'em go, they thought they died (maybe they actually did, and only came back due to their small healing factor...). They hurt them, they terrified them, they were tha reason they were afraid, the reason they were hurtin'. And now the kid was hurting themself. Was causing themself pain, with no one ta stop them er help them er let 'em know they'd be alright. They'd be d*mned if they let it continue. They'd be worse than dead if they left 'em ta wilt away on their own, ta slip off inta the blinding snow once more... They might have ta keep them calm, make it so they're relaxed enough so they can help them... But they'll do anything, just ta keep them alive. Ta make them feel loved. Ta be their family. And this time, they're gonna do it right...

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU #platonic yandere sabretooth #platonic yandere victor creed #platonic yandere wolverine #platonic yandere logan howlett #creed!reader

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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

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❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... From the Platonic Yanderes' Persepective:

(Warnings: Its the ❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU, so expect abuse, neglect, blood, and a whole lot of guilt. The platonic yans who knew Reader in the past weren't nice to them, and while they do get better, they didn't get better until AFTER they thought Reader had died... Viewer discretion is advised... Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Todd/Toad, and Lance joined AFTER Reader's "death"...)

• They don't think they'd always been that bad. That hateful. Awful. Horrible. Terrifying. Cruel. But whether they were or not... they'd turned into something they didn't even recognize, something that was a shameful, guilt-ridden part of their past.

• For the adults (The Professor, Storm, Mystique, Wolverine, Sabretooth, Magento, and Beast), Reader was... someone they acquired through odd means. They weren't the only one they had brought with them, as there were two others, similar to them, and all three were feral mutants. Yet somehow... compared to how the other children were, their "siblings" and the other kids, they didn't quite click. The kids (Scott, Jean, Evan, Rogue, Pietro, and Wanda) didn't like them much, either.. For both groups, perhaps it was how they talked about odd subjects, or was off in their own little world half the time. Maybe it was their forgiving nature, always smiling and trying to be nice no matter what they all said or did. Maybe it was because Reader was everything they had wanted for themselves, but had never been able to have, had never been able to be... Either way, it led to an annoyance. A dislike for them and their cheery voice and soft eyes.

• With the adults, they found Reader odd from the start. A child no older than five who, despite being an experiment, was not like their "siblings", nor like the other children they had on hand. They were... sweet. Cuddly. Someone who just kept trying and trying to get along and be friends with everyone. They didn't seem to have a mean bone in their body. It made them feel... weird. That they didn't seem to understand they were odd, that they weren't cared about all that much. How could they begin to? They were loud, they were persistent, they never seemed to want to be alone and didn't get what was wrong with the world. Not to mention all of the questions! They were irritated most of the time with them, tired of dealing with the steady stream of constant love and inquiries and attempts to hug them.

• Over the years, it was easier and easier to wear then down, to get them to shut up and stay out of the way. Reader didn't seem all that bright when it came to social cues or sarcasm or jokes or how the world really was, and the kids took every opportunity to poke at those. A few jokes here and there, whispers between each other when they were alone, practical jokes at Reader's expense. It was almost funny, watching them try so hard to understand what they were doing and getting all upset over it. Yet Reader never got angry. Hardly acted like a feral, hardly used any of their mutations to win, to protect themself. They made it so easy to mess with them. It was second nature for all of them to do so. To keep prodding and jabbing at their insecurities and lack of knowledge, earning snickers whenever there was more than one witnessing it. In the present, they all can't stop hating themselves over how they acted. How they were the reason they were gone. And how they weren't coming back. And it was all. Their. FAULT. And they couldn't change it, no matter what they did.

• Being the pseudo "siblings" to Reader made them targets, an easy mark (Laura Kinney/X-23 and Kyle Gibney/Wild Child). So they made it so they were the ones over Reader, the ones who were in control. The ones at the top of the heap. They didn't stick up for their "sibling", and they didn't intervene when the other kids messed with them. Why should they? They did it, too. Reader was at the bottom of the pecking order, be it with the kids or with the feral mutants in general. Just because they were a part of them didn't mean they'd stop. Didn't mean they'd coddle them or let their weakness rub off on them. Shoving them aside and staying away from them was natural for them. It wasn't their problem, and they weren't about to lose their own place just to help the most useless mutant they'd met. In the future, they'd wonder why they weren't more attached. Why couldn't they have stuck by their side, protecting them rather than shoving them into the deep end? Without Reader... where did that leave them? They were the only other one like them, someone who had tried to comfort them and befriend them, never caring if they got hurt in the process. Never holding their own shortcomings against them. And now they were gone, and it was awful, and they had one less pack member to run with.

• For the two older feral adults (Wolverine and Sabretooth) to teach Reader had been a task. They were someone who would rather hug someone than try to fight them, a kid who had to be told multiple times what to do, had to be walked through everything, and who seemed to fail almost every time when it came to being aggressive. Their annoyance ran deep, which turned to resentment, which turned to anger every time they saw them. How was THIS creature anywhere near related to them?! How was this thing even worthy of their powers? They were useless, pathetic, weak. They had some points when it came to strength and bite force, but that was a drop compared to the ocean of mistakes they'd made. The river of problems they were. Hating them didn't take much more. And how they'd hate this, looking back on it. They were monsters. There was no other way of saying it. It was their own fault, for pushing and forcing them and always yelling at them. Always letting their cub know what they thought of them, compared to the others. And they were left with a rotting, agonizing self-hatred for themselves. If they hadn't been so hard... If they hadn't been so cruel... Maybe their kid wouldn't have been dead, with no body to bury or mourn...

• No one was quite sure what led to the wounding of Reader. Perhaps it was a scalding lie, or pointing their fingers at each other until it eventually fell on them. Or maybe it was because they could blame it all on Reader, someone who couldn't defend themself and who no one cared if was punished. But when Reader had been dealt with... They were a different person. Someone who shook whenever the adults came by. Who kept away from the other kids with no prompting, walking the other way when they came by. They didn't speak unless they were asked a question, and they didn't look directly at anyone anymore. And their face... Where the skin was once smooth and unbroken, there were deep, rouge-stained gouges, a mark of their new change. It was welcome at first. Finally, they shut up and learned how they all felt. Until-

• They left.

• They left, in the dead of a snow-washed wintery night, leaving as fast as they could and not looking back. And a few of them pursued, chasing after Reader, who they knew was going to be in the largest load of trouble since two weeks ago, when they'd been taught their lesson. When they found them, they were at the edge of some rocks, a river close by and roaring below, and they all felt their ire grow. The adult/s demanded they come back, so they could be done with it. But Reader just stepped back, their arms folding up against their chest, eyes wide like a fawn caught by a predator. They'd demanded again, then again, yelling-

• CRACK!

• The rock fell out from under Reader, who screamed, high and terrified-

• And they were gone, swallowed by the raging waters below, bits of red and pink dotting the foam and surface, soon fading as the river roared on...

• Then suddenly... they weren't so angry anymore. For once, they felt... scared. Hollow. Horrified. It didn't matter when the adults ran over, checking over the remaining ledge and scanning the icy waves below, shouting loudly. It didn't matter when the kids who were with them peered around each other, trying to confirm what had just happened had actually happened. Nor did it matter when they searched the shores of the river and found nothing, save for a few pinkish bits of foam and shards of ice, carrying the scent of iron and frost. All that mattered was Reader was gone... And it was their fault. They had- they didn't mean- it was an acci- what- No matter what excuse they thought of or fleeting emotion they felt-

• Reader was DEAD. And they had no one to blame but themselves.

• The adults after that were... quiet. Sullen. Almost as though in a trance, like they were stuck on that night, like they couldn't get over the fact they saw one of their own kids just die right before their eyes. The kids weren't much better, trying to seek any comfort they could, whether they saw the death or learned it had happened. That winter was blistering cold, as though even the elements were numb and in disbelief.

• This was something they'd joked about... This was something that a few might have talked about... But now that it had actually come true... They didn't feel like laughing anymore. If anything, they felt like crying. Like curling up in a ball and disappearing from the world. This was- it was their fault, wasn't it? Thats what they all believe. If they'd reached out, or- or tried to befriend them, or maybe just treated them better, hugged them back once, they wouldn't have ran, and they wouldn't be frozen in the river, lost to the cold and quiet and night. But... maybe if they even HAD stopped them from running... who's to say they wouldn't have tried something else? If they thought they couldn't leave... would they have done something worse? Would they have actually-?! They feel sick thinking about it, throwing up when they can't stop themselves from imagining it. It's a nightmare, what they're living, and there is no waking up from it.

• The adults slowly start talking again, interacting with them and calling them all together... But according to them, they all... They all are going to try and be better. They say they never should have pushed them so hard, they never should have yelled or forced or neglected their emotional needs. That what they'd been doing before stops there, and it ends there. From now on, things are going to be different. And this time, they're going to learn from what happened. That no one is going to make the mistake they made again.

• They keep their word. The adults grow into caring, more loving figures. They listen to the kids, who turn to teens, and help them. If their views are different, they don't yell or roar or rage at them, don't force them to agree, they simply agree to disagree, and let them know they're there if they need to talk. If the ferals go into their instincts, instead of attacking each other or turning against the others of the facility, they go to a special room where they can simply go through their urges, cuddling together and trying not to cry or hurt themselves for what had happened. The teens become more understanding, caring individuals, being friends rather than foes, and help each other, staying careful of each other's feelings and boundaries. The adults are there, always trying to steer them away from danger, hugging them if they want it (even if they don't), fixing them food if they're hungry, playing games with them, and when they train, it's as a group, as a family, rather than as rivals stuck together.

• Somehow, about three years after Reader's death, a few of them had been exploring at a new area, where the river had run by. It's cold, being so close to it, and it still haunts their dreams, along with a blonde child with bright eyes... Yet one of them finds something, caught in the branches near an old den, sharp and thorny: A piece of cloth, tattered and withered by the wilds, but speckled with rusted brown... When they bring the tattered remnant back to their home, it's inspected, but when the adult ferals look it over... Their eyes go wide, and suddenly their sniffing it, soon looking at them and asking them in a desperate voice where they found it. The moment they say where it was, the entire group is called together to discuss something they haven't discussed in so long... The piece of cloth, it has Reader's scent... So there is the smallest, tiniest chance that... Reader might have survived, after all.

• It doesn't take any prompting for them to pull some of their team members together to form a group to investigate the area they found the shred of cloth, and to scout out the surrounding towns near it. If Reader did survive... they hopefully wouldn't have left the region. And if anyone had seen anything odd, such as a child with claws or a wet bedraggled cat of kid, they would likely remember it (and if they wouldn't share what they knew, they wouldn't mind threatening them to make sure they had every bit of information about it they knew).

• Searching the region, it's clear to see it is mostly desolate of human life, save for small towns hidden in valleys and forests, full of snow-capped trees and icy slicks of ice, flakes of snow falling down like rain. When they stumble on a tiny town surrounded by chilly woods and freezing weather, is when they finally catch word of someone who might have been Reader... A lone child, always quiet and scarred, who brings in pelts and bones for a living... Investigating further, the people say the kid has a family, a sickly parent and a relative who takes care of their schooling when they drop by, but that they've never seen them before. According to the kid, their family is paranoid, leaving them as the only one who isn't afraid of going out and making ends meet.

• Well. It seems they have their lead.

• And when they find a cabin, old and worn and wet, the air is scented... And the smell is one they haven't smelled in three years. Soon, a person can be seen, a lanky teen with long, scruffy blonde hair and bright eyes... The moment they see them, everyone freezes.

• Seeing them again... Seeing how scrawny they are... The scars that mar their skin all over... The hunched shoulders and wide, scared eyes... A scent that turns sharp and acidic, tainted by thick, overflowing fear...

• "Reader..."

• In a flash Reader bolts, darting into the cold woods, not slowing even when they call after them, not stopping when they go after them. Reader keeps a step ahead, fast as a hare as their feet carry them over rocks and past patches of ice. Even trying to dart them doesn't work, the tranquilizer thumping into the snow beside them. The snow keeps falling, dusting them all in powdery white flakes as they follow. The teens who came along fall back when the two ferals signal them, letting then know they'll handle the situation... It doesn't take them much longer to find Reader, cutting them off as they block off either side of the small clearing. And what a moment it is...

• Reader is so... small, compared to them. It doesn't help that they shrink in on themself, their fangs bared and eyes fearful. They can see the scars across their face better now, sliced in and deep, a different color than the rest of their flesh. It's hard, seeing them this way. They're too thin, too shaking, too fearful. Even scars line their arms, as though made by an object rather than by accident... And they realize that even though Reader has been away, they haven't been much better off...

• "Oh cub... What did we do ta ya?"

• Trying to step closer only leads to their cub stepping back. It doesn't take more than a heartbeat for then to try to dodge past them, swift and desperate-

• But one of them manages to snag them by the back of their shirt, dragging them into a hold. They try to reason with them, try to talk them down from a panic attack, being as gentle and sincere as they can. But nothing works. No promises of peace, no begging to help them, no pleas to calm down and give them a chance... None of it works. And they fight them. Sharp claws scratch at them, all while Reader struggles, screaming and wailing and biting, not stopping in the least. They try to do things without force one more time... But when their cub only cries harder, they know it won't go anywhere. Their kid is too deep into their trauma, too scared, and the most merciful thing to do is to cut it short.

• The syringe is jabbed in, quick and sharp, and pulled out a second later once it's empty. Explaing to their cub that it was only a sedative makes them cry harder, a broken sob escaping them. Their struggles grow wilder for a minute- until it starts to slow down, as the drug takes effect. They pat their head softly, a hiccup escaping the cub as the medicine calms them down, making them tired and relaxed. Feeling the way they slowly relax, their limbs slackening and their breaths slowing, a tired mumble coming from them... It isn't what they want, but they can't deny how right it feels, getting their kid to feel better. To soothe them when they've been hurtin'. When the cub passes out, slumping into his arms, he's every bit careful and soft, picking them up and letting his brother lead the way back to the others, alerting them that they have Reader with them.

• This isn't how they wanted it ta go... But... If this is what it takes ta keep 'em safe. Ta make 'em feel better. Ta take care of 'em... So be it. All that matters is helpin' Reader, keepin' em safe an' fed an' well, makin' em feel loved an' cared fer. They might have ta be a little forceful about it. That's fine. They'll be as gentle as they can, an' make sure their cub can't hurt themself er others. They'll keep 'em happy, they'll make it so they know how much they care. Even if it takes a lifetime, they'll keep proving how sorry they are, how much they missed 'em, how much they love them... They might well be immortal... Who's to say their cub isn't, too? And this time, they're all going to be a family. No more fighting. No more rivalries. All of them, together, will make things right. That's a promise that they won't break, no matter what comes their way...

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