Chapter Text
“Hello? What’s your name?”
Bad keeps smiling because there’s no one else who will. He smiles even when he wants to cry; he smiles when they run out of food. That’s all he could do.
He rarely slept. He was used to staying up late at nights to patrol the mansion, just in case that someone decided he was vulnerable enough to prank, or worse. Patching up the mansion’s obsidian walls was tiring, and his house was suffering from the occasional wear and tear. Gathering resources had become a routine, even when his path was still pristine and his walls still standing. He would find himself shoveling gravel and sand from faraway lands for long hours, slaving away in the scalding sun.
He didn’t mind the hard work. It gave him reason to be away from the wars. The others couldn’t threaten him or ask him to join their side if he wasn’t there. The labor also took his mind off things, and sometimes Skeppy would tag along! Bad was always nagging Skeppy about the dangers of being alone in the SMP, especially with the recent news hanging about, but he never listened. The rare times that Skeppy came with him, he would even help. It all depended on his mood, so it was an endless gamble.
But when he’s not on a supply run, he’s in the Badlands.
Bad founded the Badlands mainly for him and his friends. They didn’t see eye-to-eye all the time, but there was one thing they agreed on: to stay out of any conflict that came their way. They kept true to their ideals, but they were often harassed by both sides thinking they possess information on the other. They didn’t, and it was getting tiring rather than terrifying.
Despite his small frame, Bad is a hard worker. Getting the Badlands recognized was a difficult task as it was – especially if their allegiance was strictly neutral. Neutral meant they didn’t pick a side, and that was a problem for many reasons. They could play broker for both sides since they were only loyal to themselves, and information was valuable. Any drop, any peep would be worth for a pretty penny.
At the end, Bad still had the advantage of knowing Dream for a long time. The man’s changed, but he still valued relationships to some extent. However twisted his ideals may be, his intention is were good. It was merely a case of the right message, wrong messenger. If Dream approached the topic a gentler way, things wouldn’t have derailed to the chaos it was now.
After refusing to join Dream’s offer to join side for the fifth time, he finally granted them the title of an official faction. Now no member of the Badlands were allowed to pick sides, which was their goal to begin with. It cleared their lives and brought them peace, at least for the majority of it. They stayed out of the conflict and enjoyed it to the best they can. Bad could finally take a breather and not have to worry about anyone knocking at his door, asking him to pick a side or be destroyed.
But was all his hard work worth it? Why was he the only one who had to make sacrifices?
Bad shook the thoughts away and sat on his roof, legs dangling off the edge. He faced the ocean with a longing gaze; but he didn’t know what he was yearning for. To be away from all of this, perhaps, but it was impossible. It was a possibility a long time ago, but now? Not anymore.
He sighed, picking at his sleeve. The night was quiet, but the ocean tides kept him company. After all he’s seen throughout the years, even the waves had become like static in his ears.
Everything changed, but he was still the same broken record playing the same distorted tune. Like a flower that wilted after the weeds invaded his soil.
He didn’t have time to continue thinking, as a familiar yet distressed voice called out to him, “Bad! I need your help!”
In usual days, the woods was a huge no-no. First off, it was dark and secluded, and nobody liked dark and secluded places because you never know when someone is waiting for a jump, or is emotionally vulnerable enough to attack you blindly. Secondly, there are monsters. Literal monsters like zombies and skeletons and creepers, all mutated and risen from countless years of pollution. Getting bitten to death didn’t sound like a very nice fate, especially when it’s in the teeth of a rotting corpse.
(Not to mention all the secret bases you do not want to stumble upon. Some things were meant to stay secrets, and people are willing to kill to keep them safe. Bad learned this the hard way, where an entourage of netherite and diamond swords were thrust in his direction in Pogtopia, and how Ant was enslaved by them to work in the mines.)
But today Bad had something else in mind. Besides, it was just the forests near his house, where he preened and replanted in his spare time. Granted, it was always being chopped down because it was also next to Tommy’s place, but it was safe considering that it’s in the range of the SMP’s borders. No one in their right mind would make a secret base right in your enemy’s territory. Right?
“Baa-aa-ad,” Skeppy whined, tugging on the back of Bad’s cloak like a child. The other didn’t turn to him, venturing forward with his best friend in tow. “I don’t wanna go oouuuut.”
Bad groaned in exasperation but never stopped walking. He was pulling Skeppy’s weight now, as the man’s feet was dragging on the wooden path and him slowly sinking to the ground with every passing second. His cloak was surprisingly durable for how much it’s gone through.
“Then you should have just stayed home,” Bad snapped impatiently. “Skeppy, you’re going to tear my clothes. You know how much I hate sewing.”
He hated sewing because he could never get those accursed threads into the needle’s little hole. If they could enchant pickaxes to mine through stone like moss, so why couldn’t they enchant needles to automatically thread themselves?
“But I get so lonely,” Skeppy complained. “You’re never around and you never talk to me!”
That got Bad to spin around, and Skeppy released his cape just before he could be knocked off the ledge. The path they were on was hanging over a chasm, and no one bothered to fix it.
“Excuse me, mister? You’re the muffinhead who refuses to look—” Bad paused as soon as Skeppy’s face twisted into a victorious grin. He’d fallen prey to another one Skeppy’s traps. He pointed an accusing finger at him, glowering. “Listen here, you! I do what I can to keep us and the Badlands safe. Yet I still try to spend time with you and you just ignore me all day!”
Skeppy rose to his feet, brushing dust from his hoodie. “That’s because you spend all your time with Discount Skeppy,” he rebutted. “What does Puffy have that I don’t?”
“Puffy? What does she have to do with this?” Skeppy glared harder. “Skeppy, you know that she has more resources than me when it comes to healing. We do this every week!”
“Exactly! Every week!” Skeppy changed tactics, his expression shifting to his signature puppy-dog-eyes. He knew more than anyone that Bad loved dogs and whatever that had any correlation to them. The fact that Skeppy had this ace up his sleeve only aided in him getting what he wanted and Bad another headache to worry about. He pouted, eyes practically shimmering with innocence. “Do you not wuve me anymore?”
Bad’s eye twitched. This was the fifth time he used this trick on him this week, and it was Tuesday. By the end of the week, Skeppy would eat him out of house and home. Not that he already isn’t, but he was going to have to work double time if he wanted to afford Skeppy’s extravagant expeditions. For the better or the worse, Skeppy’s tantrums were almost as rare as naturally formed emeralds.
“You better find new tricks, Skeppy.” Bad sniffed. “Your tactics don’t work on me! I’m not going to fall for it another time!”
Skeppy snapped out of his dog-eye face and muttered various profanities.
“Language,” Bad chided lightheartedly, taking Skeppy’s wrist. “Come on, ‘Geppy. It’s a simple trip. We go there, replant any trees that might have been chopped down, get some apples to make apple pie, get some kindling from any old wood, then check the lighting in case any mobs decide to spawn there!”
“That—” Skeppy stared at him, swallowing. “Sounds like a lot of work. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for any of that.”
Bad knew it was a lie from a mile away. “You fight people for fun every day but you draw the line at simple chores?” Bad sighed, feigning disappointment. It would be lying if he said it was difficult. “Skeppy, they don’t even take much time or energy. They’re easier than wrangling someone in our front porch.”
“They’re chores,” Skeppy emphasized. “They’re repetitive and boring. You know what’s going to happen every time you do them. It’s either the leaves are too yellow or the soil is too hard. Fighting is not!” His eyes lit up with excitement. “Everyone fights differently and you have to keep your senses sharp to survive. Looking at everyone the same way is like being an animal that bites the same place. You never know when they’re hiding a knife in their sleeve, pants, or back. They could be lying about being good with a sword and is actually a talented archer.”
His green-eyed best friend grimaced. Clearly, they have distinct concepts of fun. Bad was the type to enjoy his time by reading a book by a dim fireplace while Skeppy was the type to charge into a bush of poison ivy for the sake of charging into poison ivy.
“You should be a writer,” Bad muttered.
Skeppy threw his hair dramatically. “Nah. I’ll get someone else to do it for me.” He grinned at Bad, winking at him.
“I’m not writing your autobiography for you,” Bad deadpanned. “If I did, you’d be short and strangely invested with muffins and ducks. I’ll even make up a character named BuffBoyHalo who beats you up every time you ask for sand, and the only way to win his heart back is by saying sorry with a dozen muffins. Oh, they’re gluten free!”
“That’s called fabrication of history. You’ll find yourself in court for that.”
Bad shot him a look and Skeppy shut up, crossing his arms. “Fine,” he groused. “I’ll pluck the stupid apples. But I’m not doing anything else!”
“Yay!” Bad beamed and wrapped his arms around Skeppy. “You’re the best, Skeppy!”
Skeppy rolled his eyes, but he didn’t push his friend away.
All things considered, the forest under the path still had the basic idea down. The trees at the very front were charred and stumped, but the further ones were still intact and untouched. With the ever-growing tension between the children and the Dream SMP still looming over their heads, there was no question why Tommy nor Tubbo would hang around this area much.
Bad almost sighed out of relief. They wouldn’t have to be here all day it seems.
“Apple, apple, apple, apple,” Skeppy sang, tossing fruit over his shoulder and into the basket. He threw one with each word he sung. “Apple, TapL, apple, TapL, apple—”
From nearby, Bad grunted and pulled his hood tighter. He should have known that Skeppy was too hyper to stay quiet and do regular things.
“Apple!” Skeppy cheered, holding a red one up as if it were a trophy. He dropped it into the basket and turned to Bad, body swaying. “Bad, I’m bored! How many more apples do you want?”
Bad glanced at the basket that was as tall as Skeppy’s waist. It was filled to the brim, which impressed Bad, but as he took a closer look, he noticed that Skeppy had thrown in every apple he could find, including the ones that were close to rotting. They were great for apple pie, but they would rot even more easily in their basement.
“We only need the ones that are close to ripening,” Bad said, pointing to an apple above him. It was small and red, but it wasn’t ripened because of its stem. It was still green and not bark yet. “We’re not going to finish that all in a day, Skeppy. You’d just get a bad tummy ache.”
Skeppy’s eye twitched. “So?”
“So you need to sort them all out again.”
“WHAT? Bad! We’ve been here for hours! Can’t we do this tomorrow?”
“I’m busy tomorrow!” Bad lifted a bundle of kindle and dumped it by Skeppy’s feet, right by the basket. “I used all my supplies to help Karl’s injury. Apparently, he ran into Ranboo and Tommy while they were gathering supplies and they attacked him. I’m completely out of ghast tears and blaze rods from that!”
“Karl’s hurt?” Skeppy paused. They knew who he was. Karl was the friendliest person they’ve met, and most considered him to not be a threat. Why would anyone want to hurt him?
Bad nodded gravely, no longer joking about. “He almost died,” Bad admitted, looking at the floor. “Sapnap came to get me last night, and I barely made it. I know they’re kids—but sometimes, they go too far. It’s not like we can blame them. They were tormented beyond our knowledge and they just bit the hand that hit them.” He sighed. “I just don’t see why all this fighting and hurting is necessary.”
“Then why don’t you just go back?” Skeppy demanded. “Back to my village. Where our biggest worry was about our pigs trying to eat our fences. Where it’s safe.”
“All my friends are here, Skeppy.” Bad smiled at him, hefting his axe up. “So are you. My friends need a healer, and I can’t turn my backs on them. If you want, you could go back to Invaded by yourself, and I’ll come visit you from time to time.”
Skeppy sunk to the floor and began sorting apples. He tossed the rotting ones further into the woods. “You know I won’t go anywhere unless you go,” he said somberly, grabbing a browning apple. “I’m not leaving you alone with those psychopaths, Bad. Just like you wouldn’t leave me here by myself.”
Bad nodded. It was his fault that Skeppy was here to begin with. But honestly – he hadn’t anticipated that they would be dragged in a war world where he had to fight against hurt teenagers and his own friends. Then again, who had? And they retaliated just the same. Everyone’s morals have shifted in some point, and their bright smiles no longer innocent and carefree.
“It’s the least I can do. Now hurry up, Skeppy, before the night falls.”
Their luck? Horrible. They made ten minutes of quiet progress before being interrupted. A flash of white bright caught their attention, their heads simultaneously turning. Bright lights were never good. They meant that someone was fighting nearby or they were going to get ambushed. The last time Skeppy saw a bright light, he’d passed out and woken up in the hands of Tommy and Tubbo’s grabby arms. If it wasn’t for Puffy breaking him out, he might have been influenced into taking drugs and various other substances. That wasn’t a pleasant experience, and their relationship had been strained since.
The light had come from behind bushes and trees. The greenlife rustled, as if the person were struggling to stand or just throwing a huge tantrum. But it was definitely human; they saw their gloved hand grabbing onto the tree’s trunk, but the rest of them was still hidden.
Bad frowned, raising his axe as the light was the closest to him. Skeppy called for him, warning him from growing closer, but it fell on deaf ears. He crouched as he approached the moving figure, both hands clutching his only weapon.
“Bad!” Skeppy rose to his feet, sprinting towards him. “You can’t just go to every stupid light you see! What are you, a fucking moth?”
Bad ignored him. The ground beneath his feet suddenly seemed stone cold, despite the grass and the moist soil. With deep breath, he parted the bush and revealed a man in white and blue… and an unfamiliar presence.
“Fucking hell!” the man screeched, startled. His hands were raised to shield himself, so that Bad couldn’t see what he looked like. “Fuck right off, won’t you?”
“What?” Bad demanded, confused. “Who are you?” Strangers were a big thing in this world. They either meant someone had called in a favor or they were personally invited by Dream himself. Either way wasn’t a good outcome for anyone, and the last time a new person arrived was when the Dream SMP was blown to oblivion.
The stranger lowered his hand and blinked at him, equally lost. He had chocolate hair and tan skin, with a pair of white horns protruding from his head. A demon. Whitened scars littered his cheek and neck, some newer and some older, as if they were hastily healed but never properly rested.
The most startling thing was his face.
“I—I don’t understand,” Bad stuttered, clenching his teeth. What was going on?
Standing, the man cracked his neck and put his hand on his hips. “I’d be surprised if you did,” he mocked, tapping his foot impatiently. “Seriously, it’s not like I expected much from you to begin with, but somehow you manage to still disappoint me.”
Bad’s cheeks colored. What was up with everyone insulting him the moment they meet? “H—hey!” he stammered, offended. “You know I can kill you in one hit, right? I have full netherite, and you have nothing!” Lying wasn’t his strongest suit, but he hoped his frustration was enough to bluff over. It wasn’t.
“Really? You look like you’d free a spider if it got in your room.” His lip twitched. “That wasn’t a compliment.” Unexpectedly, he tossed an arm around Bad’s shoulder as if they’d known each other their whole life. Bad tensed, every hair on his back standing on their ends. “It seems that we’ve gotten off the wrong foot. Why don’t we redo our introductions and start over?”
“Hey!” Skeppy jumped in before Bad could swing his axe in self-defense. “Let him go! Who the fuck even are you?!”
The man let Bad go and turned to the demidemon. He grinned at him, revealing sharp teeth that was intimidating even for his own kind. “Come on, we’re only being friends.” He snickered. “Why do you have to be so uptight?”
Skeppy raised an eyebrow, but Bad could tell he was perplexed. Skeppy’s nose always scrunch up whenever he was facing something he didn’t understand, and they were both seeing something that only happened in a storybook. Bad stepped back from the man in white, switching to his sword and pointing it at the stranger.
“What’s your name?” Skeppy demanded, steeling up and unsheathing his diamond sword. He may be half the demon everybody was, but he was still skilled in his own right. If this newcomer was trying to kill them, he would be dead before he even tried.
The man raised his hands, but they didn’t knock gloated look off his face. “Chill! Calm down. I mean you no harm!” He might as well be holding flint and steel with a sword by it. “The name’s Good, and I’m him from another world!” He pointed at Bad, who’d gone into utter shock. “And you are?”