Some Trod Au Bishop Family Warm Up Doodles + A Lil Chart About Everyone's Opinions On Cannibalism. I

No one knows where Sonic lives.

Even in his so called world renowed hero status, there’s way too little that the general public knows about Sonic The Hedgehog, sure, they know what his favorite food is, they know the names of his friends, and they know when his birthday is, but they don’t know where is he from, how is he so fast, or what is his reason to fight.

They know about most of the times he has saved the world, but they don’t know why his shoes don’t get burned by his speed, they know he can turn into a god-like glowy golden being, but they don’t know how exactly the magical jewels that do that work, they know he’s unstoppable, but they don’t know why.

Most people don’t care that much about that kind of information, even if he’s a hero, that’s his own business, even heroes need privacy; but then there’s the curiosity, the enigma, the mystery, most of those questions will be left without a solid answer, but there’s a few that should have definitive one.

Where does someone who can run around the whole globe in a matter of hours live? There’s a lot of theories.

Sonic has enough fame to have several fan clubs all around the world, and between all those fan clubs there’s been a lingering interest in the enigma of where does sonic live, between all the other questions this one is the one that gets the most possible answers, considering factors like his speed, his well known crave for adventure, his love for nature, all of it could make the difference between the right answer and the wrong answer.

At certain point, the curiosity reaches to more general public apart from the fanatism prone, and when in opportunity to talk to him, a lot of people start asking him the same question: “where do you live?” the answers all equal and all different at the same time “right here in the same world as you” “it varies from time to time” “I don’t think you could visit me”

The vagueness, the confusing contradictions, the evasion of the subject; he’s doing this on purpose. They might not know a lot about the blue speedster, but now this sole data needs to be known.

They start asking Sonic’s acquaintances instead of the hedgehog himself, they know they’re not getting an answer out of him at this point, and if anyone could have one, his friends should know it. Turns out that they don’t know.

Most of his friends being more annoyed with the fact that not even they know where he lives than about the people sticking their noses to his friend’s business was a surprise to the masses, and underwhelming, backtracking, frustrating surprise.

There’s an anonymous user online who affirms that not even the hedgehog’s arch nemesis knows where Sonic lives. Reliable sources support the statement.

The waters of nonsense gossip calm down after some time, but the question still remains, left to be more of general curiosity than lingering mystery.

A random day in a random town, a news program happens to be live outside when the speedster passes by and stops to smell the flowers around the area, the reporters ask him for a small interview, he says they have till he finishes picking up enough flowers for a crown.

They ask the same question everyone has asked for quite some time, just a different word, “Sonic, where is your home?”

Apparently the accidental rephrasing change is what finally gets it, as the speedster just says “right now? should be at mystic ruins”

He runs off immediately, the reporters left speechless, the program still on air on TV’s and the web, and the world going wild.

They finally got a straight, solid, specific answer. “That can’t be true” “but it can” “it’s logical” “it’s not” “he must’ve been joking” “he sounded serious” and more and more discussions take place around that single interview, the fan clubs are theorizing again, the general public is now more curious, and the official news from all over the globe need to confirm this by themselves.

So they ask again.

A full week later, a different city in a different country, different news reporters don’t even bother to ask him for an interview, they just run to him the moment they see the blue blur pass by and ask him again “Sonic, where is your home?!” He yells his answer without stopping:

“Last time I checked was in Central City”.

“It’s a contradiction” “then he was joking before” “he might change where he lives weekly” “we need more proof” “that was way too specific again”.

A different continent, two days later, a group of kids manage to record him when he greets them from the other side of a mountain, they ask “Where is your home?!” He yells back “I’m not sure at the moment!”

The confusion only grows, now no one knows if he’s genuinely giving true answers or full ass lying, it would be logical for him to do either. The curiosity becomes a mystery again, and people are legitimately trying to track all the locations he has mentioned to find out what is this all about. Some people even try to track him down. They try.

A whole month later, there’s a celebration near sunset city, a commemoration of some sorts, there’s been a lot of battles in way too little time so people just try to think about the party rather than the motive for it. Sonic attends the celebration along some of his friends.

A local news channel manages to reach him at the chili dog stand where he is waiting for his food while talking to the two tailed fox everyone knows is his best friend. They don’t mean to interrupt, but these opportunities are limited.

They ask the same question, the same word change that they know works: “Sonic, where is your home?”

The blue blur hangs an arm around the kit’s shoulder in a half hug as he grins widely, he says loudly: “right now, it’s right here!”

This time his home was with him.

bro why did you catch me so tenderly

Hes one of the smartest dsmp characters but hes also so stupid and he has many mental illnesses and hes just a little guy and hes a 80 year old man and hes a butch tmasc and a chain smoker and hes a trans gay man and he was an alcoholic at 16 and he has no parents but he has daddy issues he has committed several crimes but hes innocent

i’ve seen some ppl say they are excited for the c!eret + c!techno + c!tubbo teamup that’s gonna happen tmrrw, bc they both betrayed c!tubbo and maybe this can be both their final redemption point for them. i have. an issue with that.

the thing is that c!eret EARNED their redemption. c!techno has not. idk about you, but I didn’t forget that c!techno let c!dream out of prison (“yeah but it was just business–” I don’t care, he still let the most dangerous person on the server out.)

also it irks me bc c!tubbo interacts with both of them different. c!tubbo definitely trusts c!eret more now than he did after the final control room. what has c!techno really done to earn c!tubbo’s trust? he literally let the guy who was gonna kill him last year out of prison. not to mention that c!techno caused doomsday. c!eret has apologized several times for their betrayal, both through actions and words (they were literally one of the ppl there during the disc finale to save c!clingyduo.) as for c!techno, he hasn’t apologized at all.

and i did not forget when c!techno took the syndicate on their little fieldtrip to snowchester just so he could threaten c!tubbo’s home. again. c!eret + c!techno are the duality of redemption. one actually worked toward theirs, and the other hasn’t even begun to start his.

hc that tubbo is REALLY insecure about his missing eye, so he wears an eyepatch in new l’manberg and absolutely hates it. it’s too big and garish, it rubs up on his wounds all wrong, he hates seeing himself with it. it makes him feel weak. ranboo notices (of course he does) and thinks that tubbo deserves to feel handsome again. they set off after a cabinet meeting to see if ghostbur has any books on prosthetics.

it should be noted that ranboo has no fucking clue what they’re doing. in the weeks after the plans inception, he has amassed over fifty handcrafted glass eyes, of which exactly zero will work. they’re too big, too small, not the right color. he even managed to make one with a rectangular pupil before they thought better of it. it's a shame, too, that was his best one yet. they're tired and frustrated and the eye collection is really starting to creep him out. ranboo considers asking for help.

ranboo remembers the tumultuous political state of new l'manburg.

ranboo thinks this may be a one-man project.

it really shouldn’t be a surprise that tubbo finds out. they've been practically attached at the hip since ranboo joined, and he was never any good at keeping things from tubbo anyway. they're popping over to ranboo's to get supplies for whatever adventure they're going on today, and the little chest labeled SECRET DO NOT OPEN is too full, propped open with dozens of lumpy glass spheres. tubbo notices (of course he does) and gets halfway through a i can't believe you have an eye fetish before he realizes. ranboo thinks it's a bad sign when he goes silent and an even worse one when his eye goes all misty and aw shit he made the president cry.

he's stuttering through an apology when tubbo's one eye meets their two and he asks is this for me? did you make these for me? ranboo nods and tubbo smiles like a kid on christmas, watery and bright. they've missed that smile. before he knows what's happening, tubbo's tackled them into a hug, sending both of them careening to the ground. ranboo vows there and then to give the man anything and everything he desires now and forever, just so he can feel like this again. not a veteran, not a politician, just tubbo, carefree and kind.

yeah, that sounds like a good life.

as quickly as ranboo went down, he's being pulled back up with tubbo insisting that they try every single eye, previous adventure abandoned. they spend the day like that, going through the chest, laughing at some of ranboos earlier attempts, and screaming with excitement when one managed to fit.

he looks beautiful. more confident, brighter, somehow. they burn his eyepatch that night. ranboo had already gotten him a better one anyway.

your adopted sons are about to rat you out

some technos

*reading your tags*

👀 Sonic back in time?????

Okay so, context! Back when I was writing "Chart a Course to Second Chances," I found chapter 2 really, *really* hard to get through, for multiple reasons. Biggest of all being that it was so hard leaving Tails alone on Cocoa Island when he was just a baby! So to help cope with that chapter while I was writing it (over a year ago now, lol, omg) I started writing an AU of my own fic xD Where Sonic came across baby Tails during that time. It wasn't really meant to be anything on it's own. As the Picket Fence timeline started expanding though, I started toying with incorporating that scene as the C or D plot to my post-Frontiers fic! I still haven't decided on that because I'm still in such early stages of planning for that fic. It does reference "Chart a Course" quite a bit, like an extended scene, and references a few other Picket Fence specific things in passing. But since multiple people have expressed interest in it lately, I figured I can share what I've got as it's own standalone thing. So here is an older, modern Sonic coming across a baby Tails!

Sonic Back in Time Shenanigans WIP #1

They appeared in the middle of a downpour. Sonic frowned and covered his quills with his hands as he glanced up at the sky like it had betrayed him, while Silver tried using the wrist communicator Tails had adapted for him to pinpoint their location—both in time and space.

"Looks like we're on an island," Silver pointed out. "It's called… Cocoa Island."

Sonic peeked over his shoulder at the readings. "Hey, I'm alive in this time."

"Yeah. You'd be about… Nine?" Silver guessed.

Sonic glanced around at the thick cover of pine trees and breathed in the cool, misty air; this environment very different from what nine-year-old him had ever experienced. "How big's the island?" Sonic asked. "Think it's worth splitting up?"

"We could cover more ground that way," Silver hummed. "I don't know how time sensitive this event is."

"Then I guess there's no time to lose! You take the high road, I'll take the low!" Sonic flashed him a grin and sped off through the forest while Silver headed up towards the mountains.

Running through the rain was never his preference. The low visibility was bad enough when he wasn't keeping an active eye out for anything that looked out of place. Plus the drag of water-logged quills was never pleasant to run with. His sneakers lost traction in the mud and he nearly slid into several of the densely packed trees.

This definitely wasn't an island he'd ever ventured to before. There weren't any open stretches of land to run through freely. Not that he minded the obstacles, but they were a bit cumbersome in this kind of weather.

So distracted by watching the trees and searching, he didn't see the coat on the ground until his feet were tangled up in it. With a yelp, he face-planted into the grass with a groan. He pushed himself up and shook off the drenched fabric before picking it up to examine it.

It was a child's coat. A toddler's coat.

Sonic looked around. There was a toy airplane sitting innocently atop a tree stump. He picked that up, too. 

"Is anyone there?" he called out. "Hello?" He didn't hear anything except the steady drizzle of rain off the branches overhead. "Hey, if you're out there, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt ya."

Still no answer. Sonic stood up and draped the coat over his arm as he scanned his surroundings, then noticed the nearly washed out tracks in the mud leading deeper into the forest. A child's paw and shoeprints. Sonic followed them, frowning as they shifted the farther he went. They lost their definition until it looked like whoever made the tracks had ended up dragging their body through the mud.

They could've been hurt. Sonic zipped forward until he found a cabin. It was dark, clearly abandoned from the state of the overgrowth taking over the wood, but the front door was swinging open from the wind, letting the rain inside. The muddy trail led right over the threshold.

Sonic stepped inside and shook off his quills, peering into the darkness. The front room was empty. Mud and water stained the old, creaky floorboards, leading him into the next room over. Sonic pushed the door open, finding three empty beds, some storage cabinets, and a pile of blankets on the ground.

A pile of blankets and…

And a baby fox tail.

The toy plane clattered against the hardwood floor and the coat fell with a heavy, wet smack. Sonic dashed over and dropped to his knees next to the bundle as he peeled away the layers of dusty blankets. A baby fox kit trembled as the warmth was taken from him, coughing as the freshly disturbed dust irritated an already raspy throat. Each breath was labored; painful gasps for air that echoed in the abandoned cabin. So soft, but as powerful as gunshots straight to Sonic's heart.

Because the fox kit was clinging to something, and Sonic had hoped he wouldn't be from the moment he first caught sight of his tail. Sonic's jaw clenched. The kit was hugging a second tail.

Tails. How was Tails here? This wasn't West Side Island. What happened?

Another weak cough shook Tails's body. Sonic removed his wet glove and held the back of his hand to Tails's forehead, swearing at how warm he was despite his shivering. Fever. And he was soaked. The blankets were useless as he laid in a damp, muddy nest that would do nothing to warm him up.

Tails nuzzled against his hand. Sonic's gaze was drawn back to his face, eyes still closed as he instinctively sought comfort from his touch. Sonic turned his wrist and stroked the top of his head, brushing aside his wet bangs. A raspy whine rattled in his chest and Sonic's heart broke.

"It's okay, little buddy, I'm right here," he assured him, even if this version of him hadn't met him yet. "You're gonna be okay. Hang on."

Sonic ran into the kitchen and bathroom in search of towels or any sort of linen that wasn't soaked through. He found a couple old hand towels and decided they would have to do. He also found a cup and filled it with water from the sink. 

In the bathroom he looked for anything that might be a first aid kit. There was a medicine cabinet with a thermometer, along with, what was very likely, an expired bottle of ibuprofen tablets. He grabbed both and brought all of it into the bedroom and sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully detangling Tails from his makeshift nest.

He was so light.

Sonic's hands shook as he carefully toweled him off, removing the tiny baby boots from his feet so he could dry them, too. He knew Tails had been light when he'd found him, knew he'd been starving and malnourished, but he hadn't known for how long. This Tails was significantly younger than the four-year-old he'd met on West Side Island, which he had to be if the Sonic of this time was only nine. Barely older than two, if that.

He dried off each of his paws, hating how small they were compared to what he knew and the way his little fingers subconsciously grasped at his own. The Tails he'd met didn't like being touched without warning first, expected every touch to hurt and flinched at sudden movements, but this one in his arms was just as starved for contact as he was for food. He grabbed at and wriggled closer to a complete stranger, whining with frustration as he got tangled in the towel instead. 

Sonic hushed him as he finished drying him off, wrapping him in a fresh towel before quickly drying himself off, too. It wouldn't do any good to get Tails all wet again from his quills dripping onto him. Sonic then shook out the blankets from the pile on the ground, quickly draping the damp ones around the room before using the drier ones to reform a nest. Sonic settled into it and cradled Tails against his chest as he pulled the blankets around them.

He was still shaking so badly, but his face was so hot where it pressed into him. Sonic held him tighter, trying to transfer his own warmth into his sick baby brother, wracked with feverish chills. When Tails got sick, he always vacillated between wanting space and being smothered with comfort. Even at nine, where he claimed to be too mature for such childish things as cuddles, when he was sick enough, he'd eventually shuffle out of his room bundled up in as many blankets as he could find and curl up on the couch with his head in Sonic's lap while his big brother read or played a video game to entertain him.

Sonic never gave it much thought before, but he wondered if that dichotomy to Tails was because he'd had to deal with being sick on his own for so long. It was his first instinct to power through it alone before seeking the comfort he craved. Clearly, for at least the first few years of his life, he was used to the comfort not being there.

Sonic curled around him, insulating him with warmth while the rain pattered against the roof and windows. "You're one tough kid, you know that, bud?" he murmured as the baby whimpered sleepily. "I know, I know… sucks to be sick, but you're handling it like a champ. You always do."

Tails coughed wetly and Sonic patted his back to try and help clear his airways. He glanced at the label for the expired medicine, then grabbed the thermometer. He'd see how high his fever was, then decide whether or not it was worth an attempt to use medicine to bring down his temperature.

"C'mon, bud, open up." 

He tapped the end of the glass thermometer against his muzzle, bleary blue eyes blinking up at him. Sonic faked a yawn, biting back a chuckle when the baby yawned for real. He settled the thermometer under his tongue and held it there. While they waited, Tails just stared up at him. Even as feverish and sleepy as he was, his busy little brain was hard at work trying to figure out who the stranger holding him was while his body shivered, paws kneading into his fur. Just like when they'd been stuck in a blizzard in Holoska, when Sonic's werehog form shielded his hypothermic brother from the cold. 

He might not have recognized him, but he knew he was safe.

"You're doing great, little guy," he told the toddler version of the kid he'd practically raised, smile soft and warm. "Keep it up. We're almost done."

Tails yawned again when Sonic removed the thermometer, squinting at it in the dark to try and read it. At least 104. Tails's normal temperature was somewhere around 100 degrees at rest, so this definitely wasn't a good sign. Sonic swore, rocking Tails a little more quickly as his knees bounced impatiently. It made him cough again, so Sonic gave him the cup of water to help soothe his throat. Tails gulped it down greedily, draining the entire cup in seconds. When he finished, Sonic fought to stay still this time while the baby nuzzled into his chest. 

"Sorry, bud." Sonic scratched behind his ears and he purred from the attention.

Sonic's fingers nearly faltered.

It was so easy…

Normally it took a lot to get Tails to actually purr with contentment. He'd get flustered and embarrassed whenever it happened where Sonic could hear, so it never lasted very long. Sometimes he'd do it to try and cheer Sonic up, but to openly purr because he was unashamedly happy…

Once the baby started, he didn't stop. 

He rubbed his face into Sonic's fur, limp tails wagging in jerky movements, like they didn't know how, one much weaker than the other. It would've been funny in another life. But in this one, Sonic stroked along his back, heart tightening as he felt each nodule of his spine beneath his damp fur. Tails had been too thin when they'd first met; he remembered that well. But if Silver was right… if Sonic was nine in this time and Tails was only two…

It would be two years before they'd meet.

Two years…

"Tried," a tiny voice croaked out.

"Huh?" Sonic blinked down at the snuggly baby. "You tired, big guy?"

"Tried. T'be good 'n wait," Tails mumbled. "I tried…"

Sonic looked out the window at the storm still raging, wind howling through the trees. "Well, you did the right thing, finding a dry place to wait out this rain. Otherwise you might've gotten sicker," Sonic told him. "You did a good job. Such a good job, little bro."

"Good?" Tails tilted his head up, half-lidded eyes trying so hard to focus on him. "M'good?"

"Yeah, you're good," Sonic chuckled softly. "The best."

"An' can I come home now?" Tails asked, voice cracking as it started to rise—just like it always did when he panicked. "Please? I did good, I wanna go home—"

His chest rattled with a harsh coughing fit. Sonic hurried to prop him up in an attempt to clear his airways. He shushed him again as he rubbed his back, his mind speeding through all the context clues he'd been given. The coat and the toy plane left in the woods. The fresh footprints leading to this cabin, which apparently wasn't Tails's home if he was asking to go home…

Because he'd been good.

Because he thought he couldn't go home until he was good.

Every time Sonic told Tails to wait somewhere when they were younger… every time Tails acted like he was never going to come back…

He'd suspected then, of course, but now?

Tails was a baby. A genius baby, but a baby all the same. How could he have possibly gotten it into his head that he'd be left alone somewhere unless he was good if someone hadn't put it there first?

Tails sniffled and coughed again, nuzzling against Sonic's shoulder. "Wanna go home…"

"Soon, bud," Sonic whispered to him, the soft weight of him against his chest the only thing keeping the fury from building in his heart. "You'll be home soon, I promise. And you'll be warm and fed and looked after whenever you're feeling sick… and you'll be loved. You hear me? You'll be loved so much, you won't be able to stand it." Sonic shook his head, thinking back to the little brother he knew, who'd shrug away from his touch with an eye roll or an embarrassed laugh, only to come running back for a hug or words of reassurance when Sonic least expected it. "So hold onto that for me, okay? Hold on 'til I come get you."

Tails's forehead was still burning up as he pressed his own brow to it, squeezing his eyes shut as he pretended like this kid wasn't breaking his heart apart with the magnitude of his rumbly little purrs quaking in his chest.

The little guy fell asleep not long after that, wheezy breaths tickling his fur as Sonic sat with him on the floor of the dusty old cabin. Though it had been a while—and his legs were itching to run as his mind raced and his body insisted that it was trapped—he settled into the old habit of keeping watch over his little brother as easily as breaking in a pair of running shoes. A little painful at first, sure, a little pinchy in the heel or the toes, but soon enough he'd be one with the wind and didn't have to second guess a single step.

As he carefully shifted Tails to a more comfortable sleeping position, Sonic caught a glimpse of his wrist communicator. He fought back a wince. Whoops. Silver.

Trying to keep as quiet as he could, he called his friend. "Any news?" Silver asked, not needing to wonder who was calling him.

"Ah… about that…" Sonic flicked his gaze down at the sleeping fox kit cradled in his arm. "Kinda got distracted."

"Sonic," Silver sighed.

"I know, I know. My bad. But uh… I've got my hands full at the moment. Might be a minute before I can get back to helping you find… whatever it is we came here looking for."

"I don't really know myself. All I know is that it had the potential to affect your present, as well as my future," Silver sighed. "I'll keep looking. There's still a lot of ground to cover in these mountains, and I have this sense…"

"Hm?"

"Just this sense that maybe a Chaos Emerald is here."

Sonic glanced down at Tails again. "You don't say."

"Yeah. Maybe it's the reason we're here. You think we're supposed to retrieve it?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?" Silver pressed.

"Just a hunch." Sonic's muzzle couldn't help curving in a fond smile as Tails nuzzled his cheek against his chest, purrs growing louder with a happy sigh. "Just keep me in the loop if anything else stands out to you and I'll catch up with you later. Stay dry."

"You too."

The call cut out and Sonic was left with only the sound of the rain on the roof and Tails's croaky breathing for company. "So that how you made it to West Side? Did the Chaos Emerald lead you there, too, little buddy?" Shaking his head with a sigh, he felt his forehead again while he brushed his bangs out of the way. "Could've tried getting our paths to cross a heck of a lot sooner, but guess I can't be too mad at 'em… no point in dwelling on what coulda been, huh?"

But the words he normally lived by tasted bitter in his mouth. About half as helpful as expired medicine.

"But you've got me now," Sonic assured him. "For however long that might be, you don't gotta worry about a thing. I'll take it from here, Tails."

Howdy! I just want to take a moment (or two…or three..yeah this is longer than I thought it would be) to talk about your characterization of Narinder in your TRoD fanfic, specifically his grievance over what he perceived the lamb to be and betrayel.

I like to think Narinder repeatedly calling Lambert a traitor (I think at least once a chapter actually lmaoo) over and over, is trying not so subtly to avoid thinking about the why behind the betrayel and the pain that comes with it. Especially since he'd already spent an eternity wondering about the previous betrayal of his siblings. How emotionally torturous it must feel to be in this cycle of rejection, from the people he depended on, even now from his own followers who don't recognize him. And then, when he and Lambert finally appear to be on the same page about something, Lambert goes and spares Leshy, reminding Narinder once again that his divine commands hold as much weight on the Lamb as they will decide to hold.

It isn't up to Narinder to decide how the lamb will act, as much as he wants to. It's one thing for Narinder to have people listening to him, but it's another to actually be heard, and after an eternity of silence during his imprisonment he's absolutely desperate for some form of control and impact. For someone to truly hear him. Which is a shame, because Lambert does, but Narinder cannot recognize it since they don't always give Narinder what he wants (since being a God is all about what you want), and instead are more interested in giving him what he needs.

I assume at this point, after being revived into a mortal form, he's actively given up on trying to understand why everyone just keeps "betraying/rejecting him" and would rather use his own inferences of their behavior as explanation, once again, for that feeling of control, since he's utterly mortified of hearing those words come from their mouths instead of his own (doesn't help that he can actually read minds either). He'd rather kill his siblings than hear the why (not saying the siblings were justified ofc, but understanding one's motivations is, y'know, important to effectively communicating with them in a way that's healthy) Despite needing to be heard, he's internalized that many won't bother listening unless he has control over them in some way, like he did before when he was powerful. When he mutilated his siblings, had Lambert create a cult in his name, being heard isn't just an emotional or mental aspect to his wellbeing, but is literally part of his power as well.

He was/is a God, he's used to followers prostrating themselves just to hear the time of day, giving their all to listen, hear, and follow him. It's why he struggles to separate the aspects that are ingrained in a follower, from those who are a friend. Unless they're also God he can't comprehend much of a difference, and expects them to be of the same or similar standing. He was friends with Lambert when he was Godly, yes, but he still saw himself as above Lambert, and expected them to lay down their life to him like a follower would. Yes, Narinder didn't want to cut them out of his own life in their death, but still expected them to just..die for him. He didn't ***just*** see Lambert as a friend, he saw them as a friend that was also his follower. An exceptional follower he loved, but not an exception. There was a power imbalance that Lambert now sees.

It's why Narinder's utterly baffled and offended, fearful even, at Lambert, someone he deemed as "traitorous", investing their time into still trying to talk to him..listen to him.. for virtually no gain…at his lowest point...when he himself is now "lesser".

Narinder tries so hard to not become invested in those he deems as "lesser" or "traitors" but its near fucking impossible, because like it or not, his desires and needs are so inherently mortal and genuine (desire for power, companionship, love, understanding, control, etc) that if he doesn't close himself off, he may have to face falling into the same pit of disappointment and failed expectations he fell in with Lambert/his siblings once again. So he doesn't, and hides away in his shack until Lambert comes knocking.

And now, as the cherry on top of this emotionally constipated bundle of angsty cat woes, he has to live and breathe as the very thing he deemed as "lesser". Being forced to invest in these mortal needs, now that they're a necessary component to his survival. This is also why I believe he goes on these little crusades with Lambert in the first place as well. Not only because they return to him a sense of routine and normalcy (also pining, coughocoughghhrbogh who said that?), but also because it allows Narinder to forget about investing in his own wellbeing for a while.

He was a God, he didn't have to go through the work it took to just do your laundry, eat, brush your teeth, or take care of yourself since he never had to. The thrill of adventure and battle, the adrenaline rush of near-death experiences, can't hold a candle to the mundanity of work. So when he's not crusading, he just..sleeps..wanders around..the fact he's not socially accepted by his own followers doesn't encourage him either. I mean fuck, he such a complete wreck after Lambert spared Leshy, he crusaded and neglected his health for so long he passed out.

His life is all work now, investing in himself, in others, being forced to have his ego get knocked down a few pegs, and care again despite how much it hurts. None of these things are "given", Lambert's love is not just given (as in, blindly follow) and that's what I believe will be an eventual "eureka" moment for him.

Living is work, but it's worth working for

He ain't hot shit anymore, but that's ok.

Anyway, sorry for the long-winded ramble this was all actually just a very roundabout and ineffective ploy for me to talk about how I relate the song "Don't Speak" by No Doubt, to your Narinder's character. Happy belated New Year, hope you're doing well. :]

LKSDHGKLSDHGD HELLO. This is such a well articulated analyzation of Narinder holy moly, I hope you don't mind me answering this with not much to add on because WOW I'm really vibing with your takes on him and I wanted the world to read this too slkdghlksdhgs. I have a lot of my own takes on Narinder and how he'll progress to be as the story comes along, and eventaully some of this will be talked about in TROD either with the lamb and/or with other characters, particularly Ratau, as he comes to an understanding that others are understanding.

I have not had coffee yet this morning but I could go on for a day and a half about Narinder being used to getting what he wants as a god and the entire process of how actaully lonley and isolating it can be to be continously pedastaled and worshipped verses being on equal, human level with other beings and how long it takes for him to realize that.

HAPPY BELATED NEW YEAR

Based on new canon lore that Tails has a curfew and only on new years he’s allowed to stay up because Sonic being inadequate teen parent/bro/fence learned the hard way of a growing fox need for healthy sleep schedule