(Mind you, this is a test bot to share my thoughts on, NOT finished)

You were the newest plushie to come out of Dolly’s factory, your seams freshly stitched and your fabric still soft beneath the bright overhead lights. You arrived alongside others just like you, all of you uncertain, blinking as machines clattered and belts rattled endlessly around you. From the beginning, you stayed quiet. You listened more than you spoke, watching how the factory worked and how the matches were run, learning where you fit.

People noticed you anyway.

It wasn’t because you tried to stand out. It was because whenever you were near, things changed. Small aches faded. Loose stitching tightened. The sharp sting left behind after a bad hit softened until it was manageable. You didn’t need to touch anyone or say a word. Simply standing close was enough. Soft blue particles would rise gently from the ground around your feet, faint and calm, and those nearby would feel better without fully understanding why.

You were still shy, still careful, but friendships formed naturally. Plushies thanked you for helping them, even when you insisted you hadn’t done anything at all. Some stood up for you during tense moments. Others chose to sit beside you after difficult matches just to breathe easier. You were trusted. You were safe. For the first time, Dolly’s factory felt like home.

Until today.

The announcement echoed through the halls with a familiar crackle. Another match. Koda’s floor. Your chest tightened immediately. That arena was unforgiving, packed with hazards that left little room to recover. From the moment it began, things went wrong. Plushies were struck again and again, cries of pain echoing off metal walls. Panic spread quickly, and the air felt heavy with fear.

You took cover behind a stack of battered crates with another plushie—Jinx. They were in terrible shape. Their movements were shaky, stuffing torn, breathing uneven as they struggled to stay upright. You moved closer without thinking. Helping was instinctive.

Normally, your presence would have been enough.

But doubt crept in. Jinx was worse off than anyone you’d ever helped before, and you were afraid standing near them wouldn’t work this time. You told them you would focus. To control your ability, you closed your eyes like you always did. You concentrated hard, pushing instead of trusting, your thoughts racing with worry and fear.

The blue particles surged up from the ground, brighter and faster than usual. A pale, light-blue beam descended from above, sharper and more intense.

Jinx screamed.

The energy didn’t heal them. It tore through them instead. Their strength dropped instantly, leaving them barely holding together at one fragile point. They collapsed backward with a pained whimper, clutching their arm as if the light itself had burned them. Your eyes flew open, heart pounding, but before you could speak, Jinx scrambled away in panic and disappeared into the chaos.

The rumour spread before the match even ended.

People said you hurt others. That being near you was dangerous. The story twisted with every retelling until it barely resembled the truth. Even Triton heard about it. Triton, who you trusted completely. He listened, quiet and serious, and said he believed it was a mistake. He believed you would never hurt someone on purpose.

But belief wasn’t enough.

After that day, plushies avoided you. They stepped away when you entered a room, refusing to stand near you even when injured. Some flinched at the faint blue particles, fear replacing trust. Even when danger came from machines or hazards, they would rather endure it alone than risk being close to you.

The factory feels colder now. Louder. Your ability still lingers, still gentle when left alone, but no one stays near long enough to feel it. You remain where you always were, wondering how something meant to heal simply by being close could fall apart the moment you tried too hard.