#Mumbo can sing apparently

[conivolos]

hey look a mounders fic

i wrote this before ep 2 came out so its not canon compliant for it. hope you enjoy:)

ao3 link

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Your secret is…

Pearl sucks in a breath, lowering her pickaxe from the vein of iron she was mining.

3… 

The secrets had been at the back of her mind since this session had started.

2… 

And the allure of having proper armour and tools had gotten her to staircase down almost immediately.

1…

The book rests safely in her hands, and the sound of a creeper sizzle reaches her ears.

She throws up her shield just in time, almost dropping the book in the process. It blocks the creeper for the most part, the resounding explosion only managing singe the tips of her hair.

“Okay, this isn’t safe,” she says, turning around before any more mobs can clamber their way over to her. She hastily knocks a hole into the cave wall and boxes herself in, torch in hand, book clutched to her chest.

Pearl leans her back against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a couple steadying breaths, the fire of the torch flickering with the intensity of them.

After a beat or two, she huffs, releasing her hold on the book slightly, “Better get this over and done with,” she murmurs, taking one final breath and opening the book.

Get at least three people to stay within five blocks of each other for six minutes.

Pearl frowns at the page.  It's a harder task than last week, but that's at least to be expected.

And, well, she does know at least three other people. Two of which are Mumbo and Bdubs, her dear friends who conveniently live beside her.

Keeping the time might be a bit tricky, but Bdubs surely has a clock at this point, either gifted or crafted, so that'll make it a bit easier.

Pearl grins, stuffing the book into her jacket pocket, an idea steadily forming in her mind; it should be easy enough.

She takes out her pick again and busts through the cave wall, hightailing it back to the stripmine before the shadows throw any more mobs at her.

She barely has time to shake out dust and bits of rock from her hair before Mailbox jumps up to greet her, running over from where he was told to sit and eagerly circling her legs, tail wagging. Pearl smiles, patting his head and scratching behind his ears.

They make their way out of Pearl’s mound and across the plains, and Pearl casts a weary glare to the storm clouds gathering somewhere in the badlands, and, thumbing the book in her pocket, hops up to Mumbo’s mound, Mailbox at her heels.

As silently as she can, she flicks up his chimney trapdoor and crawls in, Mailbox scrunching up behind her.

Mumbo’s back is to them when Pearl spots him, intently reading what's probably his secret, scratching at his head.

“You reading your secret, Mumbo?” Pearl asks after a second, resting her head on a hand, and resisting the urge to kick her feet.

Mumbo jumps about sky-high, and Pearl swears he almost hits his head on his wall, whipping around to look at her, only to miss completely and stare out his windows in bewilderment, snapping his book shut. “Pearl?” he asks, “Where are you?!”

Pearl cackles and shimmies a bit further into his house, just enough so that Mumbo can properly see her face. And Mailbox apparently takes this as an opportunity to try to squeeze his way past Pearl, only to get stuck pretty much immediately, giving up with a huff and tucking his face into the crook of her elbow.

Pearl blinks at him, then turns back to Mumbo, who’s looking less confused and more giggly. 

Pearl grins, “Whatcha up to Mumbo?”

Mumbo gives a shaky laugh, “Can’t tell ya, it's a secret. You know this, Pearl!”

Pearl sticks out her tongue at him, and Mailbox does the same. “Mumbo. I have an idea.” Pearl starts and Mumbo raises an eyebrow. “We should go cloud watching before the rain gets here.”

Mumbo glances out his window at, Pearl guesses, distant rolling thunder clouds, if she correctly remembers where badlands is from here.

“Bit of an odd thing for you to suggest, huh Pearl?” he says, turning back to her, voice close to laughter. “Is this part of your task?” 

Pearl sputters. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, Mumbo,” she shoots back, steadfastly dismissing the panic that rises up in her chest.

“If we’re going cloud watching, let's at least try to get Bdubs in on it too,” he says, attempting to shoe her out of the chimney.

“That's the plan!” Pearl says, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She crawls back out of the chimney and grabs tight to Mumbo’s hand as soon as she can, pulling him along to Bdubs’.

Pearl hops up to Bdubs’ doorstep, Mumbo trailing behind her. “Bdubs!!!” she shouts, knocking loudly on his trapdoor door.

There's the prolonged sounds of Bdubs shouting in surprise, and some clattering before it goes silent once more.

“Oh my goodness.” Mumbo laughs into his hand.

“Bdubs! You’re on your roof!”

Bdubs makes some more grumbling sounds before he appears, leaning over the cobble foundation to glare at his neighbours, mostly Pearl, Mumbo not so much. “Yes, yes. What do you want?” he snaps.

“We’re going to go cloud watching before the storm gets here,” she explains, gesturing over to the badlands, “Mumbo and I thought you’d like to join us!”

“Yeah, Bdubs, come stare at the sky with us.” Mumbo adds.

Bdubs’ frown intensifies before it lets up, although his eyes narrow in suspicion, “...Alright, I'll come with you.”

Pearl whoops as Bdubs clambers down, who lands with a thud on the granite. Pearl grabs his hand without hesitation, pulling the both of them along, and Mailbox bounds happily after them.

They stumble down Bdubs’ mound, evidently getting close to taking possible hearts of damage at Mumbo and Bdubs’ loud protests, but Pearl remains indifferent.

Pearl drags them up onto her mound and unceremoniously flops onto the grass, pulling the both of them down with her. They both yelp as they fall, and Bdubs glares at Pearl, who only giggles, while Mumbo winces and rubs at the back of his head.

Mailbox trudges over them all, making them wheeze, before he settles begrudgingly next to Pearl.

“So…” Mumbo starts after a moment, leaning back into the grass, “We just look at the clouds and say what we think they look like?”

Pearl nods, a hand resting on Mailbox’s head, “Yup!”

They laugh and do just that, Pearl’s task slowly drifting out of her mind as she goofs off with her two friends and—oh god, she counts as a person too, right? 

Pearl's eyes widen, oblivious to whatever Mumbo and Bdubs are chatting about. Her whole entire plan is thrown out the window if They don’t count her as one of the people—

“What’re you guys doing?”

“Hey, Joel!” Bdubs says, while Mumbo raises a hand in greeting.

“We’re doing some lovely cloud watching!” Pearl answers, putting on a fake smile, and feeling more than seeing as Mailbox jumps up to bother Joel, and Joel gives her an unimpressed look, absently scratching Mailbox behind the ears.

“Pearl forced us to do it.” Bdubs blurts out, and Mumbo chokes out a laugh.

“I didn’t force ya to do anything!” Pearl defends.

“Sit down with us, Joel,” Mumbo says over the sounds of his neighbours’ bickering, patting the patch of grass next to him.

“For Pearl’s sake,” Bdubs adds after a beat.

“Hey.”

Joel snorts, “No thanks.”

Pearl sucks in a breath and tries valiantly to pretend that she didn’t.

And, luckily he lingers for a while more, and Pearl tries her hardest to not look too desperate. Joel shuffles his feet before relenting, silently and abruptly going to lie down next to Mumbo.

Pearl feels a wave of relief wash over her, letting out a soft sigh. Bdubs casts her a strange look and she simply sticks out her tongue at him.

A soft breeze washes over them, it flits through the grass, tousling their clothes and hair, bringing with it the wispy smell of rain. Mailbox tries to take a bite out of it, and they all huff a laugh at that.

“That one looks like a heart,” Pearl says eventually, breaking the soft silence, pointing up to a cloud that, truthfully, doesn't look all that much like a heart. More like a smashed apple.

“I see a clock,” Bdubs declares, to absolutely no one’s surprise.

“Spyglass and… an end crystal?” Mumbo adds, gesturing to another few and laughing, “goodness, these are some weird clouds.”

“A pack of dogs,” Joel says and Pearl agrees, although he doesn’t see the tower next to them.

“Hey, these ones look just like us,” Pearl points out. The four bits of cloud, one larger than the rest, and two of the smaller ones with box-like shapes atop them, do, in fact, look like their retrospective counterparts.

They keep pointing out shapes in the clouds, and Pearl waits until she knows it's been more than six minutes, until shes pushing ten.

She could run over to the secret keeper without giving an explanation, cackling all the while, and it would be worth it just to see the looks on her friends’ faces.

Or, she could just stay. Stay with her friends lying next to her in the grass. Stay with Mailbox sleeping in between them. Stay with grass in her hair and a forgotten book in her jacket pocket.

Yeah, she smiles, the smell of rain whisking past them once more, Joel and Bdubs laugh at something Mumbo said. She reckons she’ll stay, at least for a while.

#coni fics #the mounders #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #bdoubleo100 #joel smallishbeans #secret life smp #secret life #yay its out!! a couple of days after i thought it would but whatever akdjfhasd

[canned-goose-feathers]

redstone, feathers, disruption

Mumbo isn't a slight man. Working with restone contraptions requires a fair amount of strength, thank you very much.

All of that being said, having a bird man land full speed on your shoulders would knock anyone down. Which is how Mumbo found himself face down in his redstone.

Where he'd usually hear apologies from any other hermit he hears manic giggling, which confirms that it's his feathered companion that's assaulted him.

Mumbo heaves himself to his elbows and then rocks back until he's sitting on his feet, glaring at the puffed up avian next to him.

"You can just walk, you know," he says. "Like a normal person."

"Where's the fun in that?" Grian laughs.

Mumbo sighs heavily. "Alright, what is it then?"

"What do you mean?"

"What prank or scheme are you pulling me into?"

Grian pouts, genuinely pouts until Mumbo almost feels bad for him. "I can't come see my boyfriend without a reason?"

Mumbo has the decency to look bashful. "I mean, I suppose. No, sorry— What I mean to say is, yes, you always can, I'm sorry, I didn't mean. Yes. Sorry."

"The words you're looking for are 'It's lovely to see you, Grian.'"

Mumbo smiles softly. "It's lovely to see you, Grian."

"There we go." Mumbo knows well enough what the look in Grian's eye is. Luckily, he can actually brace this time as Grian does a small flap and lands on his shoulders. He settles there, his talons digging into Mumbo's suit, resting on his shoulders and head like a very odd stole. Mumbo shifts on his knees a bit too support the extra weight, then looks back down at his redstone. It hadn't been too messed up by Grian's entrance, just a few strings misplaced. He rights them, then turns to fuss over the comparator.

Mumbo won't admit it out loud (largely because he'll become a blushing, stuttering mess), but he enjoys Grian's presence when he does things like this. It's easy to get lost in his work, but Grian keeps him present.

Sometimes a little too present. A feather drifts down to settle on one of the redstone lines, causing it to spark. The comparator clicks unhappily and he shushes it much like one would a fussy child.

There's a shift on his shoulders and another father drifts down, then another. He hurriedly waves at them to keep them from touching the redstone.

Mumbo turns his head. Grian freezes. He's got one wing pulled up and around so Grian can reach the underside of the base feathers. It's an awkward position on its own made only worse by Grian's perch being another living being.

Grian is blushing just a bit. It's adorable.

"You need some help there, G?"

Grian's cheeks go even pinker. "Uh, suppose so." Carefully, he steps down from Mumbo's shoulders.

"Is it molting season?" Mumbo asks as he brushes down and dust from his suit.

"No, just singed my wing a bit and the feathers are just now growing in." Mumbo gives one last look to his work and decides that, well, maybe he's done enough on it for today. It was getting late after all.

"Your place or mine?"

"Unless you want to be in a big empty boulder, I'd say mine."

"Are you saying my base is better?"

"Hey!"

Mumbo laughs at the mock offense on Grian’s face. He pulls him into his side and kisses the top of his head. Grian, apparently not satisfied, grabs Mumbo's tie and pulls him in for a earth-shattering not family-friendly kiss. Before the poor man can gather his wits, Grian is shoving him backwards and mantling his wings.

"Race you," Grian grins. Mumbo chases him, Grian's laughter leading him home.

#Not prion au #hermitshipping #Grumbo #the goose honks back #hermitcraft #grian #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitblr #mumbo jumbo

[randomnameless]

Oh god I just wish they'll release something new and we'll be spared with all Fodlan nonsense. I like the characters, their supports and interactions, but, like with fates, it seems that the supports and the story are written by two separate teams. Can we have something nice for a moment? People are arguing about "lizards bad' being a theme in the whole franchise, but I think it's more about "humanity fucked up".

iirc the gap between FE14's story and support is because the game was heavily lolcalised?

If 3 Nopes is any indication, IS seems to

really be pushing the wrong door, like 3 Nopes doesn't make any sense, Claude (Clout) regresses and becomes the 1st year uni student who thinks he knows everything - but sadly, unlike your 1st year uni student, Clout has the means to reach his 1st year uni student goals.

All Lords must sing kumbaya happily ever after, so all that mumbo jumbo with demonic beasts and Supreme Leader doing everything she can to achieve her goals?

"brainwash"

Clout apparently convincing Dimitri to abandon Rhea and the Church and to politely let him trample through his country to kill her for no good reason - i mean - bar "church bad, church is the reason why people are unhappy and crests bad remember" - and Dimitri accepts, but not because Clout is hanging a sword at his neck, nope, but because Clout "convinced" him.

Take the Golden Route trigger from all this crap on Ao3 "everyone unite against Rhea" - with the twist that Dimitri has to be on his knees to "accept" - and you've got 3 Nopes in a nutshell.

The plot implodes to make people with vastly different mindsets and convictions work together, and issues aren't resolved, even if all Lords survive.

Rhea of course gets the short end of the stick, as always, but hey, the three Lords are market-able, so why should Rhea even matter?

IS is a company, and has to make profit, but damn if FE16 - and Fodlan in general - was a wasted product.

Why bothering to create all this verse, background, and story about nabateans and different countries if it is to completely ignore it at the end, only to end up with the ultimate player pandering fantasy or the marketing fantasy?

Fodlan could have been a story about humanity fucking things up, just like lizards and mole people, but now they all have to live together - but they prefered to make a story about "uwu students", + "follow the story of the lord of your choice!" with the usual "twist upon twist" for Clout or the true and tested "brainwash!" for Supreme Leader.

Who cares about Rhea and the Church+Faculty staff?

Current IS might think FE4's 2nd gen sells more than the first, so they would cram the 1st gen in 3 chapters (prologue + meet Deedee + Deedee is missing and Eldie dies + Arvis's BBQ) to develop the 2nd gen, and give a special chapter to Larcei.

Tl ; dr : I don't really any hope (lel) left in IS, maybe I'll change my mind later on, but given the recent spoilers for 3 Nopes, it's not going to happen any soon.

#anon #replies #3 nopes spoilers #i have the feeling the prefer their characters to a cohesive story telling #it's so jarring compared to other games #especially to TS #I want a story I don't want to see what Bernie does in situation X #salt

[takeflight-hermitcraftau]

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525842/chapters/61527460

Tango and Impulse didn’t get a moment to even think about what Grian just said before four other hermits flew into the room. Mumbo, Iskall, Stress, and Scar. Mumbo looked worried as he rushed over to Grian, and Iskall walked over to Tango and Impulse. “How’s he doing?” Iskall asked, and Tango started to walk away from Grian. Impulse and Iskall followed. “I dunno man. We just noticed that the hives on his back looked really specific, and he said it looks like a Watcher symbol.” Tango said, and Impulse nodded.

#Take flight au #Take flight #Hermitcraft #Hermitcraft au #Polytechs #Mumbo can sing apparently #This totally isnt gay guys its 100% platonic #Shipping #Hermitshipping #Grumbo #Tango #Impulse #ImpulseSV #Tango Tek #Xisuma #Docm77

[maiz-of-light]

WIP

“Purah?”

The voice is far too high to resemble Link’s. When the director pulls away, she’s met with a puzzled expression – one she hasn’t witnessed in over a century.

“Oh… my… Goddess,” she starts, mouth agape. The stranger (not a stranger) pulls back her hood, revealing a head of gold hair and glittering emerald orbs.

“’Zelda’ will do just fine,” quips the princess, a sly smile on her thin lips.

It takes every fiber of Purah’s strength not to shriek with glee. She is lacking, however, sufficient fibers to maintain the squeal of delight as she all but tackles the golden-haired girl, wrapping her in an embrace so tight that both women can feel the wind escape Zelda’s lungs with an ‘oof.’

“Purah,” she gasps, tapping at the director’s back. “Can’t… breathe…”

The blue of Link’s tunic begins to wander into view just as Purah pulls back, slightly sheepish. “Whoops,” she says, somewhat flushed, “sorry. Still not used to being at full strength again.”

“It’s quite all right,” replies Zelda, although her breathing is still visibly labored. “Is it really you, though, Purah? Link had mentioned you had been working with some sort of anti-aging serum, but his brief analysis seemed to imply that we would be meeting a director with the appearance of a child. And you-”

She stops short at Purah’s massive smirk. The director can’t help it. She’s certain that there’s not a tooth in her perfect mouth not on full display right now.

“Last time your pretty boy knight saw me,” Purah explains, cheeks stinging with the width of her grin, “I had more important tasks to worry about than my own vanity. But after I got that precious slate of his back to its full glory, I decided I’d earned a little ‘me’ time, hm?”

Zelda smiles softly. “You look every bit as stunning as you did when last we met.”

Unspeakably proud, Purah flushes deeper. “What about you, girl?” she half-sings, gesticulating at Zelda’s shortened hair, adorned with braids. “Who the hell did you find who was able to do this? It’s such a good look on you!”

There’s something mischievous in Zelda’s smile as she averts her eyes. Purah follows their path over to Link, who’s taken to looking like a deer caught in lantern light.

“Actually…,” Zelda begins, “Link threw this together for me.”

Purah’s jaw drops, head whipping towards the boy who appears to have twenty other places where he’d suddenly rather be.

“You really are full of surprises,” says the director, shaking her head softly.

Pink begins to creep up the Hylian’s cheeks as he rubs at his neck – a nervous tic that he’s carried throughout all points of his life, recalled or otherwise. Nervously, he clears his throat, gesturing towards the still-open doors.

“Oh! Yes,” cries Zelda, even as Purah bends at the waist to peer out at whatever’s been brought back to the princess’s attention. So far, all she sees is… a horse? “Purah, Link and I have only just returned from Hyrule Castle. With the Calamity done away with, it is now safe to begin scouring the premises for ancient technology. I think you might be interested in what we’ve recovered so far…”

The princess’s tone, of course, conveys the message that Purah most certainly will be interested in whatever this ancient mumbo jumbo may be. Without any further clarification, both Hylians exit the lab and approach the red mare parked just outside the doorway. Purah follows close behind, afraid to even blink lest she miss anything important. Atop the mare is situated a good-sized wooden crate, secured to the saddle with makeshift straps of cloth. How the fair-haired pair managed to transport it all the way from Central Hyrule is beyond the director’s comprehension. No matter, she supposes. It’s here now.

Zelda works at undoing the straps with steady hands while Link, on the opposite side, braces for the crate to come tumbling off the horse. Which it does, nearly knocking him off his feet. Now, Purah has certainly never seen as much of the young Hylian as Robbie apparently has (blah blah ‘Let me see your battle scars because the sword that seals the darkness isn’t proof enough of your identity’ blah blah), but she’s gathered enough intel on the boy to know that he’s never lacked in muscular prowess. What a relatively small box could contain that would cause such a struggle for him has her curiosity doubled.

“Is it explosive?” inquires Purah, reluctant to risk any of the progress she’s made in her current projects.

“No, not at all,” replies the princess. “In fact-”

A strained squeak from her heavy-laden knight cuts Zelda short. At the sight of his twitching mandibular muscles, Purah rushes to support the opposite end of the crate, hollering, “Then let’s get it inside! Quickly now, children! Science waits for no one!”

Excitable quips turn to muffled grunts as Link shifts part of the weight onto Purah’s end. Even with Sheikah strength typically surpassing that of most Hylians, the director finds herself a bit too eager to get the damned thing out of her arms and onto the table. “Over there!” she calls, gesturing with her head.

The crate lands with a disturbingly loud thud.

Link rubs at his own back as best he can, breathing heavily, while Purah has to brace her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. She’s sure as hell gonna feel that one in her arms the next day.

“So,” the director heaves between breaths, “do we need a jackhammer to open this bad boy up, or-?”

Before she can complete the thought, a warm light glows gold from inside the mysterious crate. A matching luminescence radiates from Zelda’s palms as she runs them over the corners. Once the light fades entirely, the walls of the box fall flat.

Purah can’t decide which is the greater cause of her flabbergast: the divine power of the Hylian princess in all its unfettered splendor – or the sight of the relic they had long since thought destroyed.

“Holy Boko balls, princess,” the director half-shouts. “Is that Terrako?!”

#the legend of zelda #botw #botw2 #drabble i guess #breath of the wild #age of calamity #purah is so much fun to write #loz #tloz #idk where i'm going with this #zelda #botw link #botw zelda #omg tags

[the-sympathetic-villain]

A Life For A Life - Chapter 5

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Prompt by @local-space-case:  Prince Roman and his two loyal friends, Patton and Logan, are on the  hunt for a dragon. Meanwhile, Dragonshifter!Janus  is just trying to  find the right herbs to cure a sick/injured  Dragonshifter!Virgil. Bonus  points for Anxciet and/or Protective Remus.

Word Count: 3053

Chapter Warnings: Minor violence/threats, Sexual Innuendo, Blood, Injury, Effects of Poisoning, Mentions of Death, Kidnapping (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

---

    “Now, I can get behind a little self-flagellation but this is just pathetic.”

    Roman blinked in shock as the sudden echo of an unfamiliar voice filled his ears.

    His aim had held true as the arrow wavered through the stale, cave air and the dragon had stilled in just the right moment. He'd been prepared to let out a breath of relief. Yet, he found himself staring dumbfounded at the arrow that had stopped short of its target mere inches from the dragon’s face.

     A shadowy silhouette gripped the arrows shaft, having apparently stopped it in midair. Chills crept down Roman’s spine as the figure turned toward him with a toothy, white grin.

     “Come now. It's just rude to murder in someone else’s home.” The figure chuckled as he twirled the arrow in its unnaturally long fingers. “Unless, of course—You're the host.”

     Roman flinched as the figure's hand twisted, sending his own are headed back for Roman’s chest.

    “Roman, no!”

    “Lo!”

     Logan and Patton’s voices were muffled as a sudden wave of blue light shot illuminated the cave walls. A minor shockwave sent Roman stumbling back as the arrow headed for his chest shattered into a dozen pieces and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

    “Oh, our pathetic prince has friends. Does he?”

    The pallid figure traipsed toward him with a dangerous sway in his step. Dark circles accented the creature’s dangerous sneer, sending Roman stumbling back to clumsily land on the ground.

    He would nearly have mistaken the figure for a man, if not for the black pulsing veins etched into his white skin. Its eyes were white and without pupils and long black feathers seemed to hang from behind his ears like talismans.

    “Come now,” The beast purred.

    His sudden movements sent a fresh wave of fear across Roman's body as he started to scramble away. The movement was cut short as a hand caught his ankle, pulling him back until he turned to stare up at unnerving creature.

    “I love me a good meet and greet. Call your friends out, princey boy .”

    Roman bit his lip. “Logan—”

    “Don't make me drag them out by their toes.” The man cooed in a lilting tone that immediately  shut down any thoughts of rebellion in Roman’s mind. “I'd hate to have to hurt them.”

     Roman scowled at the creature’s smirk. “Logan, come out please.”

    The man's eye glimmered as he wagged a patronizing finger at Roman. “Don't forget the cute one. I wouldn’t want to leave anyone out of the fun I’m about to have with you.”

    “You bastard. Leave Patton out if th—"

    The man cocked his head with a condescending smirk, flourishing his hand. Roman’s hands shot to his throat as the muscles suddenly constricted. He heaved in a breath, unable to speak as the man leaned forward, head resting in his hands as he watched Roman suffocate with a infuriating grin.

     “Don’t hurt him, please.”

    Logan’s calm voice resonated against the walls, approaching slowly as Roman craned his neck toward him.

    “We're coming out like you asked.”

    Roman felt his heart pound in his chest at the seriousness in Logan’s tone. He could see Logan’s arm tucked protectively around Patton, eyeing the scene with caution as they stepped into the faint light.

    “Oh, goody-goody gumdrops.”

    The man jumped to his feet as breath flooded Roman’s lungs. His hands reached to the ceiling as he took a step towards Logan.

    “So glad you can join us.”

    “Stay back.” Logan's hand glowed with a faint blue light as he growled a warning at the creature. “I will not ask twice.”

    Tension seeped into their bodies as a brief moment of silence hung between them. The orange glow of the embers reflected in Logan’s eyes as the blue glow of his palms lit his face from below.

    His ferocity sent a shiver across Roman’s skin as he stared at the man he loved. He knew Logan cared for few things more than he cared for Patton, but to see the fury in full force was a staggering sight even for Roman.

   “Funny. You've got that nerdy look about you. I really thought you'd be the smart one.” The creature chuckled as pupils returned to his eyes, glittering  green as his eyes narrowed in Logan. “Are you really prepared to face a god with that cocky attitude?”

    “A god?”

    Roman’s heart sunk as Logan’s confidence faltered. He could see Logan hesitate as the creature approached, leaning into his face with a snarky smile.

    “You look like the type of nerd who'd know all about these things. Come on, don’t tell me you skipped studying the stories of these hills?” The man’s smirk grew unnaturally wide as he peered over Logan’s shoulder at Patton. “The gods buried themselves in the earth to give rise to the great creatures of the earth. Abandon all hope ye who enter here. Yada, yada, boring mumbo jumbo.”

     “I'm aware of the stories.” Logan’s lips pursed slightly. “Forgive for my ignorance. Which story is it that you supposedly from?”

    “A non-believer. Huh?” The man's lip curled into a dangerous smirk. “You’d best start believing in legends, Mr. Tense and Broody. You’re living one."

    Roman watched as Logan  pulled Patton closer to him, trying not to show how much Remus’ responses had unnerved him. “You didn't answer my question.”

     The man smiled, almost as if he was impressed by Logan’s bravado, before giving a dramatic bow towards Logan. “Remus, God of all creatures of the Dilonn Forest, scaled and slimy alike. At your service.”

    Logan’s expression fell as his eyes darted to the amber-scaled dragon whose stoic eyes were now watching their every movement.

    “We didn’t mean to—”

    “You didn’t mean to follow an injured beast as it fled from your grasp?”

     Logan swallowed the lump in his throat as he clenched his jaw. “That's not—”

    “All while carrying deadly weapons intended to kill said beast?”

    “I—”

    “Wait” Roman interrupted Logan's wavering protests, raising his hands in surrender as he leapt nimbly to his feet. “Logan never intended to do anyone harm. Only I intended to hunt the creature—"

    “Oh, I'll get to you in a minute.” The man waved off Roman’s   protests with a brusque gesture before turning to face to glowing amber eyes of the golden-scaled dragon. “But first, I’d like to hear from the one who spurned my creations most.”

    Roman stared in shock as the dragon raised its head in apparent indignation at the man's remark.

    “One bad day and you’re suddenly willing to throw away the gifts I’ve given you?”

    A wave of heat rushed over Roman’s arms as the beast let out a huff, all but rolling its eyes as he curled tighter around the man in its nest.

     “Bullshit. That punk would never want death for you. Even if he was gone, he'd roll over in his grave seeing the way you—Hey!”

    The man jumped back as a ring of flames burst forth from the dragon’s nostrils. Heat singed the air of the cave until the beast turned his head to rest his jaw on the unconscious man in his grip, ignoring the supposed god addressing him.

    “I'm not done with you—"

    The man continued to chastise the fearsome beast as though it were no more than a naughty child, allowing Roman to catch his breath. For the first time, Roman was able to take a long glance at the dragon’s hostage.

    He was young, at least a few years younger than Roman himself. His clothes were tattered and worn, barely held together by an amateur selection of purple and blue patchwork. Dark and disheveled hair covering shades of purple on his face. At first Roman worried they may be bruises, but leaning closer, Roman felt dread sink in his stomach as the recognition finally clicked in his mind.

    Purple scales.

    “You know what? Fine.”

    Roman’s eyes shot up as the man who claimed to be a god stepped forward to the body of the injured man in the dragon’s grip.  The beast’s golden eyes were devoid of hostility as the man approached. It seemed almost reluctant to move, clinging to the man in its nest like he was the most important thing in this creature’s life.

    “You win.” The man who called himself Remus stepped forward, voice full of melancholy as he stared down at the limp body of the man with purple scales. “I hate to see a good life cut short like this."

    The man's hand raised in a flourish and the air cracked like thunder as the unconscious man jolted upright with sudden breath. His eyes were wide as his head spun side to side taking in the scene surrounding him. Roman could see him suck in another breath, on the verge of hyperventilating when the dragon’s head curled back to him.

    “Jan, what's going on—?”

    Roman’s grip tightened on his bow. Despite all he'd seen, he still didn’t trust the wild beast not to turn on the kid on a whim. He prepared to lunge forward to protect the stranger, but the action was cut short as a raspy laughter filled the air. The man’s face broke out into a smile as he started to speak in a language Roman had never heard.

    No fear showed in the man's eyes as he threw his arms around the beast's head. Though the beast's head alone was nearly half the size of him, the man didn’t hesitate to close his eyes and press his forehead to the beast's temple. To Roman’s surprise, the beast responded with a series of grunts that seemed to match the man’s foreign tongue.

    “Are you speaking to it?”

    The words stalled in his mouth as the man tensed with fear at his voice, looking almost like a feral cat as he bared his teeth at Roman.

    “Him.”

    Roman’s brow furrowed. From the way he'd been speaking, Roman had half expected the man not to understand the Common tongue, but the single word the man had uttered only served to confuse him more.

    “What?”

    “I'm speaking to him.”

     The man’s snarl curled aggressively on his lips as his eyes narrowed on Roman's bow. He spoke in a heavy accent, spitting out the words with a distinct hiss.

    “Relax,” Roman tucked the bow on his shoulder and held up his hands, taken aback by the man's haste to angry words. “I'm not here to hurt you.”

     “The arrow you put through my gut says otherwise, wyrmkiller.”

     The man moved as if to approach Roman but the beast's tail curled tighter around him as if holding him back.

    “Let me go, Jan.”

    A deep growl resonated in the dragon’s throat. The sound was soft and almost sad as the beast’s jaw came to rest in the man's lap.

     The vitriol in the man's words dropped to a guilty whisper as he turned gaze to meet the beast's eyes. “I'm fine. I promise.”

     Roman's jaw dropped open as the amber scales started to shift. A subtle shimmer trailed up the dragon’s thick skin, muscles changing with grace until what say before him was not a beast, but a man, holding the other in a gentle embrace.

     Much like the man with the purple scale, this one's face glittered with a golden color, trailing up the man's face to slitted eyes. As the shift slowed, Roman could only stare in shock as tears fell from the eyes of the man with the golden scales and his arms curled tighter around the man in his arms.

    Stifled sobs filled the air as Roman’s eyes dipped to the waist of the injured man, finally noting the dark stain and tear on the front of the man's clothing.

     “The arrow—” Roman’s throat suddenly felt dry as realization sunk in his stomach. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you weren’t—"

    “Keep your empty words.”

    “But—"

    The man in purple’s growl drowned out Roman's pleas, letting loose a string of foreign words that Roman could only guess were swears. “Don’t lie to me. You’re only sorry because now I look like you.”

     “No!” Roman held up his hand. Hesitantly, he cast a guilty glance at the pair of men clutching each other as they stared up at him in abject fear. “I—Maybe, but I didn’t know you were intelligent—"

    “You piece of sh—”

    “Hey, I just put that body back together.” Remus chided as the man curled forward, voice stalling as he held his stomach. “Don’t go fucking up my blessing already.”

    The man glared up Remus. He was angry, yet his rough movements reluctantly slowed as he reacted to the creature’s concern. His purple gaze dropped to the ground as he rose to his feet with his partner’s help. With a weary glance at Remus, he pulled his hand away from his abdomen, staring blankly at the speckles of blood on his hand.

    “Fine. Can we leave?”

    “Not yet, my fair-skinned fiend. You know how this works. I just pulled you back from the brink of death.” The shadows around Remus’ eyes grew dark with a sudden rush of power. “You’re not out of hot water yet, Virgil.”

   Roman shivered as a growl resonated deep in the throat of the amber-scaled man, Janus. He crouched defensively as if intending to lunge at the smirking god, but to Roman’s surprise, Virgil raised a hand to stop him.

    “What do you want, my lord?”

    “Oh, so formal! You really  know how to get a man all hot and bothered—”

     Remus' reached towards Virgil in a flirtatious gesture that was cut short as Janus snapped his teeth at the forest god's hand, snarling like a wild animal.

    “Careful, Jan. You don’t know where those fingers have been.”

    “Would you like to find out?” Remus cooed, leaning into Janus’ face as the man snarled at him, letting loose a string of what Roman assumed were more foreign swears.

    Roman flinched as Janus’ statement ended with a deep growl and his golden eyes darted up to Roman.

    “Of course, I'm not letting the prince off the hook. He owes me a pretty piece for striking down one of my beautiful creatures.”

    Remus chuckled as he raised a hand in the air, flourishing a hand toward Roman. The moment elicited a gasp from his lungs as Roman felt himself pulled forward against his will.

    “In fact, our dear prince is going to be the one to set things right for you, lover boy.”

   Roman gulped as he found himself face to face with the angry, slitted eyes of Janus as the dragonshifter loomed over him. A snarl curled on the man's lips, exposing a row of sharp teeth that sent a shiver across Roman’s skin.

    “Personally, I'd love to get little more creative with your punishment,” Remus' lip curled into a dangerous smile. “but seeing as Virgie's living on borrowed time, I'm willing to cut you a break. You catch my drift?”

    “What?”

    “Well, seeing as the lot of you are prepared to slit each others throats, I'd like to propose a new game." Remus purred reaching an arm around Roman's neck. “Work together or pay the price. A life for a life—”

    Roman’s heart sunk as Remus spun him around to face Logan. His eyes were wide, arm tucked around Patton as he stared helplessly at Roman.

    The man's hand snapped behind Roman's ears and he blinked. In an instant, Patton vanished before his eyes and Logan spun on his heels, desperately looking for his brother.

    “Pat—What did you do to my brother?”

     Logan lunged at Remus, but the god sidestepped him with an unnerving amount of speed, chuckling as he smiled cruelly at Logan. Seeing the dangerous glimmer in the man's eyes, Roman lunged forward to catch Logan’s waist, stopping him before Remus could do anything worse.

    “Lo, stop!”

    “He has Patton—”

    “I know.” Roman whispered, pulling Logan into his arms as he let out a pained gasp. “I know.”

    “Do you really think I didn't figure out who made the poison who brought down Virgil?” Remus cocked his head with and indifferent look in his eyes. “As far as I'm concerned, you’re as guilty as our prince.

     “Patton did nothing. If you hurt him—”

     “Cutie's safe and he'll stay that way if you follow my instructions.”

    A loud groan interrupted Remus' rambling. Roman’s head spun around just as Virgil’s knees gave out, collapsing in Janus' arm. His scales were dark against his pallid skin as his partner whispered to him.

    “See, Virgie's not out of the woods yet and I can’t take him where he needs to go. ” Remus’ voice dropped, sincere as he approached the young dragonshifter. “If he doesn’t reach the silver spring in Doragon Valley in three days time, my magic will fail him and your poison will take his life.”

   Roman blinked, feeling Logan still in his grip as Remus raised a hand to the dragonshifter’s cheek. His breathing was unsteady as he leaned his head back into his partner’s shoulder.

   “But Doragon Valley is in the center of the city.” Roman breathed, chilled by the implication of Remus’ words. “The spring is sacred ground.”

    “Exactly, I may be a god but my reach only extends to the edge of the forest.” Remus whispered, turning his hand from Virgil to extend it to Roman. “So, here’s the deal. Take Virgil where he needs to go and save the life you sought to steal or I keep the kid forever.”

    Logan dropped his gaze, going limp in Roman’s grip. Roman could feel his partner’s nails dig into his arm, his chest heaving with grief over his missing brother.

    “Roman, please—”

    “Deal.” Roman interrupted Logan’s breathless plea. “Whatever it takes, we're bringing Patton home.”

    “Thank you.” Logan whispered, taking a small breath and allowing his head to sink into Roman’s shoulder.

    “Good.” Remus smiled, casting a glance at Virgil. “You'd best get moving then. You don’t have much time to spare.”

     With a snap, Remus was gone. An uneasy silence followed  as they stared at their reluctant new allies, lives of those they loved most hanging in the balance as they started their journey.

---

A/N: Alright, that’s the end of my spree writing on this so there won’t be an update immediately after this one, but hopefully I’ll cycle back soon. I can’t wait to write these poor boys having to actually try to work together ~~

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg

A Life For A Life:

@arodynamic-enby @pixelated-pineapple @simplestoryteller @bloodymari-0666

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #ts janus #ts virgil #dragonshifter!virgil #dragonshifter!janus #logince #anxceit #intruality #...eventually #A Life for a Life #villain writes

[melon-wing]

The Kissing Challenge 7/8

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5] [PART 6] Grian grinned happily as he landed in the Hermitcraft Challenges area next to Mumbo. Apparently Mumbo had finished his challenge, which meant that Grian was also done with his, didn’t it? He’d be done with all the kissing… Not that it was that bad. He’d really gotten used to it and most of the other Hermit’s seemed to be more amused than annoyed by his new behaviour. He also didn’t know how he felt about suddenly stopping. It would mean he wouldn’t get to kiss...

“So I need to show you what I got”, Mumbo greeted him and then pulled out item after item from his shulker box. Grian wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly impressed at how fast Mumbo had acquired all those things. Well… All those things except the bell maybe. That was rather unimpressive.

“I also brought something to show my progress”, Grian replied proudly once Mumbo was done and pulled out his book to throw it at his friend who barely managed to catch it. Turning the pages, a tiny blush began to appear on Mumbo’s cheek. Whether that was because he saw his own name or because of how many names were in there, Grian wasn’t sure.

“Well, I see Scar’s name in there quite a lot. Any Explanation?” Mumbo looked at him curiously, but Grian just shrugged.

“He is my neighbour, you know? I see him more often than the rest of you guys. And I don’t like to pass up any opportunity to make you happy.”

Mumbo raised an eyebrow, looking at him doubtfully, but he didn’t say anything else on that matter and Grian was thankful for it. He didn’t want to think about any of those kisses meaning anything. It was just a prank after all.

He took the book back after Mumbo had read all the pages.

“Now that that is done, I think I won my challenge, right? You need to ring the bell!”, Mumbo finally concluded, a bright smile lighting up his face again.

Grian grumbled a little, looking at the bell like it had personally offended him. But he still punched against the metal. Mumbo laughed and then hit the bell as well. This whole thing was so absurd. “Congratulations Mumbo, you won. You got good. Now that this is over,  I can stop with the kisses as well, right? You won, I didn’t.”

Mumbo only shook his head. “Oh no. Hermit Challenges is not about winning. It’s about the challenge. And I did challenge you for the whole season, didn’t I?”

“But you rang the bell!”

“Oh yeah I did… To tell you, good job so far, keep going!”

Grian frowned, but then a wicked grin appeared on his face. “Well you see Mumbo, if I’m not finished yet, that means I still have to keep going, right?”

Mumbo looked at him in confusion, but as he nodded something dawned on him and he shook his head. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh but Mumbo… You said it yourself. I need to keep going.” Grian walked up to Mumbo, who was standing with his back to one of the pillars now. “So I’ll keep going until you ring that bell announcing my victory”, he finished, grabbing Mumbo’s tie to pull him down. “And until then I think I need to visit you more often.” Grian pressed his lips onto Mumbo’s and enjoyed the blush that appeared on the other’s face. He kept the kiss short and chaste, but it was still enough to get Mumbo pretty flustered.

~

Grian was whistling a cheerful tune on his way back, walking through the forest instead of flying, just enjoying the soft breeze blowing through the trees. Sure, he had to continue that stupid challenge, but somehow he didn’t mind. He had fun and he hadn’t even gotten to all of the Hermits yet. He really wanted to put all of their names into his notebook at least once before the season was over. If he did something, he always did it right.

A beep came from his communicator and Grian looked at it, a pained grimace appearing on his face. So Scar was fighting the Wither, huh? Why would he do something like that now? Guys like them were supposed to buy their beacons. They weren’t good enough at the whole fighting thing… But well, maybe Cub was helping him. They usually partnered up for stuff like that.

Grian couldn’t help but grumble a little at the thought. Cub should really be more careful at protecting Scar if they were really fighting together.

Grian kept walking and another death message popped up on his screen, making him wince.

<Grian> You alright? Need any help?

Grian kept walking into the direction of their bases, mentally already planning what he would need to gather to join in on the fight. A few minutes passed without a reply, but there had been two more death messages and it made Grian worry a little. Tango had now also send a message, offering his help.

<Grian> Scar? Tell me where you are! I’m coming over to help. Respawning so often can’t be good for you.

And finally – finally – there was an answer. Just the coordinates and a short thank you, but that was enough. Grian flew off towards his base, gathering his stuff and almost crashing through his door in a hurry to get to the mine Scar must be in.

He jogged through a long tunnel and the sounds of fighting and a Wither on the lose grew louder.

“FUCK!” Scar’s voice echoed through the tunnel and Grian’s communicator beeped once more. He didn’t have to look at it to know that Scar had respawned again. Grian reached him a minute later, next to a makeshift quarter.

“You alright Scar?”, he asked, startling the other a little.

“Yeah sure...”, Scar replied, slowly turning away from the chest and looking at Grian with a weird look in his eyes, looking him up and down, as if he was searching for something. “You came to help me?”

“Of course I did! I can’t have you dying here! You had me really worried. And we still have a dinner date to get to this week after all. Can’t have you miss that.”

Scar’s eyes widened and whatever had bothered him seemed to disappear, as he smiled again. He gently grabbed Grian’s arm and pulled him into a hug, resting his head on Grian’s shoulder. “I knew he was wrong...”, Scar murmured so quiet, that Grian wasn’t sure, he had even understood that right, but before he could reply, Scar had raised his head and pressed a soft kiss onto Grian’s cheek.

“Scar… Why are you even fighting that thing alone? You know it’s dangerous.”

Scar looked a little guilty at that, but he simply shrugged. “I just I needed to get some steam out of my system, you know?”

“Couldn’t you have gotten Cub to help you?”, Grian asked.

Scar’s face hardened after that, turning into a scowl. “We… No, he’s the reason for this. We had a fight. Just… some differing opinions on,” Scar took a deep breath. “things. He’ll come around and see how wrong he was. I don’t really want to talk about that now. I know I’m right and everything will turn out fine. I just… I… Let’s go and kick that Wither’s ass. And after that… Maybe we could celebrate together.” Grian smiled at the pleading look Scar gave him and nodded, leaving Scar’s embrace reluctantly.

Grian stood in the destroyed cave, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't thought battling a Wither would be this hard. They had managed, but it had cost him a lot. His armour had been blown to pieces and he had to retreat more than once to get suited up again. Not to mention the trouble Scar’s ridiculous bed placement skills had given him. Just as the dust of the Wither blew away he could hear loud footsteps and Tango came rushing into the cave, all decked out in shining diamond armour, sword ready in his hands, looking like a dashing hero right out of a fairytale.

“I’m here. I’m…” He looked at Grian, then at Scar and then to the Nether Star in Scar’s hands. “Oh…”

Grian laughed a little and pushed one singed strand of hair out of his face, before walking up to Tango. “Thank god, Tango. You saved us all. You are my saviour”, he said and pretended to faint right into Tango’s arms, putting one of his own arms around Tango’s shoulders.

Tango looked at him in confusion and then to Scar, who just shrugged, and giggled. “You are welcome?”

Grian grinned and put his free hand onto Tango’s cheek. “Let me give you a token of my gratitude, dear knight”, he whispered in a low voice and then put his lips onto Tango’s. He had planned to make it a chaste kiss. Nothing special. He wasn’t sure if it would make Tango uncomfortable. But Tango seemed to have other plans. Confused, Grian noticed, that Tango’s eyes were still on Scar for a few more seconds, before he buried his hands in Grian’s hair and pulled him flush against his body.

Grian gasped in surprise and a tongue entered his mouth. Well… That was unexpected. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. He’d just never thought Tango to be up to a spontaneous Make-out session. He felt his heart beating faster, pressing his mouth harder against Tango’s, their tongues moving against each other. He could taste Tango in his own mouth and it was exhilarating. All thoughts left his head as he just tried to get even closer to the other body. He felt one hand wandering under his jumper and he let out a tiny moan into the kiss. Oh god… This was good. This was…

“Guys?”

Oh damn. Scar!

Grian broke the kiss a little abruptly, completely out of breath. Tango seemed unaffected, still grinning happily, his eyes wandering from Grian to Scar and back again.

“Well that was nice. I need to save you more often, Grian”, he said mockingly, planted another soft kiss onto Grian’s lips and laughed. “I’ll leave you two to it then. I bet you have a lot to talk about. Call me when there’s another Wither to fight, alright?” Grian was still slightly dazed as Tango looked past him at Scar, his grin becoming almost demonic, before he turned around and left them.

Grian’s heart was still beating unbelievably fast. But no longer because of Tango. He suddenly dreaded turning around and facing Scar. And he didn’t even understand why he reacted like that. He surely must have kissed someone in front of Scar again. They were neighbours after all and if visitors dropped by he never passed up the opportunity for a kiss. And why would he care about how Scar reacted anyways? Why would Scar care? Grian took a deep breath. He was no coward. He had no reason to be scared. Slowly he turned around and for a second there was an absolutely devastated look on Scar’s face, but it disappeared so fast Grian almost thought he must have imagined it.

They stood there in an uncomfortable silence for about a minute, uncertain what to say or how to proceed. That was until Scar finally spoke up.

“So Cub was right, huh? You really do go around the server kissing everybody just for fun?”

Grian looked at Scar in confusion, but then shrugged. “It’s just a joke. I mean you must have known about Mumbo’s challenge. Almost everybody does. But don’t worry, I try to keep it all in fun. I don’t want anyone to be uncomfortable. Tango was a little unexpected though”, Grian replied, feeling even more heat rush to his face thinking about what had just happened.

“I see. Well… It’s all good then. Just some fun…” Scar smiled at him, but for some reason it felt off to Grian. He just couldn’t put his fingers onto it though. Maybe he was just tired after they fought the Wither together.

“Scar…?”

“Let’s go, Grian. We still have to talk payment for helping me with the Wither.”

Grian looked at Scar’s retreating back in confusion, but then shrugged it off. He was probably reading too much into it. Scar would have told him if something was wrong, wouldn’t he?

~

Grian slowly crept into the Guardian Shop. He needed Dark Prismarine. Again. It felt like the moment he had some of the materials he needed, there were already gone again. And the building of his mansion didn’t progress as fast as he had hoped. Impulse probably earned all of his diamonds from him. The problem was, Grian was almost out of diamonds. Between the building and planning he barely had time to go mining any more. And because his own shop wasn’t done yet he had no other real source of income. He was willing to sacrifice a lot for his base to look just like he wanted it to.

As he opened the chest an impressed whistle left his mouth. He was lucky. Impulse had restocked and nobody else had raided the shop yet. If he got all of the blocks, he might be able to finish the front. Then it would at least look finished from one angle.

In a rush, Grian took all of his diamonds from his Enderchest to switch them out for a few stacks of Dark Prismarine. He didn’t even get half of what Impulse had in stock. Maybe… Maybe he could take a little more. Maybe he’d just write an ‘I owe you’ note and get away with it. Such a note could be far more valuable than diamonds sometimes. Impulse could get almost anything from him with that note.

Having made up his mind, Grian put a paper onto the shulker box, bending over it to write. Just as he was finished he felt the warmth of a body against his as someone was leaning over him to read the note.

“‘I needed some more Dark Prismarine. I owe you, G.’… Well look at that. So early in the season and you are already getting into debt? That isn’t healthy at all, Grian. I can’t support that bad habit of yours.”

Grian hurriedly turned around, looking straight at Impulse, who smirked at him just like he always did, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“You could have just asked, you know. I’m sure I would have come up with a really creative payment method. Just like old times, when I helped you with your redstone and you got down onto your knees and…”

Grian hurriedly shut up Impulse by pressing one of his hands over the other’s mouth. He didn’t need to hear anything about that time. It had been just once and they had both been high on some stuff Ren had smoked with them.

“That was just once! You agreed that we wouldn’t talk about that again! I won’t ever pay you like that again. ‘m not that easy…”

Impulse eyes still looked amused and suddenly a tongue darted out of his mouth, licking over Grian’s hand. He pulled it away as fast as he could, stumbling back and landing in a sitting position on the barrel he had just emptied.

“We only agreed to never talk about it again in company. I don’t see anybody around here. But it’s fine with me. I only have fun with those who want to have fun. Not even an ‘I Owe you’ note changes that. I’m just wondering, what you are willing to do if I offer you a Shulker filled with Dark Prismarine for free… What is it worth to you, Grian? How badly do you need it?”, Impulse asked in a low voice, leaning against the wall, basically looming over Grian.

“I mean...” Grian felt heat rise into his cheek, as he averted his eyes. He had meant what he said, about no longer paying Impulse like that, but he couldn’t get the memory out of his mind. But that still left the question: What was he willing to offer? “What would you give me for a kiss?”, he finally made his offer, not sure if Impulse would really be satisfied with that. But hey, it would help Grian with his challenge… And he’d rather not repeat the failure that had been his experience with Doc… Though he was still pretty sure, that it had just been the stress getting to his head that time.

“Well if we talking of a peck I’d give you a stack. I’d say half a barrel for-”

Grian didn’t let Impulse finish, pulling him down by his shirt to smash their mouths together. He could hear Impulse chuckle against his lips and then Impulse pressed back with even more enthusiasm. They separated a few times only for their lips to meet again. Somewhere in between kisses Impulse had moved from his looming position to sitting in Grian’s lap, the barrel creaking below their combined weight, but none of them cared enough to notice.

Suddenly there was a hand on Grian’s back, moving lower and lower and making its way under his waistband. And Grian just froze. He didn’t even know why. It was like back at Doc’s mansion. It felt like he was doing something utterly wrong here and it all came crashing down on him.

Impulse’s hand retreated at once and he broke the kiss to look at Grian in worry.

“Sorry. I guess I misinterpreted the mood there. You alright, little guy?”

Grian shrugged helplessly. Was he okay? He didn’t know. He had always done these casual hookups before. Why wouldn’t they work for him anymore? A thought tried to come to the forefront of his mind, but Grian pushed it down as hard as he could. He was alright. He was just a little off, that’s all. He had been losing too much sleep over building. It had nothing to do with...

“It’s alright, Impulse. I’m… just not… I don’t know… feeling it?”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Grian opened his mouth, so close to spilling all of those things that had been on his mind lately. He really needed someone to talk about it and a sudden burst of courage overcame him to say aloud what he hadn’t even dared to think about before.

“I think I might be fall-”, Grian started, when someone slammed open the door to Impulse’s shop and froze. Etho stood in the door frame, with wide eyes, taking in the scene before him. The way Impulse still sat on Grian, both of them out of breath, their lips an angry red.

“Oh… Well that is interesting now isn’t it? Not the place I’d pick to get into the mood for a quick-” “Etho!”, both Impulse and Grian interrupted in unison, looking at Etho, who just shrugged, grinning at them.

“Hey, you fuck in the shopping district, you gotta live with the audience… Gotta admit, it’s a nice way to draw attention to your business, Impulse. Will that be the new add campaign? Buy this Prismarine and the hot guys will be falling for you?”, Etho kept on teasing, the smirk clearly visible below his mask. “I wouldn’t mind to have you sit on my lap as part of a business deal.”

Impulse groaned and finally stood up, turning his back onto Grian. “You are an idiot! I swear the next time you buy something here I’ll double the price!”

“Ooooh, so I get double the amount of kisses? Done! You got a deal, sir. No take-backs now!”

The two kept on bickering and Grian used the opportunity to compose himself, standing up slowly and taking a deep breath. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ll leave now. I’ll just pick up the Prismarine next time I’m here.”

“Grian, wait...” Impulse tried to stop him, but Grian pressed past him and Etho, hurrying to get out of the shopping district. “Grian, please. We should talk. You’re not okay. I’m sorry, I...”

But Grian shook his head, fumbling to get his rockets out and soaring into the sky. The small moment in which he had almost been ready to talk about his feelings, or whatever was going on with him, had been long gone. Now all he wanted to do was throw himself head first into some more building.

Flying high over the island, he suddenly noticed a huge stage that hadn’t been there before and it caught his interest. Turning around once more to make sure Impulse had stayed back, Grian landed in the middle of the stage, looking at the signs. A head hunting game? Well that sounded like something that would help him relax a little. Nothing better than an opportunity to cause some chaos.

~

Grian smiled to himself as he put Zedaph’s head onto the board at Cleo’s minigame. He felt pretty good about his little stunt there. Nobody had expected him to interfere. He wasn’t that good at fighting after all. But being sneaky was probably the only way he could win this game at the moment. He wasn’t a total asshole, though.

He finished putting Zedaph’s stuff into a shulkerbox, intending to just leave it here for him to find. He didn’t want to be hit for being a nice guy after all. The only thing he had miscalculated was Zedaph’s spawn point. Apparently it hadn’t been in his base but right here in the shopping district.

The blonde was running up to him and Grian readied himself for another fight. That was until he saw the broad grin on Zedaph’s face. He also wasn’t armed at all. If Grian wanted to be mean, he could kill him all over again and get a few more points for a second head.

Well, it looked like both he and Zedaph knew he wouldn’t stoop so low.

“I collected your stuff”, he simply said, gesturing vaguely to the shulkerbox next to him.

“Thanks, mate! It would have been annoying to lose everything.”

Grian had never really interacted with Zedaph much last season and seeing him up close like that. Well he was nice on the eyes… And still missing for his challenge. Some small voice inside him, tried to hold back Grian, reminding him of his encounter with Impulse the day before, but he decided to ignore it.

“Hey how about a little thank you.”

“… For killing me?”

Grian blushed a little. Yeah, that might have sounded utterly stupid. “No for sticking around to get your stuff and risking being killed by you, Cleo or Keralis. I mean I am a good guy and do it out of the kindness of my heart, but if you were to give me a little thank you kiss, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

Zedaph stopped rummaging through the shulker, apparently frozen at such a blunt request. “What?!”

“Well you don’t have to, if you are scared…” Grian’s grin widened and he tried to look as innocent as possible. I just thought it would be nice to find out who’s the best kisser of Team ZIT. Tango and Impulse weren’t as reserved as you. Amazing kissers those two. But if you aren’t as brave as…”

Grian never got to finish that sentence as soft lips pressed onto his. And while Zedaph wasn’t as aggressive as Tango or Impulse had been, he wasn’t shy by any means. It only took a few seconds for a tongue to enter his mouth and hands to land on his butt.

When they separated, they both were a little out of breath, lips red and wet.

“So… Who is the best kisser of Team Zit, huh?” Zedaph looked at him in amusement before stepping back, a cheeky grin on his lips.

Grian couldn’t help but grin as well. Zedaph’s good mood was really infectious. “Would you let me kill you once more if I said you’re the best I ever had?”

Zedaph just laughed, shaking his head. “You probably say that to all the guys you kiss.”

#🍉 stories #hermitship #hermitshipping #tkc #we reached the beginning of the end #things getting serious now #also i wrote tango's part reaaaally early in the story #that part is the reason i decided on making it scarian #I'm so glad I made that decision! :)

[hermits-that-craft]

Chapter 46 - Arch 2 - Lies

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/61129111 TW - Suicidal ideation, torture, mind control, betrayal,

He's tired. Sick of it. He knows he shouldn't be, that everyone has been patient with him, and that he's lost days, but he's sick of the arguments. The fighting. He wants to be left alone, he was happy in the room, but the yelling, the fear, the silence drew him out, physically and mentally. It wasn't better when he wasn't there, but it hurt a lot less. 

Walking is hard without an arm. His balance is off.

Scar runs to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. He let's the small man cling to him, sobs echoing through his chest. Evil Xisuma's helmet doesn't fit Scar, and it pushes against him as Scar clings to his back.

Iskall can't find himself caring all that much. The short hermit has been put through so much recently, it must help him to hug people, and it's not like Iskall has been hugged much since Grian and Mumbo went missing.

Grian and Mumbo.

Why did they betray the hermits? What made them do that? Why would they do that to everyone? Aren't the hermits all friends? Obviously not, since Scar has been attacked so much, but Grian and Mumbo are some of his closest friends, why would they betray him?

It hurts to think about them, so Iskall puts it aside, buries it. He buries it with the corpses of the memories that forced their way back into his mind, hiding the memories under false ones. He knows this won't help him, Void he knows that he's doing exactly what he told Ren not to do, but he can't help it. It hurts less to not remember. Not to forget - he doesn't deserve that blessing, but not to remember.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up." Scar mumbles into his chest. "I thought you died, permanently."

"Doc and Joe wouldn't have let me do that." Iskall says, attempting to soothe the smaller man. Joe frowns from where he stands, hearing what Iskall says. "Where is Doc, by the way?"

"He and Ren went to get armour from my trading hall." Scar smiles brightly through the visor, and Iskall can't help but to smile at that as well. Full sets of diamond armour, ready for the enchanting. That could turn the course of the war. "They left a few days ago and haven't made contact since though and I'm really-"

"There's also a chance to make you a new arm." Evil Xisuma interrupts Scar, pushing his long white hair out of his eyes. Cleo's face lights up and she runs over, braiding his hair out of his face. Evil Xisuma shrugs, letting her do it. "The watchers - were you properly awake for their arrival? It doesn't matter - offered to help make some. Etho is going to check his base for the designs."

"Etho is dead."

Everyone winces at that, and Cleo beckons him forward. Iskall unwraps himself from Scar's hug, slowly walking over to where Cleo gestures. He sits down in the seat, watching her braid Evil Xisuma's hair.

"Etho and Keralis were brought back," Joe looks to Cleo with a sort of questioning glance, one that tells Iskall who brought them back. "with undead magic."

Cleo nods, letting Evil Xisuma's hair go. The now long braid falls down Evil Xisuma's back, and she stands up, brushing her hands on her pants. Cleo sighs, waving Joe over to her side. They have a silent conversation, one that Iskall takes no part in, though Evil Xisuma is apparently fluent enough to roll his eyes. Iskall lets them talk, watching as Scar eats a plate of pancakes, and his traitorous stomach grumbles. Cleo looks over and smiles faintly.

"I'll get you a plate." She says to Iskall before she turns back to Joe and Evil Xisuma. "I'll see you two back here tonight, correct?"

"I don't quite understand why you need those things, but we will be back before sun down. Say hello to any hermits you come across for us, alright?" Joe walks to the middle of the room, dropping through the hole in the floor before he shoots up, leaving the building. Evil Xisuma rolls his eyes, pulling a rocket out and flying out of the room. Cleo soon leaves the room, and the sound of her singing to herself fills the room. Iskall will miss this, despite himself.

"You don't want to perma die, right Iskall?" Scar asks, worry split across his face like paint across a canvas.

"Of course I don't." Iskall lies.

---

He's running, sprinting as fast as he can. His wings sting as they are ripped open by the low hanging tree branches, and tears spring in his eyes. Are Wels and Xisuma still following him? Will they all escape or did Night capture them? 

Grian doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.

He'll find out soon enough, if he's captured or if he escapes. He doesn't want to lose this fight, and flight is out of the question. Night will see him. Observer will see him. Someone will see him.

In any case, the small fragile bones are shattered and set painfully in the wrong position. When he moves his wings he can feel the small bone shards tear through more of his muscles, and he knows that flying should be a last resort. Gliding would be dangerous like this.

His breathing is laboured, but he doesn't feel like slowing. Nothing sounds behind him but he knows he can't stop. His lungs scream but there is no pain. Nothing hurts, even as he feels his wings, feet and arms get torn to shreds. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug and he is so glad that avians have it. Grian aches, his sides split as his lungs try to rip themselves from his chest. 

The floor opens up underneath him and Grian screams, falling through the ground. The dirt turns to a blank, clean white, brighter than white concrete. Grian lands on his back, the air ripping from his throat, but he doesn't feel any pain. Grian takes deep breaths, looking through the infinity room. It reminds him of his main base last season and he misses it. Grian sits up, seeing someone in the distance. The person is far away, but not far enough away for Grian not to recognise him. A tall man with light brown skin and dyed blonde hair stands facing him, purple wings out. 

His father, Builder.

"DAD!" Grian screams, running into Builder's arms. His father wraps his arms around Grian, and Grian can feel Builder's wings wrap around him. He starts to sob, unable to stop himself. "Dad I knew you were going to save us, we need to get Wels and Xisuma out, if Night has them again they'll die."

Builder opens his mouth to say something, and the floor dissolves, forcing Grian to fall. Builder is gone, his father no longer there, as though he never was there.

Grian shoots up, his eyes wide open as a scream rips from his throat. The cell is dark, the only sounds being Wels and Xisuma's breathing as they sleep. Tears spring in Grian's eyes. They never escaped. It was a dream. 

Grian tries to suppress a sob as the smell of mold and blood hit his nose. He misses his jumper, the dress shirt not providing enough warmth as his tears hit the floor. He wants to leave, he wants his Dad back. It isn't fair, why would the universe give him a dream thats so hopeful if all it will do it rip it away. He wants to go home. It isn't fair. None of this is fair, why would the universe do this to them, to the hermits? They didn't do anything, none of them are related to Night. 

Except Grian.

Night is his aunt. Uncle? Grian doesn't know, doesn't care. He was hidden from them for a reason and this is clearly it. Grian doesn't understand why anyone, especially the void, would let Night live for this long. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense, what did the hermits do to deserve this?

Someone laughs, just beyond the area the light hits, and Grian doesn't have to look up to recognise who it is. He know that cruel laugh, he knows that if he looks up he will see glowing eyes, and if he's unlucky, a glowing smile. He knows that he will meet those eyes and be hurt, as daring to look up will be seen as a challenges, as a unbroken man threatening them. A lion ready to pounce at a god. 

But Grian doesn't have the energy, not to look up, and certainly not to keep his screams quiet so that Xisuma and Wels are not cursed with him waking them up. Is it so bad to bow for a moment, to give them the chance to sleep? Night's torture has woken them up so many times over the past few days, Grian needs to give them the chance to sleep. He's already let them down so many times. He should just submit, for this night, to let them sleep for longer.

Grian can't tell his thoughts from Bird's thoughts anymore.

---

Princess walks down the hallway, her hair and skirts flowing behind her like clouds. She knows she must look ethereal, she's seen glimpses of herself in the mirrored hallway. However, the hallway of mirrors is not her destination for today, and she walks past Night's chambers, catching a glimpse of her leader through the door. Night's mask is off, their purple skin shining softly in the glow of their room. Princess doesn't disturb them, knowing that they must be tired, protecting everyone here from the Voids lackeys. Princess knows her orders - ensure that the new captives are properly adjusting to their accommodations. Observer was particularly pleased by the redstone for their cells, so Princess knows that she should feel pleased by the rooms.

Princess racks her brain for the names of the captives, or more so the newly freed, though she knows that they will accuse her of holding them captive. A werewolf and a creeper. She knows that the creeper is necessary, something important to Night, and the werewolf is something that the creeper is territorial over, so she should keep her hands off of the creeper if one of them messes up. If she remembers correctly, the werewolf has a muzzle that she can put on him if he mouths off, but it was removed for some reason.

Ah, thats their names. Pet and Experiment. 

Night chose good names for them, now all they need to do is uncondition them, and recondition them so that they know who they truly are. It won't be too hard, the werewolf is reportedly soft, with the creeper caring more if its friend is hurt than if itself is hurt. Princess smiles to herself as she picks up the muzzle outside the room, tucking it away in her inventory, out of sight.

Princess crosses the threshold into the room, taking in the sights. It's dark, comforting, even though it smells of iron and salt. Tears or sweat, Princess can't tell, and Stress is remaining rather quiet through this whole ordeal, not that Princess minds. Princess watches with a slight smile on her face as the werewolf and creeper lean against the window besides each other, their hands up against the glass as though they wish to hold hands. It's cute, the trust between the two men. She can't wait to break it.

The werewolf looks up with tired eyes, but he perks up upon seeing her, happiness written across his face, and Princess smiles back, a cruel smile that only the creeper seems to pick up on.

"Stress!" Pet yells happily. "Stress I'm so glad you're alright you have to get us outta here, Stress there's so much that you've -"

"My name isn't Stress, werewolf." Princess growls, putting the muzzle into her off hand and summoning a wither rose. The werewolf flinches, the happiness falling to fear "You clearly have learnt nothing. Luckily for you, I can teach you."

"No, Stress please...." His voice is quiet, if it weren't for the silence of the room Princess knows that she wouldn't have heard it, but she doesn't care for his fear.

"You're still making mistakes." She chides, rolling her eyes. "It's like you want me to do this."

Princess taps into Stress's power, which fights against her, vines creeping up her throat and strangling her, though she doesn't care for it. She summons some vines outside of her body, using them to drag the werewolf to the centre of the room. She walks to him calmly, pushing the muzzle over his mouth with enough force to snap his head back. The werewolf struggles against the vines, not getting any room to move at they constrict around him, and Princess spies tears in his eyes with glee.

Stress' heart breaks for Ren, and she relaxes the vines ever so slightly, though Princess constricts them harder around Ren's chest. Apologies fall from Stress, but Princess hordes them with delight as she refuses to let them leave her mouth.

Princess gently places a wither rose at the werewolf's feet, watching as he struggles to get away from it, kicking his legs towards her.

"I thought you were supposed to be tame, mutt." Princess growls, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees the creeper walk away from the window, his hand clenched into a fist. She wonders where his other arm is for less than a second, turning her attention back to the werewolf. "But it's clear you're just a feral dog, even less than one, aren't you?"

She doesn't get to finish what she was about to say, however, as rains down around them and the creeper lunges into her side, slamming her to the floor.

---

Wels walks through the dark oak forest, his sword in hand. He isn't in his armour, instead a ceremonial outfit that he once swore to never wear again. A scream echoes through the woods, and a chiding voice teases him as he turns, gripping his sword. Someone is being hurt, most likely by Night. The voice is not one he recognises, but he refuses to allow it to scream for longer. 

Curiosity is not a respectable trait for a prince, a voice reprimands him, though Wels tries to shake it off. He hasn't been a prince for years, he refused the title before Theran fell, and he does not regret that kingdom falling, even if it took his mother down with it. Though that woman is hardly his mother, considering how many of her own children she had beheaded.

Wels can only pray that his sisters are the personal demons haunting his mother in the deepest pits of the nether.

In any case, he marches forwards, ready to fulfil his role as knight. He swore an oath to protect people and he'll be damned if he lets someone die. He's already failed Keralis and Etho in letting them die, and so many of the hermits in not stopping Night. He must protect this person. He must not fail.

He already has failed.

Wels walks along the tree line before the ground opens up beneath him. The screaming goes from quiet to faint as he falls through the world, though he doesn't fall into the void. No, he falls into a white room, landing on his back. Pain doesn't hit him, and Wels comes to the realisation that this mustn't be real. A dream.

A break from reality. Wels accepts it with open arms.

A woman stands before him, short blue hair sending jolts through his body against the bright whiteness of the room. She wears shining armour, romanesque rather than like his own knightly set, but he notes that the way it sparkles in the light shows battle scars. She's heavier built than he his, Wels notes with a smile. She must be a warrior, a knight of her own realm. A protector of her people, not a mercenary. 

"You must be Welsknight." She says, walking towards him. She towers over him, and Wels comes to the realisation that she can't be entirely human.

"I am." Wels nods. "Do you have a name?"

"I'm Protector." She says, and Wels notes the small necklace adorning her neck. A wedding band hangs from it, as well as a dog tag, with nothing more than a watcher symbol on it. "One of the original watchers."

"And you grace me with your presence." Wels is little more than annoyed. Two powerful deities apparently have the ability to toy with his mind, and he'd prefer them to leave him. "What do I owe the pleasure for?"

"I know you're annoyed." Protector shrugs. "I'll keep this short and simple then. I need to ask you a few questions about where you are and whats going on. I need to know where we need to send forces in to get you all out."

"Shoot then." Wels shrugs. "I clearly have nothing better to do."

And she does. Wels answers her questions as best as he can, but his head spins. It hurts, the bright white of the room. The voice in the back of his head taunts him, laughing as he winces in pain. Protector looks sympathetically down at him, and her face screws up, the white light dimming. Protector smiles as Wels relaxes, breathing easily.

"Is there anything else I should know."

"Xisuma, Grian, the stars and I aren't the only prisoners Night has." Wels says, resisting the urge to reach out to her. "They have Doc with them. They gave us his arm."

"Shit." She swears under her breath. "That's, that's not good. I can work with this. I always knew this was going to happen anyways..."

"What's going to happen?" Wels asks, though he doesn't know if he wants the answer.

"I shouldn't bother you. A prophecy, fate, it doesn't matter. My life is set in stone. Yours is not. Lets make sure your chapter in history ends positively." Protector's voice sounds hopeful, but something in Wels' soul feels sad, mourning her. He doesn't know why, perhaps she was close to Night before this happened, she did say that they're siblings.

"Wait, their sons. You need to find and protect their sons." Wels' panic grows. Two kids shouldn't be destined for Night's side.

"We know. We've already lost one to them. We'll protect his brother." She smiles weakly at Wels whose head spins with the information. Who was with him, who also had a brother? He can't work it out. "Would you prefer a dreamless sleep?"

"Please." Wels doesn't mean to sound desperate, but he knows that he must. Protector laughs quietly, touching his forehead.

The world turns into a blissful darkness, and silence fills his mind.

---

"What are they doing?" Scar asks as Protector sits on the floor, her eyes screwed shut. Builder walks around the room, occasionally bumping into things, but his eyelids remain closed, even when he nearly falls to bedrock.

"They're communicating with your missing friends." Rose says simply. "I've never understood it, but it's essentially speaking to people in their dreams. Builder does it more than Protector."

"That's obvious," Iskall turns, smiling at Rose. "Does Protector talk to you in your dreams when you're separated?"

"No, because she knows that if she disrupted my sleep I would stab her." Rose smiles at Protector, the only expression in her eyes being love. "And she would do the same to me."

"Romantic." Scar giggles, dodging Rose's halfhearted shove. "So, if Protector is married to you, does that mean that she's my aunt?"

"Of course." Rose cocks her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"Isn't Grian her son?" Scar ignores the question, and Iskall snorts, turning towards the Vexian woman and the mage.

"Adopted."

"And Night is her sibling?" Scar's voice is quiet, and Rose's eyes widen, though she nods, not answering verbally. "And Xisuma and Evil X are their sons?"

"What are you getting at?" Rose smiles.

"Cub, Grian, Xisuma, Evil X and I are cousins." Scar mumbles, and Iskall breaks into laughter, loosing his mind as Scar comes to that realisation. "We're cousins?"

"Local mage, Vex man, gremlin man and server destroyer are cousins, mild mannered brother wonders if introducing them was a bad idea. More at seven." Iskall cackles, and Rose and Scar burst into tears of laughter. "Oh poor Xisuma! You all are insane!"

"Hey!" Scar protests. "You're one to talk Mr. 'Lets take anything dangerous'! What are you going to do with all those pufferfish?"

"Prank you, clearly." Iskall jabs back. "Concorp scum."

"Typical Sahara nonsense." Scar fails to keep a straight face. "At least we broke even. You guys didn't even do that!"

"Oh come on." Iskall giggles. "You had so many shops, that's hardly fair-"

"What are you kids talking about?" Builder asks, and Scar and Iskall jump, looking up at the suddenly awake man. Neither of them had noticed that Builder was awake, and Scar snickers, pushing Iskall forward. Iskall wobbles a little, unable to balance himself without his arm. "Nothing illegal, I hope."

"Oh, only illegal things." Scar sends Builder a cheshire cat grin.

"The most illegal. Very crime." Iskall nods sagely, and Builder laughs, rolling his eyes. 

"Well, I hope your illegal activities are profitable." He says, and a serious looks replaces the laid back look that he had, as though he had seen, or remembered something upsetting.

"Is something wrong with Grian?" Scar asks, wrapping his arms around himself.

"I couldn't stay with him for long enough to know. He's definitely wounded, most cannot wake from my powers without being in serious pain." Builder's serious look is quickly replaced by a worried look. Tears spring in his eyes, and Rose wraps him into a hug. "I never even got to talk to him."

Protector shoots up with a gasp, jumping to her feet as a sword appears in her hands. She relaxes slightly, putting the strange brown sword away. Scar wants to touch it, to know what it's made of. It almost looks like netherite, though Scar knows that no nether produces that anymore.

"I spoke to Wels. We have coordinates." She says. "And information. I know what we need to do."

"What do we need to do?" Rose asks, and Protector looks at her, a tear slipping down her face. "Tori, what do we need to do?" Rose's voice is soft, quiet. She leaves Builder's side, wiping a tear from Protector's cheek.

"You remember the prophecy?"

"Tori no." Rose pulls Protector into her grasp. "Not now."

"I'll get better." Protector mumbles. "You know I will."

"You won't remember anything." Rose says, clinging to Protector before she pulls apart. "Is there anything else that we should know? Did you find out anything else from Wels?"

"Night has Doc and Ren." Protector doesn't look at Scar and Iskall, probably for the better. Iskall sits down, his face white as a sheet, and Scar's face drops, guilt tearing at his insides. Doc and Ren were sent to Scar's base. They were kidnapped at Scar's base. Their disappearance is his fault.

"Scar are you-"

"I have to go." Scar says, running out of the room. Rose reaches out for him, but Protector holds her back. Iskall watches, helpless, as Scar flies away. He wants to follow Scar, but he can't get an elytra on him if he tried. Builder sighs, a painful affair, and stands, leading them all towards the door. He gently picks up Iskall, and they fly out towards the shopping district. No words are spoken, not between the gods, nor between them and Iskall. They are all praying for two things:

Scar's appearance at the shopping district, safe and secure.

The finishing of this war, that everything will return to normal soon.

They land, Builder putting Iskall down onto the mycelium floor. Iskall walks towards a large building, one that stands out like a sore thumb. It's built with cobblestone, clearly one it was built for functionality and not for design as thats the only building material used. It's ugly, plain and simple, but False's face peeking out from behind the wall brightens the build.

"Hey guys!" She calls, running over to them, though her face falls as she counts the number of people in the small group. "Where's Scar?"

#the night au #the night #Night Au #new blog

[vitamx]

Over the Farlands Wall: Chapter 1, Part 3

[ Also Read on AO3! ] [ CH. 1 P. 1 ] [ CH. 1 P. 2 ] [ You are here! ]

~ An “Over the Garden Wall” Hermitcraft AU ~

---

 Mumbo was still laying across the floor, probably a few minutes away from dozing off, when he heard a muffled scream outside, along with sounds of crunching wood and creaking.

He sat upright, rubbing his eyes, heart catching in his throat.

  "Grian?" He whispers, staggering up to his feet.

Not even a second later, Xisuma runs inside frantically, eyes wide.

  "What's happening? Where's your friend?" He asks urgently, eyebrows furrowed angrily.

 "I-I don't know! He went outside to find his parrot, and-" He begins nervously, shrinking in towards himself.

  Grian then slams through the door, heaving and wheezing with exhaustion.

Mumbo and Xisuma swerve towards him, eyes wide.

  "G-Guys, we have a bit of a situatio-!"

  He never gets to finish his warning before the creature, slobbery and snarling, breaks through the door, knocking Grian into the flight of stairs. Mumbo lets out a yelp, and stumbles backwards, eyes flickering between the creature, which he assumed to be the Beast, and Grian, who was groaning in pain atop the staircase.

  "That- That's the Beast!" Mumbo yells shakily.

  Xisuma grabbed his axe and rushed forward, swinging his axe, although the creature caught it with its jaw, growling ferally.

  "This creature, scary as it may be, is not the-!" Xisuma's breath suddenly hitched in his throat, and he toppled over, landing on his face, cracking his visor. The lantern rolled out next to him.

 "F-Fuck, I was trying to hit the-" Grian huffed, a piece of wood clenched between his hands, eyes wide.

  The creature snarled at him, before swerving its head to look at Mumbo, who was banging against the fireplace gate loudly. It leaped forward, and Mumbo shrieked, grabbing the gate and holding it up to use as a shield.

  "It- It's fine, we can figure this out!" Mumbo yells frantically, although talking mostly to himself. "Grian- HELP!"

  The creature whimpered suddenly, and swerved around, growling and baring its teeth, a gash in its side that bled black ooze. Grian, axe in hand, gasped, dropping the axe immediately.

Mumbo pushed the gate onto the creature, then grabbed Grian's hand, running into the mill.

  "RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!" He yelped, slamming the door shut behind him, and climbs.

 "It got through the door!" Grian shouted, and Mumbo frantically grabs the nearest thing- a sack of potatoes.

  He throws one at first, then the whole sack, which toppled over pathetically.

Sighing in frustration, he tugged his hair as Grian panicked.

  "Wh- Am I supposed to be throwing something?!" He yells, scrambling away from the edge where the creature is slowly crawling up. "Oh-! My- My golden carrots!"

  Scrambling through his satchel, Grian pulls out his bundle of golden carrots, and throws them at the creature, who stopped in its tracks and leaned down to eat them. The two of them scramble to the next platform they can reach, heaving with the effort it took, finding that they were now atop the roof.

  "You're- you're carrots, it's eating them-" Mumbo begins, exasperated, before halting. "You're... Y-Y-You're carrot trail led the Beast right to us!" He yelled angrily, glaring at Grian.

 "How was I supposed to know?!" Grian yelled back, his voice hoarse.

  The creature then leaped up at them, teeth bared, eyes still glowing endlessly.

  "AH! Grian- give it more carrots, give it more carrots!" Mumbo yelled, shaking Grian as he rummaged through his satchel.

 "I don't have any more!" He cried, teeth clenched as he groaned in frustration, before spotting a piece entangled in the fibers of Mumbo's cape. "Oh!"

  Grian grabs it, and throws it off the roof, the creature leaping after it with a hungry snarl.

The creature then yelps, and both Mumbo and Grian peer over the edge of the roof, gasping when they find it stuck underneath the waterwheel. And the waterwheel turns, and turns, and turns, until the creature coughs up a tiny, black turtle, of all things, and falls under the river.

 Grian covers his mouth with his hands, staring in horror, as Mumbo's mouth lay agape. Sure, it was a feral animal, the Beast, but that just looked outright painful.

 And then, poking out of the water with a bark, was a dog, completely unscathed. It swam towards shore, and shook its fur out, sniffing at the black turtle before hacking and kicking it away with its paw.

They let out a sigh of relief, before gasping, the roof creaking underneath them.

  "Jump!" Mumbo shrieks, grabbing a hold of Grian and leaping into the river just as the roof collapsed beneath them.

  The water was icy cold, and as they resurfaced and climbed onto shore, they found a familiar, yet angry face waiting for them, lantern in his hand. Mumbo shivered, not just because of the cold water that now dripped off of him, but due to the sheer anger that was poured into Xisuma's glare.

Part of his visor was cracked and missing a few shards of glass, thus revealing his vibrant green eyes and pale skin, only making the glare much, much worse.

  "The mill is destroyed now!" He seethed, fists clenched at his sides. "All the oil! It's gone!"

 "But, b- but look! We- We got the Beast problem solved!" Mumbo cried, offering a nervous smile, pointing towards the dog who was now asleep on the grass.

 "That dog?!" Xisuma yelled, furious. "That is NOT the Beast! The Beast can't be mollified like some farmer's pet!"

  Xisuma's eyes widen, his glare still apparent, and he stalks forward one step, arms raised above him.

  "He stalks like the night! He sings like the Four Winds!" He cried, a powerful gust of wind passing through the clearing. "He is the Death of Hope! He will ruin-"

  Mumbo ducks his head down, and glares towards Grian.

  "If you hadn't left that dumb carrot trail..." He hissed, Grian glaring right back at him.

 "Oh, shut up!" Xisuma screams, grabbing Mumbo by the collar and dragging him up. "You have it backwards! His mistakes are yours! You are both responsible!" He hisses.

 "I-I, I'm sorry! M-Maybe I- I can fix it?" He offers, eyes wide, before biting his lip and wincing. "No, I- I can't fix it."

  Xisuma lets him go with an exhausted sigh, shoulders drooping as he finally dropped his glare. Head hanging low, he exhales slowly, and points north.

  "You need to go," He states firmly. "Go north- look for a town."

  Mumbo nods, and quickly stands, Grian placing his hand on Mumbo's shoulder.

He starts forward in the direction they were given, and makes it a good ten steps forward before Xisuma interrupts them.

  "One more thing!" He calls, not facing towards them despite them doing as such. "Beware the Unknown! Fear the Beast! And leave these woods!"

  Mumbo and Grian nod wordlessly, and turn around once more, treading towards the forest, the familiar sound of crunching leaves soon filling their ears. They don't talk for a good while, the occasional parrot caw filling up the silence.

  "...Hey, Mumbo?" Grian murmurs, eyes drooping.

 "Hm?" Mumbo hums in response, looking over at his friend.

 "I think I thought of a new name for our parrot," He smiled. "I'm gonna call him Mumbo."

  Mumbo let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

  "Are you sure? That, uh, might get a bit confusing," He mused.

 "Nope!" Grian grins, petting his parrot, now called 'Mumbo'. "I'm just gonna start calling you Kitty."

 "Pfft- what?!" Mumbo laughs, pushing Grian lightly and playfully. "I'm gonna start calling you Carrot-Pants, then."

  Grian cackles, skipping forward and kicking up a few leaves, poking out his tongue at Mumbo.

Mumbo (the parrot) squawks, and Grian hums, nodding thoughtfully.

  "You're absolutely right, Mumbo," He says with a business-like tone.

 "Uh... Thanks?" Mumbo responds.

 "I'm not talking to you!" Grian giggles, petting his parrot once more, who caws happily. "I'm talkin' to Mumbo!"

 ---

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft fanfiction #over the garden wall au #otgw au #otfw #over the farlands wall #mumbo jumbo #mumbo #otfw mumbo #grian #grianmc #otfw grian #xisuma #xisumavoid #otfw xisuma

[mine-sara-sp]

not to be annoying but like???? I have no clue what the adbandoed shadow au is??? and I'm very confused can you explain???

Sorry, the blog got a little confusing since the discord server opened! The abandoned shadows au basically happens when the hermits change the server to go into season 7! They think that they will be able to summon their shadows in the new world but soon discover that the shadows change from server to server, so the old shadows have been left inside the old server. It’s very angsty because all the shadows suffer without their summoners and wait for them to come back, feeling abandoned and in some cases turning a little more similar to an unclaimed shadow. The hermits finally find a way to get the old shadows back by messing with commands and other things. Another thing that happens in this au is that there are the s7 shadows, not every hermit summons a new one because apparently Mojang did something to the Shadow mobs to try and make them stronger and it resulted in most of the new shadows being completely uncontrollable. For now the s7 shadows that have been summoned are: 

Joyful, Joe’s shadow. He’s naturally friendly, well-spoken and loves writing but his fear of Killjoy makes him more irrational and he tries to get rid of him. He accepted a quill from Puzzler that seems to make most of the things he writes down become real, tho accepting this gift was a big mistake. You can read “ A Little Quarrel “ by @chaggle to see him interact with Killjoy!

Puzzler, Grian’s shadow. He’s a “watcher corrupted” shadow, it’s unclear what his plans are but he seems able to spread the corruption to other shadows and create “gifts” for everyone that will obey him. (He’s also considered a LOT worst than Jigsaw) You can read “ The Judge, Executioner and Jury “ by @chaggle to see something of him.

Abyss, Zedaph’s shadow. You can read the fics “? ? ?” and “The abyss stares back”  by @betweenlands About him. Basically, Zedaph managed to completely glitch the game by going inside the shadowlands before his shadow could completely form and ended up with the entire abyss as his shadow. He’s the best, he can say fuck and hates Puzzler to bits. He also acts a little protective of the “normal” shadows. The vex shadows walk on tin ice with him.

 Distress, Stress shadow. She’s used to be an unclaimed boss! She can properly talk and naturally spawned with the scythe and helm fo darkness. She acts like she’s superior to all the other shadows (she technically is) except for Abyss. She seems curious about the overworld in general and will slowly become friends with stress and chill! You can read “ Quite the luck indeed “ by @chaggle to see her get summoned!

Leviathan, Doc’s shadow. He’s a mad man, making all the craziest redstone contraptions and having usually no concern over anyone’s safety. He’s not too bad tho, if he considers someone a friend he will go out of his way to protect them. He will definitely become friends with Shadoc that will have a little of a hard time hanging around this super feral shadow. Oh, also there’s a joke on the server that Leviathan sings songs like “fergalicious” and “barbie girl” at 3 am while working only to annoy Doc. Here’s some of his shenaningas and his “working playlist” 

Tripwire, Mumbo’s shadow. There’s not much about him yet. He makes redstone traps and recently started working with Puzzler, I haven’t decided yet on what he got from him. 

Red, Iskall’s shadow. Again there’s not much about him. He’s loosely based on my “Redstone update dream”. Puzzler corrupted him in some way, his diamond eye continuously leaks redstone and he’s quick to anger.

Blinder, TFC’s shadow. The Herobrine joke finally got full circle. I technically didn’t have anything to do with him, the server just kind of made him while I was sleeping. He’s kinda like a mist?? White eyes and just kind of creeps around, he seems to get along with Abyss. 

#ask #shadow people au #abandoned shadows #Joyful #Puzzler #Abyss #Distress #Leviathan #Tripwire #Red #Blinder #thank you guys for the amazing fic and art and shitpost #so much stuff in so little time #amazing

[positivlyfocused]

Music is powerful. It can literally shape life experience. So I'm careful about what songs I listen to these days. Here's why.

One day last fall started as usual: in high spirits. The day itself was glorious – clear blue sky, leaves changing with the season and mild but comfortable temperatures. It was a great day to be working outside.

I was happy. Adding to my delight was my music playlist. It's a collection of about two thousand songs gathered over many years. So it's a nice, eclectic mix.

But then it happened. I don't know how, at first. There I was, happy, enjoying my day. So why was I suddenly feeling sorry for myself, cranky and in a bad mood?

I'm almost always positive these days.

But in this moment I felt so negative, I even questioned whether I create my reality!

Srsly? 😕

^^A beautiful fall day was the start of an extraordinary experience (my photo).

My clients have this experience too sometimes. One minute they'll be positively focused. Then, seemingly for no reason, they're sad.

But how could this negative emotion blindside me?

That was the wrong question.

What I should have asked was, how did I miss early stage indicators that I had diverged from my Broader Perspective?

I know I can never completely disconnect from my Broader Perspective. But it is possible to think thoughts inconsistent with what my Broader Perspective knows. When that happens I feel negative emotion. I know that's the only reason negative emotions happen.

Negative emotion tells me I've parted perspectives. I'm no longer seeing life through my Broader Knowing.

When I see life the way my Broader Perspective does, I feel great.

When I feel negative emotion, I'm pretty good at catching it. When I do, I either relax and chill, or change my thoughts.

As I said, I've gotten really good at that. That's why I feel ecstasy or near-ecstasy most of the time. Because of that, happy things happen in my life. I write about these in this blog.

Since I know what emotions are for, I know that if I miss an early indicator, my negative mood will worsen...until life smacks me upside the head with a physical manifestation matching that mood.

I don't like it when things get that far.

So I usually catch bad moods early. Usually very early, like on their first indication.

So how did this negative mood get so far?

Before I go into what what happened next, some non-physical background might be helpful...

The Mechanics of Manifestation

I know this manifestation business is real. I know I create my reality. A ton of evidence has blown away any doubt. I also know manifestations are immediate.

Now I don't blame people who don't believe all this manifestation business. I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't know how to see the evidence.

Thankfully I know how to see the evidence. And, I understand why it seems manifestations take so long or never happen at all. One reason "it doesn't work" or takes a long time has to do with resistance.

Unlike non-physical or Inner Reality, Physical Reality comes with a lot of resistance or friction. It's as real as the nose on my face.

^^My Illustration

Engineers design physical objects with this friction or resistance in mind. That's why high performance cars and airplanes and boats look how they look. That's why tires wear out. It's why rockets look really streamlined...instead of looking like bricks.

Just as cars and airplanes and boats need an initial push to overcome resistance and another force, what physicists call "inertia", it takes persistence and focused attention to change my immediate now, especially a now I may not want, into a preferred now.

Focused attention is just like a push. The more pure the focus, the stronger the push.

But, unlike cars and airplanes and rockets, it doesn't take a lot of focused energy to get reality moving in a different direction. To build momentum a reality creator only needs thoughts with no contradictory energy.

And so, as I started telling new stories about how I felt, I knew my reality started changing at once. It took several deliberate hours for a complete and permanent shift from my negative now to the positive now I wanted. But an early indication that change was on the way was how much better I felt telling the new, improved stories.

Now, you may be saying "several hours? You said it was immediate!"

It is immediate. But full-blown manifestational change must come through physical reality's inherent resistance. Movement from initial signs to full-blown manifestation is therefore gradual.

^^As this graphic illustrates, there's more resistance in physical reality than elsewhere. That's why there's an APPARENT delay in manifestations. If you know how to see the evidence, "apparent delay" disappears leaving you free to witness manifestations manifesting at once. (My Illustration)

Still, compare a few hours to the years or decades a person might invest trying to shake off "negative" emotions such anxiety, depression, chronic fear or even simple pessimism.

These negative states are hard to shake because the person waited too long to turn them around. Know how to see early manifestational evidence of negative situations and any chronic negative trajectory can easily be reversed.

Any reversal must happen before too much momentum gets going. Otherwise it can take a long time. It can take an entire life time. It might never change.

A rocket sits on the launch pad. You "light the fires and kick the tires". If you abort the launch sequence soon enough stopping the rocket is easy.

But if you wait until the rocket has launched and gained altitude and momentum....well, you're not going to stop that rocket easily.

The same is true for any negative manifestation.

^^My Illustration

I caught my "rocket" on the launch pad so that sour mood didn't get any momentum. A few hours was nothing. And it was time well spent. Here's why.

My Past Is Now And Vice Versa

As those hours ticked by, I saw more and more evidence the process was working. That awareness built on itself, creating its own momentum. And as that momentum strengthened, something happened I wasn't expecting.

I felt/got/heard/saw a message from non-physical. It was communication from Broader Perspective. It said a song in my playlist, one that played several hours ago, triggered an old belief constellation. It said I formed that belief constellation in the past in response to an experience I had that I interpreted (way back then) as negative.

Back then, that song was popular. It played on the radio a lot. I liked that song so much I put it in my collection. I played it often. Even during that negative experience. In doing so, I forged an association in my belief constellation between the song and the experience I interpreted as negative.

So the song, playing that day on my route in the present, triggered a belief constellation I formed in that past experience. A constellation I hadn't activated since, until I heard that song!

Beliefs in that constellation are so divergent from how my Broader Perspective interpreted that past experience it caused me to diverge from my Broader Perspective in the present. That's why I felt bad!

When the message ended, I was puzzled. Driving my van, I remembered the song in question. It was vague in my mind, you know? Like when a word is there, but not there in your head, and you say "it's on the tip of my tongue", but you can't say the actual word, even though it's there.

That's how the song was. Right there, but not right there. I couldn't get the title or lyrics in my head. But I knew which song my Broader Perspective meant.

Why do you think I couldn't put my finger on it?

It's because my creation process worked! I shifted my "now" so completely, I couldn't put my finger on it because the frequency of the song and the frequency of my improved mood were too different.

Trippy, right?

And here's the thing: That's evidence!

My increasingly positive frequency was so different from those past stories, only their "ghosts" remained...On the tip of my brain, but inexpressible.

^^Songs are stories. They're stories a talented storyteller tells (My illustration).

Then I realized something amazing. You see, were it not for hearing that song, were it not for listening to that playlist, were it not for the negative emotion triggered by all that, I wouldn't have done what I did in response.

And, I wouldn't have had the awesome experience of tuning into my Broader Consciousness' message. A message that came through all my senses. A message that surprised and delighted me, yes. But also a message confirming the existence of my Broader Perspective! 

That's how consistent positive focus creates extraordinary experience. And evidence this manifestation business is real.

While I did not remember the song's title or lyrics, I still felt its "ghosts". That tells me beliefs and experiences associated with that song are still present in me. But they are losing their momentum in light of my now-focus.

Receiving direct, clear, unmistakable communication from the non-physical realm tells me everything I'm doing is real. That it's not mumbo jumbo or New Age bullshit. And this is why personal experience is so convincing.

It's one thing for you to read about this experience in a blog. It's a whole other thing when it happens to you!

Here's something else I learned: Music is powerful. Its repetitiousness builds momentum. When I repeat lyrics to myself, sing-along out loud, or listen to songs over and over, I amplify that song's frequency in my "signal mix".

It behooves me then to pay attention to what types of music I'm listening to, doesn't it? And choose only music supporting positive perspectives.

· · ·

The rest of that day I played with my learning. I listened to my playlist. Every time a song came on, I felt for its frequency. How did I feel when I listened? Did it close the gap between me? Or widen it? If I felt a song triggered even the slightest negative effect, I skipped it.

Songs are stories. They're stories a talented storyteller tells. It's a new perspective for me, seeing songs this way. There are a lot of songs out there telling not-so-positive stories.

Curating my music helps cultivate a high frequency mix. I keep it high by weeding out songs that don't resonate.

So what are you listening to? Is your playlist filed with songs about lost love, broken hearts, angry black men, "Fuck Da Police", "pussy" and "bitches"? Not judging genres. I know, for example, that my frequency response to certain songs depends on my relationship to those songs. Rap, for example, can be uplifting.

It's easy to let others' beliefs and stories shape our mood and therefore our reality. Songs are a powerful way other people's stories do that.

Thanks to my Broader Perspective, I now know my daily life is curated by, among other things, songs I listen to. Going forward I'm choosing my playlist more wisely.

#positive thoughts #positive thinking #positivity #positive #positiveaffirmations #positive mental attitude #positive memes #body positive #Positivevibes #positivevibrations #Appreciation #appreciate #inspiration #inspiring #spiritual life #spiritual #spiritualgrowth #spiritualgangster #spirituality #spiritualjourney #spiritualawakening #enlightenment #positive mindset #Mindfulness #spiritualawareness #lightworker #lawofattraction

[curiositymustbeguided]

Music Producers like Beca (An Info Dump on Production Roles)

One thing I noticed about fics are their depictions of what kind of role a music producer plays in a production of a song/album. Luckily I have a friend who is a sound engineer for the industry who was kind enough fill me in on stuff that he experienced first hand in the recording studio. I used to work on the marketing side so I could only fill in on how we work with target demographics but I feel that should be a post on its own someday. So back to the production team. This is going to be long so hopefully you don’t get too bored with the technical mumbo jumbo. And I hope this at least helps provide a clearer picture on what each of the roles entail.

Their roles vary and there’s actually 3 kinds of main producers currently and this could change at any time that technology does but the main group consists the music producer, a vocal producer and an executive level producer. Not in that order. And of course we can’t forget the sound engineer. Now there are other roles that I won’t cover because it’s numerous and he didn’t have time to explain everything so this just covers the basics. And it also varies from if you belong to a big studio or small one or working as a freelancer.

Executive Producers makes the BIG executive decisions. They’re like the  Producer and Director combined.They are mainly involved in production's business side. Music Producers report to these people. When an Executive lands a client, they assign the production team. Executive producers don’t exactly micromanage their employees so they kinda leave the Music Producer and Engineer to do their thing. But they will have to listen to their progress and stir them in what they feel is the right direction that would sell them hits. And while the assigned team works together, they can do their tasks independently. Executive producers will pop in and out of the studio but they don’t do the grunt work that the music producer and engineer do These guys also manage the budget. They hire session players and oversee non-recording studio staff. These guys schedule the recording time for them to work.

If Beca ever got promoted to this level, don’t expect her to work as hard as a music producer. She would be doing a lot of schmoozing though.

And they have a major role in the music artist branding. So they work heavily with marketing the artist which include everything from clothing to other kinds of merch for fans. Part of their tasks also involve studying trends in music and they’ll find artists that fit that trend. Once they market the song, they’ll get a lot of the commission from sales.

Music Producers’ (Also known as a Record Producer or Track Producer) Their role is important because they manage and oversee the entire process of recording and production for either the whole album or single track.

Main tasks include arranging the original music and scores. And yes, they have to have taken music theory in school unless they were some musical genius which, I can imagine Beca probably had to take a bunch of music theory classes if she had goals to be this level of producer. A lot of the times, they actually have to make the artists audition for them if they want to work with them.

They need to be well-versed in sound engineering so knowing how to both set up and operate the equipment is a must, which we know Beca is capable of doing. Most of the time, they’re also in charge of choosing the engineer and the studio that they will be recording from. A Music Producer’s task may sound similar to a Sound Engineer’s tasks (which I’ll explain down below) but the major difference is Producer is going to take on more responsibility for the creativity and they make the final call when it comes to sound issues. This part is beyond the engineer’s control.

Vocal Producer’s job is to get the best recorded vocal out of the singer(s). They act as a vocal couch and can get together with the music artist before the recording session and coach the singer.They will have the singer sing many vocal tracks and the engineer will take the best ones and put it together. If a vocal coach is hired they will attend the recording sessions to make sure a singer is performing their best. They sometimes arrange the harmonies and background vocals.

Sound Engineer will focus on the technical issues. There are actually different kinds of sound engineers (aka audio engineers) but the ones I’ll be covering in this post will be the Studio sound engineers.

Their main responsibilities are inside the record studio and they make sure that the equipment is set up properly and actually works. They route signals, record, edit, add effects, mix, master and make sure that sound is clear and top quality. They’ll provide the singers and other performers with technical assistance. Engineers will be versed in electronics and stuff like physics and math will come into play. They’ll use those traits to manipulate sound. Engineers also log, archive all the recordings and be sure to note everything that happens in a recording session.

They also assist in making sure that everyone in the recording booth is on the same page since there will be different kinds of people with different roles in there. The sound engineer has to make sure their ego is out the door and help keep the peace between them all because many of the studio occupants will come in with their own set of egos.

Studio Recording Time and Fees

Apparently this particular section varies on the Label and whether or not the producer owns their own studio. Sometimes a label will provide a certain amount of money for the producer to cover production, studio time, and any other costs related to the recording process. With this budget, the producer will arrange and pay for the studio. Also, if the artist is signed to the producer's label or production company, then the artist should pay for studio time.

Money is actually taken out of the artist’s royalties. So bottom line is Studio time is paid by the Artist. Unsigned Artists have to pay for ALL studio time. It’s kinda the reason so many musicians and artists build their own studios in their own home and and just send it to the producer afterwards to avoid outsource studio costs because it can cost A LOT of $$$$$$$$. My friend told me that some artists will con someone to help them record for free. Doesn’t always work LOL. If it’s from a big studio then expect to pay somewhere around $10,000-20k or more to record just one track so it’s why many have done the “home studio” route. Sometimes buying the equipment is cheaper than cutting a track with a major studio.

Cutting a demo is a lot cheaper and can range anywhere from $100-$1,000. But bottom line is every project and arrangement is going to be different especially the skill levels and cost of professional services. Like the number of songs and how many people are recording that day (the number of people in the band) can also make the cost high or low.

Some Extra Thoughts

With Beca being a signed singer now, I was told that if an artist is successful enough, this opens doors for them to be in the producer role. Artists like Justin Bieber eventually ended up creating their own label and producing stuff for other artist. Louis Tomlinson is another example of an artist who got into producing. Or perhaps the best example would be Jay Z rapper, songwriter, and music producer....and he’s an entrepreneur and has so many endorsements. So it’s not an impossible thing for Beca to eventually wear more than one hat in the music industry.

But wow, if Beca really becomes successful, that just means her level of power and connections has just risen. I’m not talking Jay Z level successful but who knows, right? In conclusion, I’d be scared to piss her off LOL, she could financially and reputably destroy me, heh. I could totally see her buying a wing of Barden University. Or at the very least, the Bella Organization should be raising a statue or plaque in her honor for putting their A cappella  group on the ICCA map. And yes I’m aware that it was a group effort but if she wasn’t a Bella, they’d still be stuck singing old 80s classics from top charting females instead of mixing it up. So we should think about that for awhile.

#recording #musicprodution #beca mitchell #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3

[haxorus-imp]

Alien Affections - Villainous/Reader - Chapter 2

You had climbed out of the crate some time ago. Now, you were just watching the strange bag-wearing man pace the...roof? You looked around at your surroundings, seeing burnt metal and singed mechanical equipment, and that you were on a roof of some kind. And was that a plane sticking out of said roof? You shook your head side to side at the ridiculousness of what you were seeing. Not only that, you don't really understand how you got here. One moment you're going out to get your mail right before heading to bed, the next thing you know, you got enveloped in a glowing green light and saw yourself get pixelated and broken apart before your very eyes. It was horrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time. You could only think of one thing at that moment in time, that you were being abducted by aliens. I mean, after you were broken down, you were sent on a wild ride through a psychedelic tunnel of light. You were everywhere, yet nowhere all at once. You were floating and falling. Flying and standing. In pieces, yet whole. Then, when a bright light engulfed you, there was a large explosion that caused your ears to ring. It was one of the trippiest things you have ever witnessed in your life. Now you know what drugs are like. It wasn't a great experience. Mostly because it was unexpected. Then, the next thing you know, you're in a hard and dark place. Yet, you knew you were anywhere but home. After being broken apart and sent through a loop like that, it wasn't surprising that you felt sick and disoriented. All you knew at the time was that something happened. Yet, even then, you wanted to at least meet your abductors. At first, you were thinking of little green or gray beings. You weren't really expecting a human-like man wearing a paper bag that had goggles strapped over them. You were prepared for a lot of things. But, not him. When you both made first eye contact, the guy just...stared. It was kinda creepy, honestly. Yet, your joke and relaxed attitude managed to shatter the awkward silence and staring contest that got started between you two. Much to your gracious gratitude. But, in your silent opinion, the guy that's pacing the roof looked like a weirdo. But, hey! He hasn't scooped your brain out yet. So, that's a plus! It was just...you were expecting so much more than a dude wearing a bag and goggles. Least to say that your were kinda disappointed. . . . Okay, you were VERY disappointed. But, I mean...this is kinda unexpected and...nice, you guess? You shrugged and refocused on the man, as he seemed to have stopped pacing the roof like a lion in its' cage. You tuned back into his quiet muttering. "Okay...Okay...we can make this work! We...have to make this work." You heard the man mumble, as he seemed to place his finger on the area where you figured his mouth would be underneath the bag. "I just...gotta...explain what happened. That's it!" He muttered to himself. "Um, hello?" You cautiously said, yet, you kept the caution out of your voice. It seemed to grab the mans attention. "Can you tell me what's going on, dude? I mean, I'm kinda in the dark here..." You explained. The man stayed silent before going back to quiet mutterings. 'Okay, rude.' You mentally stated. He then stopped once more after a few curious minutes of you watching him, he turned to you and cleared his throat, then approached yourself. "Y-Yes. Hello! Greetings!" He said, holding out his gloved hand, to which you stared at and took it in your own. "I know that you're about as lost and a-as confused as I am. But, we need to get going." He then gripped your hand and opened a hatch that lead down some stairs. You were quite startled at the sudden change of events. "H-Hey! Wait! Where are we doing, dude?!" You dug your heels in slightly on the stairs, still following along, just not fast enough to break your neck on the stairs if you fall. "U-Uh, I need to...report to my boss...about the experiment. You also said 'Take me to your leader', right?" The man dragged you along, until you both reached an extravagant hallway. "Geeze! I was joking!" You exclaimed, yet followed along. "Regardless, you're gonna have to meet him anyway." The man explained, dragging you along. You watched as you both passed by rooms and various different decorations. Many of them looked very expensive. I mean, even the hallway floors were made of tile! So...this must either be a funded lab, seeing from the paper bag dudes' lab coat, or a museum that showcases alien lifeforms. To which, you hope it's not. Because you're not gonna be taken away from your home, just to be a showy little trinket for an entire alien race to peek at. Like in the movies! Then, both of you seemed to reach a pair of closed double doors that had intimidating patterns carved into the wood. It also seemed to be a place of grand importance, as there were two gargoyle-looking statues hovering above the doorway entrance. This boss is obviously very edgy and shouldn't be trifled with. The masked man then released your hand and turned around to face yourself. "This is his office and I'm about to knock and ask to come in. Just please, for the love of science, do NOT make this man angry with any rhetorical comments or insults! Let me do the t-talking and only speak when you're spoken to! Don't t-touch anything and don't break anything! Do anything to make him mad and we'll both pay!"The masked man spoke, his voice low and it held a tone of warning. You just nodded, feeling a slight rush when the man turned around and gave a few low-key knocks on the door with his knuckle. "S-Sir? Permission to come in, please?" The man asked. To which a deep rumbling voice responded from some place behind the door a few seconds later. "Come in." The voice ordered, to which the masked man turned the knob to the double doors and opened them. Allowing you both to walk inside the dreary office. -- Flug and yourself were currently walking into a dimly lit office-like space. It was a place that spelled danger at every darkened corner. You even found yourself walking closer to the masked man for a faint feeling of security. Yep. Whoever lives here likes the gothic feel that these creepy items and trinkets give off. As there was statues of gargoyles lining the walls and pillars that paralleled each side of the red rug that lead further into the room. The rug that lead to the desk in the center even had the design of a top hat stitched into it. Strangely enough, there was a lot of top hat oriented items that were littered around this building. It was on the suits of armor, the wallpaper, the rugs, and even on the furniture! The person that owns this place has an obsession for top hats and gothic styled things apparently. Further and further into the office you both walked. The atmosphere rang of gothic elegance. Lit by seemingly faint candlelight. Yet, both of your journeys came to an end when you both stopped in front of a dark wooded desk that had a large chair behind it that was currently facing away from you both and was facing toward the large rose-tinted window behind the desk. You could tell that someone was occupying the chair. As they were holding an empty wine glass in their hand, void of any liquid whatsoever. Which was also concealed in a glove, like the masked man you were with. Except they were more elegant then the masked mans' pair and a darkened black. Said man then approached the desk, dwindling his thumbs. You both jumped when the voice spoke up. "So. How's the project going, Flug?" The voice hissed, causing the man, now named Flug, to quiver. "Uh....w-well. We got more than we expected to get, sir." Flug explained. To which it seemed to catch the mans' attention. "We got...more than we were expecting? What are you going on about now, Flug?" The chair then turned around, yet you weren't prepared for the visual of the...'man' that was in front of you. You wanted to just blurt out 'What the fuck?!', but you held your tongue. Probably due to...Flugs' plea. The chair had a strange demon-looking man sitting in it, who was currently pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose, as he opened his one visible eye that wasn't hidden behind a monocle, his sharp gaze then landed on you. To which he snapped all of his attention to you. You felt kinda nervous under his threatening gaze, but you kept your calm outer appearance. The demon snarled. "I see what you mean now, Flug." He gestured to yourself. "Tell me. How did this person get past my defenses?" He placed the empty wine glass on the table, then sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. Giving you a deadly leer while he was at it. "Well, you see sir..." Flug started. It took a lot of explaining from Flug to get his 'boss' to understand what was going down. He told him some science mumbo-jumbo, results, data, and various other things that you didn't understand. Some things about meteorites and a particle gun? Also, he explained about a collision, probably mentioning you, and explained what went down on the roof. "And that's what happened, sir." Flug finished, nervously twitching every now and then. The demon man took a nice long and deep breath, then exhaled. Yet, it was anything but satisfied. "So. Let me revise what you just explained, Flug." The man growled, addressing the shuddering scientist next to you. The poor guy was sweating bullets that were leaking through his bag. Which was pretty gross. "You managed to succeed in making the particle gun." He paused for effect. "You managed to get the beam into space...and it collided with, what you suspect was a distant planet, and not an asteroid." "But, you didn't anticipate this type of outcome. That you might accidentally bring back some form of foreign life from a distant galaxy?" The demon growled, gesturing to yourself. Flug gulped. "T-That is correct sir. I did preform a s-successful launch, but I-I didn't make the prototype able to p-process bio-particles well." Flug confirmed. "And where IS the prototype?" The evil-looking man leered. "It....e-exploded." Flug jumped at the sound of the dark man smacking his face and growling. "I knew something went wrong the moment I heard that loud ruckus coming from the roof. Figures." He snarled. Then, he turned his leering attention to the alien in the room, who didn't flinch at all under his gaze. A few seconds passed, with Flug looking nervously over to the newcomer, who was looking at the demon in a confused manner. "WELL?! Are you going to tell me who you are or not?!" The vile creature snapped, causing Flug to flinch and the guest to jump slightly. They merely just cocked their brow and blinked. "Dude, Chill. You could of just asked." The alien said lamely, while waving their hand carelessly, ignoring the glare they received from the vile man in return. "My name's (Name)! (First) (Last)! Nice to meet ya!" You smiled, while waving at the leering demon. "Well, (Name)." The finely dressed man said snidely. "I am Black Hat! The head of this evil corporation!" Black Hat cackled as he posed slightly. But, when nobody did anything, he placed his hands back down onto the table. Brushing off the awkwardness like it was nothing. Still, that little 'Evil Corporation' bit DID have you kinda worried. I mean, were they gonna experiment on you? You hope that they don't do that. That wouldn't be healthy for you. Especially if it involved cutting you open and stealing all of your entrails. That REALLY wouldn't be okay with you. "Now, tell me. Where did you come from?" Black Hat questions, while folding his gloved hands together on the desk and leaning back in his chair, keeping his gaze on the newcomer. You looked lost in thought for a moment. Seemingly pondering what he meant. "Where I'm from? Do you want just the planet or details?" You asked. "Full information." Black Hat replied shortly. "Oh. Well, I'm from Earth. I lived in (Country) and in a house. Which is located in a solar system, which is also located in a southern arm of the Milky Way Spiral Galaxy within the Virgo Galaxy Cluster." You Answered. Black Hat hummed in slight boredom, while Flug appeared to be intrigued with the new information. Curiously staring at you as he seemed to be calculating something from within the safety of his own mind. Yet, you paid attention to Black Hat when he began to size you up. Hopefully judging your character and NOT how much meat was on your bones. Because those sharp teeth are giving you unwanted horrible flesh-tearing-involved thoughts. 'Please don't be THOSE types of aliens.' You mentally hoped. "Any useful skills?" Black Hat asked in a business-like tone, as he sat up and began to gather some papers. Huh. Well, that caught you off guard. This...demon-man-thing does own a corporation. "Uh. Well, I attended a high end technology-based college for about 4 years. I have bachelor degrees in robotic engineering and computer sciences." For some reason, it kinda feels like an interview to you. Oh well. This is better than having a luau with you as the main course, right? You heard Black Hat hum in slight interest. "An alien robotics engineer and a computer technician. Interesting." Black Hat muttered as he put away some of the papers and sat up straight. "Well. As you can already guess that your way home is currently. . .compromised." Black Hat made eye contact with Flug, before he focused on you once more. You nodded in understanding. "Yeah. Heard what, uh, Flug said. The machine that brought me here blew up, right?" You reply, while looking over to the too quiet scientist. Who scratched his neck in a nervous way. "Correct." Black Hat affirmed. "Which means, you will have to stay with Black Hat Inc until we can return you home." Black Hat said, as he tightened his gaze when he saw you grin a little. "HOWEVER." Black Hat grinned smugly, just as your face fell into slight confusion. "Being allowed to stay here means that you have to do your part and fair share while you're living here." Black Hat warned. "It's either you stay here and assist us or you leave and never come back." Black Hat explained with a cackle. You were kinda confused at the choices, but the attitude REALLY threw you off. Black Hat just shifted, placed the palms of his hands together, and tilted his head down. Giving himself a much more menacing posture and aura. "So. What will it be?" Black Hat asked, looking at you from under the brim of his hat. You placed a finger on your chin. After about a minute of thought, you sighed. The choice was horribly one-sided. It was a wonder at why he gave you a choice anyway. It was quite obvious which one you were gonna pick! "I guess, I'll do my part and help in any way that I can." You caved. Suddenly, much to your surprise, Black Hat reached a hand across his desk. "Welcome aboard." He grinned, yet you could tell there was an underline menacing tone to the friendly gesture. But, for the sake of not being rude, you placed your own hand in his. Once your hand made contact with his, a shock went through your body, it was fast and painful, but over in a second. Your hand was released from his as you tried to shake the lingering pain off of the inflicted hand. Black Hat just sat back in his chair and had a Cheshire grin on his face as he observed the spectacle. "Ow! I didn't take you for the prankster type!" You exclaimed, while shaking your hand to get rid of the tingling feeling that still remained. Black Hat just let out an intimidating chuckle, then waved his hand. "Go out into the hall and wait. Flug will be with you shortly to escort you to his lab." He ordered. You looked at Black Hat in confusion, before you turned around and made your way to the double doors to the room. Leaving a nervous Flug to stand in front of Black Hat's desk alone. Only when the doors closed shut with a quiet 'click!' did Black Hat lock gazes with Flug again. Which made the poor mans' heart quake. "The only reason that you're not being beaten right now is because of the unexpected fruits that we reaped from this mistake, Flug." Black Hat growled, putting Flug on an anxiety-ridden edge. "S-Sorry, sir!" Flug squeaked. "I'll let this incident go unpunished, just this once. But, let me make myself clear about something." Black Hat sneered as leaned over and grabbed Flug by the neck and  pulled him down to his level. Causing Flug to shriek in surprise. "You better make a good use of of our 'new recruit' or else!" Black Hat snarled, as Flug recoiled and nodded rapidly. "Good. Now, leave." Black Hat released Flug, who scrambled for the door the moment he was released. "And don't fail me again!" He cursed after the fleeing scientist, as Flug opened the doors and scrambled out into the hall before closing them again. Once he was alone, Black Hat turned around to face out the window. Mulling over some invention ideas for some weapons, now that he has an engineer and scientist, he can make more than just rays and a few devices. He silently wonders what the new recruit can do to broaden his own corporation. -- Flug had to control his breathing, now that he was visible to yourself. Black Hat's unfortunate new recruit, to their unknowing knowledge, was looking slightly concerned for him. Much to his, slight, comfort. Yet, he needed to compose himself. Flug straightened up and cleared his throat, taking steady deep breaths to even out his rapidly beating heart. "So, uh, I guess you're gonna be working with me, in m-my lab while your here. We'll get you an assigned room soon, so don't worry about that!" Flug asked as he took deep and steady breaths to finish evening out his heart rate. The last thing he needed to do was have an anxiety attack in front of you. They smiled at him, worry temporarily sedated. "I guess so. You can lead the way and I'll follow you." They said. Flug nodded and waved his hand in a 'follow me' motion as both of you headed down the maze-like hallways. While leading the way to the lab, and also giving a half-hearted tour of the manor, Flug couldn't help but pity the human-alien being. 'They had no idea that they were ripped away from their home and took a deal to work with Black Hat for an indefinite amount of time.' Flug thought, grimly. Flug had to shake his head to clear the guilt away from his conscious. He'll worry about that later. You were looking at the artifacts that decorated the halls and walls as they walked. Pointing at things, 'ooh-ing' and 'aah-ing' in interest at some objects. He did have to admit, it was nice to have another person other than his boss, Dementia, and 5.0.5 around the house. Like a breath of fresh air after being in a confined space for a long period of time. He wonders if Black Hat noticed the differences in the newcomer like he did when they first met. Flug rethought that and scoffed. He probably did. Black Hat notices...a lot of things. Not only that, but the information that you spoke of in Black Hat's office intrigued him greatly. A completely different galaxy? Fascinating! What is the Virgo Cluster and what's in it? What is the culture of their people? Do they have Heroes and Villains too? What technology has been invented that can't be found here? What makes humans evolve on a planet so different from his own? Flug felt a strong surge of giddiness go through him. He couldn't wait to interrogate them! --------------------------------------------------------------- Next> <Previous

#Villainous #Flug x Reader #Black Hat x Reader #Alien Affections #Fanfic

[wendibird]

A Witch with a Sandwich on a Sandy Picnic

Summary:   Rowena decided a picnic was in order, and a certain exclusive golf course had a beautiful patch of sand just perfect for the occasion. Of course, ulterior motives were at play, and she and her Road Trip buddy, Charlie, were up to some mischief, but what does one expect from two fiery red-heads like them? Characters: Rowena & AU Charlie, (Sam mentioned) Ships: None explicitly stated (though if you DO ship Rowena/Charlie, it doesn’t outright deny it) Word Count:  1536 Cross-posted to AO3 at: https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/14961677 �� Author's Note: This is actually my response to the GISH puzzle challenge titled "We Put a Spell On You" where we were supposed to find any creative way we wanted to depict the answer to the riddle. The answer itself is the title of my piece, and what you see here is the result of me picturing a certain red-headed witch eating a sandwich at a picnic someplace sandy. It went through a few variations, (originally, it was MUCH more bloody, but, I figured present-day Rowena is trying to turn over a new leaf and all,) and I hope people enjoy it for the fun piece it's meant to be. (I also hope the PTB at GISH will accept this as my artistic rendering, since I kind of suck at drawing anything other than trees and rocks. *LOL*)

Also, this takes place sometime between the end of episode 13X22 and most of what happens in 13X23.

The sun which beat down with unrelenting intensity was reflected back up again by the bright sand and would have proven horribly uncomfortable for the ginger-haired witch if it weren't for the large, colorfully striped beach umbrella under which she lounged on a blanket. Just next to her was a little wooden table on which perched a cocktail, the glass beading with condensation as well as a small plate with tiny cucumber sandwiches, all de-crusted and cut into dainty triangles. 

She languidly selected one from the plate, her nails, the deep red of scabs, complimented the plum-colored dress she wore, and took a bite, savoring the cream-cheese spread used, seasoned with dill and a hint of roasted red-pepper. "Och, Peter, I must say, your chefs here are quite up to par." She then laughed a little at the unintended pun as Peter, a tall, tanned, dark-haired young man smiled in a manner that could only be considered solicitous.

"We all strive to do our best, Miss Rowena," he responded, bowing his head a little, the earpiece that had formerly been in his left ear now dangling from where it emerged from under his shirt collar. He had also loosened the straps on his utility vest which had SECURITY in large, white, block letters emblazoned across the back.

On Rowena's other side another man in security clothing waved a large fan towards the witch while a third man wearing the clothes of a golf caddy was busy peeling a small bowl of grapes.

A few others in various clothing ranging from security personal to caddies to waiters all seemed engaged in some task or another for the red-head.  Some fetched food, one was plumping a pillow behind her, and a middle-aged, somewhat plump man who was wearing expensive golfing clothes was quite busy giving her a foot massage.

From further off, yet another security man cautiously approached the sand trap on which Rowena had set up her little picnic, the brilliant green grass of the golf-course contrasting sharply with his black attire. He tilted his head a little as something apparently came to him over his earpiece. "Negative," he responded in a low tone, "still no indication as to why Jones and the others haven't apprehended the... security risk," he finished, not seeming too sure of what to call her exactly. "Moving in now."

As he drew a bit closer he paused, a look of confusion blooming on his face as he got a better look at the scene before him. "Um... the Senator has been located. He... uh... he seems... er... it appears he's giving the "security risk" a foot massage." He winced a bit as a sharp response came over the earpiece. "No, I am NOT making this up!" he loud-whispered. "Everyone else is accounted for. No one appears to be injured but... no one's... well, acting right. I'll try to move in closer to see if I can make contact."

As he indeed moved closer he crossed an unseen barrier, one formed by the 5 hex-bags Rowena had placed around her little beach oasis amongst the rolling fields of green, and his eyes briefly flashed with a violet light before his entire demeanor changed. Where before he had been tightly wound, like a cat stalking its prey, he now relaxed, holstering his gun as a somewhat vague but happy smile spread over his face. When the voice on the other end of the earpiece continued squawking at him, he simply pulled it out as the others before him had done and continued walking towards the sand trap at a leisurely saunter.

Rowena looked up, lowering her sunglasses a bit to better appraise the newcomer approaching them. "Well, aren't you a tall drink o' water?" she observed of the man who flashed her a cheery grin. "Why don't ye help Julio over there with the grapes?" she suggested as she gestured towards the shorter man.

Nodding, the man hopped down into the trap and walked over to Julio who moved over just a bit to give the other guy room. Just then, the distinct tones of "Scotland the Brave" jingled from her little clutch-purse and with a world-weary sigh, Rowena retrieved her phone and answered. "Yes Charlie dear, everything's going splendid. Have ye finished with all your computer-y mumbo-jumbo yet?" She waited as the voice on the other end of the line chattered away for a few moments. "Excellent! I'll just wrap things up here and meet ye at the rendezvous in five minutes."

With that, she ended the call, dropping her phone back into her clutch purse. Seeming to know what she wanted, the Senator had already started putting her glitzy, bronze-looking sandals back on her feet, and once that was done, she beckoned Peter over who gave her a hand standing back up again. The one who'd been fanning her set about retrieving the blanket and after he and another shook the sand from it, they folded it up carefully. Julio and the newest addition to her appropriated "staff" eagerly presented her with the bowl of peeled grapes, which she happily took, along with the blanket which was draped over her other arm. Someone else had already collapsed the beach umbrella and now they handed her that too.

Seeming satisfied, she fished a 6th hex bag out of her clutch-purse and muttered an incantation. Everyone who'd been under her spell all started yawning before apparently deciding it was a great time for a nap and began laying down wherever they stood. Once everyone was down and out she dropped the hex bag and said a few more words in Latin and that one, along with the five others arrayed out around her burst into flames. She then sauntered away, heading for a gap in the fencing through which she'd entered the golf course in the first place.

Waiting just on the other side was a little yellow Prius with the hatch already popped open. After depositing the blanket and umbrella inside, she closed it and went around to the passenger side, climbing in. Extending the crystal bowl of peeled grapes to the other red-head, she removed her sunglasses and quirked an eyebrow, smiling mischievously. "Well, that went well."

Charlie giggled and happily plunked one of the grapes into her mouth before hitting the gas. "Definitely! I was able to hack into ALL of that douche-bag's tech he had with him. His phone, his tablet, his laptop. You would not BELIEVE the things he's kept on that, by the way."

Rowena sighed happily and enjoyed one of the grapes herself, leaning her head back as her co-conspirator rattled on.

"I got his passwords for his porn subscriptions, especially the VERY illegal ones, texts between him and his mistress, his account info for the rather expensive escort business he patronizes regularly, not to mention all the e-mails talking about the bribes for this, that, and the other-" Rowena made a shushing gesture as she finished chewing a grape.

"Yes, yes, I get the picture. Lots o' dirt on the filthy blighter... though, I will say he gives a good foot massage, but now what are ye goin' to do with it?"

Charlie grinned as she reached over, taking another grape herself. "Already done. While I was still connected to their server, I uploaded it to several news outlets as well as a bunch of online forums. That way if they try to trace any of it, it'll just lead back to the golf course. Which, by the way, is owned by our supreme ruler-in-chief."

Rowena just smiled as Charlie got them onto the freeway, heading for the open road. "So..." Charlie hedged a little, "Your distraction sure seemed to work. No one even noticed what I was up to. But, everyone's okay, right?"

Rowena rolled her eyes a little but nodded. "Don't be worryin' about that. None of em'll remember a thing, and no one got hurt. They're all takin a nice nap, and should be wakin up..." she took a moment to consult the gold, locket-like pendant watch hanging around her neck, "eh, in about five more minutes."

Charlie smiled with relief. "Good! Cause, they're all just-"

"Doin' their jobs." Rowena finished for her, chuckling a little herself. "I know, I know. Trust me, Samuel already gave me "the talk" before you an I left."

Charlie nodded emphatically. "So... what's next on our itinerary?"

"Ah, I don't know." Despite the attempted bored look she was affecting, mischief glinted from the witch's green eyes. "There's a certain Orange Baboon that could stand to be taken down a peg or two from what I hear."

Charlie grinned. "Oooo... Secret Service. You're actually gonna make me flex my muscles on this one."

"Practice makes perfect m'dear." Rowena sing-songed. "I have my witchery an' ye have yours. An clever witches can make strange magic happen in the world."

Charlie titled her head a bit, a contemplative look on her face. "Does this make me a technomancer?"

Since Rowena wasn't quite sure what that was, she just chuckled and popped an Enya CD into the player, and the ladies drove on towards the next destination on their extended adventure.

#Supernatural #SPN #SPN Fanfiction #GISH #GishWitch Challenge #Rowena #Charlie Bradbury #Road Trip #Picnic #Sandwich #I can't art so I wrote instead #First SPN fanfic!

[if-weshadows-haveoffended]

Felcities of Rapid Motion- Chekov x Reader

A/N: I’ve survived two 8am lectures and I’ve got another two to go. Also, archaeology is the bastard lovechild of Science and History, pass it on. I’m so sorry it took so long, anon, I got a little stuck but then I figured it out. Also, thanks to everyone for sending in prompts, they should all be finished very soon :) I’m still open for all sorts of things though :)))))))

This is just a little Jane Austen inspired, but like not really, I decided Regency AU was a terrible idea unless you wanna 60k fic it. Also feat Bond!Karl Urban (hehehehe). Also, I wanted to try something a little new with romance that isn’t as IN YOUR FACE is kinda just starting out and blossoming, hopefully it’s still good???

Title: Felicities of Rapid Motion Tags: Chekov x Reader, Blatant Archaeology, Bones’ southerness Ratings: T (I really should wash my mouth out with soap) Words:1,300+ Prompt: “You look... You like you should; eyes filled with stars and a smile that could make a goddess jealous.” Prompt List: here (x) Master List: here (x)

The Felicities of Rapid Motion

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Vulcan High Councillor and a Star Fleet Captain in possession of mutually beneficial intentions must be in want of a ball.

It was a rare occasion aboard the Enterprise, and rarer still back in the Academy. But the thought of a Ball wile drifting in the endless stars and galaxies of the universe was enough for every crewmate aboard the scientific vessel to fucking wet themselves.

“And you, missy? You got a date?” You rolled your eyes at Bones and returned your eyes to the fragments of stone you had been gently scraping away at. Perhaps if you were lucky, there would be traces of the ancient civilisation’s DNA left in it, before it was severely affected by the meteor impact.

“I don’t know, Bones. I mean, I’m so close to figuring out this little detail. You know, it could completely re-write Xenoarchaeology’s interpretation of the fall of-“

“Okay Ensign Y/L/N, we get it, you’re gonna conquer the universe with your historical mumbo-jumbo.” Bones gently rolled his eyes before leaning on the bench, a little concerned. “But you gotta have a break, kiddo, can’t have you fallin’ asleep in the labs and on equipment.”

“No, I mean I can’t even find a date!” You laughed a little, though really not minding the fact. Or at least you thought you didn’t… never mind. “And besides, as if I have a ballgown or something to wear.”

“Well unfortunately for you, I’m a doctor not a fairy godmother.” Bones twirled a stirring rod that you had left beside a couple of beakers and test tubes. “Well, about dates, you can’t ask the people you have lunch with, can you?”

“Well, I tried setting up Montez with Fonteyn and that absolutely failed because Montez it turned out just wanted to get into my pants,” You began ticking off people in your little dining hall group. “And, well, It just doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would-“

“What about Russian Whiz kid?” Bones tried with a raised brow.

“God no, I turned him down because I thought it was a joke. Turns out it was a real date.” You shuddered a little at the memory. There was no way that Ensign Chekov was serious, or so you had thought. You’d scoffed a little in the turbo lift, unable to believe what it was you were hearing. But it turned out he’d been in earnest.

And then the guilt began to eat at you, your heart sinking in complete and utter terror, unable to believe how callously you’d just turned Chekov down.

You thought for the briefest glimmer of a second that you’d seen the hurt pass before his hazel eyes. But in an instant they glimmered mischievously once again, a puppyish grin pulling at his mouth and his fingers raking through curls.

You’d fucked up. You’d done fucked up.

So you did whatever was humanely possible to avoid Chekov until the whole fiasco had blown over.

So pretty much until the galaxy collapsed in on itself.

Chekov realised that in retrospect, using the phrase “Did you know that the phrase cinePADD and chill was actually inwented in Russia?” to pick up a girl, was a terrible mistake. Especially if the intention to date said girl was rather serious.

But now, sweating in his rarely-worn tuxedo, he was genuinely worried. Ensign Y/L/N didn’t have a date as far as he knew (Bones told Uhura who told Sulu who told Kirk who told Spock who told quite literally the entirety of the Bridge), and while not everyone was required to have a date, he hadn’t seen her all night. Well, the night was still young.

Perhaps he just hadn’t seen her amidst rich silks and sumptuous velvets. Perhaps he’d just missed her, wearing a thin waft of chiffon and dissipating like autumn fog.

But as the gala drew on and the band played more songs, it became apparent to Pavel that she simply wasn’t there. She wasn’t mingling with remaining members of Vulcan council, trying glean pieces of history, or with Star Fleet officials, trying to find a post to some undiscovered planet.

“She’s not here,” Bones raised a ridiculously well-groomed brow, taking a sip of whiskey. It was rather difficult for Pavel to get a word in with the doctor as he had been besieged with various members of the crew, attempting to get laid, preferably with Bones still in the suit. “Decided to stay behind in the labs,”

“Oh,”

“Don’t worry Chekov, you had nothing to do with it,” Bones clapped him hard enough on his shoulder blade for his grimace to give way to a slight wince of pain.

“Do you zink she’s lonely down zere?” Pavel hazarded a question, sure that Bones probably wouldn’t cuff him behind the head. The gentle implications of his statement said that it was definitely his fault that she was spending her time alone. Probably enjoying her time alone as it meant a certain escape from him or anyone else.

“Probably not, son, she’s got millennia-old bits of dead bastards.” Bones replied before swiftly walking away at the sight of an engineering lieutenant who seemed to have her feelers wrapped tightly around Bones whenever in the vicinity.

It seemed rather rude, Pavel finally decided; to simply leave her alone without at least saying sorry. Perhaps she had just panicked? Or perhaps she really did not like him, either way it warranted a proper apology. And someone had to be concerned for her wellbeing.

It soon dawned upon him, after several minutes she was not in any of the labs. He couldn’t spy her studious form in any of the reflective, sanitised surfaces- the sharp, alcoholic smell assaulting his nose.

Eventually he found himself wandering to the emptied mess hall, hoping that perhaps she was helping herself to a serving of synthesised ice-cream.

And there she was, sitting cross-legged upon the floor, still dressed in her uniform and her hair in it’s usual carefree style. She stared out quietly, head resting in her hands, seemingly unaware of the distant noises around her as her eyes glittered with the colourful glow of the nebula.

“Y/N?” Pavel hesitated a little as he slowly drew nearer and nearer, locked in her gravitational pull and unable to leave- not that he would want to. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. I never really liked galas that much anyway.” She shrugged slightly before turning to face him, her cheeks dampened with slight tears. “I’m- I’m sorry about the whole… shitfest,”

“Eets’s alright, I vas terrible,” He laughed, deciding that it would be for the best to join her on the cold floor tucking his legs and wrapping his arms around them. “What?”

“The tuxedo suits you,” She smiled, reaching out to tap the bow-tie Sulu had painstakingly knotted for him as he fidgeted, Kirk adjusting Chekov’s insignia cufflinks. “Did everyone look lovely?”

“Qvite,” He nodded enthusiastically in memory of what could only be described as a blur of fabric and spilled drinks. “Bones vas running avay from everyone, Uhura vas dancing, Kirk vas singing. You’d look lovely with them,” he added as an after-thought.

“Me? No, no…” She protested quietly, turning her head away from his gaze and facing the nebula once again, the now golden glow casting swirling patterns of light, dancing upon her beautiful face. “I look terrible-“

“No. You look… you look as you should,” Chekov refuted in all earnest before softening, realising how much he was telling the truth. She did look at home, at peace with the uniform, wearing it with pride. “Mesmerising, vith eyes filled vith stars and a smile zat could make a goddess jealous.”

“That was… poetic.” She admitted, shaking her head but her dazzling smile gracing her face, wiping away the now drying tears. “Was it true?”

“Of course,” He answered. “Are you lonely? Vould you rather be at ze party?”

“No, no. I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

She was right, Chekov thought. He was incandescently happy by her side, simply sitting back and watching the nebula, the gala drowned out in the stillness and her presence.

#chekov x reader #pavel chekov x reader #pavel chekov x reader headcanon #pacel chekov headcanon #pavel chekov x reader prompt #star trek reboot #star trek x reader #star trek fic