#the impulse to just leave that server without saying a word and not reply to anyone for few days is strong

[voidcat]

God its kinda stupid that one message threw my mood off as if I wasnt in a bad enough headspace already

#danyl rants #this is why I wouldnt associate w Turkish men UGH #the impulse to just leave that server without saying a word and not reply to anyone for few days is strong #like bro there isn’t even anythung florty abt that last message either and I talk w friends in dirtier ways #idk man ig im like this bc a) sure attention is nice abd I’m I’ll b losing thag and b) it was states kn clear terms between us before that #we both were doing that without meaning anything so why the I comfort now #if anything I should be ghe uncomfy one and I HAVEBEEB FEW GIMES I just waited for it to pass orbit say anythung bc it was stated mutual it #serious. and idk I didnt want to say hey can we Soto snd have it come off as ‘ugh they think I took it serious or smt #IDK IM TIRED #also I jist hate it in general when ppl suddenly switch the way they interact w others when they start dating someone #like ok bro #u have been talking all types of flirty w me and legit used the terms my cat and my girl NOT EVEN A WEEK AGO #KNOWING FULL WELL IM IN A RELATIONSHIP but k

[wonitten]

DETECTIVE TROUBLEMAKER (YJ)

Part 2. Part 1 ; Part 3

synopsis: In a desperate attempt to salvage her career, a klutzy detective plans to kidnap a corrupt minister as part of her final assignment. However, her plans go hilariously awry when she mistakenly kidnaps a charming mafia boss instead. But perhaps there was more to it.

pairings: Mafia boss! Jungwon x detective! reader ft. Boss! Heeseung, assistant! Sunghoon

genre: Comedy, romance(but like one sided and they both are delusional), crime, Dramedy

warnings: gunshots, koala slander and the real truth about them, brace yourself

wc: 1.1k

It was a bustling evening, and despite the fatigue creeping into your legs, you stood patiently in line at the downtown café. The reason? Well, it's pretty simple.

You had kidnapped someone—let's say a mafia boss—wrongly, and now you found yourself in a rather awkward situation. Attempting to make amends, you offered to treat him to his favorite meal. But just as he was about to name an upscale restaurant that your broke self definitely wouldn't survive, you impulsively interjected with, "I know a place!".

The place turned out to be your average-public-cafe-very-long-line-busy, in short—help me, I think he is going to strangle me.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed your victim staring at you, his left eye twitching, before his gaze shifted to the long line. Was this going well? No—yes, think positively. At least it was the most productive day of your month, as a detective.

It reminds you how you briefly considered informing your boss about your impromptu meeting with Jungwon, but dismissed the idea. Jungwon seemed capable of eliminating you before your boss could intervene. Yes, he was short, but he exuded the kind of gremlin energy that could erupt at any moment.

Finally reaching the counter, you joyfully placed your order.

"Eating here or...?" the server asked, drawing out the question. Well, you wasted a lot of his time so it's probably the other option.

"Pack it up," you replied.

Carrying the packed strawberry cake and coffee, you approached Jungwon, placing the items in front of him. He looked puzzled, which you obviously didn't notice. "I figured you wouldn't want to spend any more time with me, so I had them pack it up. I can go now, right?" you said, forcing a smile.

"I knew you were dense, but I didn't know you were that dense," Jungwon remarked with a sigh.

Your frown deepened at his words. "Excuse me? What do you mean by dense?" you asked defensively before scoffing and rolling your eyes. "...you know what? I gave you what you wanted, so I believe I am perfectly allowed to go."

"Wait, that's not what I—"

Exiting the café onto the secluded street, the chaos of the city faded into a distant hum. Jungwon's words lingered, leaving you bothered.

I know you are dense

"So what"

But I didn't know you were that dense

"Say that to your mom", you scoffed.

Though your thoughts were momentarily cut short as you felt a tight grip on your wrist, sending a jolt of fear coursing through your veins. The person pulled you closer, as loud gunshots rang out, filling the air with chaos. It took a moment for you to register the familiar scent of Jungwon's body shielding you from harm, and the bullet that was aimed at you.

"You...?", you whisper, looking up at him in a shock.

Jungwon held a gun, aiming towards the perpetrator who had shot at you, though you had dodged it thanks to him. You realized you had narrowly escaped death without even realizing it. A sigh of relief escaped you as you looked at the unknown assailant in the distance, now long gone.

"Are you okay?" Jungwon asked, looking down at you with genuine concern. Maybe you were wrong; maybe Jungwon was tall after all. "Hey, Koala, I asked you something. Are you okay?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks burning as your eyes made a contact with his glistening neck. You gulped looking away, avoiding his gaze.

See Heeseung, it is this easy to make my heart flutter. What is stopping you!?

"Wait, why did you call me Koala, and why did you save me? I could have died, but it's not like it matters to you," you muttered, looking up at him, only to see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Well, that was my enemy aiming at you, and why I saved you...," he leaned closer, almost too close for comfort. "Is also the reason why I called you a Koala."

"Tch... what kind of answer is that? And why would your enemy aim at me?"

"He probably thought we were on a date," Jungwon replied casually.

Your face contorted into a mixture of disgust and panic as you immediately backed away. No, you were loyal to Heeseung and still needed to score a date with him. "Thank you, Mr. Yang, but I think this meet has to be cut short. Umm... I will go now."

"I could take you home?" Jungwon offered.

"No! Nope! Thanks. Nope," you shook your head, backing away. "I will go now. My house is nearby, anyway."

Watching you retreat with a mixture of confusion and frustration, Jungwon couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at your reaction. "Why is she acting like I'm a plague?" he muttered to himself, his usually composed demeanor faltering for a moment.

He shook his head, and grabbed his phone to dial his assistant, making arrangements to leave. "Come to take me now, Sunghoon."

"Okay! I will come right up—"

"Sunghoon...?", Jungwon couldn't help but let his irritation seep into his voice as he interrupted his assistant.

"Yes boss?"

"My friend has a girl, and he proposed a date indirectly to her, but like she didn't get it," Jungwon mutters, thinking about the scenario. "But when he asked indirectly again if they were on a date, she looked at him in disgust, panicked kind of way, which is weird because why would anyone not go on a date with him? He is literally a whole package."

"Either he is stupid, she is stupid or the girl has someone she likes? Can I get the name of the girl you like so I can research about her?", Sunghoon says.

"Yeah her name is....", Jungwon paused, as his assistant's words sinks in his mind. "Wait. It's not me!".

"Whatever you say boss"

Meanwhile, minutes after returning home, you couldn't shake the events of the day from your mind. Searching for distractions online, you stumbled upon an article about koalas and Jungwon's nickname for you. "I mean, why would he call me a koala? I only want to know that."

Frustration bubbled up inside you as you clicked on the link.

Reasons why Koalas are the dumbest animal on earth — by Ian O' Grady

You might think koalas are cute, but sometimes the cutest things have the dumbest minds. Koalas don’t have the capacity to understand rain, so they sit there getting wet without understanding why. They don’t even bother to try to cover themselves.

Koalas insist on eating nothing but a mildly toxic plant that gives them no energy, which is why they have to spend 18–22 hours sleeping because they literally wreck themselves with their diet. They might as well eat dirt, which they do.

"Did he just call me dumb and to eat dirt? Screw you, Yang Jungwon! You're dead the next time I see you!", you yelled loudly inside your room, throwing your pillow onto the wall.

Anger flared within you, though you kind of failed to comprehend the first sentence. Hah... it's going to take time.

Series Tag list: @drunkhee @booooooooooooooooooooooos @suhiiiiiii @mrsyangsikmoa @nyfwyeonjun

Author's note: See that passionate kdrama look on the koala? It's probably thinking what the fuck is happening to him, not realising that it's just raining, and the little boy is at risk of having fever or diseases. But no— they are still stuck at "what the fuck is this".

#enhypen #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #jungwon #jungwon enhypen #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon #enhypen soft hours #sunghoon #yang jungwon #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung

[quaranmine]

How to Be a Human Being (Chapter Eleven; FINAL)

It's time to go home.

Masterpost | Chapter Ten

Words: 6501

First of all, thank you SO much for reading. But not just that, thank you to everyone who followed along and endured my word count posts for over two months as well. I feel exceptionally proud to have finished this project, and I'm really grateful for the positive feedback I've received. There is more details in the AO3 end notes, but I also wanted to add in this note that there will be a sequel to this fanfic, although I can't say when it will come out. Thank you, everyone <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Grian gave them a short explanation anyway. Not of the trauma or the bad things about the Watchers or his history with them just . . . what they were. Mumbo stared at him with a look that said you don’t have to do this, you know that right? and Grian was grateful, but he just needed them to know something. Because of what he was going to do next. 

They’d all discarded their helmets at this point. No point in wearing them in the room. Pearl worked quietly with Impulse’s the whole time, looking for that pesky leak in the event that they might need to wear the helmets again. Or maybe she just wanted something to do with her hands to distract her. With her brow furrowed and tongue stuck partially out, one might make this mistake of thinking she wasn’t listening, but Grian knew better. She simply knew this story already. 

“Can you get us out?” Impulse asked.

Grian looked up, and met eyes with Mumbo. “I think so,” he said. “I have a plan, but I’ve never done it with more than one person.”

“What is it?” Scar asked, and Grian knew he wouldn’t have to worry about Scar’s faith wavering in him at all. Scar, who didn’t know a thing about the Watchers but thought Grian was now officially the coolest person he’d ever seen–Grian was sure this idea of his coolness would vanish the moment he made another stupid joke or pranked Scar again, but for now it just made him feel warm. 

“Watchers can walk between worlds,” he started. 

“That’s where we are, yeah?” Pearl asked, not looking up from her work. “You said the void was between worlds.”

“It is, yeah,” said Grian. “In fact, many Watchers utilize the void a lot. Some even live out here, but I don’t really know how they do that, ‘cause it always just seems to want to kill me.”

“You know,” Mumbo said with amusement, “whenever you tell me about the Watchers, it’s always about how you don’t know how to do something the others could.”

Grian huffed and crossed his arms. “Watchers train for, like, forever. I didn’t have time for that, obviously. I ran away before I got a chance to figure all of that stuff out!”

“You were in training,” Scar said. “Oh my god, you were their intern! Hey, can you do that glowy thing with your hands and Watcher-me-up some coffee?”

“I saved you from this void, and I can put you back in it, Scar.” Grian fixed him with a glare. “I was not their intern, they let me do things by myself. I know how to use all my powers. I just wasn’t practiced enough to do all the super complicated things.”

“So you were an entry-level employee,” Impulse said. 

“. . . Sure. Yeah, whatever. If Watcher society was an office I guess.”

“We were discussing ways to leave this place?” Pearl prompted. 

“Right,” Grian said. “Watchers can server hop without admin approval by walking between worlds. It uh . . . helps them watch all the places they need to. So maybe I could . . . server hop with all of us into a new world.”

“Would it work?” Scar asked. 

“I don’t know,” replied Grian. “I’ve only used it on myself. It’s how Watchers move from server to server. It’s how I found Hermitcraft, actually, but that’s a story for another day. I, uh–taught Mumbo how, recently, but he also used it on just himself. I don’t know if it’s even possible to open a path for more than one person. If it is, I don’t know if it’s possible for someone who isn’t a Watcher to traverse that path.” He gave Mumbo a look. “I need your help on this.”

“Oh! Right, erm . . .” Mumbo said. “Just like with MCC, yeah? That went well, I guess, I wouldn't call myself an expert at it by any means, but I only had one major mishap on the way, and well I am actually a little scared of it, but . . .”

“Mumbo,” Grian said, cutting him off. “We don’t have a choice. We have to try or else we’ll just die out here in the void. We need a new world. And we share a power, so I need you to try for me.” 

We have to try, because we can’t stay here. We could run out of air in this stupid bedrock box if whatever’s filling it stops. The void could prove to be infinite, and we could be falling forever. I could get too tired and my grip on this sanctuary could slip, because that’s happened before and you were hurt then, Mumbo, and I can’t let that happen again. 

Mumbo nodded. His eyes were wide but his jaw was set in determination. 

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Impulse said. He glanced at the rest of them, with a nervous smile. “Call me petty, but I almost died here once and I don’t plan on dying here again.”

“Do we agree?” asked Grian, looking around at his friends. “Are we trying this? I can’t guarantee your safety. But it’s a chance.”

One by one, the rest of Boatem nodded. 

“Well,” he said, “Let’s go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Server-hopping, especially to an unknown or random location, took a great deal more creativity than one may assume. You were opening a doorway between worlds, but if an admin’s portal was the grand front doors on a mansion, a Watcher’s portal was the disused staff entrance in the back that led to a maze of rooms and hallways. Dusty, confusing, and with the perpetual chance that the door might be rusted shut and you’d have to climb in a window or something. 

Just like all navigation, it was easiest if you had a map or an address. Mumbo had been able to find MCC quite easily since Grian had provided the address; Grian, when assigned places by the Watchers, had also normally known where his destination was. But nobody back on Hermitcraft had agreed upon a meeting place before they all scattered to the winds fleeing the moon. So now? They were striking off into the unknown. 

Grian had done that once before–when he’d run from the Watchers, he had been too panicked to put any care into his routes. He knew his destination: Evo. Home. And when he arrived and found it empty, he disappeared back into those pathways between worlds and opened doors at random. He didn’t have anywhere else left to go back to. He didn’t care where he went either, just so long as it was away from the Watchers. 

 It’d been sheer luck that he found a place as good as Hermitcraft, that he’d found the server Mumbo was from, that he’d found a place that let him stay. 

He hoped they’d get so lucky this time around too. 

Grian quietly briefed Mumbo on their plans while the others gathered their things. It wasn’t like they had much to gather, though–they planned on leaving the helmets behind because they were too clunky to carry and wouldn’t save their lives anyway. It was mostly an exercise in self preparation, but pretending to make sure everyone had their supplies made it feel more important and less personal. 

As for Mumbo, he’d been given an important task: keep the pathway stable. “Are you sure I can do that?” he asked. “That seems, well, rather important.”

“I have to be able to focus energy into connecting our pathway to a new world, and choosing the world. You have half my powers–you’re not experienced in it, sure, but you have the innate ability.”

Mumbo sighed. “You know, I can’t help but think we got the short end of the stick with this whole sharing thing. Why couldn’t the stupid soul stealing thing have just duplicated the souls instead of making us share one? Then we’d have double the power. It’s a bit pants, innit?”

“Mumbo,” Grian said, “the only thing scarier than you casually walking around with Watcher powers would be you walking around with double the amount of Watcher powers.”

“Yeah, but I’d be able to make a pretty sweet pathway with it all, wouldn’t I?”

“Just keep it from collapsing, please.”

He took a deep breath and tried to steady his heart, which beat a little too rapidly and loudly inside his ears. He wanted to say he was confident in his abilities, that he was well practiced and knew that he wasn’t just leading his friends off into potential death. But these powers, despite belonging to him, had never truly felt like they were his, and he questioned the control he had over them. 

Too human to be a Watcher. Too Watcher to be a human. 

“Hey,” Scar said, as they all gathered by the entrance. “So maybe I should have mentioned this earlier, since carrying five people through the void is apparently a pretty big deal, but uh . . . there’s six of us? I hope you can accommodate that.”

“What.” Pearl’s voice was deadpan. 

From somewhere, as if summoned by Scar’s voice, a cat meowed. Scar unzipped the top part of his suit, revealing two little grey striped triangle ears, and a round oval face that swiveled around to look at them with slightly bored and judgemental green eyes. 

“You brought JELLIE?” Impulse exclaimed. “Has she been in there this whole time? Where on earth were you even keeping her?”

“Oh, she was sleeping against my chest,” Scar said. “I made my suit so it had a little spot for her. She normally wouldn’t like being trapped like that–she’s a bit of a free spirit, you know–but she was more than willing to stay put in order to evacuate. Animals are great at sensing when something is wrong, I’ve heard.”

“Scar,” Impulse said, “the moon took up half the sky. Everyone knew something was wrong, not just your cat.”

Grian just stared, speechless. Scar and that cat, always. Even when left behind on another world, she somehow always found her way back to Scar each and every time. Nobody really understood how, except that Jellie was possibly more than just a cat, and Scar was her person, and she’d cross different worlds to find her way back to him. It was really quite sweet. 

Grian’s incredulousness gradually morphed into absurdity, and then into hilarity. Scar gave him a concerned look, and Jellie somehow matched the exact same look in a grumpier way, and it was like a dam in Grian broke and let out a rush of emotion that swept him off his feet. He started hysterically laughing. 

“Are you alright there, G?” Pearl asked. 

He wiped tears from his eyes. “It’s just- the cat, and Scar, and . . .” He couldn’t finish his sentence before another fit of laughter overtook him. It was just so Scar. And it was all of them, and it was the danger they were in, and it was how they were standing in a circle where Grian could reach out and touch any one of them right now if he needed to, and it was how they could all lose each other forever in the next few minutes, and it was about how preposterous it sounded that the moon fell out of the sky and they fell into the void and now Scar’s brought his cat along for the ride. 

Mumbo started laughing too. Did he feel it too, because Grian was feeling it? The worry? The nerves? The love? 

“Scar’s been carrying a cat in a swaddle like a baby for, like, a few hours now,” Mumbo snickered. 

“Jellie is definitely smarter than some baby,” Scar pouted. “I just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t cause problems for our void-walking thing!”

Grian took a deep breath and steadied himself. “It’ll be fine, Scar. If a cat was going to cause us to fail we’d probably have failed anyway.” He gave Jellie a serious look. She yawned. “You better behave, though. No distractions.”

“Jellie is an angel,” Scar said, with the air of a man who was lying through his teeth about a lifetime of knocked over vases and scratched up curtains and mysteriously missing pesky birds, “she will be perfect.”

Grian threw his hands up. “Alright, alright. Does anyone else have any other random pets hiding in their clothing?”

Pearl raised her hand.

“Pearl???” Impulse cried. 

She lowered it and started giggling. “No, no, I’m just joking,” she said. “I don’t have anything. I’m ready.” She winked at Grian. “You know I could have been hiding something though, don’t lie.”

“So then . . . are we ready?” Mumbo asked. He was quiet, standing next to Grian, wearing an expression of concentration on his face normally only reserved for particularly difficult redstone builds. 

“I think we are,” Pearl said. 

Summoning the path was predictably hard, splitting his attention between holding the room they were presently in, and making the portal. He found himself pushing most of the weight of the bedrock room off onto Mumbo, who took the burden gladly. 

A door swung open in the corner, made of dark oak. 

Pathways could resemble whatever you wanted–a void, a tunnel, a rift. A standard purple portal was the most basic default option. But Grian was trying to take them all home, and thus the door beckoned. 

“That’s our exit,” he said, before sizing the rest of them up. “I will go in first, and make sure it’s stable, and then I’ll lead the way. Pearl, Scar, Impulse–please follow. Mumbo, I need you to follow behind. It’s very important. You need to keep the room in place until we’re all out.” Mumbo nodded, eyes solemn. 

Grian stepped through the door, testing the waters. In these back alleys between worlds, the path wasn’t totally clear. His boots met ground that he couldn’t see, sinking a bit like mud. He recalled the void rooms that he had so much fun making back in season six. The pathway was a bit like those, but instead of blank white walls there was just endless blackness. Unlike the void, however, which was populated with a myriad of twinkling little purple and teal lights, this place held nothing. Just total darkness. 

“It’s safe,” he said. “Follow me in.”

The other trailed quietly behind him, eyes serious and footsteps careful. Grian didn’t say anything, but he was happy to see that they all seemed to be able to breathe in here just fine. Mumbo stepped in last, closing the door behind them with a decisive click. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the soft purple glow from Mumbo and Grian that was their only illumination. 

“I’m letting the void room go,” said Mumbo. “We don’t need it anymore.” Instantly, Grian felt the difference in their shared burden. Mumbo picked up the slack on the pathway immediately after. He was getting good at following Grian’s cues; this power, unlike the flying or watching, was incredibly mental and required a lot of strength. The soul connection was helping them, allowing Mumbo to copy Grian’s actions as they went. 

“Where did the void room go?” Impulse said.

“It never really existed in the first place,” Grian replied. “It wasn’t made of real objects. Just the thought of them.” He took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s go. No need to waste our time here. Follow me exactly.”

They walked from some time, Grian occasionally turning or guiding their paths gently. He didn’t really know how he knew where to go, but there were places he instinctively knew to avoid, where they needed to turn or else risk stepping off the edge into the abyss. 

“There’s a door up there,” Scar said. “Is that where we’re going?”

“No,” Grian said. 

“Why not?”

“There’s many worlds to pick from. 2^64, actually, which is like 18 quintillion. We shouldn’t go to all of them, though we might stumble across their doors. Some might be corrupted like ours was, or stuck in the past on an unstable version of reality. Some might be occupied, and if our arrival doesn’t cause any instability in the server, we might not be welcome anyway. Some worlds might be hostile. We’d do best to choose one that’s empty.”

Scar eyed the door as they passed it. Its paint, once a deep blue with gold accents, was now chipped. Its hinges were rusty, but it seemed well used. “And is this one . . . hostile?” he asked. 

“I just don’t think we belong in there,” Grian said darkly. “Let’s keep going.”

They kept moving, past more doors and openings to servers. None of them satisfied Grian. He moved quickly–they couldn’t afford to be in here longer than necessary, especially as with each step he could feel exhaustion weighing down on him more and more–but he also moved carefully. What’s that saying? “Measure twice, cut once”? They didn’t have room for error if Grian chose badly.

He thought about the last time he’d used these passageways when running from the Watchers. He hadn’t moved so carefully or so purposefully. He’d been a total wreck, paranoid that around every turn he’d get caught. He chose the server he planned to flee to recklessly.

He might never have met some of the people behind him, if that didn’t happen. Oh, Pearl and Mumbo he had known, but Scar? Impulse? He thought about Hermitcraft and his heart twisted. They’d escaped with their own, Boatem, but when they split up they left so many others behind.

They weren’t any less his friends than Boatem was. He missed them fiercely, and the feeling settled in the back of his throat, nearly choking him. He just hoped that from a stable server, they could begin the process of trying to contact everyone else again. 

He first became aware of trouble as they rounded a corner and he felt a slipping feeling in his mind. Though he kept his footing on the physical plane, it felt like wearing socks on a polished floor, just a moment of instability before Grian pulled them back up with no small amount of exertion. 

“Mumbo,” he said. “How are you doing?”

He was tired. And if he knew he was, he knew Mumbo was.

“I’m fine,” Mumbo said, at the exact moment his foot slipped and he fell flat on his face. 

Pearl rushed to help him up, asking if he was alright. “I’m fi-” he started to repeat, before cutting himself off. “My foot’s stuck,” he said, pulling at it. The floor, which had seemed featureless just a moment ago, was sticky, pulling onto Mumbo’s feet and holding them there. 

“Is it just me,” Impulse started, “or does it seem harder to walk now?”

“The tunnel,” Grian realized. “It’s becoming more unstable. We need to go fast.” It was too much. They had too many people in here, and Grian didn’t know if he and Mumbo were strong enough to hold them all safely. 

“I’m sorry,” Mumbo said, “I’m trying, I’m just tired, I feel like there’s this big weight on me. Like I’m pushing something back but the weight of it is crushing me.”

“Let me help you,” Pearl said, and with a momentous effort, yanked Mumbo by the arms until he became unstuck. “Lean on me.” She wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped him move on. 

The path felt more hazardous now. Some of the doors they passed seemed to flicker in and out, tenuously connected to their reality. This wasn’t a good sign. Grian needed to find them a place immediately. He could already feel the bone deep exhaustion wearing on him, how every step felt harder than the last. It felt like they’d been wandering this maze for hours, but it was likely only a few minutes. 

“Grian,” Mumbo murmured, “I don’t think I can keep going.”

Grian reached for the next door he saw, pulling it closer and firmly rooting it in reality. It was made of birch, smooth and new.  It was a blank world with no inhabitants. He couldn’t see what it looked like, or what its address was, but they’d officially run out of time to look. 

“Is this it?” Scar said.

“We have to get out of here,” Grian said. “This will do.” He opened it, persuading that reality to line up with theirs. Like stepping from a boat to a dock, they were temporarily tied in. 

The sky was, rather alarmingly, blue. Grian supposed he should be grateful for that, or perhaps even comforted, but after hours of adjusting to dim lighting and the endless blackness that surrounded him, it just felt garish and assaulting. 

“I need to stay here to keep the door open,” Grian said. “You all go. I’ll go last.”

The Boatem members all glanced at each other. This was just another step into the unknown, but they’d made many of those in the past day. This one signaled safety though.

Scar went first, stepping through with his head held high and an arm on his chest supporting Jellie. Impulse followed, and then Pearl. Then it was just him and Mumbo. 

“Are you ready?” he asked, and Mumbo nodded, arm slung around his shoulders. 

“Let’s go,” Mumbo said. 

Together, they stepped through into the brightness, and as soon as they stepped beyond the threshold of the door, they released their claim on the passageway between worlds. 

The next thing he remembers is falling and falling, tangled up with Mumbo, and then landing roughly in a path of gravel. It felt hot from the sun and he scrunched up his eyes at where it was poking him in the face. His feet were tangled in someone else’s and he could hear somebody talking, but they sounded far away. 

He breathed in deeply, smelling the sharp fresh scent of water and tree sap, and felt the harsh sun beating down on his back. He wasn’t in the void anywhere. He was on land. Stable land, unmoving below his body, and not at the risk of disintegrating underneath him. Exhaustion slammed into Grian like a sledgehammer and he nearly felt like he was falling again, precipitously. An adrenaline crash. He couldn’t focus on the voices speaking anymore. 

They were safe now. He could rest. 

He closed his eyes, and gave himself over to the exhaustion. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

When he awoke, the sun was lower in the sky and he was in the shade. Someone had built a canopy over his head out of plain planks. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking stock of himself. Someone had also taken him out of his crash test dummy suit, and his wings were back out again, resting. There was not, however, a bed. 

“I’m sorry,” Impulse said from somewhere behind him. “I couldn’t find any wool.”

Grian nodded silently. Honestly, the gravel hadn’t been half bad, except for the marks it left on his face. One doesn’t know how much they take solid ground for granted until it’s taken from you. Even sleeping on rocks felt like a luxury. 

“How long has it been?” Grian asked, voice scratchy. Impulse handed him a water bottle, which he took gratefully. 

“Just a few hours. Mumbo was asleep too, but he woke up about half an hour ago and went off to explore the woods. You two seemed pretty tired. Honestly, Scar was afraid you might be dead, but once we realized you were just asleep we decided to let you. We don’t have much of anything so far, we just collected some wood and necessities.”

Grian stretched out his wings, feeling the joints ache. Thinking he might be dead probably explained why he was out of his suit; they’d have wanted to make sure he wasn’t injured when he didn’t wake up. “Where are we?”

“Some new world,” Impulse said. “Whatever you and Mumbo did, it worked.”

Grian stood up, and wandered to the edge of the small little canopy. They were on the edge of a wide river with a stone and gravel bank. A birch forest surrounded them. But what really caught his eye were the mountains surrounding them, towering higher than he thought possible. 

“It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” Impulse said. “You sure picked a good one.”

“I picked it blindly,” he said. “We just needed to get out of there.”

Impulse put a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “You did good.” Withdrawing his hand, he went over to some furnaces a little further away and began fiddling with them. 

Grian sat on the edge of the riverbank for a while, watching how the water rippled at the edge of the stones. He felt like maybe he should be helping, or doing much of anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up to do so. So he just sat, and stared. 

He heard voices behind him after a bit. Must be Pearl, Scar, and Mumbo returning from wherever they had been off too. “Oh, Grian’s awake!” Scar called. 

The other dropped some things off haphazardly into a few chests that were lying around. It was mostly wood, saplings, and other odds and ends. Mumbo dropped a handful of apples in the corner for them. Pearl dropped a stack of logs. “I figured we could build a fire tonight,” she said. “Keep mobs away.”

“Griannnnnnn,” Scar whined, “Mumbo tried to kill me earlier!”

“Did not!” Mumbo defended. “That, my friend, was an accident.”

“You literally said it would be ‘so easy to push me off the edge’, and then you pushed me off the edge into a cave.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so pushable. Have you tried that, Scar? Not being so pushable?”

“I found a woodland mansion,” Pearl said, breaking in between Scar and Mumbo. “Not very far from here. I didn’t venture inside, though. But that could be the source of some early supplies if we ever want to make an effort to clear it.”

“Let’s at least get some weapons before we try that,” Impulse said. 

They began to get to work, preparing for the evening. They didn’t have shelter yet, but the little stone beach felt oddly protected. Someone handed Grian some coal and sticks, and he got to work crafting torches to be placed in the area to light it up. 

As the sun began to set, Pearl stirred the small campfire she had made for them. They’d eaten fish from the lake and grilled it over the fire and then huddled around the fire. It wasn’t that cold outside, but the fire was warm and satisfying and tangible in a way the void hadn’t been. 

They chatted, about how cute Jellie looked curled up on one of the crash test suits, or about the massive cave Scar had found semi-accidentally when Mumbo pushed him into a hole. Laced through the conversation was a feeling of unease. It didn’t take a genius to piece together what it was. Grian felt it. Everyone else felt it. Nobody said anything; they just redirected the conversation. 

Slowly, as they spoke, the moon rose over the valley, pretty white light reflecting on the river. It was full. Grian wished it was a new moon so he didn’t have to look at it.  

“It’s small,” Pearl said finally, quietly. 

“It feels too small,” Mumbo said. “Like, this doesn’t feel normal either. Obviously it was too big before, but now it’s just . . . small.”

“It looks fake,” Grian said. “Like a toy someone threw up into the sky and left there.”

“Moon’s a scam,” Scar said. “It’s not real. Who needs the moon? Not us.”

“Did you just decide that?” Mumbo asked. 

“Yep. Moon’s a scam.”

“What if it gets bigger again?” Impulse asked quietly. “I don’t trust it.”

“Then I’ll just . . . I’ll keep an eye on it,” Grian said. He could keep measuring it. 

“Well, you sure have enough of those,” Pearl said amusedly. 

“Yeah,” Scar said. “Speaking of, where’s all your . . . “ he trailed off, gesturing around his head. 

“I choose to look like this instead,” Grian said simply. 

“We don’t use the Watching powers all the time,” Mumbo said. “It’s like, an on/off switch? Grian told me that using certain powers will make us always look like that, but when we aren’t actively using it we have a degree of control for what we appear like.”

Grian’s mind flickered over the words Mumbo used. We. Us. 

He didn’t mind it. 

Scar nodded, looking satisfied. “That’s really cool.”

They all stared at the moon once more. The firelight flickered across their faces. They looked tired, Grian noted. They all looked tired. How long had they been awake? It was nighttime when they evacuated and now it’s nighttime again. Only Grian and Mumbo had slept at all, and it had been more of a crash than a restful night’s sleep. The night was pleasantly warm, with a light breeze that blew the crisp smell of the nearby forest to him. 

It seemed like a nice world, one that wasn’t trying to actively kill them. The ground hadn’t shaken once since they’d arrived. The moon was small like it was supposed to be. No blocks were floating randomly, and gravity had remained normal the entire time.Grian felt like his standards for a world these days were pretty low–you mean the ground isn’t tearing itself apart below his feet? Wow, just like paradise!

Its beauty was still breathtaking though, with the white-capped peaks and huge river. Grian was numb to it; the beauty seemed like a farce, and if he let his guard down for even just a moment it might all come tumbling down on them again. 

If it was such a nice world, why did he feel so bad? 

It was just too empty.

“We have to find the others,” Impulse said, staring into the fire and reading Grian’s mind. “We have to find a way to contact them all again. Do we have a meeting spot? Where do we go? Did they all get out?”

Nobody really wanted to answer that last question. Nobody wanted to think about the implications that maybe they lost anyone. That in splitting up, some of them hadn’t made it out. Not everyone had even been present during the last meeting they held on the server, but for the life of Grian he couldn’t remember who all was missing. He’d never got to say a proper goodbye. 

And if . . . Boatem were the only ones who made it out, what then?

There was a knot in his throat. He swallowed against it. 

“We’ll find them,” Grian said. “We can use this world as a meeting place if there isn’t another one.” I’ll open it to everyone who needs it. I’ll walk through worlds again if I need to. I’ll use my Watcher sight to find them if they’re lost. I’ll do anything.

“I’ll help save them if they need it,” Pearl said, “even if it kills me.”

The others murmured in agreement. 

“We need rest first,” Grian said. “We can start making a plan in the morning. But you are all exhausted.”

Impulse poked a stick he was holding into the fire, twisting it around aimlessly. His back was against the moon. “I don’t know if- I don’t know if I feel like sleeping,” he said. 

Grian heard the words he left unspoken. It just didn’t feel safe. 

“What if we took turns?” Pearl said. “Some of us could sleep and somebody could stay awake. We could rotate. It’ll be better anyway to make sure the mobs in the forest don’t try to wander into our area.”

He knew that if they couldn’t sleep, Pearl could guide them into it with her powers. 

Impulse nodded, a very small gesture. 

“I’ll go first,” Grian said. He just needed to. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a little cute how they’d all piled together to sleep. They didn’t have any beds yet, so they’d been forced to sleep on the ground under the built shade. Sleeping together provided warmth. But, Grian suspected, it provided an even more valuable commodity: closeness. A sort of hey-I’m-here-and-I’m-not-leaving. 

They were all each other had now. Grian was used to the busyness of a full Hermitcraft server, where at any given moment day or night, someone was likely to be awake and doing things. Peace and quiet did exist on the server, but not in any of the main areas. In this world, it was just the five of them, and the silence was deafening. 

Grian sat on a rock and watched the river rippled around the stones, trying to perfect the art of thinking just enough to stay awake, and not thinking just enough to guide his mind away from the heavy parts of the last few hours. 

It was working about as well as everything else had worked out for him these past two months. 

There was a rustling behind him, and Grian whirled around, sword in hand ready to fight whatever mobs may have moved into their camp. Instead, he came face to face with a very flustered looking Mumbo with his hands up. 

“Whoa,” Mumbo said. “It’s just me.”

Grian lowered the sword, and wordlessly patted the spot next to him on the rock for Mumbo to sit in. “You should be sleeping,” he said. 

“Couldn’t. Besides, you looked lonely.” Mumbo stared out at the water. They didn’t look at each other. “It’s too quiet, isn't it?” he said, echoing Grian’s thoughts. 

“Aside from Pearl snoring over there?” Grian said, forcing his strained voice to be lighthearted. “Yes. Very.” On another day Mumbo might have chuckled at that, but on another day Grian might have actually been able to deliver it in a way that actually found some humor in their situation. Tonight, they just sat and stared.

Mumbo put his head in his hands, doubled over. He sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. Nothing like this is ever supposed to happen. I, I mean we’ve all had strange things, or, or questionable things happen on the server, but it’s never– I mean, we never . . . Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Grian placed a hand on Mumbo’s back, feeling it shudder as he began to cry. 

He thought about Mumbo and the only home he’d ever really had, the only place he’d ever really been from. It wasn’t the server–they changed worlds so frequently–but the people on it who made it home. He thought about how Mumbo didn’t really have anyplace else. 

He thought about the day that he was told he wasn’t going to see any of the Evolutionists again. He thought about returning to the server to find them and finding it empty instead. He thought about how Pearl had told him what it was like to wake back up after the dragon fight, be given the information that he was gone, and have to find a way to keep moving. He thought about Jimmy’s face when he’d quietly said I think about it too.

He thought about the Hermits who welcomed him and made him one of their own. He thought about how happy he’d been with them, when he could set his disquieting thoughts aside and be someone else who hadn’t gone through what he had. He thought about how they’d welcomed Gem and Pearl the same way they welcomed him, and had an idea that their same story had played out over and over again with each new member of the server long before him. 

This wasn’t about him or Mumbo being Watchers or soulmates. This wasn’t about his identity as a human or a Watcher. This was his identity as a hermit. They were his community now–his family. And he was missing all but four of them. 

“You did good today,” Grian whispered to Mumbo, rubbing circles on his back. “I didn’t get a chance to say that but you did.”

“It was scary,” he said. “I don’t know how you . . .” he trailed off. “I don’t know how you did that. Ever.”

“We would’ve died if not for you,” Grian said. “Don’t sell yourself short. I need you.” 

Mumbo was silent, but he’d seemingly stopped crying and his breath had evened out. Grian fumbled through his pockets, trying to find an object he’d put in there earlier after they let the fire die down and tried to get some sleep. He pulled it out, and its stark whiteness nearly seemed to glow in the dark night. It was a piece of a fish bone, pointed on one end and clearly hastily whittled into a tool. 

“Where did you get that?” Mumbo asked.

“I made it earlier. It’s one of the preening tools.” He squinted at it in the dim light. “It’s not really perfect but it’ll do for now. Come on,” he said softly, “you’re a mess. Let me fix your feathers.”

Mumbo sat stock still as Grian positioned himself behind him, and gently began working on the feathers. He was tense, and Grian wondered if he didn’t really feel like being touched at all in that moment, but his tension began to melt as Grian straightened and cleaned his feathers. The light was almost too little to work by, but the full moon was bright, and Grian would not be complaining about it not being any bigger or any brighter. It didn’t seem to matter, though, because even a haphazard preening job in the middle of the night was something that Mumbo needed right now. 

“I’m sorry again,” Mumbo said into the night. “I know I–I keep apologizing but. I’m sorry. I didn’t think the soul thing would turn out like this. And I can’t help but feel like it was the beginning of the end.”

“You couldn’t have predicted the moon. You couldn’t have caused the moon,” Grian said. “I mean, your timing kind of sucked, but you didn’t cause the apocalypse by making a mistake. And besides, I already forgave you for that. I forgave you the night you knocked on my door.”

“Even after this? All of this?”

The side of Grian’s mouth turned up in a not-quite smile, the bittersweet kind. “I . . . guess I needed someone else to know,” he said. “Not that you really signed up for all of this, of course.”

Mumbo was quiet for a long moment, and there was just the scratching of Grian’s tool and the gentle lapping of the water. A gently smoldering fire and a pile of sleeping Boatem members. An owl hooting in the distance and the distant clank of a skeleton. The ground was stable beneath their feet. 

Mumbo spoke. “I don’t regret picking you.”

Grian smoothed one of the feathers out. It was black, soaking in the light like the void had before, but it was warmer in hue. It picked up the faint embers of the dying fire, and the cool light of the too-small moon. 

“I don’t regret it either,” he said. “I’m glad it was you.”

END.

<< Chapter Ten | Masterpost.

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #boatem crew #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #watcher grian #watcher mumbo #hermitcraft fanfiction #quara fanfic #CRIES. SOBS EVEN. THIS IS IT

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

i recollect ranboo’s pov of the technoblade execution event due to the hype around hog hunt (and because not many people, to my memory, discussed his pov during that day)

and holy fuck i love ranboo! this was the kickstart of much of his lore, and is also a big fucking reminder that ranboo has somehow survived for this long without getting any reprecussions which is interesting given the theme of retribution througout sad-ist’s hog hunt

(also did this because ranboo was the main pov i watched on the 16th of december, so uh)

- was Ranboo even in the script for the event because his involvement felt like it came off as unexpected to both the butcher army AND Technoblade

- upon further inspection, the butcher army was one of the few instances Ranboo significantly interacted with Quackity

- more hubbabaloo about Ranboo and rain and helmets happened here and in the 2nd festival, right?

- thinking about how Ranboo joined the butcher army out of peer pressure, some sense of justice, and a desire to be a respectable l’manburgian and eventual president of l’manburg--and how all those desires were put to question when he realized the army was out to kill Techno, and not arrest him as he had assumed

- Ranboo, on his first days in l’manburg, had a “DAYS SINCE LAST WARCRIMES” sign placed down, which then got replaced by the executional material; he even points this change out on the same stream and proceeds to make a monument out of the stage

- Fundy passing out brown to Phil either to mimick or mock his ghost dad, and Ranboo being the only one who knew that the brown was Fundy’s own shit

- Tubbo’s tired anger leaking out througout the day and Ranboo being his impulse control i.e. “Tubbo, you can’t just kill someone for saying ‘Sucks to be suck’” with that “someone” being Phil

- Quackity making Ranboo promise not to betray them only to betray them within the same day; this too is pointed out by Ranboo himself later in the same stream

- Ranboo, when fighting Technoblade, either showed fighting insight/deliberate distancing/a show of pacifistic intention by swapping the axe given to him by the butcher army with his own bow and arrows; throughout this fight, only he and Quackity didn’t suffer any player deaths, as he chosen to distance attack Techno while Quackity obviously went after Carl

- Ranboo immediately apologizing to Phil once the entire Butcher Army left, lamenting on his lack of power and influence in L’Manburg that he would’ve used to help Phil

- Ghostbur compared Ranboo to Hamilton the Musical’s Aaron Burr

- The weird dread a viewer feels when hearing about Logstead being blown up

- Ghostbur not being subtle about aiding enemies of the state Phil and Techno and Ranboo insisting he was lucky it was him and not anyone else who bore witness to that

- Sam manifesting out of nowhere to get his shovel from Ranboo and scaring Ghostbur in the process

- Ranboo and Ghostbur bonding over water aversion and memory loss

- Friend died right in front of Ranboo and Ghostbur during this stream; looking back from now, we all know Dream resurrected that blue sheep

- Ranboo really had the fucking gall to return to Technoblade’s place huh

- He also immediately returned Techno’s armor; Techno joked about having to replace the armor little by little for symbolism and Ranboo returning the armor back having ruined that plan

- Ranboo and Tommy getting closure via the pickaxe Ranboo had given Tommy during one of his visits during Exile

- Ranboo being the one person that recognizes Dream had been tampering with Ghostbur’s invitations, possibly had been the one to forge Ghostbur’s eviction notice, and messing around with Tommy and Ranboo’s correspondence

- Ranboo somehow choosing to remain at the commune for a while to Techno’s utter confusion, and how it escalated to Ranboo and Techno bonding by being in the same wavelength so much that Tommy jokingly felt left out

- “Don’t worry, I don’t kill!” “I DO!”

- Techno and Ranboo bonding over peer pressure

- “what is the worst word you know?”

- Ranboo’s favorite word being “friendship” and Techno calling him cringe for it

- Techno planting the first seeds of anarchy into Ranboo’s brain huh

- Ranboo leaving the commune and immediately realizing he had immediately committed treason after promising he wouldn’t do so; chat berrated him for it with “moral backbone of a chocolate eclair” jokes

- Ranboo deciding to make a fake memory book and marking the initial one as DO NOT READ for the first time

- [Page 6] [REDACTED], “huh i wonder what happened there?”

- Ranboo panicking on what to do about Techno’s armor being no longer with him

- Ranboo then just goes exploring on the server for about 3 hours

- Ranboo finds a woodland mansion and boasts to Sam who was at the server at the time in in-game chat, to which he insists that Techno may have found the mansion he had stumbled upon

- Techno logs in after having logged out from when Ranboo was at the commune and tells Ranboo via in-game chat that was harvesting for wither skulls, to which Ranboo asks “For decoration?” but Techno replies back vaguely and I kinda find this exchange important when this was around the same day Techno showed Tommy his wither vault

- Ranboo returns home with his new cat Enderchest

#dream smp #hog hunt #ranboo #butcher army #technoblade #tommyinnit #philza #ghostbur #tubbo #quackity #fundy

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Heyo, reporting back to request a continuation of a continuation of a continuation, if you wouldn't mind! Aka, please more 3rd Life Villainpulse angst, I'm so invested (and very curious as to whether his latest murder attempt was an actual success, or if he really should have stuck around to verify the death...)

i genuinely rly love this! i’ve got such plans for it now that i think i’ll make it into an actual proper fic.

i’ve also now posted it on AO3, titled Stand For Nothing! link here

…

Impulse is getting concerned. It’s been over five minutes and no death message in chat. It should’ve happened by now. He had been worried about being found near the scene of a death — it’d already been about five minutes since the meeting and someone would’ve gone to find Skizz, so his items would almost certainly be found — but now he’s starting to think he should have stuck around anyway and made sure the job was finished.

He had been intending to stay here at his villager trading centre until the death notification came up and then he would run back to Dogwarts and play the distressed best friend.

But no death message. So his plan has to change.

When he makes it back to Dogwarts, he finds Ren standing outside the Renchanting building, his face pale. When he spots Impulse, he quickly beckons him. “Impulse! For the love of god, where’ve you been?!”

Impulse blinks. With no death message in chat, what can Ren be so worked up about? “W-What? What’s happened…?”

“Skizzle’s been attacked! We heard an explosion outside our walls and when we went to check, we found him out there, passed out. He’s in a critical condition but Martyn’s with him now and hopefully he’ll recover.”

Impulse can only stare at Ren with an open mouth and a pit in his stomach. Somehow, in all the possible outcomes he pictured for this scenario, he never imagined Dogwarts would actually find Skizz alive. After three perfect murders, it seems he got careless.

“O-Oh my god,” he manages to choke out. “C-Can I see him?”

“Not yet, but Martyn will tell us when we can.”

Ren takes him down into the living area under Renchanting. There, Etho is pacing back and forth in front of a closed door, clearly deep in thought, but he glances up as Ren comes in. “Ren, you found him.”

Ren nods, even though it wasn’t really a question. “Any word?”

“Not yet. Martyn has three healing potions in there with him though, so I’d say Skizz’s chances are really good.”

Impulse has to strain to keep his expression steady at that. “G-Good. That’s good.”

Something changes almost imperceptibly in Etho’s expression, but Ren, clearly not noticing, rubs Impulse’s back reassuringly. “He’ll be okay, Impulse. Don’t worry.”

All Impulse can do is nod, not trusting himself to speak.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and Martyn appears, his body blocking the view inside the room. “He’s awake,” he reports, a very serious look on his face. “Ren.”

Ren quickly ducks into the room, but when Impulse starts to follow, Martyn blocks him. “Not you,” he says coldly. “Etho, stay with him, please.”

Impulse’s heart freezes. There’s only one reason Martyn would stop him from seeing his injured best friend.

Skizz has told him everything.

He takes a step back and bumps into something behind him, causing him to jump.

“What’s going on, Impulse?” asks Etho casually, an only-just-discernible undertone of danger in his voice. “You seem a little tense.”

“My best friend almost died,” Impulse replies coldly, but even he can tell his words are unconvincing.

“Indeed. I wonder how that happened?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, Etho. Why would you have any reason to suspect me?”

Etho just folds his arms and says nothing, infuriating Impulse. “You said I was the only person on this server you really trust!”

“That was before I joined these guys. I’ve had a weird feeling in my stomach about you for a while, Impulse. Something hasn’t felt right since this whole thing started, but I assumed it was just me trying to apply rationality to this irrational world. But one thing never changes, Impulse. No matter how much you try to change it.”

Impulse falls silent, scowling at the ground. He’s already given away too much in his tone and expression.

He glances sideways at Etho, who has his eyes fixed on the door Ren and Martyn went through. Realisation dawns on him: Etho isn’t expecting him to put up a fight. Etho thinks he has nowhere to go.

Now is the time, then. He can’t afford to wait any longer; when Ren and Martyn come back out here, it’s over. Impulse knows he can’t take on three people at once. This is his last chance to escape alive.

So when Etho shifts position a few seconds later, Impulse strikes. Before he can react, Impulse sweeps Etho’s legs out from under him and shoves him into the wall as he’s falling. Without waiting around to see the result of his attack, Impulse takes off running.

He makes it out of Renchanting and is just about to run down the hill towards the crastle when an arrow whizzes by him, nicking the sleeve of his t-shirt and causing him to lose his balance. Suppressing a scream, Impulse topples down the hill and lands in the shallow river at the bottom. He tries to continue onward but has to stop as he puts weight on his left foot and realises he must have twisted his ankle during his fall.

Gritting his teeth through the throbbing pain, he looks up in time to be able to dodge another arrow fired at him by the figure on top of Dogwarts’s wall.

He has to keep going.

Every step on his left foot is agony but he pushes himself on, half-galloping down the hill on the other side, the crastle in his sights.

“Bdubs!” he shrieks as he draws near, his heart racing. The Red Army is likely right behind him. “BDUBS!”

The person he’s calling rushes out of the castle over the drawbridge just in time to catch Impulse as he finally loses his balance and pitches forward.

“Impulse! You’re soaking wet!? What the-?!”

“Th- They’re coming for me,” he croaks. His eyes flicker up and he spots two faces in the windows on the second floor. It’s time for the performance of his life. “Dogwarts turned on me! They think I killed Tango and Cleo a-a-and made you kill Joel!”

“What?!” gasps Bdubs. “That’s ridiculous! Why would they think that?!”

“I-I don’t know but th- They’re gonna kill me, Bdubs…!”

“Not on my watch!”

Bdubs quickly ushers Impulse inside the crastle and into the waiting arms of Jimmy. Together, the two guide Impulse upstairs and lay him down in the bed Grian has placed in a position safely away from the slit windows.

“What happened, Impulse?” Bdubs asks softly. “How did they turn on you?”

Impulse takes a shaky breath. “Something happened to Skizz. He… He got attacked. Then he told everyone it was me and that I’d killed Tango and Cleo and manipulated you into killing Joel.”

“First of all, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Bdubs snaps. “I killed Joel because he was about to kill you. And second, why on earth would you want to kill Tango or Cleo?”

“I-I think you might’ve been right, Bdubs. I th-think Etho was responsible for Cleo’s death. And now he’s got Dogwarts trying to make me a scapegoat.”

Bdubs’s gaze darkens. “Despicable little-.”

“BDOUBLEO!”

“Stay there,” says Bdubs.

He strides to the window, flanked by Grian and Scott, armed with his crossbow. “What do you want, Ren?”

Down on the ground, having left Skizz in the care of BigB, stand Ren, Martyn, and Etho, staring up at the castle. The latter two hold bows, while Ren is armed with a sword and shield.

“We know Impulse is hiding out in there,” Ren announces, with the regal but dangerous air of a king. “Hand him over to us, Bdubs.”

“No way in hell,” Bdubs snaps back. “He told me everything!”

“We can guarantee you he did not,” responds Martyn steadily. “Not the truth, anyway. He’s using you, Bdubs.”

“YOU’re the ones using HIM! As a scapegoat!”

“Impulse isn’t the angel you think he is, Bdubs,” Etho says darkly. “You’re protecting the person who killed Cleo.”

“No, YOU killed Cleo,” snarls Bdubs. “And I bet you killed Tango too and tried to blame it on me! You’re just trying to frame anyone you can so you can get away with it!”

Despite the pain and stress he’s experiencing, Impulse can’t help feeling proud of himself. The seeds of doubt and suspicion he’s sown between Bdubs and Etho are paying off now.

“Bdubs.” Ren’s voice drops slightly as emotion creeps into his tone. “He attacked his best friend and left him to die. If we hadn’t found him in time, Skizz would have succumbed to his injuries alone and terrified in the middle of nowhere, murdered by his own best friend.”

“What exactly is Impulse’s motive supposed to be, here?” Scott asks suddenly. “You say he killed Tango and Cleo, orchestrated Joel’s death, and tried to murder Skizzle. Why exactly would he want to do that?”

“Skizz claims Impulse said it was because Tango “knew too much” about something,” Martyn says. “Some kind of secret that Impulse is keeping. And that Cleo’s and Joel’s deaths were “necessary to push the war forward”. That’s his motive, Scott. Impulse wants war, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get it.”

“We ARE talking about the same Impulse, right?” demands Bdubs. “Our Impulse? The sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly? Are we sure Skizz didn’t just misremember? He's a little unreliable like that. Maybe he said it was someone else who-.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martyn bursts out suddenly, his voice filled with the most venom anyone had ever heard it. “Don’t you DARE say that! You weren’t there, Bdubs! You didn’t have to fix his broken ribs and his fractured neck and his shattered arm! You weren’t there when he finally woke up after several minutes of crying out and panicked breathing like he was having a nightmare! You didn’t hear the way he cried, how terrified he was when he told me what happened, the raw agony in his voice! That’s not the demeanor of someone who MISREMEMBERED! Skizz has gone through hell today and it’s all Impulse’s fault! So I’m not leaving here without his head, in one form or another!”

“YEAH!” Ren yells in agreement, hitting his sword against his shield. “No more arguments. No more wasting time. If you don’t give us Impulse right NOW, we will declare war on you and take him by force.”

Inside the crastle, Impulse’s heart skips a beat. This is it: the moment of truth. Either everything he’s been working towards will finally come to fruition… or Bdubs will hand him over and he will die.

Bdubs straightens up, a steely look of determination appearing in his eyes.

“Then consider us at war.”

#3rdlifesmp #3rd life smp #impulsesv #bdubs #rendog #skizzleman #etho #vaunna’s requests

[starcrossedkaiju]

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Six

Finally. Onto the newer chapters. These’ll have a lot more character development and bonding. I wrote this about two days ago. So it’s hot off the presses.

I’m actually kinda proud of this one. Also I’m trying to make these shorter because I don’t wanna be writing a single chapter for three days straight anymore; it was burning me the hell out.

Tango readjusted his scarf, throwing the end of it behind him. It hit Scott in the face on the way down.

“Watch it,” Scott smacked the man in front of him on the shoulder.

“You’re annoying,” Tango replied from in front of him.

“Guys,” Impulse scolded.

They were approaching the end of the tree line, which would lead them right to the gates of Dogwarts. Scott had been looking at his feet for most of the journey, which is why he ran into Tango when he stopped suddenly.

Tango turned around and pushed him away, “Watch it,” he said with sarcasm.

The group chose to stop just inside the trees. Impulse drew a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it over Scott’s eyes. If he was the one making the plan he wouldn’t have himself as a kidnapping victim, it was a bit on the nose. Tango said it was just for looks.

Scott’s weapons were taken and stashed in Impulse’s Ender Chest, as well as his pager.

Scott sighed, “I still don’t understand why we can’t just get in there and…” he made a stabbing gesture to the air.

Impulse made a sarcastic attempt at looking shocked, “okay, first off, there’s six of them and three of us,” he pointed out.

“Second, that would be impulsive and stupid. They would all come back and hunt us for sport,” he said.

“Says you,” Scott said in the wrong direction, because he was blindfolded. Impulse rolled his eyes at the jape.

“Okay, you ready?” Tango put a hand on Scott’s shoulder. Eager to get a move on.

“As ever,” Scott replied. Then he was lifted off his feet by his accomplices, both of which were taller than him. A hand under each arm.

The trio left the trees and trudged up the mountain towards Dogwarts. Scott went over his life choices in his head while Tango and Impulse quietly argued over not dropping him.

Apparently someone was waiting for them, because Tango began exchanging words with a person standing in front of the gates. It was Etho, no doubt. They discussed the elephant in the room, Scott stuck to the plan and said nothing. Even when Etho asked him how it felt.

He did flip him the bird though.

When Scott was re-introduced to the ground he was on a set of wooden steps. Tango had gone inside, presumably to alert the boss of the situation. Impulse kept a firm grip on Scott’s forearm.

“You know what to do right?” Impulse asked.

Scott nodded. Hoping his acting skills weren’t too rough around the edges.

The door clicked open and a pair of hands dragged him into the main base, pushed him down in a chair, and pulled his blindfold off.

Across from Scott, standing over the opened book on the enchantment table was the Red King. A shiny new pair of sunglasses rested on his face, on top of a purple-tinted nose, and his arm was in a sling. The sight almost brought a smile to Scott’s face.

Ren clapped the book shut and stood to assess his guest.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he greeted without a smile.

Tango put a hand on Scott’s back, “I think you’d be pleased to know he came to us,” he said.

An eyebrow raised from under Ren’s sunglasses. He reached out and pulled a chair from a table near the wall, positioning it in front of Scott.

Ren sighed and sat down, crossing his legs, “is that so?” he asked. Scott started getting uncomfortable.

Impulse made to speak up but was silenced by a hand.

“Let the man speak for himself,” Ren ordered, “come on now dude. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your voice,” he teased.

Scott cleared his throat, “I came to them. Yes,” he confirmed.

“Why,” Ren asked sternly.

Scott did his best not to squirm.

“I changed my mind,” he said, “I want except your offer. To join the Red Army,” Scott explained.

Ren laughed out loud. He threw his head back and leaned backwards. Scott bit the inside of his lip and looked away. Tango shifted on his feet.

“Really?” Ren asked, he was almost crying.

“Ren…” Impulse attempted to calm the king down but was silenced.

“No, no, by all means I want to hear what Major has to say,” Ren said with encouragement.

Scott grimaced, “Although I do not agree that kidnapping me was the best way to go about gaining my interest,” he started.

“Well it certainly gained some interest,” Ren said under his breath.

“I was already considering leaving my agreement with the Red Desert; and do not get me wrong I don’t appreciate anything you and your men have put me or my husband through,” Scott raised his voice. Assertiveness taking over, he stood up.

“I can see an opportunity when it holds an axe above my head,” Scott crossed his arms.

“I am willing to come to an agreement with you. I will join your army, I will act as a double agent, I will act under your orders, on one condition,” he held up a finger.

Ren slowly stood to meet his gaze, although he was a lot taller.

“Jimmy will not be involved,” Scott said explicitly.

The Red King turned away and went back to the enchantment table, he gazed into the book absently. Then tossed it back on the table.

“You’re on thin Ice Major,” Ren concluded and quickly left.

Scott expected a handshake at least.

“I’d say that went pretty well,” Tango said after the door slammed.

“He agreed?” Scott asked.

“Well he didn’t reject. So I’d say you’re hired,” Impulse provided.

“He thinks you’re a valuable asset. I don’t think he could afford to refuse your offer,” Tango leaned down and reassured.

Scott slouched down in the chair and rubbed his eyes. This was a bad idea.

His first orders came two days later. He was put in charge of the “chores”. Which essentially meant he was doing everything nobody else wanted to do.

Tango assured him that the Red Army was just sizing him up to see if he was actually serious. It was precaution, considering Scott had sort of blindsided them by joining forces. Nobody would look him in the eyes unless they were ordering him around. He knew he wasn’t meant to feel welcome there.

“They’ll come around, although I’m not sure why it bothers you,” he said.

“It’s just awkward,” Scott excused, “they act like I’m gonna pull a knife on them whenever there’s only two of us on the room,” he said.

“Well, after you showed them the door two weeks ago they’ve been a bit jumpy,” Tango replied.

Being the supply runner meant the sacrifice of his sleep schedule, except for his three “off days”. In order to operate effectively he had to do most of his chores at night when his husband was sleeping; and thank god he did that most of the time.

Most of the time.

The other times Scott packed a bag full of iron or wood and said he was running errands under the guise of not being able to sleep. It didn’t feel good to lie, but as far as Jimmy was concerned Scott only left the house on the nights they were both awake.

At the next meeting Scott complained to Tango over a bottle of mystery alcohol, “I may as well be an indentured servant,” he poured himself another glass.

“You know, Scott, you’re actually doing something pretty important,” Tango said from where he was lounging on a pile of pillows.

“Indentured servant,” Scott repeated.

“You’re the one in charge of all their resources. I mean they even have you doing farm work right? So you know like, everything about them,” Tango pointed out.

Scott put his head down on the table, “to the last stack of paper,” he deadpanned.

Tango sighed, he got up and pat his teammate on the back.

“At least you’re not on Nether duty,” he said.

“I’m leading a double life! I’m lying to my husband, I’m lying to my friends, I’m lying to the whole Red Army! Who am I?,” Scott shouted; and he meant it more than he’d like to under the alcohol.

“Okay, that’s deeper than I wanna go,” Tango replied. He sat back down and chugged the last of his drink.

“I mean I’m just sitting here, letting other people write my life for me!” Scott continued.

“Okay calm down,” Tango said.

“No! I won’t. You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Scott stood up, his chair slammed on the ground.

Tango shot to his feet, “then enlighten me, Scott. Enlighten me on how hard your life has been while you ignored the rest of the server,” he yelled.

“While you sat back and did nothing, watching the world fall apart around you?” he provided.

“You don’t know me,” Scott said with disgust.

“And who does, Scott?” Tango replied.

The other couldn’t answer, because Tango was right. Scott nodded curtly, picked up his drink, and left the room.

He finished his drink on the way out and threw the glass against the rock face next to the abandoned cow farm.

The shards exploded and scattered in the snow.

Impulse found him sitting on a bolder an hour later, sharpening a stick with a rock.

“I heard you had a disagreement,” he said without warning.

Scott turned around, then resumed his sulking.

“We had an argument, you may as well call it what it is,” he replied.

“Hm,” Impulse responded.

“He insulted me,” Scott complained.

“Does “insulted” mean he said something true that you don’t like?” Impulse asked.

Scott didn’t respond.

Impulse leaned on the side of the bolder and looked into the distance, thinking about his next sentences. Chips of wood fell near his feet.

“You know it would be a lot easier if you two could just get along,” he said.

“Okay dad,” Scott deadpanned.

“Don’t start with me now. I’m trying to help you,” Impulse cautioned.

“Sorry,” Scott apologized. He felt worse when he insulted Impulse than when he insulted Tango.

“I know he’s a bit of a handful, but so are you. I want to make this as easy as possible, and I know you’re not looking to make friends right now, but I think you would feel better-“ Impulse started, Scott rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“You would feel better if you just,” he gestured with his hands between himself and Scott, “let us in,” Impulse finished a bit dejected.

Scott stopped sharpening his dwindling stick. He sighed and dropped it in his lap, putting his head on his knees.

“Who else can it be Scott? Don’t shut down on us like this,” Impulse begged.

“Leave me alone,” Scott said without hesitation.

Impulse lingered next to him, then pat his hand on the rock and nodded. He walked away.

Scott raised his head and watched him until his head disappeared under the hill.

#ACT 2 BABEY #kingslayer au #3rdlife #3rd life smp #3rdlife smp #scott smajor #me trying to remember who is in this #tangotek #impulsesv #rendog #ethoslab #barely but he is there. #mcyt #cas types

[the-hidden-writer]

And Into The Fire

Chapter 1: A Phone Call

Summary:  Months after the Mitchells saved the world, Linda gets a phone call asking if she's seen two defective Pal MAX bots. Powerful people are after Eric and Deborabot 5000, and it's up to the Mitchells to protect them.

Check reblogs for AO3 link!

A Phone Call

It all started with a phone call.

6 months had passed since the “robot apocalypse”, and the world had fallen back into normality. In fact, since the robot apocalypse was so brief, it was now nothing more than a memory and a conversation topic to use as small talk. Things like “Where were you when the robots took you?” or “What did you do inside the fun pods?”. All in all, life had gone back to normal.

But not for the Mitchells. No, their lives were probably changed for good.

Katie had settled well into college. Now that she finally had her Dad’s approval, she felt free to have as much fun as she wanted without the burden of letting down her family. She regularly sent them updates of her work, and it made her insanely happy when she heard that Dad had made an effort to watch them fully, even if he didn’t quite understand them. That was okay though. It’s the thought that counts.

Back at home, things weren’t the same without Katie. Every time one of them stared too long at the empty chair at the table, it felt like a little stab to the heart. The Mitchells were a team, despite their differences, and one missing member was enough to knock their whole household off-kilter.

But they’d still managed to form a similar routine to their old one, just with one less Mitchell. Just Rick, Linda, Aaron, Monchi… and Eric and Deborahbot 5000.

The addition of the two childlike defective androids to their family was the biggest change of all. Once Pal was defeated and everyone was free, the pair had simply stood and looked confused in the midst of it all. The Mitchells (still high on adrenaline) had turned to leave when Eric called out:

“Mother! Wait!”

When he had the family’s attention, he continued. “Are you… satisfied?”

“Huh?” Rick voiced all of their confusion.

“Are you satisfied?” Eric repeated in the same, dry (but strangely uncertain) tone.

When nobody replied, Deborahbot had attempted to clarify. “Are you satisfied... with our performance?”

It was at that moment that a feeling of dread began brewing in Linda’s gut. She knew little to nothing about robots, and less about computer language, but something about the way the bots were speaking resonated with her. Katie had gone through a stage a few years earlier where she needed validation to stay confident but was too anxious to directly ask for it. She wasn't even sure if robots could have anxiety, but...

The fact that this seemingly unrelated memory had sprung to mind was enough for Linda to make her decision.

“They’re coming with us.” She stated firmly, and that was that. Rick had tried to protest but his argument was weak and, after taking one look at the bots that helped save the world, he couldn’t say no to their wobbly faces.

So Eric and Deborahbot came home with them and unofficially joined the Mitchell family. Luckily for the Mitchells themselves, the bots’ shenanigans were enough to help fill in the void left by Katie. The family had found their routine, they weren’t being hounded by the press anymore, and they’d found their new normal.

And then one ordinary day, the house phone rang.

Before Linda (the only human in the house at that moment) had time to react, two identical shouts of “Unknown number!” came in from the living room.

Eric and Deborahbot announcing the caller had been endearing at first. Each time any phone rang, they would happily shout the caller’s name straight away.

However after a few months of it, as much as Linda hated to admit it, it had gotten old and more than a little annoying. But the boys couldn’t help it and it brought them pleasure, so Linda had decided to let it slide for the time being.

Then when the phone rang after a particularly exhausting day and the bots had called out the name of a work colleague, Rick snapped. He yelled at the bots in what Linda thought was a very harsh way- so harsh that she was certain that they would be crying if they could display human emotions.

Rick had felt extremely guilty later that night and apologised (due to Linda’s nagging) in the morning. The bots immediately forgave him, but Linda noticed during the following week they would fall silent whenever Rick passed them or when the phone rang. To try and make up for it, she promised them that they could shout the caller’s name whenever Rick wasn’t home. They’d hugged her when she said that, and Linda felt like she’d done something right. It was a nice feeling.

“Mother! The phone is ringing!” Deborahbot called, snapping Linda back to the present. She’d been lost in her memories for a moment, so she quickly ran to answer the house phone.

(The bots weren’t allowed to answer the phone for obvious reasons.)

“Hello?” She answered, smiling when she noticed Eric and Deborahbot peeking their heads around the door to watch her.

“Hi, uh, is this the Mitchells?”

The voice on the other end was familiar, but Linda couldn’t quite put a name to it. Was it a parent from one of her school’s kids? No, because then why would they have her house number. Then who?

“Yes, this is Linda Mitchell. Sorry, who is this?”

“Uh, hey, it’s Mark Bowman.” So that’s where she recognised the voice. It belonged to the man whose face had been plastered all over the news and had narrowly avoided jail time for causing the robot apocalypse.

“What can I do for you, Dr Bowman?” She asked, trying not to let the sneer into her voice. She also tried not to notice the way Eric and Deborahbot visibly stiffened (an accomplishment for them) at the sound of the name.

“Right, um,” the man sounded oddly hesitant, “as you probably know, I’ve been going through a lot of official checks, to prove that the robots no longer pose a threat and stuff.”

His hesitance made sense then. He was probably being held at gunpoint by the CIA.

“Mhmm.” Linda nodded while simultaneously using her free hand to shoo her boys away. She didn’t know whether they could listen in to phone calls or not, but her instincts were telling her that they would not want to listen to whatever their creator was about to say.

“Well one of those checks includes making sure that all the Pal Max bots are permanently offline, you get what I’m saying?”

Linda wishes she didn’t. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just say that one took a while. Each bot has a unique serial number and was designed to send out a notification to Pal Labs if they got completely broken. And since there are like, millions of these things it took ages to sort them out, haha.”

“Understandable.” Said Linda pleasantly, although her motherly instincts were firing off the charts.

“So, uh, long story short there are two of these Pal MAX bots still missing. The rest have all been accounted for from these distress signals, but these ones seemed to have disconnected from Pal servers before the mass shutdown. Since they’re still online I’m guessing they’re defective.”

Linda felt a sudden, impulsive urge to kill Mark Bowman. This was not a first-time occurrence.

“So this is basically a super long way of asking if you’ve seen any rogue Pal MAX bots still online anywhere? Maybe back when you were saving the world?”

She had to resist the urge to hang up right then and there. Instead, she put on her sweetest teacher voice. There was truly no better way to mask her emotions.

“Hmm, no, sorry I don’t think we did.” She paused. “Even if we did, if the robots are defective then surely they can’t be that dangerous?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Bowman exclaimed suddenly before clearing his throat and composing himself. “But uh… these people wanna be thorough. Can’t risk another apocalypse, y’know?”

Linda was about to respond when she heard a strange beeping sound on the other end, accompanied by shuffling.

“Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye-”

She’d been hung up on before she had time to react to Dr Bowman’s words.

On the inside, she was glad that he hadn’t pressed further about the missing defective robots. She’d been half-expecting him to already know their whereabouts and for there to be a confrontation.

But there hadn’t, and he’d hung up, and something about the whole thing seemed off.

She began to formulate a plan in her mind. Firstly, her robo-boys’ safety was the top priority of the situation. Once Rick came home she could tell him about the phone call and they could think of protection methods more clearly.

All she knew for certain for the time being was that the bots wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while.

~-.-~

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

If the beeping wasn’t startling enough, the aggressive hand signals the agents were sending him caused him to panic.

He decided to hang up quickly. “Uh, thanks Mrs Mitchell sorry again about the apocalypse bye!” It probably sounded rude, but he really couldn’t care at this point.

“So…” he nervously began, looking up from the phone screen but not wanting to make eye contact with any of the agents. “Did you find anything?”

“The call was intercepted by two separate individuals.” One of the younger agents seated at a computer piped up.

Mark gulped.

“It seems as though we were right, Dr Bowman.” Said Agent Ward, the CIA woman who had first initiated the search for the missing Pal MAX bots. “They’re targeting the Mitchells.”

Taking a deep breath, Mark tried to calm his nerves. He’d lost almost everything in the span of a few months- a good chunk of his self-confidence included.

“Now what?" He asked. "You’re gonna warn them, right?”

“Find them yet, Travis?” Agent Ward asked another of the agents, ignoring Mark completely.

“Hey! You didn’t answer me!”

“We’ve managed to trace the interception to its sources, Ma’am.” The other agent replied, also ignoring Mark. “The coding here does look like Pal MAX, but we can’t actually access it. Since they’re online, the defences are strong. It would take a few days to get through the firewall even with Pal Labs resources, let alone commence a rewrite.”

The agents only turned their attention back to Mark when he snorted when trying to hold in a laugh.

“Of course it’d take ages,” he scoffed, “these are Pal bots. They’re designed to be pretty much impossible to be hacked by humans.”

“Well then,” Agent Ward towered over him intimidatingly, “you’d better get to work.”

Comments make my day! :)

#the mitchells vs the machines #tmvtm #fic #tmvtm eric #eric tmvtm #deborahbot 5000 #eric and deborahbot5000 #eric and deborahbot #linda mitchell #mark bowman #and into the fire

[votederpycausemufins]

The comment section from Ao3 sort of helped with this fic. and by that I mean certain people can hear their comments. if you want that to happen to you, go to the work on Ao3 and leave some comments!

@petrichormeraki

Mumbo wasn’t sure what the look on the two smp member’s faces were concerning. “Does… does he have a base with plenty of defenses? If so, I’m sure there’s got to be a weak point that he-”

“Dream doesn’t really have a base. He’s essentially homeless.” Techno answered Mumbo. “The best chance we have is possibly tracking Dream and tailing him for a while, but that likely won’t work. There’s a chance that he may be at the vault, but construction there only recently finished, and that’s only the exterior as far as I know.”

“Then we’ll have to try there.” Mumbo replied. “If he isn’t then we’ll keep looking.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Look, I want to see my brother again as much as I’m sure you do, but that’s going to take some preparation. That place is supposed to be unbreakable.”

“I’ve got a book from Impulse. I can get through bedrock if I need to. I’m going to do anything to get Grian back.”

“Who?” Techno tilted his head.

“Right, yes. I’m such a spoon. He’s going by the name Grian now. Has for a long time.”

Sapnap treaded carefully, not knowing why Dream wanted to meet with him. He wasn’t sure why the admin gave coordinates so far out until his eyes spotted what seemed to be a building in the distance. He was wondering if this was someone’s base that they didn’t know about until now until he could see Dream there and working on building it. “What the fuck is this Dream?”

Dream looked over and spoke with a smile in his voice. “My evil lair. Out here where no one is likely to find it.”

“Never thought you’d try making a place for yourself.” He heard a noise that left him confused. “Do I hear parrots?” Dream nodded and then led him into the building. There were a few rooms they passed through first before getting to the largest of them that was filled with parrots. “Why the fuck do you have twelve parrots Dream?”

“Easier to lose one out of twelve than one out of one.” He then put down a jukebox and played a disc of cat. “And I can do that.”

Sapnap just watched, wondering if this was really why he had been asked here. “Alright. And did you just want to show me your new pets?”

Dream turned to look at his guest, trying to hide any disappointment in his voice as he stared at the magenta eyes that replaced the formerly black ones. “I actually have a proposition for you.”

After a small bit of nether travel which Tommy and Techno were reluctant on, Tommy since he was banned and Techno feeling they were unprepared, the trio reached the vault. Tommy contacted Sam at Mumbo’s insistence of learning information. He seemed to be taking a break at the time, so it worked well and the brothers talked with him, Mumbo staying off to the side.

So, I’m wanna go murder that green bastard. Yeah, let’s go commit some acts of violence! Anyone else concerned that all three of these guys have the exact same eye color? Dream please leave the vicinity of the family.; You cause problems. Blow up the vault!; Free Grian!!!!

Mumbo excused himself for a second and moved to somewhere nearby but private. “Alright, you have all been slightly helpful, but I really need you all to go away. I don’t need these people wondering why I’m not paying attention because I can hear hundreds of different people at once. You also aren’t supposed to be here in the first place anymore. Grian made that clear to me when we first got rid of you. Right now if you are planning to stay, I really need you to not be sending be violent messages and instead just help me figure out where Grian is.”

“What’s going on over here Jumboli?” Tommy spoke up, making Mumbo jump.

“Ah! Er, I’m just talking to myself. Building confidence and all that.” He tried to hide what was going on.

“Really? Cause it sounded like you were actually talking to someone else.”

Mumbo wasn’t sure how to deflect any more than he already had. “Nope, really I was. I mean, I was talking to myself. I don’t mean I was talking to someone else.”

Tommy nodded, but Mumbo wasn’t sure he bought it. “Well, Sam says Dream hasn’t visited recently, but the place is actually complete. They actually are weeks ahead schedule which, they’re not quite sure how they got that far ahead.”

Mumbo had an idea of why that might be based on how Tommy and Techno were acting. “Can we still look around? Just to be safe?”

Tommy shrugged. “I can ask.”

Sam let them into the building and Mumbo couldn’t help but gawk at everything. It was built so well and filled with amazing redstone. He’d never dream of making something like this back on Hermitcraft. It wasn’t needed. But it still really was impressive. He would need to come back once everything was fixed and take notes.

Multiple times Techno had to drag the hermit back as he started wandering off to check things in depth. He was so focused he didn’t realize the number of people trying to get him to check on Tommy until just a little too late.

“Tommy! There you are! I couldn’t find you in Logstedshire.” Mumbo heard the voice of Dream and he tried to enter the room to see what was going on, only to find a barrier in his way and mining fatigue keeping him from breaking through it.

“You came looking for me? I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“Tommy, I’m your friend. I wouldn’t just leave you back there forever. I guess I should have been more clear.” Mumbo moved enough that he could see the masked man facing Tommy. “That being said, you running away isn’t a good sign. And something tells me that gear isn’t something you got yourself. You were banned from the nether after all.”

Even though Tommy held a weapon, Mumbo could see Tommy’s hand trembling.

“You’re going to need to get rid of it before we go back.” Mumbo wasn’t sure how Dream could dig a hole with the mining fatigue. “Tools in the pit Tommy.” Mumbo watched in horror as Tommy got rid of all his items without hesitation. “I’m surprised Tommy.” Dream spoke again after a few unnaturally silent seconds after Tommy had given up everything. “You leave exile and break the other rules I gave you yet you were so quick to listen. Maybe things are finally getting through your head.”

TNT was placed and then lit, the explosion destroying Tommy’s items. Again, they just stood quietly before Dream left once more. Then the barrier fell and Mumbo was able to run to Tommy.

“Tommy, are you okay?” Mumbo placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Techno walked up behind him, just lookin in the direction Dream had left.

Tommy turned to look at Techno and Mumbo, but his attention was drawn to his brother. “Techno, what the fuck is with your eyes?” Techno looked down, his magenta eyes meeting Tommy’s which had returned to their familiar blue.

“Ok thank goodness I’m not going completely crazy.” Mumbo sighed. “So far everyone’s eyes have been like that, and I didn’t think that was normal but no one was reacting to it.”

“The fuck are you talking about? They’ve been fine until right now.”

Mumbo shook his head. “No. They’ve been that way since I first saw you and you had them.”

Tommy wanted to argue, but before he did, he grabbed Mumbo’s hand and used his sword as a mirror. “They look fine now.”

“Well they are back to normal now, but until now they weren’t.”

“You’re telling me everyone except you and Tommy have the same eye color?” Techno asked, sounding skeptical.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I think this is even more of a reason to find Grian because this might be due to him.”

“How?” The piglin hybrid asked, making Mumbo rub the back of his head sheepishly.

“Well, I sort of left this part out, but Grian is also a Watcher.”

“A what?” Tommy asked, not knowing what that meant while Techno seemed to.

“We need to find Philza.”

Mumbo kept Tommy close to him as they walked into New L’Manburg. He followed Techno along as he brought them to a house that looked like it had broken into then boarded up. After seeing and hearing about the rest of the server, Mumbo wasn’t surprised, but Techno seemed to have not expected it as he started acting more cautious.

The hybrid broke the planks covering the door and stepped inside. “Phil? You in here?”

“Techno?” The voice of Philza spoke up, communicator in hand as he stepped into view. “I was just about to message you. They found the compass?”

“Who?”

“Quackity just showed up with Tubbo Fundy and Ranboo. They were asking about information on where you were then went through my chests until they found it.”

“Tubbo was here?” Tommy spoke up, making Philza look over at him.

“Yes, and he put me under house arrest.” The avian pointed to his boots. “I would have messaged you sooner, but we found something concerning.”

“We?”

“Hi!” Ghostbur came up through the floor with a wave. “There’s a basement that opens up to the void.”

“There’s no bedrock down there?” Tommy asked, but then Mumbo cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention.

“Look, I’m sure you all want to catch up seeing as how you’re family and all, but we really should wait until everyone is here for a family reunion.”

Philza shook his head. “I would prefer not to see Fundy again that soon.”

Mumbo looked confused for a moment before he remembered. “Oh right, he’s your grandson, isn’t he. No I was referring to Grian.”

The hardcore player didn’t recognize the name? “Grian?”

“He’s Xelqua.” Mumbo said exasperated, upset at himself for forgetting to give that detail once again. But it didn’t last long as he and the other two he arrived with looked at the one who had echoed his words.

Ghostbur looked between his family and Mumbo, wondering why they were staring. “Oh, did you guys not remember and I did? That’s a little out of character for me.”

“Are you telling me you remember Grian?” Mumbo asked, suddenly feeling hopeful.

“Yeah, he had a very nice mansion and gave me a blue feather.”

“He has a what?” Philza started to ask, but Mumbo signaled for him to be quiet.

“Alright, I suppose now is the best time to go over everything. I’m from a world Called Hermitcraft. Grian, or as you better know him as, Xelqua, lives there as well. Iskall too if Fundy mentioned him to you. One day out of the blue, Tommy showed up and ended up living with us for a few years even though it was just a few months for everyone here. Your admin Dream showed up to attack us and get Tommy back and while it didn’t work, for whatever reason everything went sideways and now everyone is back here, Grian and I included, no one can seem to remember anything, and Dream likely has Grian trapped!”

The others stared at Mumbo with a range of emotions from looking like he was crazy, to unsure, and to enthusiastic, though that last one was mainly Ghostbur.

“Now, you lot have a better understanding on how things go around here while I have a fair amount of resources. I’m sure if any of you have ideas of what to do, we can find some way to do it.”

“He does redstone stuff, so he may be the best we can do without Sam.”

“What?” Mumbo seemed offended. “You didn’t say that when I showed off my walking house.”

“You made a what?”

When the green man walked back into the room, Grian was very happy to see him holding seeds. He chirped, hoping they would be brought to him. But instead they were taken to another parrot. Why did the green man need so many parrots? Wasn’t he enough? Oh, but here he came and he had more seeds in his hand. They were even pumpkin seeds! His favorite!

But when he ate them, they seemed lacking. Maybe a little salt would be nice. And roasted too. That’s how Mumbo always made them. Who was that, a voice asked him. You’ve never heard of a Mumbo before, have you? Grian paused. That’s right. He didn’t know a Mumbo. The only one who gave him seeds was the green man. The green man asked him to do stuff and he would get seeds. He was a good parrot. With his mansion and barge and… wait what were those? He just had his little perch and cage.

Then he was given more seeds. The green man was happy about something. About someone named Tommy. Was that one of those other parrots? But then why was Grian getting seeds instead? Oh, maybe the green man wanted to call him Tommy? It wasn’t his favorite name, but it would do. Music started playing and he started to dance to it. It was so nice here. He couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

Grian had no clue where he was. It wasn’t Hermitcraft or the realm of the Watchers or any place he’d been before. Well, it was sort of familiar. It looked like he was in the middle of an infinity room. “Hello? Mumbo? Tommy? Xisuma? Anyone?” He called out, looking around. He tried to reach out for a wall but was too far away. He tried moving around but couldn’t seem to get any traction as he moved his feet. “Is anyone around? I think I’m a little stuck here. Did we fix everything?”

The question suddenly gave Grian an idea of what might be going on. “Did you lot put me in an infinity room to calm me down? Because I think I’m fine now. Can you tell me where the way out is?” There was still nothing. “Guys? Hello?”

Grian realized he had his wings shifted away and attempted to bring them back to test the ceiling, but they didn’t appear. “Um, guys? I’d really appreciate some sort of message or something. I’m beginning to panic a little.” He tried to reach for his communicator, but it was also missing.

“I know you probably just calmed me down from overloading my Watcher powers, but I really don’t like being stuck here, so I’ll wait until the count of three.” He counted down but there was still nothing. “Alright, hopefully this doesn’t take much.” Grian tried to reach inside himself for the suppressed energy but found it missing. And that’s when it finally dawned on him. “Oh… is this what death is?”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #tommyinnit #mumbo jumbo #technoblade #philza #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic #grian #grian xelqua #avian!grian

[tomhardysteeth]

Tattooed

[ao3] Eddie Brock/Venom 5.9k words

Eddie.

“Hmm.”

Tell me what this is.

Eddie shifts in bed and blinks himself awake with a groan. Venom is at his right hip, tendrils like small streams of water passing curiously over his skin. Eddie used to wear pajama pants and a t-shirt to bed each night, but his temperature runs hot with Venom inside him so he started wearing just a pair of gym shorts instead, and now he’s regretting it. 

 “Venom. I’ve told you this. Stop waking me up for stupid shit.”

The tendrils press insistently into Eddie’s skin, which tickles a little bit. You slept long enough.

“That’s not the—what are you even doing?” Eddie props himself up on his elbows and looks down at where Venom is pressing into the tattoo on his abdomen. “Oh. It’s a, uh—I got it after I proposed to Anne. It says ‘til I die AW,’ which, you know, in hindsight, is, uh…”

A long silence passes before Venom says, What do you mean you “got it”?

“What—what do you mean what do I mean? It’s a tattoo.”

Venom spreads out over his body, crawling itself up over the tattoos on his sides, chest, arms and back. Are these also called “tattoos”?

“Can’t you read my mind, man? You’ve been inside me for several weeks, you’ve gotta know what a goddamn tattoo is by now.”

That is not how it works. Explain to me what a tattoo is.

Eddie groans in frustration. He sits up on the side of the bed and grabs his phone from the nightstand, checking and deleting emails like he compulsively does each morning. He is going to lunch with Anne today, but other than that, his schedule is free. 

Eddie.

“Look, I’ve actually been thinking about getting another one, so, uh, maybe I’ll make an appointment and then you can see—”

Anne’s skin is not like this. Do only some people wear tattoos as part of their bodies? 

“Um, hmm. Well, yeah, only some people have them. But they’re permanent. Once you add them to your skin, they stay there.” Eddie stands up and stretches his back out before heading into the bathroom for a shower. 

He can feel Venom still exploring his tattoos, the symbiote moving its liquidy strands in such a meticulous way like it’s tracing each tableau: the wolf on his left forearm, the numbers near his right clavicle, the corvid over his left pec, and so on until Eddie is so mesmerized by the feeling that he spends several minutes in the shower just standing completely still as cold water pours over him.

Venom nudges him out of his trance, merging itself with the muscles of Eddie’s legs to get him to move and sending hunger signals to his brain.

“Hey, no taking over without my permission, how many times do I have to tell you?” Eddie says, annoyed as he awkwardly jerks his legs in a fruitless attempt to regain control. 

This is our body, Eddie. 

“No. No, there’s my body and there’s your body, and whichever one of us is driving is the one in control.” Eddie stops and tries to work out what he means. “That’s me most of the time, in control.”

A tickle runs through Eddie’s whole body, which means that Venom is laughing. Even so, it cedes leg muscle control back to Eddie, allowing him to get dressed before going to the kitchen.

I keep you alive. If I left your body, you would die very quickly.

“Yeah, well, so would you, so I’m not sure what your point is.”

Venom pulls part of its body out of Eddie and floats its head directly in front of his face. The first few times it did this, Eddie felt terrified and found Venom repulsive. Now, he feels a begrudging fondness for it. He thinks it probably has to do with the kiss they shared in the woods, but in general he tries not to think too hard about that.

You do not know the things I do for you, Eddie, Venom says, slowly.

Eddie blinks. “OK. Uh, I don’t really—don’t give me more information than that, please.”

Venom just smiles with all its teeth in response, then it turns toward the fridge and coaxes Eddie into making a heinous breakfast. 

Eddie tries to get some writing done before his lunch with Anne, but Venom is more active than usual as it continues its ministrations of his tattoos, so Eddie impulsively calls the artist he always goes to, Marie, and asks her if she can fit him in by the end of the week. She tells him he can come in later that afternoon if he wants, since she had a last-minute cancellation. Eddie has been going to her for years, so she has several of his designs ready and waiting. 

Eddie meets Anne at an Indian restaurant across town, one of their favorite date-night joints when they were still together, and the only difference now is that they don’t sit on the same side of the booth anymore. 

Anne greets Eddie with a hug and comments on how warm he feels.

“You say that every time,” Eddie replies with a small laugh as they break apart. He removes his leather jacket before taking a seat. 

“Well, you’re just always feverishly warm. I don’t know how it doesn’t bother you,” she says as she sits across from him.

“I mean, it does bother me sometimes. I only take cold showers now. And I sleep mostly naked.”

Anne raises her eyebrows at him. “Mr. I-have-to-shower-and-change-into-PJs-immediately-after-sex sleeps naked now?”

He smiles at her. “Yeah, alright, I deserved that.”

A server comes by to take their drink order. Anne makes a face when Eddie orders water.

“You never drink water.”

Now he’s the one making a face. “That’s not true. I used to drink water, uh, sometimes.”

“So what else is he making you do besides drink water?”

Eddie shifts in the booth. “Nothing. He’s just, um, mostly just irritating.”

Venom rumbles and slithers uncomfortably inside Eddie, clearly angry with his assessment.

“He’s been asking me about my tattoos today. He definitely doesn’t understand what they are.”

Anne laughs. “Does that happen a lot, him not understanding something basic?”

The server returns with their drinks and asks if they are ready to order, and just as Eddie is about to say no, Anne orders for both of them. 

Eddie pouts at her.

“What?” she asks after the server walks away. “We’ve been here a million times, I know what you like.”

She doesn’t know what we like.

“Yeah, uh, you know Vee’s appetite is a little different.” Eddie clears his throat. “Which means, um, my appetite’s a little different, too. It’s OK, I’ll just have to order more food. We eat a lot.”

“Are you sure you’re OK, Eddie?” She drops her voice to a whisper and leans across the table. “He’s not torturing you or anything, is he?”

Eddie imitates her, leaning across the table and narrowing his eyes as he says, “He’s inside me, Annie, so getting closer to me and whispering doesn’t mean he can’t hear you.”

Anne bats playfully at Eddie’s shoulder before leaning back again. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe, that’s all.”

Venom moves and twists its tendrils through Eddie’s body, coming closer to the surface of his skin before burrowing back down into Eddie’s muscles. It was an annoying sensation the first few times Venom did it, but now Eddie thinks of it like a cat repositioning on his lap—which, to be fair, was also annoying when Mr. Belvedere deemed Eddie worthy enough to sit on, but even so, thinking of Venom like a pet makes the alien seem like less of a nuisance. 

“Yeah, Annie, I’m safe,” Eddie responds softly. “We’re still, uh, just trying to figure out living together. It’s annoying, sometimes, but we’re working on it.”

“Is ‘living together’ the right term for it, though? You’re just...together. It’s kind of a big commitment, if you think about it.”

Eddie laughs and scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, which is why I don’t really think about it. But, you know, I don’t really have that much of a choice. If he leaves, I die.”

Venom moves in a way that feels like it is tightening inside Eddie, like all of its strands are taut, which Eddie’s body responds to antagonistically: he relaxes. 

“OK, so if you knew you wouldn’t die if he left, would you want him to leave?”

Venom simmers, angry.

“No,” Eddie answers honestly. “I mean, there are definitely things I would change, but…”

“You like the power.”

Eddie looks around, irrationally embarrassed that someone might overhear them. He nods shyly then takes a drink of water. 

“Oh, Eddie, you’re so predictable.”

“What?”

“You don’t like having your own power, you just like taking it from other people. Or, in this case, an alien.”

He leans back in his chair and defensively crosses his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. “What are you talking about?”

“Your career. And now this.” She shrugs. “I just hope you sort it all out with Venom, is all. You’re irritable, like you were the first couple weeks after you moved in with me. Remember that?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember because you won’t let me forget. This is different though. I’m not—um, I’m not in a relationship with Venom.”

“Aren’t you though?”

Yes.

Eddie swallows. “Not—it’s not—I can’t think of it that way, it’s too weird.”

“Yeah, probably. But it’s something you're gonna have to deal with eventually.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Eddie changes the subject after that, asking Anne about her work and about Dan. When their food arrives, Eddie immediately orders another entree and an appetizer and tries not to feel embarrassed about it. He could actually eat way more than that, but he won’t in front of Anne. Venom complains in his head, insists their bodies are still hungry, swirls its strands frantically around Eddie’s midsection to make its point, but Eddie just sets his jaw and ignores it. 

When Eddie tells Anne at the end of lunch that he has an appointment to get a tattoo, Anne just laughs and says, “Still the same old Eddie.” She pays for the meal, Eddie leaves a cash tip, and they walk out to his bike together. 

Feeling relaxed and brave, Eddie gives Anne a kiss on the temple as they hug goodbye. She doesn’t acknowledge it. 

On the drive over to the tattoo shop, Venom asks, How long will it take to win her back?

Eddie hates when Venom talks to him when he’s driving because although Venom can hear his voice no matter what volume he speaks, he can’t hear himself over the sound of the engine and the wind. “I told you, it’s not happening.”

But we like her.

“I know we like her, but she’s with Dan and you and I are, uh, kind of fucked up.”

I don’t understand. 

Eddie sighs. “Anne’s right. Like it or not, you and I are together—a package deal, so the chances of me having any kind of human relationship with anyone is just out of the question.” Realizing how depressing that is, Eddie tacks on, "Right now."

But Anne likes us. I think she would like being with both of us.

Eddie doesn’t respond. Surprisingly, Venom doesn’t push the issue.

At the tattoo shop, Eddie is greeted by one of the artists, Solomon, with little more than a curt nod and a waiver slapped down on the counter, which Eddie signs without reading. He then takes a seat out front to wait for Marie.

Your pulse has quickened. You’re beginning to sweat.

“Yeah, well, that’s because the guy that just helped us is my ex, and it did not end well,” Eddie whispers through gritted teeth.

Oh, like Anne?

“Stop playing dumb, you know what an ex is.”

Eddie watches as Sol greets another client. Despite having dated nearly a decade ago when Eddie was only in San Francisco for a six-month temporary gig, Sol still acts like it was just yesterday that Eddie chickened out on their relationship and told him he had to get back to his “real life” in New York. Not his best choice of words. 

Sol looks bigger every time Eddie comes to the shop. He is older than Eddie, has to be in his 50s by now, but he clearly still lifts as evidenced by the broad muscles of his back and the thickness of his tattooed biceps. His muscled chest tapers into a soft torso, his belly significantly more pronounced than when they dated. His beard looks thicker, too, a few fuzzy gray hairs mixed in with the black, and he is bald—has always been bald—and richly dark-skinned and six inches taller than Eddie.

You are still attracted to him.

Eddie clenches his fist against his thigh. “He’s still attractive.”

You are attracted to Anne, too. But Solomon looks very different from Anne.

“I don’t know if now is the best time for me to explain race and gender and sexuality to you.”

Anne is small, so I assumed you preferred someone smaller than you. But Solomon is—

Eddie ignores the rest of Venom’s sentence as Marie comes out of the back office and waves Eddie over to her workstation. Marie is rail thin and only ever wears baggy tank tops and baggy ripped jeans, and nearly every inch of visible skin is covered in colorful tattoos. 

“Did you pierce more of your face since the last time I was here?” Eddie teases as he takes a seat.

She swivels toward him on her stool. She has piercings everywhere: eyebrows, nose, lip, tongue, all over her ears, and a barbell through her sternum. “I’m sure I have, since you haven’t been here in forever, buddy. I was wondering what the hell happened to you.”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve been going through some stuff, you know how it is.”

She pulls her long black hair up into a bun on top of her head then grabs a stack of drawings off a table as she says, “My aunt told me you ate a dude in her store.”

Venom vibrates through Eddie’s entire body.

“You know no matter how many times you tell me, I’m never gonna remember you’re Mrs. Chen’s niece.”

Marie holds out three drawings for Eddie to pick. 

“Ah fuck, they’re gorgeous, Marie,” he says as he leans forward to get a better look. He points to the one in the middle, a partial skeleton of a rib cage and pelvis held together by nuts and bolts. “Let’s put that one on my left side.”

“You got it, bud.”

As Marie prepares everything, she says casually, “So you gonna tell me about the dude you ate, or?”

“Oh right, um, I have a parasite.”

Venom constricts inside Eddie, making the muscles in his arms and legs jump.

“It’s, like, an alien,” Eddie continues lamely.

Marie’s face doesn’t change. “Take your shirt off. So, can I see it? The alien? My aunt said it’s gnarly.”

Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt and asks, “Do I have to take it all the way off?”

“Aww, poor little Eddie doesn’t wanna expose his cute body when his ex is right over there.”

I like her. I’m going to say hi to her.

“No, Vee, wait—”

It always feels like Eddie’s face is being sucked into a vacuum when Venom takes it over. 

Hi, Marie. Eddie and I are Venom.

Marie blinks. “OK, so. I think I understand why you ate a guy.”

Venom sticks its tongue out then relinquishes control back to Eddie.

“Goddamn it, I hate when he does that shit,” Eddie says with a nervous laugh, looking around the shop to make sure nobody noticed anything.

“You, like, straight up have an alien inside you, bud,” Marie says. “But for real, take your shirt off.”

Eddie complies, then turns over to his side so Marie can get started. She presses her gloved fingers against his skin and asks exactly where he wants it, how big he wants it, then she cleans the area. 

Venom stirs inside him, concentrating much of its mass in Eddie’s rib cage, where Marie is touching. What is she going to do to us?

“You’ll see, buddy, just be patient,” Eddie replies.

“Who you talking to, Eddie? Your alien?”

“Yeah, he talks to me. Constantly.”

Marie stands. “Ooh, sounds like that’s annoying. I’ll be right back.”

You think I am annoying.

“Yeah, we’ve established that already.” Eddie flips over to his back and crosses his arms over his bare chest. He has no qualms about his body, usually, but he does not like feeling exposed around an ex. 

I don’t think you are annoying. I still think you’re a loser, but I like you.

“Can you just—can we put a lid on this until we get home, please?”

Venom’s tendrils bury deeper inside Eddie before going still, which Eddie interprets as Venom doing its best to leave him alone.

Marie returns a moment later with a stencil, and Eddie turns back to his side without having to be asked. With the stencil in place, Marie leads Eddie over to the full-length mirror.

As Eddie looks at himself to make sure he likes the placement, he spots Sol in the mirror, managing equipment at his own workstation across the room and stealing a glance at Eddie. Eddie flushes, but not with embarrassment. More like pride. 

We can eat him if you’d like.

“No, Vee, we really can’t.”

He is looking at us. Do you think he still wants to be with you, Eddie?

“Why are you so nosy? Seriously?” To Marie, he says, “Looks perfect. Sorry I’m talking to myself.”

“What’s he talking to you about?” Marie asks as they walk back to her workstation. 

“Sol.”

“Oh, that’s awkward.” Marie sits on her stool and puts on new gloves. “If he’s in there with you all the time, how the hell are you supposed to have any privacy?”

“I don’t.”

Eddie, what is that? Why does she have needles?

“Calm down, buddy,” Eddie placates even as he feels Venom’s tendrils pull as taut as strings of a guitar inside his body. “This is what getting a tattoo is like, and we trust her.”

Marie laughs.

She is going to hurt you. 

“It’s OK.” Eddie’s entire body is rigid. “Can you please—loosen up a bit, Vee.”

It takes a moment for Eddie’s muscles to relax.

At the sound of the tattoo machine, Venom stirs but does not constrict again. 

“You ready?” Marie asks sweetly, machine poised over Eddie’s rib cage.

“Yep.”

At the press of the needle, Venom turns to liquid inside Eddie, concentrating into a single point and numbing his side completely. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no,” Eddie says.

Marie immediately stops. “What, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry, not you. Hold on a second.” Eddie flips to his back and looks down at himself. “The pain is OK. Don’t try to heal me.”

But it hurts you. She’s hurting you.

“I know that, but sometimes pain is...good. Just—hang out until she’s done.”

Marie doesn’t say anything, just waits for Eddie to give her the go ahead. She looks a little apprehensive as she presses the needle back to his skin.

After a few minutes, probably less than five, Venom swirls watery soft around Eddie’s ribs again, soothing the burned skin.

“Goddamn it, you’re doing it again.”

Marie stops. “Thank god I know about the alien, or else this would be a very strange experience for me.”

I don’t like feeling your body get hurt. I like your body.

Eddie sits up, groans, scrubs a hand down his face. “Venom. I am fine. Look at my body. This is how I got all the rest of the tattoos you love so much, by going through this pain. It’s not permanent, and it’s not even that bad. Please stop trying to fix it.”

Venom is quiet for a moment before saying, But why would you want to be in pain when I can fix it for you?

“I like this pain. I want to feel it. I’ll tell you what, if it gets to be too much, I’ll let you fix it. Deal?”

Fine. 

Eddie lies back down on his side.

“My god, Eddie, what the shit?” Marie asks.

“He should be OK now, you can go ahead,” Eddie replies.

Marie clears her throat and tentatively presses the needle against Eddie’s skin. The pain is a single small point, constantly moving, burning, tickling, unlike any other type of pain imaginable. Eddie relaxes into it.

“So, the alien likes your tattoos, huh?” Marie asks after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah. He likes pretty much everything about me.”

“Well, that sounds totally healthy and normal.”

Venom moves the bulk of itself into Eddie’s shoulders and neck and settles there. I can feel that you enjoy this pain. I think I understand. 

“Anne said he and I are in a relationship,” Eddie says quietly.

“Gross, dude. He’s an alien living inside you, you can’t be in a relationship.”

“I mean, I get what you’re saying, but it’s not like I can be in a relationship with anybody else either. Kind of hard to be intimate with another human being when an alien is always talking inside my head and moving around inside my body.”

You don’t want to be in a relationship with anybody but Anne, though, and Anne understands us. 

“Huh,” Marie says. “That kind of sucks, buddy.”

I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you this today.

“Hmm?” 

We should talk to Anne.

“He’s talking to you now, isn’t he? You’re not listening to anything I’m saying.” Marie stops the machine and wipes the wound. “What about sex? Like, if you tried to have sex with someone, would he pop out your face and get in on the action?”

That might be fun. We could try that.

Eddie’s heart drops to his stomach. “Um, let’s not—can we not talk about that right now.”

“Oh my god, are you talking to me or to him? What did he say?” Marie asks.

“Nothing.” Eddie laughs nervously. “And I’m not discussing sex with you, Marie, you’re, like, 20 years younger than me.”

“You dork, it’s not like you’re my dad.”

Does sex make you uncomfortable, Eddie?

Eddie buries his face in the crook of his elbow. His body wants to squirm, to escape this situation, but he has to remain perfectly still on his side. 

Venom doesn’t say anything else to him, but it spreads itself evenly across Eddie’s body and holds him in place, immediately turning Eddie’s embarrassment into a quiet calm. 

The tattoo takes another two hours for Marie to finish. It’s not very big, just about the same size as the Buddha up and to the right of it, but it is intricate and beautiful in a way that makes Eddie stare at it in the mirror for a solid minute and a half before Marie asks if he likes it or not.

“It’s gorgeous, Marie, thank you,” he says softly. 

Marie pulls out her phone and presses a hand to Eddie’s side to make him turn toward her so she can snap a picture. Venom moves swiftly against the touch, pressing through Eddie’s muscle tissue and pushing out through the surface of his skin exactly where Marie’s hand is.

“Oh geez, what’s that?” Marie asks as she snatches her hand back.

“I don’t know, he’s never done that before. Vee, what’s the deal?” Eddie touches the spot where Venom still lingers.

Just testing something out.

“OK,” Eddie says, annoyed. “You’ve got to communicate with me, buddy, you can’t just randomly touch people.”

Venom rumbles through Eddie’s entire body in a long-suffering sigh.

“Why does he want to touch me anyway?” Marie asks.

She’s been touching us for hours, I was curious. 

“He was, uh, curious,” Eddie repeats. 

“About what?”

Venom rumbles again.

“I don’t know! I don’t know, Marie, he’s an alien.” Eddie glances around the shop and catches Sol’s eye before Sol quickly looks away. “Can we just—how much do I owe you?”

Marie doesn’t ask any other questions about Venom even though Eddie can tell she wants to, and she doesn’t say anything when he leaves her a much bigger tip than usual, but she does roll her eyes as she takes the cash. Eddie heads quickly out of the shop and is standing by his bike about to strap his helmet on when a familiar voice calls his name.

“Oh, hey, Sol,” Eddie says sheepishly, moving his helmet to his right hip and avoiding eye contact as Solomon walks up to him.

Stand up straight, Eddie. You look weak.

“Seems like Marie was giving you a hard time,” Sol replies, his voice deep and smooth. “You doing OK, Ed?”

Eddie scratches the back of his head. Stop fidgeting. “Yeah, I’m alright. You?”

“Your phone number the same?”

Stop moving. 

“What?”

Sol tilts his chin down, making himself slightly more eye-level with Eddie. “I still have your number, if it’s the same. I’d like to use it.”

Eddie involuntarily laughs like an idiot. “OK, um, yeah, it’s the same. But, uh—”

“Good. See you later, Ed,” Sol says as he walks back into the shop.

Why did you let him talk over you? Why didn’t you stand up taller? 

Eddie feels heat creeping up his neck, into his ears, as he recalls his and Sol’s relationship: there was rope sometimes, and Sol teasing Eddie about being a brat, and Sol always being the one in control even when they were out in public together, and Eddie enjoyed every bit of it. 

Although Eddie is pretty sure Venom can see his memories when they flare so vividly, he still says out loud, “I didn’t wanna stand up taller. Not with him.”

You are a loser.

“Nah, this is different,” Eddie replies as he gets on his bike. “Sometimes it’s a choice to let someone else have, uh, control. Willingly giving up your own control, you know, that kind of thing.”

Like willingly feeling pain when getting a tattoo.

“Yeah, actually, kind of,” Eddie shouts over the roar of his bike as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto a main road.

Or willingly letting me take over your body.

Eddie grips the handlebars tighter and doesn’t respond. 

He stops by Mrs. Chen’s before going home, letting Venom pick out whatever it wants (two bags of frozen tater tots, a gallon of chocolate milk, three different kinds of chocolate candy and a family-sized bag of salt and vinegar chips) and enjoying Mrs. Chen’s reaction when Eddie shows her his new tattoo.

“My niece is very talented, but I still think most of your tattoos are silly.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chen.”

Back at their apartment, Eddie sits on the couch and reads the news on his phone while Venom eats all the food with its head and two arms protruding out of Eddie’s right side. Venom shares the chips and one of the candy bars with Eddie. 

Eddie.

“Yeah, buddy.”

Your side hurts.

“Well, yeah, it’s gonna hurt for a while. Tattoos are like burns.”

Venom recedes back into Eddie’s body and slithers to his left side, swirling several small tendrils around the new tattoo. Is it still the good pain?

Eddie thinks about it for a moment before answering, “No, actually, it sucks.”

Venom soothes the pain immediately. Eddie closes his eyes and drops his head back against the couch; he didn’t realize just how much his side had been hurting. He reaches his hand down to cup his rib cage, and Venom responds by pulling tendrils out of his skin and lacing them with Eddie’s fingers, directly over the new tattoo.

“What are you doing, buddy?” Eddie asks even as he squeezes Venom’s inhuman fingers. 

Marie called you ‘buddy,’ and now you’re calling me ‘buddy.’ It’s annoying.

“Oh good, something annoys you. Now I’m not the only one in this relationship that’s annoyed.”

Relationship.

Eddie clears his throat but still keeps his fingers tightly wound with Venom’s. “You know what I mean.”

Internally, Venom pulses near Eddie’s rib cage like a deep pressure concentrated against his bones. I think I can recreate the pain of getting a tattoo.

“What?” 

You like the pain of the needle marking your skin. I can imitate it.

Eddie feels tense, his body rigid. “But—but why?”

Why not?

Eddie blinks. He can’t come up with a reason why not. He lets his fingers slip out of Venom’s grasp as Venom narrows one of its tendrils into an impossibly small point and presses Eddie’s side, gently at first and then speeding up as Eddie relaxes against the couch cushions. 

“What the fuck, Vee, that’s so weird,” Eddie says on an exhale. 

You enjoy it.

“Yeah. It’s weird as shit, but yeah, I do.”

Maybe we would be less annoyed with each other if we did more things that we enjoyed.

“Hey, I basically let you do whatever you want.”

Venom stops poking him. I’d like to eat more people.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’d like to have some privacy every now and then.”

Privacy? What do you need privacy for?

“I don’t know, like maybe if I had someone over and wanted them to spend the night.”

Venom moves up Eddie’s chest and wraps the bulk of itself around Eddie’s shoulders. You want to have sex.

Eddie runs a hand down his face then settles both his hands on his knees. “Yeah, well, a man has needs, and my needs aren’t exactly being met right now, so.”

Venom creeps up Eddie’s neck. I can help meet your needs, Eddie.

“I don’t know if—I’m not sure that’s a good—you know, I just—”

You want this. We can do whatever we want, Eddie. What’s stopping you?

“Well, um, for starters, you’re an alien. I don’t even know how we would…”

Venom materializes in front of Eddie, massive and solid, deeply black and muscled with a nearly fully-formed body connected to Eddie directly at his hips. It places one hand on Eddie’s side, near the tattoo, and its other on his shoulder. This body is close to what you humans look and feel like.

“No, um, not really, Vee.” Eddie puts his hands on the couch, not daring to touch Venom even though it is taking up so much space in Eddie’s lap that it feels against instinct not to put his hands near where its hips would be if it had them. “Do you even know or, like, understand what sex is? Is it something that you want?”

Venom grins and then sticks its tongue out, moving it slowly from one side of its mouth to the other. Yes. And yes.

“What? For real?”

Definitely for real.

Eddie sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks up and down Venom’s body, considering. “When you kissed me in the woods—”

Yes, I wanted to. Venom moves its head forward, its sharp teeth an inch from Eddie’s face. I want to now.

Heart hammering in his chest, Eddie relents and puts his hands on Venom’s sides. They almost feel like hips, but Venom’s body is more like liquid and string than muscle and bone. Eddie digs his fingers in. He tilts his chin up tentatively, presses his nose against Venom’s face before pulling back, looking at the alien curiously, then he turns his head to the side and slots his mouth against Venom’s. 

Eddie tries to move his lips like a normal kiss, but Venom’s tongue fills his entire mouth, and it somehow suctions Eddie’s mouth against its own, and it’s too much, not enough, and Eddie’s arousal stirs in him so quickly that he would laugh if he could. The most he can do is make strained noises in the back of his throat.

After a minute or so, Eddie loses all sense of control and begins bucking his hips up, but there is nothing for him to buck against since their bodies are too intertwined in his lap. So he scrambles for one of Venom’s hands while simultaneously undoing his fly, and Venom gets the gist and wraps its weird malleable fingers around Eddie’s cock without breaking their kiss. 

Venom’s hand morphs around Eddie’s cock, stretching and folding and weaving threads together until it feels like Eddie is actually fucking into a hole—not quite human, so not possible to define as any type of genitalia—and while Eddie thrusts his hips up, Venom constricts and relaxes around his cock in a steady rhythm all while continuing to fuck its tongue down Eddie’s throat. Then, impossibly, tendrils are everywhere, snaking around Eddie’s balls, caressing his skin, kissing his nipples, pushing into his ass—Eddie comes early.

Venom unwinds itself from around Eddie’s cock and releases his mouth. Eddie takes a deep breath, choking a bit as he realizes just how far down his throat Venom’s tongue was. Venom rumbles a laugh, licks Eddie’s face, then noses at his jaw as it fuses its mass against Eddie’s skin like a moving blanket. There is a feminine quality to Venom’s movements, which Eddie struggles to rationalize with his skewed view of the alien as a hulking beast that rips and bites people’s heads off. He decides it’s time to stop assigning gender-specific qualities to his alien.

I liked that.

Eddie tangles his hand in the tendrils of Venom’s neck. “Yeah, me too. Fuck.”

Is this the part where you freak out?

“Uh yeah, I guess I should. Fuck. That just, um, it felt really fucking good. Really good.” Eddie tries to bring Venom’s face toward him for another kiss, but Venom resists.

So if you’re not going to freak out, then we should talk.

“What? Why?”

That’s what we are supposed to do. Our relationship has been nebulous and undefined, and it has made you irritable and difficult to live with.

“Hey, you never said I was difficult to live with,” Eddie replies, feeling irrationally hurt.

I’m saying it now. 

“OK. Fine.” Eddie tries to remember when he had to have this exact same conversation with Anne two weeks after he moved in with her. He thinks she may have approached him in a similar way, after sex, curled up close to him and soothing him with her touch. “It’s difficult for me to adjust to having you inside me, not because I don’t—it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that it’s, uh, different. You’re a fucking alien. There’s no human experience that could’ve prepared me for…” He points between their connected bodies. “This.”

I was not prepared either, Eddie.

“What do you mean?”

Venom kisses him. I did not expect to like you this much.

Eddie automatically smiles, then tries to downplay it by rolling his eyes. “OK. So. A relationship then? Do you even know what that entails?”

I hope it entails a lot more sex.

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. But it’s also, I don’t know, taking care of each other and—”

We already take care of each other.

“—And communicating our feelings, and spending time together.”

We spend all of our time together.

“Yeah. Um. I’m not sure you’re really understanding what I’m saying, and I’m pretty bad at this, too, so it’s probably gonna be different than, like, my relationship with Anne.”

Venom grins wide, showing every one of its teeth. Good. She can help us.

[read the rest on ao3]

#venom #symbrock #eddie brock x venom #venom fanfic #literally how do i tag stuff lm ao #whatever man if you see it you see it if you don't you don't! #my fics #sciapod #tattooed fic

[isogenderskitty]

One-Shot Fic: Tied Together

Soon to be put on AO3 once my signup goes through but for now it lives here.

Fandom: Ace Attorney Ship: Narumitsu (AKA Wrightworth) Word count: 1,342 Genre: Fluff, getting together, inspired by a conversation on a Narumitsu Discord server. ♥ Warnings: None! Except that I haven’t written anything in approx. 100 years. jkzsdhf Summary: Phoenix isn’t very good at tying his tie neatly. Miles really, really wants to fix it, among other things.

When he gets over the initial shock of his childhood friend suddenly showing up across the courtroom from him, the first thing that Miles Edgeworth notices is inane, illogical, and confusing.

The man cannot tie a tie.

It’s not so bad that it’s not technically tied up, he reasons – a person with slightly lower standards than his own probably wouldn’t even notice – but it is loose and wonky, and could look so much better with a little help from a more deft hand.

It’s not an outright obsession; there are often much more pressing matters at hand, obviously, both professionally and personally. But in tiny moments throughout the years, something living in back of his mind taps him lightly on the shoulder with slowly increasing confidence to say Miles, you really want to reach out and fix that tie.

Every time it comes to him, the thought is accompanied by an increasingly tighter chest, faster pulse, and more detailed visions of what Wright’s face might look like that close. How he might look at him. Whether he would feel the same pounding and rushing and near loss of control that Miles does. What that meant.

He thinks about it during multiple post-trial celebrations, looking across a tightly populated dinner table with the buzz of alcohol consumption in the air, unable to hear anything anyone said for worrying amounts of time, and especially unable to look away from a triumphant and jubilant Wright, smiling enough for all of them.

He thinks about it hundreds, thousands, infinite times while away in Europe for that secret year, wondering if Wright still hadn’t learned how to tie a tie properly. As lonely months pass, that thought becomes less wistful and more riddled with guilt and anxiety.

When he returns home, the first time he sees him is in the Criminal Affairs department, a young girl in robes clutching his hand tightly. He’s never seen Wright look this dishevelled. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and hasn’t changed out of his suit or showered in just as long. The tie is barely holding on. A selfish and stupid thought flickers through Miles’s mind, for just a moment: is this what happens when I leave?

How absurd, he thinks, shaking his head. Something else must be wrong.

When Wright is disbarred, Miles can’t get hold of him for weeks. He drops everything and rushes over when he finally hears from him. Two surprises meet him at the door, albeit one much bigger than the other; Wright has a daughter now, and there isn’t even a tie in sight to fix.

He finds himself taking a more active role in Phoenix’s life from then on; as a current friend rather than just an old one. Visiting often for game nights, or just to watch TV, or giving financial or personal aid. Some nights just talking, some just listening, most a mixture of both.

After about six months of this new, altered relationship, they develop a silent agreement. If they just so happen to be sitting adjacent on the sofa, and perhaps Trucy has gone to bed or fallen asleep with her head on Phoenix’s lap, and all is still and dark and quiet except for lights and sounds from the television, they enter a different state with a different set of laws.

Heads can lean on shoulders and against the napes of necks. Thumbs can brush softly over knuckles while the other fingers grip each other tight. Feet can gently kick and nudge each other on the floor, that or perhaps the TV eliciting chuckles that can be felt as rumbles against skin or as breaths in hair. Every moment of living in this warm space they create makes Miles’s heart burst aflame and crash violently against his rib cage, screaming to be set free… and yet, mysteriously, he always wants more of that destructive feeling. As years roll by like this, ties are long forgotten.

Until Phoenix gets his badge back.

Miles walks into the defendant lobby a few minutes before the trial is due to start, to wish his dear friend luck. He stops in his tracks when he sees him. Back in that familiar blue suit, but better. So many details that are already driving Miles insane. The hair, the chain, the waistcoat.

The tie. Even this new, more mature, somehow even handsomer version of Phoenix was hopeless.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Miles has already walked over to him and opened his mouth.

“Wright.”

A turn, a beaming smile that threatens to blind him, a slight crack in the voice that is echoed on the surface of Miles’s heart. “Oh, hey Edgeworth!”

“I… just wanted to bid you good luck.” He bows out of habit. Too formal, even for the public eye, he scolds himself as Phoenix’s face falls ever-so-slightly. The last thing he wants right now is for Phoenix to think he’s been demoted to Wright. That being a lawyer again means their previous, stiffer relationship has been reinstated along with his career. He panics slightly, not wanting that idea to take hold.

“Thanks.” It’d sound happy to anyone else, but Miles can hear the undercurrent of worry.

Again his body moves without his mind’s explicit consent and he’s reaching for Phoenix’s tie in the middle of the defendant lobby before he’s registered the impulse to do so. Phoenix squawks and goes stiff as a board and red as an apple but doesn’t quite get as far as moving away. “Edgeworth, what… “

“You never were any good at tying this thing. Hold still.” His own voice sounds much farther away than Phoenix’s. Miles distantly decides that if he’s going to exist in this insane dream state for a moment he might as well embrace it. He commits to memory the heat coming off Phoenix’s skin, the cheap feel of the tie, the way his knuckles brush against his neck and he thinks he feels the hint of a nervous gulp. The air in the room suddenly feels unbearably hot.

After he finishes finally fixing that godforsaken pink tie, he admires his work for a moment, and then dares to look up to Phoenix’s face. The actual proximity of his eyes shocks him mute. He feels a slight tremble in his fingers as he pulls them away from Phoenix’s lapel. The room doesn’t exist.

He spots Phoenix wet his lips quickly with his tongue, and speak:

“I love you.”

It’s not said as if it’s news, or as if it’s a dramatic declaration, just a simple statement. Like it’s a reminder of something he’s already said. In a way, Miles supposes he has, in ways other than with words, countless times. He supposes they both have.

Phoenix looks just as shocked as Miles feels. Miles can’t help but laugh a little, even in his stupor. Phoenix looks even more shaken at that.

Distantly, as if echoed through a valley, they become aware that the bailiff is standing a few paces away, awkwardly trying to get Phoenix to go into the courtroom. Miles steps back, clearing his throat. His finger catches on Phoenix’s newly reattached attorney’s badge for a moment, giving him a burst of pride that is somehow perceptible over the rest of his body screaming bloody murder.

“I-I should go,” Phoenix stammers.

Miles faintly registers just before Phoenix turns away that he shouldn’t leave this conversation at that bombshell; he doesn’t want him to think the feeling isn’t mutual - the one that tears him apart day and night. He takes a deep breath and replies perhaps a little too loud.

“I love you too. Call me after the trial?”

“Way ahead of you,” Phoenix breathes, chest heaving. The beaming smile is back and somehow even brighter. It seems to illuminate the entire courthouse in a radiant golden light. Miles weakly offers up an uncharacteristically erratic wave before Phoenix turns and disappears into the courtroom with a skip in his step. Miles makes a mental note to apologise profusely for the distraction if he loses the case.

#HEY ITS BEEN 9 YEARS AND IM STILL OBSESSED WITH THESE IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #NO ONE IS SURPISED PROBABLY #lawyers #otp: hug it out #nicky #milesy #truce #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #wrightworth #edgewright #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #trucy wright #idk she gets a brief mention #patchwork lawyer family #gyakuten saiban

[sweetest-honeybee]

To Hell and Back

Chapter 31

Summary: Introducing a new evil hermit in the story and Doc nearly chokes BadTimes to death.

Characters: Doc, Impulse, BadTimes (Oscar), Hex (my Evil Mumbo) (NPC Grian, Xisuma, Hels, Wels, and Evil X mention)

TW: Strangulation and (kind of) swearing I believe?

Notes: Yes, notes will become a consistent thing lol, but I love this chapter a lot because of Oscar’s characterization :D

——————

The Evil Hermits were interesting to say the least. BadTimes led them around the vast area which resembled their server in some way. The land seemed generated quite the same, and in the places where their bases were in the overworld, they were there in HelsCraft, as BadTimes called it. The castle for The Champion was actually the Hels version of Grian’s castle he built, just the land was changed here and there.

There was a ‘jungle’- large burnt trees- close to it, and within the jungle was a very tall withering tree, presumably the HelsCraft version of Iskall’s base, owned by who BadTimes called Iskill. However, they weren’t on their way there after getting a glimpse at the other bases. The moment they were through the lava and flying around, their eyes landed on Mumbo’s HelsCraft base. Unsurprisingly, it was built nearly identical to it but gears and hundred block tall machinery ticked with metallic groans outside of the temple. Smokestacks made their way from the ground and the place looked more like a factory than the preserved temple.

BadTimes decided that that was where they would be visiting first as far as actually talking to the Evil Hermits was concerned. He said he had an ally there named Hex. Hex was supposedly Mumbo’s evil doppelgänger and that all of the Evil Hermits, and a large portion of HelsCraft itself, tended to rely on him for materials. BadTimes said he was respected, nearly a Champion but lacked a will to fight all the time and didn’t care to please The Lord of Darkness.

Already had been flying around, BadTimes led them to land on the spire in the middle of the factory, wings folding behind them neatly. Doc and Impulse were absolutely stunned by the build itself, not that Mumbo’s general base in the overworld wasn’t already incredibly impressive. Just the intense amount of machinery and watching farms grow and be harvested in amounts at a time by the hundreds. It was incredible and that made Impulse particularly giddy to meet this redstone master.

BadTimes had them land on the highest layer of the spire and let Doc and Impulse take in the ginormous build and it’s details. Occasionally, they saw BadTimes glance around, presumably looking for his friend. Though, were friends a thing here? BadTimes said Hex was an ally, not a friend. Yet, Evil X said Hels considered the Evil Hermits to be his friends at one point.

That also brought a thought to Doc, from something Hels told him a while back. He decided to ask BadTimes anyways while Impulse was busy looking over the edge. The creeper stepped up to the evil terraformer with a grunt.

“Weren’t you the one who helped in dethroning Hels?” He asked, not sparing a glance at the other, simply watching Impulse gawk and ramble about the machinery as he stood next to the evil hermit.

On the other hand, BadTimes didn’t seem fazed by the question, simply keeping an unmoving gaze. “Yes. I helped NPC get the throne. Wasn’t the one who stabbed em’ though.” He side eyed Doc carefully. “Why.”

Doc nodded, taking in the information that Hels, in fact, didn’t lie if he was talking shit about his previous companions. “We need your help,” he muttered.

That brought a chuckle out of BadTimes. “What, with The Lord a’ Darkness?” He whistled, emphasizing the size of that kind of task. “Can’t help ya’ there. ‘S got all of us wrapped around his finger. You want help, you get NPC. Kid’s got tons of power.”

The creeper sighed, then faced BadTimes curiously. “Why did you help us? In the castle?”

“Aw, now don’t bring none a’ that here. I did y’all a favor, but I don’ do it out of the nonexistent kindness of my heart, Doc. You owe me.”

Doc hummed, a fair point. “Right, well, you didn’t say you wouldn’t help us with The Lord of Darkness because you didn’t want to. You said it because you’re not able to.”

BadTimes snorted at the observation, nodding his head fondly. “Who said I like workin’ for em’? I don’t care about none a’ y’all, but I like not having to murder people all the time for his satisfaction. I want out just as bad as you do, but that’d hurt that Scar fellow.”

That was true. Hels trying to get out only landed in whatever was going on with Wels. “Right, right. Why’d you overthrow Hels then?”

The other shrugged. “Needed NPC up there. He don’ hurt anyone, really. Soft kid, actually. But even without whatever The Lord gave em’ as a reward, he’s got enough power to wipe out a city with a snap.” BadTimes sighed, almost sadly. “Kid ain’t from here, Doc. He could change this but it would risk everything we got here.”

“Change what?”

The trio turned their heads towards the familiar British accent, though much deeper than they thought it’d be, more distorted. There stood, who Impulse and Doc assumed, was Hex. Unsurprisingly, the man was still sporting the curled handlebar mustache, and his outfit screamed the word Victorian. This man, they already could tell, was some kind of inventor. Maybe the googles were the deciding factor for that thought.

“Howdy, Hex! Showin’ these fellas around. Lord a’ Darkness took em’ from the overworld.” BadTimes pointed a thumb at the two behind him.

“Figured,” the Brit replied, though not hardly showing much interest to them. “Touch anything and I'll have you ground in the gears down there, understand?” Doc and Impulse nodded, Impulse still with a grin on his face.

“You are like- holy shit, how long have you been doing this?!” The redstoner asked excitedly. “This is amazing!”

Hex tilted his chin up proudly. “Years. This world kinda forces you to get better than most. Competition, I’d say, is probably why it happens to look like this anyways.”

“You’ve got to teach me,” Impulse replied, bouncing on his heels.

“Better hope you can keep up, I don’t wait.” Hex ended his sentence on a cold stare, but even behind the mustache, you could see his lips perk up just slightly.

BadTimes decided to interject their little conversation. “Ay Hex, gotta ask you somethin’. Think you can do anythin’ to help this whole Lord a’ Darkness thing?” he asked, putting a hand on the brit’s shoulder.

He’d shook his head. “I don’t believe so, no. NPC can’t do anything?”

“Ah, ‘s what we were thinkin’. Hels ain't havin’ a fun time though, Wels is gettin’ possessed by The Lord.”

“Serves him right....” Hex muttered. “Evil Xisuma dragged him over there, he can stay for all I care.”

“Hex, he was just tryin’ to please The Lord. You know what happens when you don’ please The Lord.”

“Well, The Lord can punish me,” he replied in a disgusted tone, plucking the other evil hermit’s hand off his shoulder. “I don’t care about Mumbo. I’m not being paid to sit around and do his handiwork. I invent for myself, Oscar.”

BadTimes huffed, quirking a brow at the inventor. “So you won’t help us with a little revolution?” he asked with a pout.

Hex merely rolled his eyes with a slight smile, then looking at Doc and Impulse. “What’s been going on in your world, anyways? We heard it’s getting bad. Your own admin is starting to turn on you.”

The pair’s eyes widened, jaws dropping at the phrase. Xisuma turning on them? Had he been possessed as well? Doc wondered about it, then realizing now how aggressive the admin had been since this whole thing started. Now, he and Keralis were off somewhere, probably finding Hels and Evil X to figure out what was going on. That could only lead to something bad.

“Uh….” Doc started, promptly shutting his mouth in confusion. “I….don’t know apparently. I didn’t know Xisuma was….” he trailed off, the Evil Hermits stared at him curiously.

“You’re an idiot,” Hex commented. Doc sent him a glare, but that was quickly returned by the inventor. “You seriously haven’t noticed this entire time? Whew boy, you’re in for a treat.”

“Yeah,” BadTimes agreed. “Can’t believe you didn’t know Evil X was bein’ punished too. I mean I don’ like the guy, but just somethin’ you should know.”

The pair dragged their hands down their faces, glancing at each other worriedly.

“We’ve gotta get back to the overworld,” said Impulse. He looked at the Evil Hermits with pleading eyes. “There’s gotta be a way for us to get back.”

“Look, I’m sorry boys, but-“

The Evil Hermits paused, pulling out phone-like objects from their pockets. Impulse and Doc realized quickly that the Evil Hermits had their own communicators. That quickly gave the both of them ideas.

“Xisuma experienced kinetic energy,” Hex read. “Hm, guess he’s not doing great either.”

“You have communicators?” Doc asked them.

Quickly, they pocketed their comms. “Yeah, they ain’t for you though, back off.”

“You don’t understand, we’ve gotta get back home, BadTimes,” the creeper growled.

“I think we’re done meetin’ people for today, Doc,” the other replied rather blankly.

“I thought you wanted to get out of this!”

Impulse turned to pull him away from BadTimes. “Doc, don’t-“

Doc pulled his shoulder away from Impulse harshly. “No, we’re getting out of here. You’ve gotta help us, because if you wanna leave this,” he gestured around them. “This is how.”

Without hesitation, both Evil Hermits drew their swords, the familiar netherite blades reflecting the luminance in the spire. Hex stepped forward with BadTimes and Impulse stepped away from the trio, far away. Doc stood his ground with a snarl. Yet, he spread his arms away from him with a smirk.

“Go on then. Kill me. I’ll get stuck on that island again, won’t I?”

“No, actually.” Hex looked at Impulse darkly. He walked back and pressed a button on the wall, one of many of them littering it. “But he can go.”

A couple seconds after the button was pressed, an arrow shot out of a hidden dispenser, striking Impulse in the chest. The redstoner, having been close to the edge, stumbled backwards, finding no more ground behind him. Despite this, his shock kept him from yelling on his way off the edge. Doc ran to catch his hands but at the last second, Impulse’s fingers slipped through his grip and he watched as his friend descended painfully into the machinery at the bottom of the build, watching blood splatter in the large gears.

ImpulseSV suffocated, they knew their communicators read. The server mechanics wouldn’t be able to name any other death.

The creeper took a step back, silent at what’d just happened to his friend.

“Don’ worry about it. He’ll spawn back up there. I’m gonna go grab em’-“ BadTimes was interrupted by a metallic grip around his neck pushing up against one of the stone pillars. He grabbed at Doc’s arm, clawing at it, but the hold didn’t budge. Quickly, he was lifted off the ground, left squirming in the air against the wall.

“You don’t respawn, Oscar. You can help me or I strangle you to death,” Doc snarled. “Just a damn pitiful creature. Nothing more than a skeleton, aren’t you.”

With that, Hex pulled a bow from his inventory, aiming it at the creeper. “Let him go or I call NPC. He won’t be merciful.”

The hand around BadTime’s throat tightened and he choked, swallowing thickly. “H- Hex don’t—“ he rasped. “Doc,” he swallowed again. “I’m sorry- Can’t help your world.” The Evil Hermit began to feel lightheaded. “But I can get you out- I can-“ At those words, he fell to the floor, the hand no longer around his neck. He hacked and coughed, bringing his hands up to his now sore throat.

“Tell me how.”

“Oscar, you’re not seriously going to help him!”

“We need the NPC,” BadTimes muttered. “But you,” he pointed up at Doc. “Don’t ever call me Oscar, ya’ hear?”

“Noted, now go get Impulse.” Doc smirked at how BadTimes scurried away, stumbling to stand, and fumbling with his liftoff. Man’s all bark and no bite, isn’t he. The creeper turned to Hex, who stood motionless. He was confused as to what to do now.

“You’re gonna help us, too,” Doc growled.

#my fic #to hell and back #docm77 #hex hermitcraft #badtimeswithscar #impulsesv #long post

[lnarizakis]

if ghosts could even love

masterlist

pairing: yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader x tsukishima kei

foreword: hi! this piece was definitely out of my comfort zone, but really fun to write! this is an angsty guardian angel au. it is another attempt at angst since the only thing i’m pretty much decent at is fluff. so here i am, continuing to practice angst! this is also one of my first attempts at “aesthetic formatting,” so please go easy on me, hahah. thank you to @doughnuts-5ever for beta-reading! i hope you enjoy!!

word count: 1.6k

look out for: themes referring to death, mentions of suicide and manga spoilers, unrequited love, angst

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Warm air hit his face, and he was instantly met with a blinding light that shines even through his eyelids that he has to squeeze his eyes more shut than they already were. He couldn’t breathe, but he felt as free as an angel flying in the sky. Perhaps he was one. It seemed like a dream—to be up in the heavens, lying on the clouds; but when he opened his eyes ever so slowly, the pink and white and purple and yellow surrounding him like a flurry made him realize that he most definitely was not on Earth, but maybe, just maybe, he was in Heaven.

“Welcome to Heaven,” a voice boomed in his head, but it didn’t ring in his ears, shaking his being like all his mortal fears did when he was still alive. He’s...dead? But his soul felt so alive, he couldn’t possibly fathom that he was actually dead.

“Your good intentions on Earth did not go unnoticed,” the voice rang again. He looked around for the source of the message, but all he could find within the vast space of clouds and sky was himself— or, at least, what he thought was himself. He attempted to look down at his feet, but there were no feet in sight. It was just his soul, the empty ghost of what was once a former pinch server, captain, student, and best friend. “You are allowed to look over one person on earth for the rest of their life. You must have choose wisely; you are to watch over this person for the rest of your life. Who shall you choose?”

Without hesitation, he spoke out loud (if ghosts could even talk), “My best friend, Tsukishima Kei.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A flurry of bright colors covered his entire vision, and they turned darker and darker as they mixed with one another. The blizzard vanished before him, and he stood in front of his best friend, who sat at the edge of his bed. The lights of his bedroom were turned off, and through the closed blinds of the single window he could see that it was nighttime.

The ghost of a former friend leapt towards Tsukishima, in an attempt to hug him, but passed through his body like the spirit he was. There was certainly no way he could make contact with him at all. Tsukishima leaned forward, hands covering his face to mask his pained expression. As he groaned into his palms, the door to his bedroom slowly creaked open, revealing the shadowed figure of his older brother.

“Kei, are you okay?” He made his way towards his younger brother, only to be stopped by a stern “Leave.” Kei didn’t even turn around to look at his brother’s retreating figure.

“Tsukki, I’m right here,” the ghost called out. He was met with no reply—he was only a soul, after all. Tsukishima coudn’t possibly hear him. From behind his bedroom door, both Kei and the ghost could hear the older brother tell Kei that Tadashi’s—whoever that was—family had planned for his funeral to be the following week. A funeral? The soul made his way to reside next to Tsukishima’s hunched form, comforting him in any way he could.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

On the day of the funeral, Tsukishima showed up in a loose black suit and a tie. His head hung low, not wanting to partake in any second of this moment. The ghost thought he looked nice. As he made his way towards his best friend’s grave, Tsukishima made eye contact with a girl around his age whose tears for the deceased had already stained her cheeks for everyone to see. She turned towards Tsukishima, and the spirit who accompanied him felt a pang of familiarity in all the corners of his otherworldly body. Something about her just looked so, so familiar. Her name was on the tip of his tongue (if ghosts could even have tongues). There was no way for him to remember who she was.

“Hi, (L/N),” Tsukishima said, walking towards the girl. She wrapped her arms around his torso, but he made no movement of hugging her back. She sobbed into his chest, heaving out words she didn’t know she was saying. From behind the tear-stained girl, the mother of whom the ghost suspected was Tadashi joined the two and held out an envelope in front of Tsukishima.

“It’s for you,” she commented, as Tsukishima accepted the letter. The girl, whose name the ghost learned was (L/N), let go of her hold on Tsukishima and stood by him, watching him open the letter. He pulled out a sheet of paper that looked like it was impulsively ripped out of a math notebook on a lonely Thursday night. The handwriting looked familiar to the ghost, as if he had written out the message himself, but he had no memory of writing out a depressing suicide note like that. Tsukishima’s eyes slowly scanned the letter in front of him, but it was hard to read the ink towards the bottom of the paper that began to mix with the salty tears that dropped from his chin.

(L/N) held out her own letter, telling Tsukishima that she received one from him as well. She allowed him to read it, and the contents of it shocked him. His eyes widened, not believing a single thing Tadashi had written or her. The ghost’s best friend turned towards (L/N), who still looked ethereal as ever despite her puffy eyes and ruined makeup. She choked back a sob as she nodded, squeezing her eyes shut to keep more tears from letting out. Tsukishima looked at the ground, mumbling out, “I never knew.”

She said it was okay.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Several days later, it seemed like Tsukishima’s life returned to normal. In fact, it seemed livelier than usual, like an array of colors lit up his whole world. Maybe it was because he started dating (L/N), whom the ghost had come to know as (Y/N), brightening up his darkened canvas with the new warm colors in his life. Maybe dating her was his way of coping with his loss.

It hurt the ghost terribly, for her beauty had stirred his ghostly heart to begin beating once again. The ghost could see the way her laugh brought shades of yellow into Tsukishima’s life, and how her smile shined a pure white wherever she went. Whenever she hugged Tsukishima from behind to surprise him, or whenever she grabbed both of his hands to show him her support, shades of pink and red were splattered onto the canvas of his life. It seemed to the ghost that because of his death, a new beginning came for Tsukishima.

New feelings (if ghosts could even produce the merest of feelings) also rose within the ghost himself as he too began to fall in love with (Y/N). These feelings, though, were so familiar despite only having known her for several days; it was like he had been in love with her before. He felt so at home with these feelings—it was like falling in love with her was what he had always wanted; what he had longed for as an empty soul.

What the ghost had come to realize was that he was Tadashi and that he used to love (Y/N) while he was alive. He didn’t know what to do with this new information—or perhaps old information, and that he was to inevitably learn this—but he knew what to make of it. Tadashi had to understand that he never told (Y/N) how he felt, resulting in these feelings of his still burning alive even after his death on Earth.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(Y/N) clung to Tsukishima’s side just like how a similar someone did to him while he was still alive. It was almost like she was a replacement for him. She was so constantly around him that it seemed like Tadashi was not only watching over Tsukishima, but also (Y/N). He observed her every quirk and learned all of her expressions. Tadashi knew just how in love with Tsukishima (Y/N) was, but the boyfriend himself couldn’t see it.

Tadashi could vividly remember one rainy Thursday afternoon, an instance in which he was so pained to be so in love yet so out of reach for (Y/N). Through the open blinds of the one window of his bedroom he could probably count each rain droplet that was stuck to the glass in the time the two were cuddled up on Tsukishima’s bed. He was fast asleep, tired out of his mind from the busy morning he had. (Y/N), though, was awake but slowly falling into a deep slumber in the warmth of his arms. Tadashi could remember her eyes—oh, her eyes—that were so in love with the boy in front of her, and he knows that if he were still alive he could give her the same kind of affection that she gave him. It hurt knowing, and it hurt that he could only imagine.

It hurt Tadashi’s soul seeing (Y/N) so in love with Tsukishima. It hurt knowing that he was in love with his best friend’s girlfriend. It hurt how he could never tell (Y/N) he loved her (if ghosts could even fall in love). Even while he was still alive. Oh, how he loved her while hew as alive. She made him feel as free as a bird up in the sky and as alive as a raging fire whose sparks crackled and flamed up in the night. It was so ironic how now, as an angel so free up in the heavens, he felt trapped inside a cage. Trapped, because he could never escape the longing he felt of livign someone who could never love him back, and the suffocation he felt knowing that he could definitely treat her better.

Tadashi laughed (if ghosts could even laugh). How selfish.

#haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi #tadashi yamaguchi #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #tadashi yamaguchi x reader #ummm so yeah sorry i killed yamaguchi :( #if there are some parts u would like me to clear up lmk #cadekagi

[neeharlowwrites]

Identical Strangers

Title: Identical Strangers

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4554

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of smut, Brotherly Angst, Family Drama, 

Authors Note:  This is an in Star Wars universe Solo triplet fan fic. I worked very hard on this and it would not be possible without the lovely ladies of the Thirst Order Writers Server on discord. These girls and the Thirst Order mods are just the best. A special shout out to Melly or @thetoruterwrites on tumblr for being a wonderful beta and helping me with everything. Including the title. And Luna or @writingsawildride on tumblr and on A03 who has listened to me complain and also reading this. Love you all!

Summary:  Luke Skywalker's temple was destroyed a family fight caused the Solo triplets, Ben, Matt, & Kylo to their separate ways. Ben went with Han, Matt stayed with Leia, and Kylo took off to find his own destiny with the man he knew only as Snoke. Years go by and they went from close to estranged within a short period of time when the oldest cut all connections. It wasn't until years later that while on a planet searching for the map to Skywalker that you mistake Ben for Kylo. Startled by this doppelganger at first then intrigued when you learned of Kylo's past you impulsively decide a family reunion is in order. What starts as bad only spirals into worse as you endure brotherly shenanigans and secrets from the past are brought into light as you soon find yourself smack dab in the middle of generations old family drama. And as Kylo's "co-worker" with benefits this was not what you signed up, but maybe just maybe, this could help you break past that Jedi Killer facade and finally know the man Kylo Organa-Solo.

Chapter One

You looked around the crowded village square and tried not to panic. You'd lost him. You had one job! Should have been simple enough: Don't lose Kylo Ren. Not that finding a 6'3 tall man in a long black flowing robe and scary mask would be difficult, he had a tendency to stick out wherever he went; but you really did not have time for his bantha shit today. The General was going to be unhappy when he learned of this, and when the General was unhappy he bitched and whined and moaned. Which would have been fine, you were good at tuning out the anal retentive ginger. Its just when those complaints reached Supreme Leader Snoke you'd have to deal with him too. You pulled your hood up over your head and began to scan the crowd for your missing asshole. He must have gotten a lead on the map and went for it. Not uncommon for him to ditch you. All because he had the Force or whatever the fuck. Something you lacked and he enjoyed reminding you of often. You still would like to have been notified. You were there with him for a reason, damn it.

You walked through the crowded streets filled with all kinds of different beings, from human, to near-human, and even some aliens. You didn't have time to really marvel at all different species. You needed to find Ren and get back to the Command Shuttle. You turned a corner and there was, a man who was a head taller than the rest. That gorgeous black hair was a surprise though? Had he taken his mask off as to mingle more efficiently? You felt as though you'd die of a heart attack. Ren had taken your advice for once! You really didn't care, you had a bone to pick with this good for nothing nerf herder.

“Hey!” you shouted.

He ignored you. Since he was mask-less and anonymous this meant you could get a little hands on without sudden consequence,

“Hey!” you said louder.

The man turned and looked you up and down curiously, “Well hey to you too...” he smirked crossing his arms across his chest, “And what can I do for you sweet thing?”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay I'll play along Solo.”

“Ah, so my reputation proceeds me. Yes, I'm Solo.” he said, “Both here and relationship wise. More important question, are you?”

“Excuse me?” you asked tilting your head forward and glaring up at him from beneath your lashes. “I mean I know we're not, you know, but single? Whatever, let's get going.”

“Wow you like to get right to it don't you?” he asked flashing a rare dopey smile.

“You feeling okay?” you asked reaching to feel his forehead.

“I could always feel...” he gently took your hand and kissed it, “Better.”

You cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, “Right... so I'm just going to say it's the heat getting to you. But we can discuss this more later. On the ship.” you pulled your hand back and ignored the butterflies that had decided to take flight in your stomach and walked behind him. You planted both of your hands firmly on his ass and paused momentarily... had he been working out? Seemed fuller.

“Hey! Whoa!! Hands off the goods kid!” he exclaimed jumping, “I mean I'm into this, I love feisty women and all but uh, how about we start a name?”

You sighed, “My name is I dunno, Leia?”

His eyes went distant, “Well that's unfortunate...”

“What's wrong with that name?”

“No man wants to moan his mother's name in bed... kind of traumatizing.” he replied.

“Speaking from experience?” you asked.

“I don't know. I am willing to find out though.” he shrugged and smirked suggestively. “I'm always up for new experiences, even mentally scarring ones.”

“Okay, Kylo that's just weird.” you siad throwing your hands up.

That smirk faded as his expression turned to interest, “Wait, did you say Kylo?”

“Yes, Kylo, your name Kylo Ren?” you said. “Now come on, we need to get back before Hux's panties bunch up too far.”

“I'm not Kylo Organa-Solo.” he said, “I'm Ben Organa-Solo, his brother.”

“His twin brother I'm assuming?” you asked.

“Close, triplet actually.” Ben said. “This makes sense now. Where is the overgrown bitch boy anyway?”

You look back at him and then you started to realize slight differences between your Kylo and this man, same hair, same expressive eyes, same long elegant nose, same full plush lips... but the speckles of freckles and moles were different. Your eyes widened and you drew back, “Oh stars... you're really aren't Kylo, are you?”

Ben offered his hand, “Hi, I'm Ben Organa-Solo the middle child of the Solo triplets.” he said, you took his hand and shook it, “And you're Leia?”

You laughed, “No, my name is actually, F/N, I work with Kylo. Well not with him... more for him. I'm on the Supreme Council.” you looked at him smiling, “Wow, so Kylo really is a triplet.”

“He's the oldest, as I said I'm the adorable middle child, and then there's our youngest brother Matt.” he said, “You didn't know Kylo had brothers?”

“Kylo is pretty tight lipped about things. He doesn't talk about his past.” you said sadly.

“Are you his girlfriend?” he asked.

“Careful with that word.” you cringed, “There's nothing official between us. We're...” you tried to think of a term but blanked, “We fuck.” you shrugged.

“Pretty sure that's a friend with benefits.”

“More like a co-worker with benefits,” you corrected. “I came here with him to find something. But he went up and disappeared. Not the first time.” You sighed heavily, “Hey, so, how would you like to come see your brother?”

Ben's smile widened into a grin, “I think I'd like that very much.”

“Okay good. Follow me. I think he might actually be on the Command Shuttle and if he's not its the only way off this hell hole of a planet.” you said, “Come, follow me.”

You and Ben took off to the deserted part of the old village where you had left the Command Shuttle. You hoped that impulsive move would end well. Kylo was a very temperamental man. He was feared for being a killer and he was. There was no doubt about that. You often wondered why you hadn't become one of his countless victims. Maybe it was because he liked the way you challenged him? Maybe you were just a good fuck? Didn't matter, even if he denied it you knew you meant something to that man child. You reached into your robes for your comlink to contact Kylo but before you could try to reach him it was snatched out of your hand via Force by Ben.

“Maybe it'd be better if Kylo didn't know I was coming.” Ben said as the two of you walked.

“Why? Is he going to be upset?” you asked.

“Depends, would you still take me to see him if his reaction was, say, less than nice to seeing me?”

“No, I'd only want to take you more.” you said as you saw the ship come into view, “Why? Did you guys end things on a bad note?”

Ben was quiet as he pondered the question and cringed at the memories of his and Kylo's last conversation, “You could say that, yeah. But I'm glad you enjoy making Kylo squirm enough to bring back his estranged brother into his life.”

“Estranged?”

“Things between the three of us haven't been good for a while.” Ben said, “We actually haven't heard from Kylo for years. If it weren't for the Force bond we all shared we'd assumed he'd been dead long ago. Killed by doing something stupid or killed by somone. Either way dead. Kind of surprised he’s alive. Glad, but surprised.”

“He's alive. If you call it that.” you said. “He's rarely happy. I try to make him happy, but the closest I get is after we've--” you stopped mid sentence and pressed your lips together in thought, maybe this was too personal. You glanced at Ben before continuing, “Probably TMI. Before he ups and leaves me to shower. That moment where he looks at me and I could swear I see something more than lust... but I'm probably seeing what I want to see.”

“You're in love with him?” Ben asked.

You went silent not wanting to admit it yourself let alone some man you just met. You looked up the ramp of the ship where two Stormtroopers stood guard.

You lowered your voice just loud enough for Ben to hear, “It doesn't matter. Ren and I fuck. That's as far as that goes.”

“I understand, don't worry, your secret is safe with me.” he winked and playfully smacked your shoulder, “Now show me to the sum bitch.” he gestured for you to enter first.

You smiled and strode onto the ship, “Stay hidden until I can tell him.”

“You bet.” he said as he followed you through the winding corridors. “Wow, this is a nice ship. Is it his?”

“No, it belongs to the First Order.” you replied, “Kylo is a high ranking member so he travels in style.”

“Does he have his own ship?” Ben asked.

“Yeah he does. The Silencer. It is a one of a kind ship that was made and especially equipped for him. For now at least, its in its testing phase but it's going to be mass produced once he gives the clear.” you said as you came to a stop outside the cockpit.

“At least he's living his dream somehow...” Ben said.

“Stay here... I'll tell you when, okay?”

Ben gave you a thumbs up and you smiled. You opened the door to find Kylo sitting in the main chair, his throne, or the closest he'd ever get to one. You came up beside him and cleared your throat. His masked head turned to regard you. You wondered just how he was looking at you under that helmet.

“It is about time you joined us Lieutenant.” Kylo drawled through the modulator.

You noticed the two pilots out of the corner of your eye so you kept your tone respectful to your superior.

“Forgive me Commander Ren. I was distracted. I had assumed you ditched me and returned to the Finalizer already.” you said keeping your tone level, “I met someone.”

“Don't care.” he said, “Did you find what we came here for?”

“No, Commander. There was no word or clue to where the map is located. I fear it was a false lead.” you said, “But I did find something you'd find of interest. Or someone.”

“Resistance?” he asked rising from his chair.

You looked directly into that visor and shook your head, “No, not a Resistance member.”

He stepped closer nearly chest to chest. You could feel his heat and smell the scent of his clothes this close. He clenched his fists looking down at you, “Who?”

You felt that slight pressure at the back of your skull but you knew that feeling. It was not a headache coming on which you had mistaken it for in the past. It was him. Shifting around your thoughts again. He wasn't even trying to hide it this time.

“Sir, personal space.” you muttered under your breath looking over at the pilots to be sure they weren't looking. “And as for who, it's someone you know.”

You could sense him narrowing his eyes as he saw your recent memories and who you had brought onto his ship. The rage was sudden and he pushed past you storming to the door. You heard it open and a cheerful,

“BRO!”

Followed by the sound of Kylo's fist meeting a fleshy object you assumed to be Ben's face, a blood curdling bone crunching noise, and finally a body hitting the floor. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You tried to tell yourself that if you turned around Ben would be fine and that Kylo hadn't just broken his brother's nose on sight but somehow.. you seriously doubted that.

A few seconds passed and you heard Ben's muffled voice, “Nice to see you too Kylo.”

“GUARDS!” Kylo's voice roared. Several troopers appeared and pulled Ben to his feet, “Throw him in the brig, I'll figure out what to do with him when we reach the Finalizer.”

“Kylo--” you tried to argue but he whirled around and pointed at you. You knew better than to try to argue further, “Fine, then I will be with Ben in the brig. Commander .”

Kylo didn't stop you but you heard his enraged yells behind you as you left. You pitied those pilots who were probably shitting their pants about now. But they'd live, Kylo wasn't that impulsive. He'd probably just sit and stew the entire way back to the Finalizer while you sat with Ben.

You grabbed an ice pack, some clean towels, and headed to the brig. They allowed you entrance and you saw Ben sitting and holding his nose blood dripping down his front. He waved at you and you smiled handing him the ice pack.

“That could have gone better.” you said.

“You obviously don't know my brother...” Ben chuckled, “That's just Kylo. He's always had a temper. It's why he was sent away in the first place.”

“To be a Jedi?”

“So you do know?” Ben asks, “He must really like you.”

You chuckled, “I just know bits and pieces from what I've heard around. There's plenty of rumors about your brother, oddly none about him having triplet brothers.” you smiled and undid Ben's shirt, “You're just ruining this shirt... take it off.” you pulled it off his shoulders and folded it.

“Careful, he is the jealous type.” Ben warned.

“If he had a reason to be jealous then fine, but he doesn't.” you shrugged, “I really don't feel like talking about the specifics of Kylo and I's... whatever. But I am curious about his past. Maybe tell me a little but about that?”

“How about a little info exchange? You tell me something and then I tell you something.” he offered.

“Alright, we can do that. But you have to go first.” you smiled and took one of the towels to wipe the blood from his lips and chin, “Who is Kylo? Really?”

“Kylo Cole Organa-Solo,” Ben began but you snorted “What?”

“Cole? Kylo's middle name is Cole?” you asked.

“Yeah, his middle name is Cole, why is that so funny?” Ben asked tilting his head.

“It's just so... normal. Compared to his first name I was thinking it would be something more exotic, dare I say dramatic. Like I don't know, Jett?” you threw out a random name and Ben laughed.

“No, Kylo's name is the only odd one. You'd think he was named last, as if they had only planned for two but then surprise that dark glob of anti-matter popped out too.” Ben said. “Matt was actually the last one.”

“Sorry, go on...” you said getting a fresh towel, “Let me see your nose...”

Ben lowers the now blood stained one, “It hurts...” he pouted.

You smiled warmly, “Poor thing... just hold still I need to check and make sure he didn't break it. It'd be a shame. You and your brother have such beautiful noses..” she reached and gently touched it. Ben cringed and inhaled sharply but remained still, “Okay... it looks fine. It's just going to be very sore for a while.”

“Brothers.” he corrected then cringed when he moved his head, “Shit... fucking Kylo.” he muttered.

“Anyway continue.” you gestured leaning back against the wall. “Kylo Cole Organa-Solo...”

“We were born the day they signed the Galactic Accordance. Our mom was in labor during it actually.” he laughed, “The official end of the Empire. So that was a big day for her and the galaxy as a whole. Our dad Han Solo was there for the birth. It has been said that Luke made an appearance too. But don't know about that considering there were also rumors that we were born with full sets of teeth. No one really knows what happened.”

“Where?”

“Ah... your turn. But I’ll let you slide this time. We were born in Hanna City on the planet Chandrila. Now, when did you and Kylo meet?”

“We met in the First Order. I was just a young thing and he was the big scary Commander Ren. I was promoted in rank and given a spot on the Supreme Council and Kylo and I were more or less forced into close proximity and we just kind of...” you shrugged, “Over those two years tension led to stress which led to it building and building and finally snapping in a hot, sweaty cum drenched mess in an empty conference room on an even messier table much to Hux's chagrin.”

“So it started as a rivalry of sorts and then became something more?” Ben smirked.

“I guess it could be seen as that, why?”

“Just sounds awfully familiar.” Ben said grinning, “Like our parents almost. Just hope that this ends better.”

“Your parents aren't together anymore?” you asked concerned.

“Are you going to waste your turn or are you going to ask about Kylo?”

“Damn... okay, we'll come back to that.” you said pointing at him, “You said he got sent away?”

“To train to be a Jedi with our Uncle Luke. He didn't want to go. But he was the oldest and he also was the one who honestly had the most power. Power he couldn't control and would let slip sometimes. So mom and dad thought it'd be best if he went with Luke.” Ben explained. “Kylo felt abandoned. Matt was always close to mom and I was closer to dad.. I guess Kylo felt both parents had their favorite. There was no one left for him. He was the third wheel, the odd one out, and he still holds onto that resentment for us. More me than Matty. He and I have always been the ones who fought the most. Matt was the peacekeeper.”

You nodded sadly, “That explains a lot actually. He has neglect issues and fear of rejection. You can see it how easily he's pushed to emotional extremes over simple things. Usually anger. I don't think I've ever seen him cry though.”

“Your turn.” Ben said, “What do you do in the First Order, it must be something to get his attention.”

“I am one of the lead strategists and a weapons engineer.” you replied. “I hold the rank of Lieutenant but I'm up for promotion soon. I work closely with Kylo but also General Hux to improve the Troopers gear and their simulation training.”

Ben removed the towel from his nose, “It stopped...” he said.

You looked him over and nodded, “Yeah it has. Good thing too. If it had kept bleeding I would have resorted to shoving some tampons up there.” you teased.

“So am I a prisoner of the First Order now or...?”

You shrugged, “I honestly don't know. The best thing we can do right now is give Kylo some time to cool off.”

“You know, I'm already nearly 30 there's only so many years left to live. Might not have time for that.”

You laughed, “I get it, he can be... testy. But trust me, he's cooled a lot since we've started--”

“Dating?” Ben suggested.

“Ben.” you said in a warning tone, “Promise me you won't tell him I told you about our personal stuff?”

“Don't worry kid, I got you.”

You sighed, “I think we're almost there. I'll go talk to him to see if I can lessen your sentence.”

“Good luck with that.” Ben said.

You gave his hand a light squeeze and left the cell. Ben was nearly identical to Kylo, it was a little alarming but you could get used to it. Ben was also funny, charming, and goofy. Something you knew Kylo was capable of however refused to let down his guard enough to show. Not even with you. Which was a little insulting if you really thought about it. Then again, he had made his intentions very clear that first night. This was purely for stress relief. You and him had an arrangement and nothing more. But over the past two years you'd grown so close to him, or as close as he'd let you. Under your delusional notions of sentiment it didn't matter, he was Kylo Ren, The Jedi Killer, Supreme Leader Snoke's prodigy apprentice... there was no way.

But even this, whatever it was, would all come to an end. Either in anguish and blood or, if you were lucky, quick and painless. If he had ever really cared he may even give you the option of knocking you unconscious beforehand. Somehow you doubted that though, Kylo always seemed to enjoy hurting people and you were nothing special. Or maybe he actually did see you as special? If that was the case, than that meant he'd take his time with you. Drag out those final moments, maybe even use them to get himself off at a different time. Fuck, he may not even wait just even jack off over your corpse. He was a twisted fuck. You banished those thoughts to the back of your mind, when that time came you'd face it head on. For now, you needed to talk the man down from possibility executing his brother.

You entered the cockpit and found him sitting in that middle chair. You quietly approached and kneel by his side, “Commander?” you asked softly, you know he heard you by the subtle movement of his hands.

He ignored you. You remained by his side quietly waiting for him to acknowledge you. Your eyes didn't move from the side of that mask. As you refused to back down you took in the black shine, the dents and nicks in the dome of it. It was intimidating, or it had been when you first saw him. It was nightmare fuel to most what he had done to your predecessor. You'll never forget that lightsaber crackling to life; the red blade ragged and spitting illuminating the dim war room briefly before he had thrust it hilt deep into her sternum so quick your brain hardly registered it until her body lay sprawled and motionless on the floor. All you could do was stare in awe and fascination as that tinted visor slowly turned its sights upon you and in doing so awoke something inside you had not ever felt before. You had been ashamed at how wet that made you. Either the sight of blood shed, the smell of burning skin and plasma, Kylo Ren himself or all of it together made your panties stick to you. And the way his gaze fell upon you you knew he sensed it just as if he could smell your moist cunt in the air.

You shudder a bit at the memory, a heat rising in you. That got his attention. Side eyeing to make sure you were not seen you brought your hand up and hesitantly placed it on his thigh. Without turning his head to fully acknowledge you he slid his hand up his thigh to touch yours. Even through both sets of gloves you could feel his warmth. It was moments like this you were most curious about the Force and what it would be like to feel him like that. You wondered for a split second if that's why he refused--

His hand squeezed yours cutting off any further thoughts. You realized he'd been in there listening. You hated when he was sneaky about it, and only when your thoughts forced his reaction did you realize he was aware of them. You tried to pull your hand away but he held tightly onto it.

“When we arrive, take Solo to my private quarters.” he said, “We have things to discuss. Have dinner sent there for when we arrive. You are to eat with us. I will be needing a chaperon to attend so that I am not tempted to end him.”

“Yes Commander Ren.” you said nodding respectfully. He released your hand allowing you to leave his side.

As you exited the cock pit you saw the Finalizer looming in the distance. You returned to the brig but stopped outside the cell you watched Ben sitting slouched on the metal cot. He had a look of concern on his face, his brow furrowed as those brown eyes looked around as if trying to see any weaknesses in his surroundings. His eyes scanned the walls, the floor, the ceiling and finally landed on you. The look of concern turned into a devious smirk.

“So you have returned to my humble abode?” he asked spreading his hands out, “I was just taking in what I'm guessing is my new living quarters?”

“Afraid not Ben, Ren has invited you to dinner in his private quarters.” you said. “Also I know men like you Solo, you were looking for something to use to bust out of here. What would you have done anyway? You realize your brother is a Commander, right? This is his ship. His men.”

“But I look like my brother...”

“None of these men have ever seen Kylo's face.” you said, “So they'd have no idea who you were if you had tried to pass as him. And I doubt you could. You're too sweet.”

“Have you?” he questioned.

“Well yeah, of course. Kylo and I have been intimate.” You said holding up a pair of binders, “Come on, we're here I managed to lessen your sentence from death to dinner with Kylo Ren.”

“Kinky...” he smirked holding up his hands. “I knew you were Kylo's type.”

“Oh baby you have no idea...” you chuckled as you placed them on his wrists. You put them on and then leaned in close, “Our first time he didn't even take off that mask...”

Ben was speechless and the scandalous expression on his face made you laugh.

“Huh...” he nodded as if impressed. “So am I going to see Kylo dearest before dinner or is this like one of those romance stories where the beauty is dolled up and presented to the beast for dinner. Either to eat with him or as the actual dinner, whichever.”

“No, nothing like that.” you laugh. “Just keep your head down and follow me. I'm your personal escort.”

“Um, Y/N... won't it be a bit odd having a shirtless prisoner being led around in binders?” Ben asked.

“Right...” you looked around and found a trooper's undershirt. “Here... a bit tight. But it's something.”

Ben raised his hands and eyebrows.

“You'll need to... sorry...” you removed the binders and let him squeeze into the shirt. “You're certainly built like your brother...” you mused looking at his body nearly ripping apart the undershirt at the seams.

He offered his hands again and you replaced the binders all the while ignoring that smug grin of his. You had a bad feeling about this. But if Ren wanted to have dinner with his brother you could only hope that was a good sign.

#My Fan Fiction #My Writing #Solo Triplets #Kylo Organa-Solo x Reader #Reader Insert #Brotherly Angst #Mistaken Idenity #Fan Fiction #Violence #Eventual Smut #Triplet!Kylo x Reader #Female Reader #I'm actually really happy with this one #Chapter One #Identical Strangers: A Solo Triplets Fic #In Canon Verse Fic #Explict

[beatrice-otter]

Fic: Matters of Perspective

Title: Matters of Perspective Fandom: Star Trek: The Next Generation Pairing: Guinan/Picard Rating: General Audiences Length: 3318 words Written for: sternel in Rare Pairings 2020 Betaed by: Karios Summary: Jean-Luc had many things to do when he returned from San Francisco of 1893. Reuniting with an old friend is one of them. AN: You guys, if you've never shipped Guinan/Picard, I suggest you rewatch Time's Arrow I & II and pay extra attention to the scenes they share. Wow. I saw this as a pinch hit, thought it was an interesting idea (I'd never thought of Guinan/Picard) and re-watched Time's Arrow because I remembered it having lots of Guinan stuff, and I was blown away. The way he looks at her. He stayed behind in the past, not knowing if he'd ever get back to the 24th Century, because she needed help. I am a convert. At AO3. On Dreamwidth. On Pillowfort.

There were many things to do when Jean-Luc returned from San Francisco of 1893: a debriefing with Riker of all that had happened on board Enterprise since he had left, a medical examination, a long shower and a change into his own uniform. Tomorrow would be taken up with writing his own report and debriefing over subspace with a number of historians who specialized in Earth's 19th Century. But with the immediate chores done he could take some time to visit an old friend, and so he headed to Ten Forward.

He walked in the door, and paused: this was the Guinan he knew, in the setting he knew her in. He walked slowly to the bar, treasuring the very ordinariness of it.

Guinan looked him up and down, and smiled. It was a warm smile, as Guinan's smiles were wont to be; at least, the smiles Jean-Luc was used to receiving. It wasn't until he had met her younger self and she had not known him, that he had realized she did not smile at everyone that way. "So, you made it back safely. I'm glad."

"You knew I had," Jean-Luc replied in some surprise. Guinan did not know everything, but that was sometimes hard to believe.

"No," Guinan said. "I knew you had left 19th Century San Francisco, and that others of your crew who left before you were able to get home. I didn't know for sure that you would be able to make it back. I hoped you would. But things don't always work out the way we hope they will. I've spent a lot of time in the last five centuries wondering."

"Did you ever consider not sending me back?"

She shook her head. "No. If we hadn't met then, we wouldn't have met later; and by the time I got to know you the second time we met, I knew that you would rather fulfill your mission and be stuck in the past than leave innocent civilians to die."

"True." Jean-Luc took a seat at the bar, thankful that Ten Forward was empty and he didn't have to worry about people listening in. "But why wouldn't we have met? I've been wondering about that."

"The galaxy is a big place, Picard," Guinan said. "I like to travel, I always have. See new things, hear new stories, meet new people. I don't come back to a place unless there's something compelling about it … and let me tell you, 19th Century America didn't exactly give me many reasons to give Humans a second look."

"I don’t blame you," Jean-Luc said. "There are many eras of Earth history that I find fascinating to read about or experience on the Holodeck, but very few I would have any interest in living in. But what was it about me that was so compelling?"

Guinan tipped her head. "The way you looked at me," she said. "Like I hung the moon and stars. Like the two of us were the only ones there. Like you knew me inside and out, and found every inch of me captivating. People have looked at me like that before, but I've married the ones who did … and not even all my spouses looked at me like that."

Guinan had been his friend for so long, one of the people he trusted most in the whole world. It had never occurred to him to wonder what that looked like from the outside. "We were in a strange place, and you were a connection to home," Jean-Luc said, unsettled.

"The rest of your crew didn't look at me like that," Guinan said. "Just you. And then you stayed in the past because I was hurt and needed attention, even though it might mean you never got home. I wouldn't have thought Earth could produce people like you. And there you were. I was curious. Not that many people look at me like that, and it would be a shame to miss one. So," she shrugged, "here I am. And here we are."

Jean-Luc wasn't quite sure what to make of that; but then, that was often the case when speaking with Guinan. He hadn't thought of Guinan as a potential lover in years. "So why did you turn me down when I propositioned you, when I met you for the first time?"

She smirked at him. "You didn't look at me like that yet. And also, you were a puppy. An adorable puppy, I will grant you that, but still."

Jean-Luc thought back to himself as he had been when (from his point of view) they met. He'd been a young ensign on his first cruise, enamored of a bar tender who was full of wit and wisdom. "I can't say you're wrong," he admitted. "Thank you for turning me down gently."

"You were a puppy," she repeated. "I don't kick puppies."

A pair of ensigns came in and took a seat at a table on the other side of the bar, and Guinan excused herself to serve them. Jean-Luc considered inviting her to his quarters after her shift so they could speak without interruption. How seldom they met in private to talk! It seemed an astonishing lack, given how much he enjoyed her company. Fencing matches and other games, adventures on the holodeck, they did many things together; but they spent little time simply talking together, and most of that was in Ten Forward, where interruptions were frequent and privacy not guaranteed.

When she finished with the ensigns, Guinan returned to the bar and sat next to him. "So, what was your first impression of me?" she asked.

"In that bar on Starbase 247, or in San Francisco in 1893?"

"Either. Both."

Jean-Luc considered. "On Starbase 247, I thought that you were gorgeous, and compassionate, and knew a great deal more than you said." He spoke quietly, not wanting to give rise to any rumors on the crew's gossip mill. "I wanted very badly to see what was beneath those robes and behind those eyes, and I thought perhaps if I gained access to one, you might also give me access to the other."

"And you've always enjoyed a challenge," Guinan said.

"Indeed," Jean-Luc said. "And you have always rewarded my efforts … though not, always, in the form I would most prefer at the time."

"What about in San Francisco?"

"In San Francisco, you were very different," Jean-Luc said. "Not … shallower, but there was less weight to you. I thought at first it was because you were much younger, and that might be part of it, but then I realized … the great tragedy of your life had not yet occurred."

Guinan looked down at her hands, folded on top the bar. "No," she said softly, "it hadn't."

"I considered warning you," he confessed.

She tilted her head. "Thank you. It wouldn't have changed anything in the end, though, or at least, not for the better." She looked up at him. "I wondered, those first few years after our homeworld was destroyed, why you hadn't. I thought through every possible scenario: what I could have done with the information, all the different might-have-beens … I blamed you, for a while. It was easier to cast blame than to live with my grief."

Jean-Luc had never been through anything half as terrible as Guinan had; when he lost himself to the Borg, he had been rescued, and restored. Guinan had lost her entire world and most of her people, and that loss had been permanent. But he understood the impulse to blame someone, anyone, rather than face the enormity of grief. "What changed?"

"When we met for the first time, I was just a young hothead, running around the galaxy for my own amusement. You hadn't exactly had time to collect any proof, or any records that might have been useful. Would I have believed a stranger—however compelling his looks—who predicted the destruction of my people and our home? I wouldn't have wanted to. And if I had believed you, would any of my people have listened to me, with no proof? And if they had, what then? We El-Aurians were never great fighters, nor great engineers. Even with centuries of warning, we could never have defeated or held off the Borg. We might have been able to evacuate more people, earlier, but … nobody wants to believe their home is going to be destroyed. It's a nice fantasy, but I highly doubt anything you told me would have made much difference, in the end."

Jean-Luc nodded, soberly.

The doors opened, again, and a rowdy group, mostly in Science blue, spilled through. Celebrating Crewman Vrattiash's pregnancy, he thought. Very inconvenient; Guinan was the only server on duty, since this was usually a quiet shift in Ten Forward. They'd keep her busy for the rest of the shift, if he was any judge.

Guinan made the same calculation. "See you tomorrow in the dojo," she said.

That evening, Jean-Luc found himself turning over their history together. It was something he'd done many times since meeting Guinan again for the first time in 19th Century San Francisco, but this time he found himself going back to the first time he had met her.

He'd been with a group of friends on shore leave, relishing the freedom to drink things other than synthahol. She'd been tending bar, and he hadn't given her a second thought until it had been his turn to buy a round, and he'd gotten her attention to order. When he started talking, she'd looked him up and down with an interested expression, which in retrospect made perfect sense. Guinan's face might not change in forty years, but Jean-Luc's face certainly had. As a young ensign with a full head of hair he had looked far different than the mature starship captain she had met. His voice, however, would have changed little.

She'd introduced herself while she got their drinks, and they'd talked, and when he'd returned to his friends they'd teased him for flirting with her. She'd watched them with a sardonic air, and he'd known there was something more to her.

The next day, he'd come back alone, just after the bar opened, to see if he could figure out what that something was. She'd flirted with him, but turned down his invitation for more, and he'd taken it in good stead. An attractive, empathetic person tending bar must get an awful lot of propositions, after all. But talking with her was more interesting than anything else to do on the station, and so he'd kept coming back at times when the bar wouldn't be busy, and when his ship had left, he'd had her com address.

In all the years since, he'd not spent much time dwelling on how attractive she was. He'd never lacked for intimate company and a good friend was harder to find than a bed partner. But if she'd turned him down because he was too young and immature, because he didn't yet care for her as deeply as he had when she first met him …

It occurred to him that he was no callow youth any longer. And if he asked her now, her answer might be different.

They met at the gym for their weekly fencing, as usual. Guinan had changed and was mostly warmed up by the time Jean-Luc emerged from his dressing room.

"Trouble getting out of bed this morning?" she asked, starting up a more complicated round of stretches than she usually bothered with.

He hummed and started his own warm-up routine. "Trouble falling asleep last night."

"Anything you'd like to talk about?" Guinan asked. She was insatiably curious—she always was, even with strangers, but especially with close friends—but she'd learned centuries ago that patience and openness got better results than anything else.

"Nothing that concerns you," Jean-Luc said, which was not a 'no.'

And he was lying. Which made her even more curious. But he would tell her eventually, so she set it aside.

He seemed awfully eager to put his fencing helmet on, she noticed. Afraid she would see something in his face, perhaps?

The fencing itself was as interesting as it ever was. They'd been doing this long enough that muscle memory worked in her favor, but of course as with any combat, real or play, there was strategy to it.

Jean-Luc was a little distracted. Not much, but just enough to give her a slight edge, which she took ruthless advantage of.

"You're doing very well today, Guinan," he said halfway through their hour.

"You're slipping," Guinan said. "I prefer to beat you when you're in top form." Not that she often did; he'd been fencing much longer than she had. But she was getting better, slowly but surely, and if this specific martial art was new to her, it was far from the first she'd practiced.

"I shall endeavor to give you better competition, then," Jean-Luc said, and he did pay more attention from then on. But she did still notice his focus start to slip, on occasion.

Their scheduled hour drew to a close and Guinan took off her helmet, checking to make sure her scarf stayed in place.

"Good match," Jean-Luc said, taking off his own mask and grabbing a towel.

"Were you distracted by the same thing that kept you from sleeping last night?"

Jean-Luc froze, briefly, before raising the towel to his face. "Yes, actually."

She let it sit there, between them, for a little while, since he had shut down a direct question earlier. But he seemed a little more open, now, a bit less defensive. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He pondered the question for a bit. "Yes," he said, "but not here. And not in Ten Forward. Dinner in my quarters, perhaps?"

She raised her eyebrows. That was new. "I'd like that. Tomorrow night? I could re-arrange the bar schedule for tonight, if it's urgent."

"Tomorrow night is fine," Jean-Luc said.

The next night Guinan arrived at Jean-Luc's quarters in plenty of time for dinner. She'd been in his quarters before, of course, but not regularly and not often; she'd actually been in his office more, she realized, all the various times she had had some insight into whatever particular mission the ship was working on. They tended to spend time together either in the gym, the holosuites, or Ten Forward. Inviting her here meant something new, something private, and she wasn't sure whether or not to ascribe the standard Human meaning to a private dinner.

On the one hand, he'd never given any particular indication of sexual or romantic interest in her since she'd turned him down the first time, decades ago. On the other hand, he'd recently had an experience that might have changed how he saw her … and it would explain his distraction when they fenced.

Jean-Luc came to the door to greet her, rather than simply telling it to open. "Guinan," he said warmly. "Come in." He stepped back and gestured her in.

The room gave her no clues. It hadn't been redecorated since she'd last seen it, and while the spread on the table looked good, there were no candles or roses or other Human signs of romantic intentions. Then again, Jean-Luc had enough experience with cross-species relationships (in every sense) that he wouldn't necessarily rely on Human-specific trappings to signal intent.

"Please, have a seat," Jean-Luc said, gesturing to the table. "Would you like some wine?" He held up a bottle with a familiar label.

"Please," Guinan said. "What's the occasion?" Even captains had weight and space restrictions, and they weren't close enough to Earth to resupply all that often. The Chateau Picard got brought out only rarely.

"I can't just want to treat an old friend, whom I know has a deep and nuanced appreciation of alcohol in all its forms?" Jean-Luc said.

"You never have before," Guinan pointed out. "Not without a special occasion of some sort."

"True," Jean-Luc said. He carefully poured them each a glass and sat down.

Guinan picked her glass up and sniffed it, savoring the aroma.

"We've known each other for a long time," Jean-Luc said. He was idly twisting the wine glass in his hands, but his gaze on her was steady. "I haven't always put much thought into that relationship; throughout virtually my entire adult life, you have simply been there when I needed you. I think I have taken you for granted more than I should."

"It's possible," Guinan said, when he paused. "But then again, I do have ways of getting attention when I want it. And in some ways, life is much simpler when you are overlooked. If I felt neglected, trust me, you would know it. Or I would have left, by now."

"Thank you for the reassurance, but that still doesn't mean I should take you for granted," Jean-Luc said. "In any case, you have always been a magnificent woman, body, mind, and soul. And after our conversation the other night, I have been thinking over … paths not taken, and wondering if perhaps it might be time to take a new path." He stared down into his wine glass. "And then I wonder if perhaps it might be selfish of me, to ask for more, when you will outlive me by such a great margin. I have no wish to add grief or pain to your life."

"Just to clarify," Guinan said, "you're talking around the possibility of adding a romantic or sexual dimension to our relationship?"

"Both, I would hope," Jean-Luc said. "I'm not a puppy any longer."

"No, you are not." Guinan smiled, and looked him up and down. She knew, from their fencing, just how much power and strength there was coiled in that wiry frame, and she spent a few seconds imagining how it might be used for the pleasure of them both. And she already knew his character, which was far more important. "You know there aren't many species that are as long-lived as El-Aurians. If I wanted to be around people I wasn't going to outlive, I would never travel away from my people."

"Yes," Jean-Luc said, "but—"

"Jean-Luc." Guinan leaned forward, cutting him off. "Do you really think there is anything we could do with our bodies together that would make me grieve your eventual death more than I already will?"

"Ah," he said. "Probably not."

"There's no use grieving ahead of time," Guinan said. "I prefer to live my life forwards, not backwards. So with that in mind, Jean-Luc, ask your question."

"You aren't going to make this easy on me, are you?" he said, ruefully.

"I never have before. Why start now?"

"True," he said. He set the wine glass down on the table and leaned forward, staring intently into her eyes. "Guinan, you are the most incredible woman I've ever met, and I find you attractive on every level. I always have. Your wisdom, your compassion, your iron determination which you only show when it is needed, your ability to perceive the world differently and help me to see it as you do, I love all of these things about you. I love you, on a very deep level. And though I have set aside the more carnal feelings you arouse in me so that for many years, I would enjoy exploring them with you. While a sexual or romantic relationship is not necessarily deeper or more meaningful than a close friendship, I wonder if you might like to explore those other dimensions with me?"

Guinan's lips curved into a smile. "Jean-Luc, it would be a pleasure. In every sense of the word." She leaned in closer, and he met her half way for a kiss.

#fanfiction #fanfic #star trek #The Next Generation #guinan #Jean-Luc Picard

[prismarine-parrots]

Tree of Life Pt.5 (1)

Originally posted: 20 Mar. 2019

:)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Part 3.5

Part 4

Part 5 (2)

"What is Doc doing again?" Mumbo asked out loud. His phone had been vibrating in his trouser pockets consistently for the past two minutes, most of the messages being from Doc, who had been doing something or another.

"Setting up a beacon on the roof so that there's regen up there for when we try to heal Grian. Most of the other trees have beacons around them and Ren went to go make sure those had regen on them too." Jevin replied, not taking his eyes off the brewing potions.

"He sure is chatty then," Mumbo grumbled and slipped his phone out of his pocket.

<DocM77> Guys, there's phantoms up here

<Rendog> you got it man? I'm too far to help

<DocM77> yeah I think I'm good

<Iskall85> tell me and I'll head back to help

<joehillssays> don't lead them into the base! We don't need any more catastrophes to plague our misfortune

<DocM77> ok maybe I don't got it

<DocM77> he

DocM77 was slain by phantom

DocM77 died.

Mumbo stared at the message on the screen.

"Doc is gone too," he said blankly.

Jevin looked over from setting up the next brewing stand. "No way!"

"Phantom got him," Mumbo informed. Jevin's shocked expression hardened and he silently glared at the potions with a misplaced fury.

There was a disparaging silence throughout the base as this fact set in.

Mumbo sighed wearily and looked out at the night sky over the ocean around Grian's base. He had stayed behind after the first deaths, both of which happened within the first twenty-four of Grian's. TFC has been in his bunker when he died, so no one had thought that he might have been in trouble until the death message appeared on their phones. Jevin had come in panicked halfway through a serverwide meeting saying that he was late because Wels had fallen ill and wasn't waking up, and just as soon as they got back to the medieval/industrial district border, their phones went off. False hadn't seemed to have been affected at first, but as the hermits were gathering supplies to go on a journey to look for a cure she had fallen to the ground, dropped dead. After that the remaining hermits had left across the ocean and Mumbo had been left to watch over the others. It had been depressing, watching his phone, because at any moment there could have been another death message meaning that they had lost another hermit. Zedaph and xbCrafted, who had joined the server randomly, both died as well. When this finally happened with Scar, Mumbo had been crushed, because then all the optimists were gone and it seemed like a hopeless mission. Soon after, Cub returned to Mumbo's base and the redstoner had been attempting to comfort him as well as keep and eye on everything else going on while the rest of the server was away. There were death messages for Tango and Python, and while that had been the last of it, Xisuma was now ill after Evil X (WHY did they decide to work with that guy?) died and the glitch started working on him as well.

Now the travelers had returned and they were all waiting around Grian's base, as it had the most space and was closest to the center of the server AKA the shopping district. They were occupying the upper floors of the wedding cake, as no one could bring themselves to disturb Grian's pale and still body on his bed among the shulker boxes, laid to rest there until they figured out if they could heal him or not and then bury him properly.

The strange bubbling noise from the first brewing stand stopped.

Mumbo and Jevin, the two operating the potions, looked to each other then to the brewing stands.

"They're done!"

"They're done?"

Jevin nearly bounced to the stands and took one of each of the two types of potion in his hands. A potion of harming, and a splash potion of regeneration. The other stands taken from Cub's war store were still bubbling away, but the one set was all they needed for now. The slime man slowly slowly turned with a soft smile and the first hopeful look Mumbo had seen in a while.

"We need to try this ASAP."

Mumbo nodded firmly. "Grian. I'll get the others." He jumped through the hole in the floor to the layer below. "We have something!"

"Have you tried it yet?!" Xisuma immediately demanded. He was slouching against one of the three pillars, helmet off and his skin was clammy and pale, but he was still alert and concerned.

"X, save your strength!" Joe scolded. X rolled his eyes and pushed against the wall, groaning but still able to move.

Mumbo helped X stand up and allowed him to lean on him and they made their way over to the water elevator as Joe called to the others on the other floors and flew up to the aviary as well.

Everyone was gathered around the tree.

"I think Grian's looks the worst of all the ones that I've seen..." Ren sighed worriedly. He had been flying around the server, checking on everyone's trees. He had returned just before Mumbo and Jevin has finished the potions with his report: that most the trees were at various stages of decay. It was only a matter of time before everyone on the server faced this same fate as well. What he found strange though, is that some of the trees of the dead hermits were healthier than some of the living. Zedaph's tree was healthier than Xisuma's, but X was still alive while Zed was not.

Joe was looking spooked. "I can't believe Doc got taken right at the resolution..." he murmured. "What a tragedy this has become, a massacre with no murderer, a-"

Ren huffed. "Joe. Now isn't the time for poetry. Do I look worried? No! When this works on Grian I'm going to go straight to Doc's base and fix him up as well. Everything will be a-okay."

Joe didn't look quite convinced, but stayed silent. There was an awkward moment of quiet as the survivors looked to one another, unsure of what to do next.

"Do we just try it?" Impulse asked.

Cleo shrugged. "I guess so."

Jevin kneeled down next to the decayed red maple and uncorked the potion or harming. The process they were using was basically the same as purifying a zombie villager- use something to weaken the tree, then something to heal it. Instead of a golden apple they were using the healing effect of a beacon and the most powerful regeneration potion they could make.

"I hope this works..." Stress murmured with Iskall nodding beside her.

There was a painful hiss as the harming potion hit the roots of the tree. The entire tree immediately shriveled, although there wasn't much left of it as it was. A few more discolored leaves fell off the barren branches.

Jevin backed up and handed the healing potion to Mumbo.

"I think you should," the slime man explained. Mumbo looked down at the potion before nodding.

"Alright then," the man in the suit uncorked the frail bottle and prepared to throw it. Mumbo looked determined at his target, but paused.

What is this doesn't work? What if it's too late for Grian? What will happen then? What will happen to the others?

"Mumbo, you alright?" Joe asked. Mumbo shook his head.

"Yeah, just... never mind."

The mustached man threw the potion and backed up, not wanting to take any of the effects of the potion. The potion shattered against the truck of the tree, dark pink liquid splattering into the crevices in the bark and the particles erupting from all over. They mixed with the dark red particles and quickly changed to a black, which made the gathered hermits panic, before they changed to a brilliant gold.

Just like that, life returned to Grian's tree. The hermits watched in fascination as brilliant red leaves bloomed from nothing on the branches and the peeling bark healed. The large branches that had fallen off started to regrow, although they also had the rings of scarring that trees had when a limb was cut off. The dead materials still littered the ground, but with joyous relief the humans' forms relaxed at the magic worked.

Where's Grian? Mumbo thought to himself in concern. This is for nothing if Grian isn't back. Please, let him be okay, I just want my friend...

At sea level, someone lurched into a sitting position from their bed and heaved in huge, panicked gasps of air. It felt as if he had been drowning, yet he last remembered nothing of the sort.

In fact, what he last remembered concerned him greatly.

What HAPPENED?!

Without hesitation he leapt onto his bed and bounced slightly, just enough air to launch a firework and shoot through the layers of his base.

"Grian?" Impulse was the first to say the name everyone had been thinking.

"His tree is revived, he should be too," Ren said uncertainly, "and so should every one else. They have to."

Please, please... Mumbo pleaded in his mind. If there is SOME power out there that has caused this, please let it stop. Let Grian and everyone else be alright.

Silence.

A quiet whisper.

Fireworks?

A blur zoomed past through the hole in the roof before disappearing for a moment and diving back down.

Mumbo held his breath, knowing who it was, but still scared that his eyes might be deceiving him.

"Guys! I'm here, what happened?! I remember being sick and then my tree was sick and then you guys- well, some of you- were there and then-"

"GRIAN!" Iskall and Mumbo yelled at the same time and the Swede hugged the builder. Grian laughed and returned the hug and quickly clasped Mumbo on the back.

"I'm here, but can SOMEONE explain to me what happened?? I'm very confused," he announced.

Ren was whooping and Jevin and Xisuma both looked relieved. Cleo hugged Grian as well and Joe was jumping around him, reciting fancy words excitedly so that while no one understood what he was saying, the emotion got across.

"Grian!"

Impulse marched over and punched the builder in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Grian yelped, now gripping his shoulder and glaring at Impulse. "What was that for?"

"One, for pulling this on us. Two, to make sure you were alive. And three-"

"Why wouldn't I be alive? I'm standing right here!"

Impulse clapped Grian on the back with a smile. "Glad to see you alright, man."

"Explain to me please?!"

"I'll explain," Mumbo offered, now smiling from ear to ear, "the rest of us, go grab some potions!"

"Already gone! See you on the other side!" Ren yelled joyfully and dived into Grian's base before shooting up only a few seconds later. The rest of the hermits weren't far behind him, rushing to grab the medicine to help their friends.

"Mumbo, what about Cub?" Iskall asked as he was heading out.

Mumbo gasped. "Right! I'll help him. He's going to be so relieved!"

"What's up with Cub? And Scar? They do everything together?"

"I'll explain on the way, Grian. We're heading to the Country Club."

"We going to go play golf?"

"Nah, I'm heading with the girls to go get False," Iskall informed the other two Architechs, "good luck with Cub! I hope he'll be alright when Scar is back!"

Grian gave Mumbo the most befuddled and mildly concerned look.

#hermitcraft #grian #joehills #mumbo jumbo #xisumavoid #ijevin #cubfan135 #renthedog #docm77 #iskall85 #zombiecleo #stressmonster #impulsesv #tree of life au #ToL #finale part 1 #becca writes

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

may i request some grian and zedaph? i have nothing else in mind except maybe them causing some kind of chaos

Hell yeah Grian and Zedaph, one of my favourite HC duos! 

...

  Zedaph has been watching Toon Towers for the last hour, just waiting for Tango to leave and go elsewhere. From his vantage point on the roof of one of the Aquetown buildings, he has a perfect view of Tango working on changing the sign on the building from False’s name back to the word Toon. 

  “Whatcha doing?” comes a voice suddenly from behind him.

  Zedaph jerks and almost falls right off the roof. “Goodness-!” He catches himself before he inadvertently swears.

  Grian giggles. “Hi, Zedaph. Whatcha doing up here?”

  “I could ask you the same question!”

  “I’m trying to find a way to buy that building there.” Grian indicates the taller granite skyscraper. “I was looking around it when I spotted you up here and decided to come see what you’re doing. From your reaction just now, I’m guessing you’re up to no good.”

  “Not yet, I’m not,” Zedaph protests. “Tango won’t leave his base long enough for me to do anything.”

  “Tango’s your target, huh?” Grian joins Zedaph on the edge of the roof. “Why?”

  “Because he was directly responsible for making me homeless for ten seconds. I wanna get him back.”

  Grian snickers. “Is this about the zoucher?”

  “Of course it is,” replies Zedaph, hiding a grin. “Tango’s my best friend but that doesn’t mean I can’t plan my crippling revenge against him.”

  “Heck yeah. Need any help?”

  Zedaph glances at him. “Really? You want to help prank the guy who helped get you your base back?” 

  Grian shrugs, grinning. “I mean, yeah. I’m always up for shenanigans, any time, place, or person.”

  “Well, I’d definitely welcome your input. I was thinking of sneaking in and sticking Zedaph heads everywhere.”

  “Hmm…” Grian considers this for a moment. “Good idea, but not big enough. You want Tango to know who’s responsible, yeah?”

  Zedaph nods. “Absolutely.”

  “Check out what he’s doing right now.”

  Zedaph looks over at Toon Towers. “He’s still changing the sign on his base.”

  When Zedaph looks back at Grian, he finds a mischievous grin on his friend’s face. “Exactly. What better way of making a statement than plastering your face over the front of his tower? I doubt he’ll want to remove it straight away after spending all that work redoing it in the first place, so it’ll stay up for several hours at least, constantly reminding him of his crimes. Whatcha think?”

  It’s as if Zedaph is seeing Grian in a new light. He can’t believe there’s someone other than Tango or Impulse on the server who thinks the way he does and seems to understand him on an incredible level. More to the point, he can’t believe such a person exists AND they’ve never collaborated on a prank like this before. 

  “Grian, I think you’re a genius,” he says. 

  Grian gives a pleased grin. “Good, me too. Now, while Tango’s finishing up the sign, let’s go get our materials. When we get back, he should be done.”

…

  Sure enough, when the two fly back to Aquetown with two shulker boxes full of building materials, they find the Toon Towers sign finished and Tango nowhere in sight. 

  “Ah, perfect!” Grian grins. “Now’s our chance. Did you bring your mask?”

  “Absolutely did. Do we put them on now?”

  “Nah, only if Tango catches us. Don’t think he will, though; it’s getting dark. Now, let’s get over there.”

  The two fly over to Toon Towers and land neatly on the sign. Working in tandem, they start creating a giant replica of Zedaph’s face over the sign that Tango has just finished. As they work, the two chat about their base swap and how relieved they are to be back in their own base again. 

  “I still can’t believe Tango gave you that zoucher,” Zedaph snickers. “He really will go to any length to mess with me. Honestly though, I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed.”

  “Well, he didn’t give it to me for free,” Grian says, grinning. “I had to give him an IOU.”

  “Really? Well, that’s gonna come back to bite you.”

  “Oh definitely. But hey, Tango’s a pretty fun guy, so we’ll see what happens.”

  “Tango’s very fun but he’s also very devious. He’s gonna use it to either ask for some help on a redstone project or do something to you that’ll result in horrific embarrassment or death. Or both.”

  Grian laughs. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.” 

  After about half an hour, the two are just finishing up when they hear a redstone door slide open. 

  “Uh oh!” Zedaph yelps. “Time to go!”

  “HEY!”

  “Too late,” snickers Grian. 

  Zedaph quickly ties on his pink mask as Grian glances down and finds Tango on the ground looking up at them, hands on his hips. “What are you two doing up there?!” he yells. “Wait - what did you do to my sign?!”

  Grian quickly slips the chicken mask over his face. “We are the deliverers of justice! Poultry Man and Worm Man!” 

  Zedaph is only just able to stifle his laughter. “Yes, we have corrected an injustice and now we must away!” 

  Immediately, Grian jumps off the building and activates his elytra. Zedaph jumps off after him but tosses an ender pearl towards Aquetown. He teleports and crashes to the ground in a heap just outside the barber shop. 

  A second later, Grian lands next to him and the two set off running. They tumble into the granite-coloured skyscraper and collapse on the ground, neither of them able to breathe properly through their laughter and exertion. 

  Just as their laughter is dying down, Zedaph glances at Grian. “I didn’t know you were Poultry Man.” 

  This sets off Grian laughing again and after a moment, Zedaph joins in. 

  “Who knew we’d have badly-concealed animal-themed superhero alter egos in common,” Grian giggles.

  Zedaph pretends to be affronted. “Badly concealed? Badly concealed?! I’ll have you know I’m perfectly below average at concealing my identity, thank you.”

  “Oh, man.” Grian takes a few deep breaths to calm his breathing, wiping his tears of laughter away. “I’m crying, dude. That was the best thing I’ve done in so long. Thanks so much for letting me be part of it.”

  “No, I should be thanking you! My revenge would’ve been so dull without you. Remember, my original plan was just to walk in and stick a few Zedaph heads to the walls. Tango’s DEFINITELY gonna remember this.”

  “Dude, I’M gonna remember this. We really need to team up more often.” 

  “Don’t you mean Worm Man and Poultry Man need to team up more often?” asks Zedaph innocently. 

  This causes Grian to giggle again. “Ohh, yeahhh, definitely. Cuz, I mean, who KNOWS who those two might really be. Now that’s a duo of superheroes who really know how to hide their identities.”

  Zedaph grins at his new partner in crime. “Oh, yes, a hundred percent agreed. Perhaps they should remove their masks now, to make sure their identities remain secret.”

  “Ah yeah, you’re right.”

  The two simultaneously take off their masks. 

  “Um… Grian?” Zedaph stares down at the mask in his hands. “We forgot our shulker boxes.”

  Grian pauses. “Oh. Shoot. Do you think Tango’s in any mood to scrape them off the side of his sign right now?”

  “I mean… no,” Zedaph responds. “Is there anything in them you would mind losing?”

  “Nah, not really. Tango’s welcome to them, honestly.”

  A pause follows his words.

  “You wanna go back out there in costume and take them back?” Zedaph asks.

  Grian grins mischievously at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#hermitcraft #grian #zedaph #Vaunna writes