#MCYT Writing Prompt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tunastime · 10 months ago

Note

if you’re still doing the comfort prompts, maybe knowing each other’s tells with boat boys or ranchers? :]

knowing each others' tells (681 words) (x)

Etho isn't used to the Relation being silent. It's the kind of quiet that holds tension in the hollows of it, one he's always been afraid to step too loudly into. He's used to sound, Joel rustling and pacing, talking to the air as they weaved plans, speaking to Etho from across the deck of the ship like he could hear him from below. But as Etho climbs the ladder and swings himself onto the deck, the ship is quiet, save for the steady thud of his pulse in one ear, and the quickening beat of Joel's behind his other ear. He runs his tongue over his teeth as he makes his way down into the belly of the ship.

Joel is pacing where he usually does, making his track across the wooden floors like he might wear a dent into it. Etho watches the tight line of his shoulders for a beat, eyes tracking the huff of his breathing as he folds his arms over his chest. It takes a moment of surveying for Etho to make his conclusions, and by the time he's stepped forward, Joel has stopped to track him with his eyes. If they knew each other any less, if Etho were any less, strangely, fond of him, it might be scary, the way Joel freezes, dark eyes tracking his movements with a precision only known by predators hunting prey. Something could be said about persistence and hunger and teeth that could bite, but Etho isn't worried about Joel. He knows trapped animals well enough. So he picks his way around the room and starts to piece the problem together.

"It was Scar, wasn't it?" Etho asks. He's not looking at Joel—he's busy digging through a chest, looking for the other axe he'd made. Joel makes some kind of choppy noise. "You had a good trap idea for later, said it too loud around Grian, and now you're worried Scar might try it just for fun and get them killed?"

"I'm not worried about Grian," Joel says. Joel lies. His voice squeaks. Etho stifles a laugh.

"Okay," he says. Joel makes another noise, and Etho ignores him. "Why don't we make the plan before they get to?"

"I thought you said traps were a waste of time,” Joel says pointedly, dragging his tongue over his teeth. He tries to contort his face into one of disbelief before Etho can catch the fact that Joel is into his plan whole-heartedly.

Etho holds up his hands, still not looking at him.

"I think you're misinterpreting."

“No,” Joel argues. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you said.”

When Etho looks over, there’s a light in Joel’s eye that Etho takes as his hint that he’s been successful in convincing him, despite attempting an argument. A tiny spark of excitement. That slight flicker of recognition, of understanding. Seeing a little of himself in Etho. A tell.

They sit together in the bright afternoon sun, mostly quiet, partially humming and nodding and pointing. Joel follows Etho’s rough sketches with his eyes, mouth curled down. It’s not in disregard, but quiet contemplation. Etho pauses halfway, listening to the double beating of hearts in his ears, waiting for any dissent from his partner. Joel doesn’t say anything, though. He shifts closer, folding his legs. The little shimmer of recognition and pride has grown flame-bright in Joel’s eyes as excitement and anticipation takes over. He feels the phantom tug of unclaimed emotions in his chest—Joel’s, not his—as Joel nods. Their hearts thump away excitedly in Etho’s ears, now in sync.

The only other time Etho sees that flicker of something in Joel's eyes is when he follows him through that nether portal. He feels Joel's grip on his hand grow to a fierce, painful thing as he turns, breath caught in his throat as he tries to shove them both back through. The words are muddled in Etho's memory, but the guilt is clear in his eyes. Guilt, fear, and that flicker.

Maybe it wasn’t just understanding.

Etho doesn’t forget that look for a long time.

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nobodywritingao3 · 2 years ago

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unnamed monster & caretaker au

Tasked with feeding and caring for the king's resident monster, Tommy is constantly overworked and fully expects to die before he's twenty. He has an odd relationship with the beast and makes it a point to keep details about himself private, but it's difficult when the creature is the closest thing in the world he has to a friend.

wordcount: 2.3k 🕸 read it on AO3

CW: - hard vore mention - soft vore mention - mentioned abuse and dehumanization

‼️‼️‼️ Unfinished, unedited one shot. Proceed with caution

@gracideaviolet sent me a writing prompt and this is what i originally wrote for it. i like the concept but i wrote this at a not-good time and when i reread it, i didnt like the quality enough to fix it. if you like this story, let me know cuz that might give me motivation to properly finish this thing. feel free to take the idea but please credit and send it to me cuz i like this story and wanna see what someone else does with it

Tommy finished loading the cart and took a second to breathe.

He heard the beast shifting around in the dark. "Are you doing okay out there, Sunshine?"

Despite his tiredness, the sweet nickname made him smile.

"You know you eat a lot? It's a pain in the ass to load myself."

He meant it as a joke but silence hung in the air a second longer than it should have.

He cleared his throat. "I don't mind it. I'm compensated."

The beast snorted. "Not enough."

Tommy laughed awkwardly and didn't say anything.

He walked over to the control panel and started up the track.

The cart was big enough to fit a barn, and filled to the brim with various livestock, prisoners of war, and whoever else might have found themselves on the king's hit-list. Nothing sent to the monster was alive. It was a point the monster whined about a lot, but Tommy much preferred it that way. It was already disgusting having to spend hours upon hours piling the cart with bloody meat (sometimes human!) by himself, and the day he was handed a living person would be the day he faked his death and fled the kingdom.

He pressed a few buttons, tried not to cut himself on several rusty levers, and the rail obediently started itself up with a few revs and puffs.

The beast hummed contentedly at the noise.

The cart began to run along the track, disappearing from his view and descending into the inky black cave. He heard the gate creak open and he heard it creak close. And then he heard the beast begin to eat.

They weren't nice sounds by any stretch of the imagination - ugly rips and wet squelches of flesh - but Tommy had been at the job for a while and was long used to it. He settled in and waited for the creature to finish its meal.

"So how was your day, Keeper?"

Tommy hummed. "About the same as it always is. My master told me that the king will be coming in soon for a performance review, but I've no idea when that might be."

The beast paused its munching before hesitantly starting again a moment later. "I - why?"

He shrugged, assuming the monster could see him from the dark. "Something about me holding down this job the longest out of anyone before."

"Hm."

"I don't understand why that would intrigue the king. And no offense to you personally - "

"Uh huh," the monster sarcastically interjected -

" - but this isn't exactly the career path I'd have chosen. If I knew how to transfer I probably would have. Honestly - I have no idea how the others could have quit this job. I was under the impression that this is the sort of thing you do until you die."

It laughed at that.

Tommy sighed.

He was quiet for a few moments, a question sitting heavy on his tongue.

He shouldn't ask. It's impolite.

The monster shifted around. "Spit it out."

He gave the darkness an accusatory look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

There was a huff of laughter. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You're doing that thing where you want to say something but are worried about what I'll think. It would be adorable if I wasn't desperate for decent conversation."

"Fuck you." He said it with a smile.

"Well? Are you going to say or not?"

He scrubbed at his face. Fuck it. "What were your other keepers like?"

The beast went silent for several long moments.

Shit. "You don't have to answer if you - "

"I didn't much care for them."

Tommy didn't say a word.

"The feeling was mutual." It sighed heavily. "You're a much better replacement, Sunshine."

"I'm sorry for asking."

The beast purred. "Don't be, dear. I pressed you. And I don't mind answering." It jostled the cart. "And I'm done eating."

Tommy nodded and powered up the control panel again. The cart began to recede.

It appeared from the darkness, picked completely clean and shiny as if it never been covered in blood at all.

It scared him a little, how quickly the monster could eat such a large amount, but he dismissed those thoughts as easily as they came. When would that ever affect him?

He checked the clock. He still had a few hours before he had to report back. "Do you mind if I stay with you longer?"

The monster laughed conspiratorially. "Oh, but that's against the rules," it said in a high mockery of his voice.

He flushed.

He had been terrified of the monster when they first met. He gave any excuse to leave the beast as soon as he could, including that the rules specified that spending unnecessary time with it was prohibited. That was true, but no one would have known if he chose to linger. In hindsight, it had been terribly obvious how afraid he was and he's only embarrassed that the monster pretended to believe him.

"You're the worst."

"And you still want to spend time with me?"

Tommy blew a raspberry at the darkness, earning a few laughs.

It was comfortably quiet for a few seconds before the monster spoke again. "Why are you curious about my old keepers?"

He tugged at his fingers. "Do you know how I ended up here?"

"You never talk about it."

He frowned. "And I never will," he responded coldly. It never gave up asking. "But do you know, generally, how someone ends up working this kind of job?"

The monster was quiet. "Yes."

Tommy didn't say anything for a minute. "The king is very angry with me. I don't want to see him again. However the other keepers escaped..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying. If the king requests an audience with me, it isn't for any good reason."

When the king acquired his monster, he hired out help to feed the thing and keep it under control. He made sure the beast ate lavishly, but now matter what they fed it, it never seemed like to satiate the creature. But it hadn't died of starvation and that was good enough. When its caretakers started to disappear, it wasn't difficult to guess what happened.

But acknowledging the problem would mean addressing it too, and the king simply didn't care. In the end, he realized he had the perfect way to quietly do away with those he needed gone. He sourced this job, with its one hundred percent rate of 'job abandonment' to political adversaries or people growing affluent enough to take his throne.

Which takes him to the present day, and a rather interesting problem.

When some servant boy had spilled a bottle of red wine down his front during a gala several years prior, the king had been so angry that he threw the child in a dungeon and left him there. When the monster's then-keeper inevitably disappeared, the king came to the boy and grimly informed him of his punishment.

He hadn't expected the child to last more than a couple of days. He'd even picked out his replacements.

But lo and behold, the boy remained present at his job post for a week. And then that week became several, and those several became months, and those months became a year and a half.

The king couldn't understand why it hadn't eaten him yet. He was fifteen at this point, certainly the youngest to feed the monster. Was it waiting for him to grow up? Did it want to watch him sprout up before it made its attack? It was perfectly sentient, and the king knew this even though he denied it upfront. Shouldn't the monster trust that the sooner it finished its current keeper, the sooner he would be replaced by another?

Had there been someone who had managed to bring this creature to subservience? If so, then the king took special interest.

And if not, then it was long overdue that the servant boy be put to death.

Being a human's lapdog wasn't a dignified experience, but it was a fed one. Driders were megafauna, making it hard to get enough food. It certainly didn't help that the human kingdom believed everything was its rightful property and saw driders as a threat to them owning more than they could eat.

Wilbur certainly didn't enjoy his life, and he was almost always hungry anyway, but at least he was alive.

He lived in a dungeon below the castle, but he wasn't sure what a castle was and he barely understood the concept of a dungeon. He hadn't seen the sunshine in years, and his keeper was his only company.

He liked his keeper. The boy was kind. He didn't threaten to pee in Wilbur's food or throw rocks at him. He asked him how his day was, and even made it a point to handle the meat carefully as he transported it into the cart. He seemed lonely, and made up excuses to stay. He was a cute little thing, and Wilbur wanted to stick him into his brooding pouch and keep him there.

The cart rolled into Wilbur's enclosure, and he greedily snatched it up and began to eat.

His keeper sat at a table in the light.

Wilbur finished his food in a few seconds and toyed with the cart. He always made it seem as if it took him longer to eat than it did.

"Do you have a family?"

The boy froze at the question. "Why do you ask?"

Wilbur pouted even though he knew he couldn't be seen. "We've known each for so long. I don't even know what your name is. Can't I know just a little?"

His keeper awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with his fingers. "Oh... I guess you're right."

Wilbur's heart leapt.

"I don't have a family."

"Oh." Shit.

"Yeah."

What was he supposed to say?

"I don't have a family either."

His keeper peered into the darkness. "What are you?"

Wilbur smiled. He skittered to the bars of his cage and leaned against them, towering over the boy, though he had no idea. "Would you like to play twenty questions?"

"You're so lame, seriously, what are you? I don't even know what you look like."

I could show you, he wanted to say.

Coming out of his cage was easy. The king assumed it could hold him but no one actually checked. And aside from his keeper, no one had been in his dungeon for years. In reality, the bars had long been bent open and Wilbur could get out whenever he pleased.

It wouldn't be difficult to come through the bars and present himself to his keeper. Pick the little figure up in his hands and take him into his cage with him.

When he'd eaten his previous keepers, they'd always been replaced. If he captured his current keeper and stored him away in his brooding pouch, then he'd never be lonely again.

It was tempting.

"That's probably for the best," he said. He stepped away from the bars of his cage and curled up on the floor.

He liked his keeper. He wanted him to be happy. Just because Wilbur was stuck in a cage didn't mean he had to be as well.

"Do you think I'd be scared of you?"

Wilbur looked down at himself, at his large stature and eight legs. His fangs came down to his mid chin. "I think you'd be terrified, dear."

His keeper smiled. "I don't think so. I have a suspicion that you're just harmless."

His heart melted. Oh stars, he wanted to eat this kid.

He massaged his aching brood pouch. "You're sweet, Sunshine."

The cart was left in his cage while he was sleeping. He woke up confused, spying it in the corner of his enclosure and wondered why he'd been fed overnight. Where was his keeper? His mind jumped to the worst conclusions.

He found him inside the cart. Bound and gagged and looking terrified beyond all reason.

"Oh, Sunshine," he murmured.

His words had the opposite intended effect, his keeper starting to panic and writhe at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, hey... Calm down, okay? I'll get you out of there." He reached into the cart and picked him up in his hand.

Despite the circumstance, his heart soared. This was the closest they'd ever been.

The figure was tiny in his palm, and still struggling.

Wilbur quickly undid his bounds, being mindful of his sharp claws against the human's body. As soon as his hands were free, he was clawing at the gag around his mouth.

"Don't eat me! Please, do not eat me..."

Wilbur's stomach dropped.

"What? Sunshine, why would I eat you?"

The boy continued to sob.

Wilbur cupped him to his chest and headed towards the bars of his enclosure. He expertly clambered through and came out the other side, his skin exposed to the light for the first time in more than a year.

"Dear? Can you talk to me?" He stroked his head with his thumb and brought him eye level. "Why were you in my feeding cart?"

His keeper stared at him in shock, and it was then that he remembered his keeper had never truly seen him before.

A hot wave of embarassment and self consciousness overtook him.

He awkwardly set his little human on his table and receded back into his enclosure.

"Sunshine?" He prompted once back in his cage. "Are you..."

"Could - could you get out the whole time?"

Wilbur's mouth went dry. "I - well, yes, I could but - "

His keeper stumbled off the table and hit the ground with a nasty sounding crack.

Wilbur sprang to his claws and scrambled forward. He popped his head out between the bars and stared down at his little keeper. "Are you okay?"

The human stared up at him with terror on his face and scrambled backwards, running for the door.

"Shit, shit, wait, I'm sorry! Please stay, please, Sunshine - "

The door slammed behind him with a resounding crack and Wilbur flinched backwards.

~ ~ ~ 🕸

i used to love drider aus back in 2020 🕷️🕷️🕷️

just a freaky little guy whose half dude and half Fear. potential off the charts.

my tag list got lost when my computer was annihilated (</3) but let me know in replies if you want to get @'d and i'll make a new one

oh yeah link to the writing prompt and story i did fill out

#nobody answers #nobody writes #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #giant!wilbur #tiny!tommy #drider!wilbur #human!tommy #vore mention #writing prompt #unfinished writing #gracideaviolet

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dingbatnix · 2 years ago

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Oof, poor Punz. Eventually he'll figure out that it's probably safe : )

Also, if Punz really was against Dream and the others were accusing/attacking him, Dream wouldn't defend Punz, because the others would be diverting the attention on Dream. Doing this proves that they're working together, buuuut none of the others have really stopped to think about it. They're too much in shock : D

Taglist: @brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @giant-tiny-squid I'm putting you here cause it's your ask, technically:)

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sammy-writes-sometimes · 2 years ago

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Invisible Disability/Flare Up

Word Count: 175

---------

“Bad pain day?” Skizz asks quietly.

Impulse sits on the couch, rubbing his knee slightly as he flicks his tail. He sighs before nodding. “Yeah.”

“And you mock me for being old?” The angel jokes.

“It's not my fault my knee doesn't work!” The demon spits back, though there's a slight smile behind it.

Skizz giggles before sitting next to Impulse, helping him lift the sore leg onto the couch as he groans.

“At least it isn't dislocated?” Skizz tries to reassure.

(It happened once before, a joint popping out of place in Impulse's foot and hurting so bad that he had considered leaving the server he was on to visit an actual hospital.)

Impulse only leans back, his tail flicking in annoyance.

“You had plans today, didn't you?”

“Yep.” Impulse sighs. “I was going to Hermitcraft today but I can't even fly if I risk tripping when I land.”

“I feel ya, homie buddy.” Skizz reassures quietly before sitting up. “Want me to get the heat pack? Maybe some pain meds?”

“That'd be nice.”

---------

Our ko-fi

#jan 31 2024 #mcyt physically disabled week #imp & skizz #impulse #skizz #(we originally intended to write half blind bdubs for the prompt today but just couldnt thing of anything)#(all our thoughts went into impulse having hypermobility cus our rib has been acting up lately 😔)#(impulse has our bad knee and fucked up foot <3)#impskizz #skizzpulse

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imhereformysciencefriends · 2 years ago

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@mcyt-yuri-week Day 1: Break!

Read on AO3 here

Forest elves were known to come in many shapes and sizes. Gem was a willowy, slender, waifish, faun-looking elf, herself, with pointed ears and delicate antlers and bright red freckles that matched her hair, and thin, unicorn-like hooves and legs. It did mean that brushing her hair meant brushing her hocks, too, but it was such a natural part of life she didn’t even think about it. Despite her slim form, she wasn’t actually particularly tall, nearly every aspect of her small in one regard or another (except her hair, which was wild and curly and bright flashy red).

But she did have big aspirations! Many of her glade were content to build where they’d always built and live how they’d always lived, but Gem was curious about the border where their forest ended, where it rode up against strange lifeforms ethereal and odd. Gem was sure that as an elf, and a faunish one at that, it was a little rich for her to call something else ethereal and odd, but it was true!

At the edge of their forest, right across a broad river that served as a natural border, weird, brightly colored plants grew, moved in ways that plants shouldn’t move, and Gem swore she saw a ruin in there somewhere.

Now, she wasn’t going to try and stake a territory in the alien landscape. She was a braver elf than most but she would not be doing that, no thank you! She’d just set up her base across the river from it, still in her glade’s cozy ancestral home, shoring up the border of their territory (not that the river needed much help. In terms of forest edges that were in danger of being deforested, this one was generally considered one of the safer spans of area).

And go exploring! Sometimes.

Once she’d made a cute, cozy little cottage for herself, fussed around with her garden a bit, and gotten up some of her favorite pieces of art, she had to finally admit that she was stalling. It wasn’t that she wasn’t curious about the strange place! She was! But it also… seemed kinda dangerous, you know?

But it was time to put on her big girl tunic and see what was goin’ on over there! She cinched her leather underbust around her waist and tucked a couple thin vials of health potion into the sturdy straps, laced up her greaves and gauntlets, corralled her hair back into a loose, low ponytail, and set off! Worst comes to worst, she’d down a health potion and dart back home. Of all the elvish traits she’d inherited, being quick hooved with a keen sense of when to get the heck outta somewhere were amongst her strongest.

But things were off to a good start! The landscape here was beautiful, oh! So much of her wanted to take clippings or seed pods back home with her, though the rational part of her brain knew she should proooobably know a little more about what she was dealing with before she did that. But oh, the pinks and the oranges, the bright vibrant yellows despite autumn still being a ways away, the strange, moving vines and roots that did not radiate any malice or intent. It was gorgeous!

Now she felt a little silly for taking so long to come out here! Eee, she wished she was a better artist, she wanted to show everybody back home how lovely it was here!

And the ruins! Definitely human, though Gem didn’t know of any human civilizations that had lived so close to her glade on this side of the forest. It must be a very old ruin indeed! She pranced through them, light on her hooves, giggling to herself as she went.

The ruins were very, very old, so Gem was quite surprised when she found herself caught in a modern trap.

She yelped as tension snapped around her, a net of string clearly recently-fashioned hoisting her from the earth and leaving her dangling a solid four or five feet above ground.

“Hey!” she shouted, struggling instinctively. Oh this was silly! Now she was glad she was alone! Imagine! Her! An elf! Caught by a simple snare like this! Oh if anyone in her glade saw her like this she would never live it down!

But a modern trap meant a modern inhabitant. Gem’s blood chilled at the realization, and she then redoubled her efforts to get out. She didn’t know what kind of creature would have the mental acumen and dexterity to make a trap and was crazy enough to live here, but she! Didn’t! Want to know!

She yanked at the strings. It was well-crafted, likely spider silk, and Gem’s palms burned where she pulled and struggled. She kicked at it with her hooves, actually managing to snap a couple pieces here and there, but the net was intelligently made and did not unravel entirely at the loss of a few supports.

The bad angle wore at her stamina and the rising panic didn’t help at all. Especially since the plants, which had previously laid about so docile, even friendly, seemed like they were moving towards her now!

“Stay back!” she shouted at them, for all that she knew plants could neither hear nor “think” in the way that people thought. As she might have expected, the slow waves and wiggling of vines and roots went without dissuasion. She sank her teeth into the woven string, gnawing at it with her sharper canines, but the progress she made was frankly pitiful. It seemed she’d snapped all the weakest points, and all that remained was outside her ability to escape.

Finally, she wore herself out, and hung there, limply, trapped in the net as a fly in an actual web. It was hard to breathe as deeply as her body wanted, all folded in half like she was, one hoof and hock sticking out between the netting with one of the strings biting painfully into her skin, but she was too tired to try and wiggle it back in. She was mortified, too, red faced from exertion and embarrassment both. And one of her antlers was stuck and trying to move her head made the hornbed ache!

It was hard to tell how long she hung there. Not enough time for her to fully catch her breath, but enough that when she heard approaching footsteps, she instinctively turned to look. It pulled on her antler and she let out a small, high pitched noise, wriggling in her bindings once again.

“Oh!” came a woman’s voice, “Hyello!”

“Hi,” Gem said, half-breathless and irritable. “Let me down.”

“Well I almost wouldn’t need to!” The woman spoke with a strange accent, one Gem really hadn’t heard before, and she hung aggravatingly juuuuust in Gem’s peripherals. “You went and broke my trap! Not very polite of you.”

“What’s not polite is leaving me hanging here in a net!” Gem shouted, struggling again.

The woman laughed at her, the jerk, but thankfully gave a, “I know, I know, I’m just messin’ with you. Hold still, here, hup!”

Movement, the net swaying, and then there was the release of some mechanism and Gem and the woman both dropped to the ground, the one on the outside of the net landing nicely on her feet.

“Ow,” Gem deadpanned, far less amused with this situation than her captor/savior.

“You’re an interesting looking stranger. Are you from here?”

“I’m from across the river,” Gem said, accepting the help to sit up and detangle herself from the net. “I was just exploring. Are you from here?”

“No,” she said with a bright shrug. “I am living here now though, I suppose. I’m researching the area.”

Gem grunted and started trying to unhook the webbing from her antlers. As she did, she surveyed her new… whoever this was.

By all accounts, she looked like an ordinary human woman (and what indignity, an elf caught in a human trap!). Long, pale brown hair that hung halfway down her biceps. Thick, sturdy-made green overalls and a well made cotton shirt beneath. Big, sturdy stompin’ boots. Everything the woman wore (and netted, apparently) seemed to be fashioned for durability.

…Gem had been staring at her strong arms long enough she’d made out fine little hairs on her skin. Probably should look somewhere else.

“Thanks,” she said, less irritable now that she wasn’t strung from a tree, “for helping me down.”

“Awh, sorry for snatchin’ you up in the first place! I’m trying to catch one of the little scuttlers, the one I’ve been researching got out and it’s been awful trying to get it back again.”

“Scuttlers?”

“That’s what I’m calling them! Here, come inside, I’ll show you my research lab.”

Now, Gem was an adult woman. She was smart enough to know it wasn’t always wise to follow a stranger to a secondary location. Especially after that stranger had already caught her in one trap.

But this stranger had also let her out of the trap. And she was a pretty woman. Surely pretty women had no nefarious purposes. And besides, Gem, like, owed her or something. It’d be rude not to go.

“Sorry again about your trap,” she mentioned, glancing at the broken remains before following.

“No worries! It was getting old, anyway.”

“Mm. Hey, what’s your name? I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“Oh yeah! I’m your friendly resident Pearlo! Call me Pearl,” she said cheerfully, whirling around to outstretch her hand.

Gem took it in hers, strong, callused human fingers clasping firmly around dainty elvish ones.

“Call me Gem,” she echoed.

“Hey, listen to that! Gem and Pearl, we get one more and we’ll have a whole jewelry box.”

Gem laughed, and noticed that Pearl had not released her hand in order to resume walking her inside. They were holding hands now. Pearl didn’t even seem to notice it, so it was probably natural and nothing important to her. It should’ve felt natural and unimportant to Gem, too, she’d held lots and lots of hands before and it had never meant anything particularly special.

But, well, you see, Gem was not immune to Pretty Lady.

She followed her into one of the ruined structures, which was not so ruined on the inside, and listened as Pearl discussed her research. The “scuttler” was some sort of guard dog for one of those ancient underground cities, barking whenever passerby tread too loudly and alerting the alarm system, and eventually a huge beast. Gem listened with one cheek propped up on her fist, watching Pearl walk about her laboratory with the occasional “mhm” or “oh really?” to keep her going.

It was when Pearl said a particularly silly joke with a toss of her hair and a cock of her hip that Gem realized, “Oh, you’re trying to impress me!”

Pearl shocked still, mouth hanging open and eyes blown wide, and Gem giggled to see her blush.

“No, no,” she rushed to follow up, “keep going.” She tilted her head so her bright curls spilled over her shoulder and smiled with a flutter of her eyelashes. “It was working.”

#hermitcraft season 9 #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #gempearl #hermitcraft #mcyt yuri week #mcytyuriweek #mcytyuriweek2023 #prompt: break #sometimes you break your future gf's trap with your hooves it be that way sometimes #my writing #haro writes

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pixiemage · 11 months ago

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I’ve recently re-read your magebound au and was wondering if you had anymore snippets you would be willing share :)/nf

Ahhh hi! I'm glad you enjoyed it!!!

I honestly love that AU so much. I really need to get back to it when I can; there are a LOT of people whose stories I have planned out in my head, I just haven't had time to work on them hah.

That being said, if you're curious to see a character I haven't posted anything for yet, I HAVE been working a little scene in recent weeks for a prompt I got a while back. I made an MCYT Playlist Prompt two months ago, and then I immediately got busy after making it and didn't have time to do it lol...but this request from @i-am-oshawott caught my attention:

[Playlist D, Track 3] Magebound - "My Heart is Split" by Kerrigan Lowdermilk

It's a song I associate with Grian in this AU, for obvious reasons once you listen to it and read what I have written for it so far! <3 Enjoy!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(...)

Grian felt as though perhaps he should be more grateful. If it weren’t for Mumbo, he was sure he never would have survived out there alone in the woods, as injured as he’d been after escaping the Watcher Coven. The fact that someone had found him and brought him to safety was a blessing in and of itself.

The Hermits were kind too, kind and a little kooky…the best kind of company to keep, in Grian’s opinion. Xisuma had been more than welcoming and Stress had been a spot of upbeat and chaotic positivity as she helped him heal. His wings were almost back to flight-ready thanks to False’s advice, and with the potions Joe Hills had been brewing for him, his magical core was finally feeling closer to normal than it had in years.

(Not that it would ever be normal again, as much as he hated to acknowledge it. The experiments the Watcher Coven had performed on him to strengthen his magic in order to better their own…he was sure it was practically irreversible. The most Joe’s potions could do was help him stabilize so he could regain full control over his magic again. For that, he would always be thankful.)

But back to the point…he thought perhaps he should be more grateful for all the Hermits had done for him, all the kindness and care they had provided in his time under their protection. But…something was missing.

Or rather, Grian was missing something.

He missed his home. He missed his flock. He missed the Evolution community and the mages that resided there, the other familiars like him who he had grown up with, and the witches and hybrids that he’d come to call his family. Martyn and BigB and Taurtis and the rest…

And Jimmy and Pearl. Grian heaved a sigh and drew his knees to his chest where he was sitting on the front stoop of Mumbo’s home. He rested his cheek on his knees and gazed unseeingly out over the lawn. He probably missed his siblings the most. Pearl may not have been a blood relative, but she was as close to a sister as he’d ever had, and up until the Watchers had taken him Grian couldn’t remember a day he hadn’t spent alongside his little brother Jimmy.

It had been years since then. Jimmy wasn’t a teenager anymore, was he? He’d probably lost all the juvenile plumage in his familiar form, and Grian hadn’t been there to see it.

…but Jimmy was still alive at least, and for that, Grian would gladly give another thousand days in captivity if it required.

The door creaked open behind him, but Grian didn’t bother moving.

“Oh! Grian! Hullo, I was just about to look for you.” A shadow fell over Grian and he glanced up to see Mumbo leaning over him, a small smile peeking out from beneath his mustache.

“It is lunch already?” Grian asked, wondering how long he’d actually been outside, but Mumbo shook his head.

“Not quite, mate,” he told him. He sidestepped Grian and trotted down the front steps. He must have been working on some invention or another because he was missing his jacket and tie, and Grian could see red smudges on his rolled-up shirtsleeves. “Xisuma just sent me a message. He’s got a surprise for you at the center of the village. C’mon.”

Grian made a face at Mumbo’s extended hand.

“I don’t like surprises,” he whined, his one unbandaged wing slumping against his back. “Can’t you just tell me what it is?”

“Sorry buddy, X didn’t say.” At least Mumbo looked apologetic about it. “I’ll stick with you though. If you wanna duck on out, I can cause a distraction.”

Grian pondered this. It seemed like a fair enough offer. So with a very put-upon sigh Grian took the offered hand, letting Mumbo drag him to his feet amid Grian’s undertone grumbling.

“It had better be a good distraction,” Grian told him flatly after a moment of silent walking. “Lots of flair and pizzaz.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Mumbo nodded. “I can do pizzaz. I’m Mr. Pizzaz. Mr. Mumbo Flair-Pizzaz Jumbo. Master of distraction.”

Grian had to fight against the grin that threatened to overtake his expression.

“Good to know I’ve got an expert,” he quipped, hearing the laughter under his own words. “Does Mr. Pizzaz have a business card? I’d love to recommend you to my friends.”

“Yup! Definitely!” Mumbo said, mirth starting to seep into his voice. “Business cards by the boatload. I could get you one the second we’re back at my place. They’ve got - ya know - glitter, and beveled edges, and everything–”

“Glitter?” Grian gaped at him, finally letting out a proper laugh. “Who puts glitter on business cards?”

“Well - well Mr. Pizzaz, obviously,” Mumbo chuckled brightly, his mustache curling upward with his grin. “Careful around him, it’s infectious. Once you go glitter you never go back–”

Grian snorted and fell into giggles, rolling his eye at his newfound friend. It was a shame they hadn’t met sooner. Their senses of humor were such a perfect fit…and in the aftermath of the horrors he’d endured at the hands of the Watchers, Mumbo had become an unignorable bright spot amid the shadows.

Perhaps Xisuma had seen it from the start. Perhaps he’d placed Grian in Mumbo’s care for that very reason.

They were approaching the center of the village by now, and Grian felt his feathers stand on end against his will. He didn’t like the unpredictable. He used to, he was sure he used to - he was certain surprises once held a good connotation once upon a time - but as it stood the unpredictable had come to mean danger in recent years. The unexpected held too much risk, too much fear. Perhaps Mumbo could tell that his humor had only been a half-successful distraction because the back of his hand brushed against Grian’s, an awkward attempt at comfort.

“Like I said,” Mumbo told him in an undertone, “if you need out you let me know, an’ we’ll go. But whatever X has got planned can’t be bad. Right?”

Grian nodded stiffly. Right. Right. Xisuma had been nothing but kind. They all had, really. He took a deep, shaking breath and tried to reign in his anxiety. He had nothing to fear here. It was called a Sanctuary for a reason.

…voices met his ears. Bright voices. Painfully familiar voices. Grian’s breath caught in his lungs and he swallowed past a lump in his throat, his eyes widening and a fragile, careful hope welling in his chest.

They rounded the corner. Sun-yellow feathers caught his eye, and he froze…and it was suddenly very difficult to breathe.

Jimmy was there by the fountain, taller than the last time Grian had seen him, with shorter hair and longer limbs and a little less of the boyish look he’d had as a teen. His wings were on full display - properly grown in now, though his feathers were just a tiny bit messy - and he was slightly turned away from Grian. He was bickering with Martyn - Martyn - over something Grian couldn’t make out, the feathers around his ears flared. Martyn looked older too, though somehow exactly the same, the same familiar fond exasperation on his face as he spoke with Jimmy that Grian had seen hundreds of times. There was a tension in his brow too, one that matched Jimmy’s, one that matched Pearl’s. Pearl was there too, a rich red traveling cloak hanging around her shoulders that Grian remembered had once belonged to her aunt. She was less animated than Martyn or Jimmy, her arms folded tight over her chest as she chewed on her nails, glancing between them silently.

She was the first to spot Grian.

Pearl’s eyes landed on him and Grian could hear her gasp from across the courtyard, catching the attention of Martyn and then Jimmy in quick succession. They turned to follow her eye and fell immediately silent, their expressions shifting through too many emotions for Grian to even try and decipher. Not that it even mattered. They were here. They were real. They were–

“Grian,” Pearl breathed, and it was like a spell broke.

“Grain!” Jimmy was running toward him in an instant with the others hot on his heels, and Grian met him in the middle on unstable legs. He and his brother crashed together in an engulfing hug on impact, clinging to each other like a lifeline, with the desperation of those who feared the other would vanish if they even dared to let go. Pearl crowded in on the right and Martyn on the left, a warm hand on his shoulder and another on his arm and fingers clinging to the sweater on his back.

Grian sobbed before he even knew he was crying, shaking in Jimmy’s arms and not caring that he was probably leaving damp patches of tears on the shoulder of his brother’s shirt. He didn’t care.

They were here. They were alive. They were okay. It was all worth it.

“I can’t believe it,” Martyn choked out, an emotional laugh in his words. “When they told us they found you, I didn’t - I could hardly believe it. We’ve been looking for so long–”

“Told you he’d make it,” Jimmy said shakily. “I told you. I did. I said–” His breath hitched and his wings shuddered, curling forward around the little group where Grian’s one unbandaged wing had fallen slack. “–I said ‘He’s Grian, he’d never give up. He’s stronger ‘n that.’ And I was right. I was - I was right.”

Grian chuckled wetly, weakly, unsteadily, leaning into his flock and burying himself in the feeling of home.

(...)

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captain-blue027 · 30 days ago

Text

Here is an rewrite of one of my old fics I was not fully plessed with :D

An Unhealthy Obsession (3658 words) by Captain_Blue Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Life Series | 3rd Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP, Minecraft (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: EthosLab & Joel | SmallishBeans, One Sided - Relationship, EthosLab/Joel | SmallishBeans, John Booko | BdoubleO100/EthosLab Characters: Joel | SmallishBeans, EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), John Booko | BdoubleO100 Additional Tags: CHARACTERS NOT CONTENT CREATORS, Not Beta Read, No Smut, No Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sex, EthosLab-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Fox Hybrid EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), EthosLab Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), POV EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), EthosLab Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Sad EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), Joel | SmallishBeans-centric, POV Joel | SmallishBeans, Married Joel | SmallishBeans/Lizzie | LDShadowLady, Tanuki Hybrid Joel | SmallishBeans, Tanuki Joel | SmallishBeans, Crazy Joel | SmallishBeans, Insane Joel | SmallishBeans, Obsessed Joel | SmallishBeans, Joel | SmallishBeans is obsessed with EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), Joel | SmallishBeans loves EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), Glare Hybrid John Booko | BdoubleO100, John Booko | BdoubleO100 Needs a Hug, Glare John Booko | BdoubleO100, POV John Booko | BdoubleO100, John Booko | BdoubleO100 Loves EthosLab, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy EthosLab and Joel | SmallishBeans Relationship, Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Non-Consensual Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Non-Consensual Cuddling Series: Part 6 of SmallEtho/Boat boys fics, Part 52 of kissing prompt fics 2025 Summary: Etho wakes up slowly. His body feels sore, and when he tries to bring his hands up to his face to rub his eyes, he finds he can't. He tugs on his hands, trying to bring them up to his face and finds them tied to the back legs of the wooden chair he is sitting on. Actually so are his legs and chest/upper arms. ‘Wait…what’s going on?’ he thinks. He groggily blinks his eyes hard, trying to get a better look at his surroundings. “You're finally awake!” Someone says cheerfully from the shadows across the room. The fox hybrid looks in the direction of the voice, recognizing it quickly, “Joel!” he says, “what’s going on?” “You know how you said I’m obsessed with you?” Joel asks, stepping out of the shadows, his kimono swishing around his legs as the tanuki walks. He has a grin on his face, a look that is slightly off putting, and unnerving, like that of someone who has gone crazy. He stops in front of the fox hybrid, and leans forward, putting his left hand on Etho’s left knee for support, whispering in the fox hybrid’s white furred left ear, “you were right.”

#mcyt #life series #hermitcraft #trafficshipping #any shipping is characters not cc's #hermitshipping #writing #writing prompt #obbsession #joel smallishbeans #ethoslab #Joel is obsessed with Etho #kiss #kissing prompts #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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