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dilatorywriting · 2 years

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Heroes vs. Villains : Diasomnia

Gender Neutral Reader x Diasomnia vs. Prince Stefan Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Diasomnia Version

ie. Wherein Malleus invites you along to Briar Valley's Festival of Roses and Sebek drives you to near insanity. Thankfully (?) getting lost in the chaos means you meet another wayward soul.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

“I don’t think Sebek likes me very much,” you sighed.

“Oh?” Malleus blinked, clearly a bit thrown by the sudden accusation. “What would make you think that?”

Your glare swiveled pointedly to a sharp bolt of green just barely poking out from behind one of the many dilapidated pillars. Sebek’s yellow eyes slowly rose up with the rest of him, and the half-fae glowered at you like a pissy tomcat.

Malleus’s brilliant, neon, gaze slowly tracked yours, and when it met with his Knight’s startled gaping, his brow furrowed in annoyance. His irritated scowl was always a bit hard to read. Was he being pouty? Murderous? Both? Hell if you knew.

“I see,” he sighed after a moment, long suffering.

You just hummed in grumpy agreement as Sebek tried to duck back down behind the debris.

You and Malleus had clicked from the get-go. Perhaps it was because he’d never really had a friend before, and you were far too stupid and naïve about the rules of this new world to understand anything about the implications behind that. The Fae Prince was easy company—he was smart, with a dry, oblivious sort of humor that could leave you in stitches. His ensuing confusion about why you were laughing was always a surefire way to get you laughing harder. You enjoyed his company immensely, and you liked to think that he enjoyed yours enough in turn that perhaps your fleeting humanity had left at least a teensy impression on his near-immortal soul. Or, you know, whatever. At the very least, you were a semi willing student for his nightly architecture lectures, and you knew that at least put you in better standing than, say, Leona.

So when you received a personal summons to the Briar Valley’s Festival of Roses—hand delivered by the Crown Prince himself—you were over the moon.

“You seemed interested in our customs,” Malleus had explained. “And seeing as I invaded your home over the Halloween festivities, it only seems right that this time I extend you the invitation into mine.”

You agreed enthusiastically, because hell-fucking-yes you wanted to see all the mystical, magical, mumbo-jumbo that this world had to offer. Sure, you were trapped here for an indefinite amount of time, but you would be damned if you let the only cool part of any of that miserable uncertainty go to waste.

“Is there anything I should know?” you asked, fighting the urge to bop around the carriage like a toddler on a sugar high. Because that’s how you were travelling. In an honest-to-goodness horse drawn carriage. (Or, well, magic drawn or something.) “So that I don’t embarrass any of you or anything, I mean.”

Lilia was smirking over at you with a kind of fond amusement that you assumed meant he’d picked up on your rabid excitement from a mile away. Your vibrating was probably shaking his seat. Occasionally his wine-red irises would flick to Malleus, and that smirk would curl into something sharper, something mischievous.

“Humans aren’t too common to see,” Malleus said, with the same, odd sort of tension about him that had rocketed through his too-tall frame the moment you’d climbed into the seat beside him. “But they are not entirely unfamiliar either. You should be treated fairly.”

Your horned friend had been strangely silent throughout most of this journey. The weirdest part was that he seemed absolutely determined to stare out the window—head turned at a sharp angle, his hands clasped neatly in his lap and shoulders pulled so stiff and straight that he could have been one of the gargoyles that he so loved. And for someone who usually made far too much eye contact, the lack of acknowledgement was a bit unnerving.

“You’ll be more than fine as you are,” Lilia translated, the points of his fangs peeking out from behind his grin. “And I can promise you that any guest of Malleus’s will be welcomed with open arms.”

Malleus continued his resolute stare down with the glass and Lilia snickered into his palm. Sebek made a strangled noise from his seat across from you. He hadn’t been particularly vocal thus far about his disapproval of your inclusion (you doubted Sebek had it in him to openly question any decision of Malleus’s), but the look of complete and utter dismay twisting his face was telling enough.

You leaned in and prodded Malleus gently in the side.

“I won’t be, like, executed or something if someone hears me call you ‘Tsunotarou,’ will I?”

Sebek squawked and there was a sudden strike of lightning just outside the carriage window that rattled the entire coach with an echoing boom.

“No,” Malleus said emphatically, his lime-green glower zeroing in on you for the first time since this entire venture began. “No one will touch you, no matter what indiscretions they may think to assume you guilty of.”

“But, young master!—” Sebek started to argue. “The impropriety of—” he spluttered. “To even think thatyou could be addressed as—as that is—"

“No,” Malleus repeated, nearly a growl, and another bolt of bright static lit the window. The electricity seemed to linger in the air long after the flash had faded, like a little, rippling, current running the edge of its teeth along your skin. “And this will be the last it is discussed.”

The terrible, quiet, tension that followed was broken by a snuffling snore as Silver shifted, his head flopping from where it’d been pressed against the wooden paneling to instead land with a heavy thwump against Lilia’s shoulder.

“How… How did he sleep through all that?” you asked in awe.

Lilia sighed, affectionate, and reached out to ruffle a clawed hand through Silver’s hair. “He’s so special~”

You knew that Malleus was royalty and blablabla, but you hadn’t really anticipated all the things that came with that. The castle? Yes. Totally made sense. The entire entourage of servants that appeared to whisk away your bags? Also rational. Sorta cool, and definitely made you feel a bit too much like a celebrity, even if you understood the need for such protocol.

Malleus also immediately being whisked away?

Now that… That you hadn’t really considered.

“I’ll meet back with you as soon as I can,” he promised. Lilia and Silver had already vanished down a separate winding hallway, and the prospect of being left all alone in this gargantuan foyer was just short of terrifying. “There are some final preparations for the Festival that I am required to oversee personally.” And then there was another moment where Malleus resolutely refused to meet your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say it was almost like he was being coy. But it passed quickly enough and instead he cast a pointed glare towards his subordinate. “Sebek can show you around in the meantime. He’s a more than capable guard.”

You looked at Sebek and Sebek looked at you.

Uh-oh.

“How long will that take?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound as whiny as it felt. But, like, come on. This was basically the human equivalent of your friend inviting you to come visit for the holidays and then immediately dumping you with their weird aunt and the dog that never really learned not to pee on the carpet.

“Only until the evening,” he assured, like it wasn’t just barely past ten in the morning—like eight-plus whole ass hours was really no time at all. And to be fair, for him it probably really wasn’t. But for you and your very mortal panic, it immediately felt like you were facing down eternity. You didn’t know what your face was doing, but whatever it was, it made Malleus’s brow scrunch up in concern. “Will that be alright?”

“Of course,” you lied, like a good guest. “You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

He smiled that small, slanted, smile of his that always looked just a touch too sharp at the corners. And then he was gone, and it was just you and Sebek.

“So,” you tried. “Do you know what any of that was about?”

“LORD MALLEUS’S PRINCELY RESPONSIBILITIES ARE NONE OF YOUR CONCERN, HUMAN!” Sebek barked, crossing his arms sternly across his chest. “IF THE YOUNG MASTER DID NOT SEE FIT TO INFORM YOU, THEN I SEE NO REASON WHY I SHOULD EITHER!”

You groaned and valiantly fought the urge to drop your head into your hands.

“Don’t touch that, human!”

“How dare you—you’re going to embarrass the young master!”

“Human! Don’t you dare!”

“Human!”

“HUMAN!”

You were going insane. You couldn’t blink without Sebek snarling at you about impropriety, and the fact that your very presence in this castle was a failing of tradition itself. You tried to ask about the Festival and were immediately shut down. You inquired politely if there was anything you could do to help, only to be told firmly that silly little humans weren’t good for anything and to keep your nose out of it. You asked to use the bathroom and your stupid, mortal, bladder was cursed within an inch of its life.

“It would have been easier not to bring you at all,” Sebek grumbled for the thousandth time as he grouchily led you through rows of decorative stalls.

“I am aware,” you grit out, grinding your molars.

“I still can’t understand it,” he rambled. “No matter how many times Master Lilia explains it to me, you—this—it defies all logic!”

“Friendship isn’t always logical,” you bit back, firm. Because that is what you were, right? Friends? And then, because you were angry and wanted to hit him where it hurt— “You know, if Malleus is so willing to sully himself by keeping someone as lowly and stupid as me as his friend, maybe that’s a sign that the other company he’s forced to keep is less than ideal.”

Sebek puffed up like a rooster in a cock fight and turned on you with a snarl.

“How dare you presume to call yourself the Young Master’s friend!” The corners of his lips curled down over jagged canines. “At best you’re a pet—something that’ll long outlast its welcome before you eventually wither away and die.”

Annnnd you had officially reached your allocated tolerance of Anti-Human-Bullshit for the day.

So when Sebek was caught up in another one of his longwinded tirades, you slipped into the gap between two of the Festival stalls and out the other side. The silence was immediate and like a balm against your sore hide.

There was something about Sebek that made you think he didn’t really mean all those things he spouted. Occasionally there was a kind of disquiet in his yellow gaze, especially when he ranted angrily about the shortcomings of his very human father. The green-haired fae was far from subtle, and you had a feeling that all his huffing and puffing was probably to hide something… else. Something more uncertain and small that he downright refused to address. Because humans were weak, and short-lived, and chaotic. And he would have to face that sooner or later. With Silver. With his own parent. And hating that humanity was no doubt easier than loving and losing it.

That being said, his prickly behavior still made you want to punt his head like a spiky, green, football. So.

You wandered around aimlessly through the intricate maze of market stalls and booths. Despite the perpetually grey cloud cover, everyone here was so cheerful. And Lilia was right—no one seemed to give two shits about your very human eyes, and face, and stature. It was really nice. You spent so long strolling through the rows that you barely even noticed when the sky began to darken and the crowds thinned as you approached the outskirts. There was an ominous roll of thunder in the distance, but you didn’t think too much of it. The clouds looked ready to open up any second. It was probably just a bit of rain.

There was a little, makeshift, dirt pit at the edge of the stalls, and you observed it curiously. It was ringed with colorful, triangular, flags, and the inner crater was lined with archery targets and wooden sparring dummies. It reminded you a bit of those competition fields in Renaissance Fairs.

However, so enraptured by these painted planks were you that you wound up crashing headfirst into a wall of crimson, and immediately plummeted towards the ground. But then a strong arm was around your waist, twirling you back to your feet. And boy was it a twirl—like you were being swung around into an entire waltz. It left your head spinning worse than if whoever-it-was had just let you faceplant into the dirt.

“Wow, ow. Your head is way harder than it looks. Ouch. My poor ribs.”

You immediately moved to apologize, but were caught off guard by a pair of softly rounded ears peeking out from beneath mused, brown, hair. Another human. Like you. You blinked a few times, not entirely sure why the idea of another mortal gallivanting around the Festival was so surprising. You fought what would no doubt look like an insanely creepy urge to lean closer and get a better look at his face, just to make sure—to check if his canines were blunted, if his pupils were round and soft rather than narrow slashes of black. There was another low rumbling of thunder, closer this time. It was followed by a sharp crack of lightning that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“Sorry about that,” you finally managed to eke out, vision still a bit swirly.

“It’s alright. It didn’t actually hurt that badly,” your victim chuckled, cordial, and set you back on your feet. It was a very lovely chuckle—deep and warm, like melting, dark, chocolate. “Are you alright? You look a little dazed.”

“I think so—” you began, before accidentally putting a bit too much weight onto your left ankle. It twinged painfully and you winced. Immediately that hand was back at your shoulder, keeping you balanced. “Or maybe not.”

“I guess my head is still harder than yours after all,” Mister Brunette mused to himself.

“I don’t think your head twisted my ankle,” you mumbled, confused.

He tossed his head back with a laugh, and you couldn’t help but notice that he had very lovely cheekbones. Not as sharp as Malleus’s maybe, but still perfectly proportioned to the rest of his very well-cut face.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Are you lost too?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you hummed, glancing around at the semi-familiar layout. You couldn’t really tell if you recognized the little stalls because you’d seen them before, or if it was just because they were standard make and all looked more or less the same. “…Probably.”

“We can be allies in idiocy then,” he snorted pleasantly, and reached out with his other hand to double up on helping you better maintain the balance that you so clearly did not possess.

“Does this new ally have a name?” you asked, still a bit dizzy.

“Stefan,” he grinned—all white teeth and charisma. “After my great-great-great—” He paused for a moment, as if considering, “great-great-grandfather.”

He laughed merrily at whatever disgruntled face you were pulling.

“Yeah. I guess it is all a bit pretentious,” he sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But that’s just the way it is back home—for my family, at the very least. Lots of tradition this, and lineage that.”

“Oh?” you hummed. “Sounds stifling.”

“It is! I mean, it’s practically the 14th century now,” he laughed, and you genuinely could not tell if he was being serious. “I’m always telling my father it’s time to get with the times, you know?”

For a moment, you were reminded so strongly of Malleus and his general dissociation with the modern world that it was almost startling.

“And you?”

“Me?” you blinked.

He laughed. “Your name? If you don’t mind me inquiring, of course.”

You gave it freely. Lilia had cautioned you once upon a time about something-something-power-in-a-name, but Lilia wasn’t here right now. And it’s not like you were anyone special enough that your name could mean much of anything to begin with. Maybe, if they were lucky enough, someone could use it as an incantation to summon a hungry racoon from the sewers.

Stefan repeated it merrily, with the same inflection one may use when telling a fantastical tale to friends in a tavern. No ravenous racoons spawned from the trees when he said it, so you assumed the whole ‘power’ thing was probably safe.

Another flash of emerald lit the sky—this strike was larger, louder. Like dozens of branches unfurling from a rotting tree, or clawed fingers digging their way through the clouds. The roar of thunder that followed almost seemed to shake the ground. Stefan frowned up at the black clouds.

“It was already starting to get late anyways, but the weather is really starting to turn, huh?” he hummed and tapped at his chin, pensive. “And I can’t just leave you all the way out here—especially knowing that you’ve got a bum ankle. Hmm…” More tapping. And then his hazel eyes lit up like firebugs. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

“A horse?” you repeated, confused.

“Helios,” he smiled, bright as the sun. “He’s my best friend. And, well, also my trusty steed. He’s just over in the contestant’s stables. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

Riding back into the heart of the Festival on horseback sounded like something that would absolutely give Sebek at least two separate heart attacks. But before you could voice your skepticism, Stefan was rushing off—his crimson cape swirling behind him in the wind.

“I’ll be right back!”

You slouched against a pillar with a sigh, shifting as much of your weight off your ankle as you could manage. You wondered if Malleus had finished his Pre-Festival duties. You wondered if Sebek had realized you’d disappeared yet. Surely even he wasn’t that oblivious. You wondered if he was panicked at all—if not for you, then for his Lord’s inevitable wrath at the misplacement of a favored ‘pet.’

“Well, well. There you are, little one.”

You jolted in surprise and immediately curled back into yourself with a pained hiss. Goddamned ankle—

“Lilia,” you gaped. “Jesus fucking—don’t dothat.”

The Fae shot you a wicked grin from his place floating overhead, angled just-so so that it looked like he was dangling upside-down from the wooden signage across the top of an empty stall. But you knew better. He was bouncing around on his magic and his magic alone.

“How did you end up all the way out here?” Lilia hummed, slipping from his ‘perch’ to land gracefully at your side. His wine-red eyes roved over you from head to toe. It felt like you were being filleted. “And you’ve gone and hurt yourself on top of everything. Goodness,” he sighed, bone-deep and weary. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to deal with another one of Malleus’s tantrums this evening. And yet, here you are. Being so careless.” Another sigh, nearly a groan. “What am I going to do with you, hmm?”

“It’s not like it was my fault!” you spluttered, even though it had definitely been your fault.

Lilia gave you a look.

“Either way,” he continued, voice lilted in that indulgent way that reminded you far too much of a parent trying and failing to discipline a wayward child, “let’s get you back before he blows the entire market away.”

Then, Stefan called your name and the fond expression on Lilia’s face immediately flattened into something so pointedly blank it was almost unsettling. Your new friend came trotting forward, a lovely and large silver dun horse at his side. Helios, you assumed. The gigantic beast caught sight of Lilia and slid to a standstill, rearing up with a panicked whinny as he backpedaled. Stefan twisted his hands into the reins and ran a hand along the horse’s neck—shushing and placating the startled animal. After a moment, Stefan managed to calm Helios enough to keep him from bolting, and he turned on Lilia with wide eyes.

“Lord Vanrouge,” Stefan said, angling his head in what you assumed was deference. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.”

“Nor I you,” Lilia hummed, that impassive expression remaining firmly in place. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Prince Stefan? We were informed that you and your family wouldn’t be arriving until the day after next.” A pause. The silence felt louder than anything Lilia had said up to that point. “If at all.”

“Prince?” you choked, turning on the brunette with eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Whoops?” Stefan shrugged, looking sheepish. “And I—well… I just wanted to get a look at everything. Beforehand.”

“Of course,” Lilia droned. “Either way. You’ll have to excuse us.” The Fae slide one hand beneath your knees and the other around the small of your back, and hauled you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. “We have a pressing appointment to keep.”

With that, the world seemed to tilt on its axis as the environment melted together like splotches of watercolor paint all running together at the bottom of a page. You’d never been teleported before. You’d seen Malleus and Lilia pop in and out of existence plenty of times, but being dragged through the fabric of time and space alongside him was jarring, and the journey left you feeling nauseous and loopy all over again.

It took you a moment to realize that the universe had stopped spinning, and that the plush material beneath your palms felt an awful lot like the duvet on the bed in your guestroom. You opened your eyes slowly, cautiously, to see Lilia had placed you neatly by your pillows and had already moved away to start fretting over your swollen ankle instead.

“I never thought I would have to lecture you on the dangers of talking to strangers,” he tutted, though it wasn’t entirely playful.

“I didn’t know he was a Prince,” you complained, wincing when he prodded clinically at your stinging flesh. “I just thought he was, I don’t know, some guy.” You fought and failed the urge to fidget—fingers nervously meshing together in your lap. “…I didn’t cause an international incident or anything, did I…?” You had no idea how any of this royalty stuff worked. But you could put two-and-two together well enough to understand that the personal guest of one crowned prince mowing down a different prince was probably not looked upon very highly.

Lilia leaned forward to pat your head, some of his usual mischief working its way back into his expression.

“Not to worry, Prefect,” he smiled. “I doubt any wars have been declared over your transgressions.”

There was another roar of thunder and the castle itself seemed to tremble. The bay windows lining the wall opposite you were lit entirely in a sharp flash of lime green. Once the wicked brightness of the lightning had faded into something less blinding, you could make out dozens of hairline cracks racing up the glass panes.

Lilia sighed, looking for the first time like someone who was very acutely feeling the weariness of his hundreds upon hundreds of lifespans. “Well, not yet, at least.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #Heroes vs. Villains #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Silver twst #Sebek Zigvolt #Lilia Vanrouge #Diasomnia x Reader #Malleus x Yuu #Heroes vs Villains Diasomnia Part 1

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melodiclune · 3 months

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And Then There Were Two

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@trafficzine 5th Edition: This is my piece!!! A retelling of the Pearl and Scar duel.

There's a secret task I had to follow writing this... can you tell what it is?? (Answer at the end of the piece.)

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Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she’s done, had been for her Mounders, her loyalty had dictated it so.

Mumbo had died first, to the posts round the bend. Then Bdubs and Joel in the same fell swoop, barely a moment to process it, a tale of woe.

They left Pearl to ally with the one person on the server with no real friend. With Gem now gone, she already knew how this would go.

But when she offered Scar her life earlier, he opposed the idea vehemently. “I refuse. We go out together. I genuinely don’t want to win that much anyway,” he declared. Nobody else would know the pain and exhaustion fighting solo brought, honestly. And she had respected his words, looking ahead.

A duel he had wanted, so a duel he’d get, she thought, raising her sword unwillingly. Here, with just the two of them left, Scar looks at her, bow drawn.

The dogs had to go first, Scar decided. Pearl watches as he sets off the TNT, the shadow of her past win clasping her heart in phantom pain. With nobody left to die but them, Scar lets his arrow loose, resolute and undaunted. It lodges into her side, the sharp fall in her health telling how little time she had before she’d be slain.

She weaves in and out of the swarm of mobs, sword at the ready by her side as she laughs at the poetry. What a fight, between two crazed fools who remember the hollowness of living in total isolation. Neither of them fighting for the win, and their duel being the final one nothing short of irony. She darts away from the crowd of zombies and spiders, avoiding embers from their sunlit flames, but not escaping the fire in Scar’s expression.

His eyes are bright, filled with grief she recognises in herself. His shots fly everywhere, frantic just as he is. And there’s nothing she can do but mourn. In her emotional haze, her own sword strikes miss.

One of his determined arrows finally lands, square in her shoulder, the burning pain screaming from the force in the shot. She ignores the sting (it’s nothing she hasn’t felt before), turning to swipe her sword angled with the sunlight to start a fire. Scar makes a shocked sound, indignant as he douses himself with water, her strike all for naught. The numbness in her shoulder spreads; she can’t lift her arm high up now, her situation dire.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for her allies.

She sees the defensive instinct backing every action that only someone with no one has, and chooses to treat him as a friend. She sees the slow, deep breaths Scar takes, the breaks in his voice and forced banter, and identifies the weariness she once held in her own scarlet guise.

There’s gold fruit glinting in her inventory, all she needs to rejuvenate herself, with a quick bite and swallow. It’s all she needs to last longer than Scar, clearly exhausted from all his fights (victories) on their last day. Instead, she leaves it untouched, looking at the dance he wishes to lead with valor alone, choosing to follow. There is no doubt who remains standing after this, but she’s ready to accept her fate as it comes her way.

But then she gets a little too close, and he sets the TNT down in a quick moment that sends her heart into a fright. Swiftly backing away is all she can do, the boom behind her loud and terrifying. It’s enough to have her disregard all logic, expression lighting up in a mirror of his desperation, and she turns her sword into him with all her might. But it’s enough for Scar to strike another arrow into her heart, brutal and damning.

Arrow after arrow, swipe after swipe, they trade blows, but Pearl knows he has more health than she does. His kill on Gem had ensured it. Her measly two and a half hearts wouldn’t last her much longer, and so she raises her shield as she goes. He draws another arrow from his diminishing quiver, lips pulled into a thin line as he sets it loose, only for Pearl to counter the hit.

“Behind you,” he says, tone lined with concern that Pearl knows to doubt.

A split-second long look back, and then she’s turning back with the smallest smile on her face.

“Oh, you really tried it right now,” she replies, but she sees something worth calling out.

His call may have been fake, but hers are something he ought to listen to with grace.

“You better look behind you,” she starts carefully, voice lined with concern she knows he’s not going to trust easy. “Uh Scar, look behind you. I’m serious.”

To his credit, he does, however uneasy.

But it’s frenzied in a way that she knows means he’s scared of turning his back to her, and she can’t blame him. He misses the zombie, choosing to aim one of his incredible arrows straight at her. She skips across quickly, shield at the ready as the projectile sails past her, but the margin is slim. And yet, after everything, she wants him to be safe, for his victory to occur.

“Behind you Scar,” she starts, but it’s too late. He’s nocked another arrow, and this time it lands its mark with ease. It sends her flying back, and she knows it’s time for her to meet her fate.

“Ah, jeez.”

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for the people she loves with loyalty.

It’s inevitable, how she falls into the ravine she missed earlier, truly something to reprehend. (The same, frantic turn Scar had done, and suddenly she realises why it felt so familiar to see.) A chuckle barely leaves her lips, oddly subdued. Things had gone just as she wanted them to, and the fall makes her feel oddly free.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she did, had been so that nobody would ever be as alone as she was, in this terrible game that stole their spark.

Before she hits the ground, she can only hope Scar sees the zombie that’s making its way towards him without prelude.

And then she does hit the ground, and all is dark.

#traffic zine #life series #melodies #secret life #secret life smp #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar

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voidlightcomix · 6 months

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Hermitcraft - MOON’S BIG! (Pencil Cover)

Made this for an assignment for my Materials and Techniques class this quarter. We had to make a comic cover, but it could be based on anything we wanted, with a few restrictions on what needed to be included (SCAD logo, title, artist name, issue #). I’ve been obsessed with Hermitcraft lately, so of course this was the first thing that came to mind. It was super fun to work on- never drawn Mumbo before!

I hope I get to draw them for some more academic work this quarter.

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s0ulsniper · 1 year

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Helping you.

Donnie x afab!reader

Summary: In which you show up unannounced stumbling into the lair when the turtles thought you were an intruder.

Who: Donnie x afab!reader

Hey guys, I got this inspired idea from a Twitter post I ran across, sadly cannot find it again though.

I was thinking of doing the same idea with the other turtles? If you would want that please comment and I'll do it. :)

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the boys were spending their Saturday night the way that they always did.

pizza, games, more pizza, and more games.

except donnie was the only one being a party pooper, worried about his girlfriend.

it wasn't that sometimes you were busy and couldn't answer for awhile, no, it was that before you randomly stopped you sent him a series of weird texts. which all just consisted of mumbo jumbo.

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(8:37 pm) - ( my y/n <3 ) - ydjk wheaste uids haoaprnubg donni hqwlp

(8:37 pm) - ( my smart boy ) - what?

he worried.

(8:40 pm) - ( my smart boy ) - y/n are you okay? where are you?

seen.

(8:46 pm) - ( my smart boy ) - y/n, darling what's going on?

(8:53 pm) - ( my y/n <3 ) - shredder

his heart almost stopped beating.

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he frantically jumps over the couch and runs to his room, his computer already on.

he works his magic to track your phone through your information but before it could finish he hears his brother yell for him from the other room.

"DONNIE !" leo yells and he scrambles out of his chair, almost falling face first into the pavement.

"what? what happened?!"

his brothers are lined up ahead of him, weapons drawn. their breathing suggests someone's there, that the motion detector must have went off.

but before donnie could get ready you limp out of the shadow, the giant pipe squeaking as you walked.

his eyes widen, you looked horrible. hand clutching your sides, with brushes and blood dripping from places he has nightmares about.

you look faint, your eyes seemed almost lifeless when donnie ran to you and scooped you from the ground.

his brothers have just a similar reaction, trying to figure out what happened, how to help you, and who to kill.

they looked so scared, not knowing what to do but donnie did.

he sat you to lay down on the counter, ordering leo and mikey to get supplies while raph alerted master splinter.

"wha- what happened y/n- what?" he fumbled over words, you were stripped to your tank top and shorts while he scanned you for injuries.

his mind was racing.

master splinter and raph ran into the room while Mikey and Leo poured the supplies on the counter.

for the first time, for a split second donnie swore he saw worry on master splinters face.

"I have got this under control, I'll call you boys back in when I am done."

with that donnie feels himself being dragged out by his brothers, just realizing he was holding his breath.

he sat for hours it felt, elbows against his knees staring into the walls.

never had he frozen when someone needed his help, he always managed something.

but he didn't, when the person he loved the most he felt needed him.

he feels someone sit next to him on the couch, a hand grip his shoulder.

"she's awake." Leo sighs.

that's all he needed to power his body, he plows through everything in his way until he gets to the door, calming his composure.

the door is silent, small creeks are heard.

"y/n?" he calls, shakier than he liked.

"right here don." you croak.

he steps in and walks to you, you look better than you did but you still look horrible.

your sitting on the counter, back resting against the wall.

he stands in front of you, hesitant to touch you but when you reach for him he embraces you like he won't ever see you again.

"don- donnie... you're crushing me baby-" you wince out.

he pulls away quickly, a worried expression makes you laugh a bit. but horribly, your side churns every time you move a muscle in the region.

"ouch." you grab at your side.

he looks down and frowns, seeing the blood stain but the evident gauze poking from the bottom of your rolled up tank top.

"it's gonna make a sick scar." you pull up your tank top, and although he can't see it he knows by the size of the gauze that it could've been way worse. the bandage starts at your bellybutton and ends somewhere close to your spine.

but he smiles at you despite all that has happened, because no matter what, when you're smiling he is too.

"I'm so sorry n/n that I wasn't there to help you. what happened?" he apologies but you shake your head.

"how would you have known don? it's not your fault my love." you reassure him before trying to explain what happened.

you feel him grab your hand for support, his other resting on the side of your thigh while he stands between your legs.

"shredder... I guess he found out my schedule or something- he sent in a few of his goons. I was walking back home and I knew someone was following me but I could barely even type... before I knew it, shredder slashed me with his blade in the corner of an alley when I did comply with his threat." you explain, your voice shaky. "he was gonna try and kill you don- I couldn't. he was going to kill you all."

you pause when you feel donnie wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression as sweet as ever.

"I couldn't let him... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he found you guys. he was gonna kill me don. and I was okay with that if it was to protect you guys. but with some miracle I was able to escape, I really don't know how I pulled it off." You finish.

at this point you were both crying. you felt donnie hug you again, seeing his brothers and master splinter behind him looking at you with sad eyes.

they felt like somehow it was their fault, and they felt horrible.

"I will never let anyone hurt you ever again." donnie preaches. "I'll kill anyone who tries."

"yeah dude, we're gonna beat em up!" mikey yells.

you laugh , genuinely while you clutch your side. you hoped you would rip the stitches.

for the rest of your recovery donnie never left your side, like a lost puppy he follows you around because he was serious about never letting you get hurt again.

anyone who looked in your direction got an eyebrow raise and dark eyes.

even if they had no bad intentions, they would definitely scurry away as soon as possible.

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TAGS 🏷️:

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt x y/n #fem!reader #afab!reader #x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles donnie #donnie x reader #donatello x reader

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whilmsy · 2 years

Text

TCD Scar AU Drabble

hello welcome to my silly drabble inspired by @stiffyck and the anons that helped in the asks as i wrote! you are not immune to TCD Scar angst in its many forms across servers <3

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Grian learnt about Scar’s trauma the hard way.

A new season, a new day, and of course, new pranks.

He’d set it up with a grin on his face and hid with a laugh hard to stop. He did it without a second thought, a way of welcoming his neighbour to the jungle! Grian did it without a second thought, they’d been quick to grow as friends after he first joined last season, and so Grian can’t help it when he wants to pull this trick on his friend. Mumbo’s next, he tells himself, plans already forming in his mind as he hides behind bamboo and watches the zombies bounce up from the water elevator. What Grian doesn’t expect to watch unfold is the way that Scar seems more and more scared as time goes by, as the mobs keep showing up. At first he takes it as his friend being overwhelmed with confusion, but the more he watches on, the more he can tell Scar is panicking.

It’s… not exactly what he planned for, to be honest.

In front of him, he can hear Scar’s heavy gasps for oxygen, and that dread merging with guilt forms quickly, settling hard and heavy in his chest. Scar doesn’t panic like this, he doesn’t really show a sign of weakness despite the amount of times he dies on accident, and so to look at him and watch it unfold, it hurts that this isn’t fake.

This is real, and Grian feels frozen for a moment as he takes the scene in.

His friend is terrified, panicking and barely catching his breath. With wide eyes and a paleness to his skin that wasn’t there before, Scar seems to be in a sort of trance as he takes them out - and Grian will give it to the builder, he honestly thought Scar would’ve been taken down by now, but he knows he’s crossed a line he wasn’t meant to. The look on Scar’s face as he fights these undead is a look Grian knows too well; guilt, fear, exhaustion. Finally Grian frees himself out of his unmoving state from behind the line of bamboo, and he wastes no time racing forward with his axe drawn, coming in from behind to take down the closest zombie. He swears he hears Scar asking himself about not bringing a gun - he doesn’t want to think about the meaning of that just yet.

Taking down the mobs is hard, but they take them down quite quickly, and Scar uses a lot more aggression in his fighting style than Grian thought was possible for him. He doesn’t say anything until he blocks up the source of their exit with a block of cobblestone from his inventory

Grian takes a moment to catch his breath afterwards, frowning at the undead blood left staining his axe, and yet he decides to clean it off later with a wave of his hand as the weapon fades back into his inventory. Scar hasn’t, though - not that gracefully. His sword clutters to the ground and disappears back into his own inventory, and he seems on edge, calming himself with whispered words and clenched fists. He’s pleading, begging, for what exactly, Grian has no idea, but he knows he needs to help him - he started it after all. “Oh Scar, I’m so sorry.” He speaks as he moves, his hands on Scar’s shoulders at an attempt to keep his friend grounded. “I took the rest of them out-” “Were you bitten?” Scar’s voice is firm and straightforward in a way Grian hasn’t experienced before, and had never expected from him before; he looks him dead in the eyes but his expression shows nothing. The tension in his shoulders and the dull, panicked look in his wide eyes tells him so much and yet it tells him nothing at the same time. Bitten? What? “What? Scar-” “No- I need- Grian I need to know.”

For someone so adamant on asking the man if he had been bitten during the fight, Grian frowns, because none of the mobs really had a moment to exactly grab him - and Scar would’ve seen that, right? “Scar, I promise you I wasn’t- I just- It was a prank, man,” It confuses him, Scar’s panic about that specifically, but the way his friend seems to show that bit of relief makes him both grateful and more concerned. “Why were you worried about that? Wait- that came out wrong, but you know what I mean, right?” Scar pauses again, a sense of defeat weighing him down as he closes his eyes and takes a moment to breathe. “You don’t need to explain it now actually, just take a moment, sorry. You’re worrying me, and I can’t help you if I don’t know why it got to you so much.” It sounds forceful, it probably is, but he can’t fix what he’s done if he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“It was- uhm… It was an old world, let's just say that,” Scar says it so casually, and yet his voice shakes. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they move as he crosses his arms over his chest; Grian frowns, lightening his grip on Scar’s shoulders. “I don’t know what happened or how it happened but… let’s just say me and zombies don’t get along well…or get along really well? It’s hard to really tell, but it’s like how Jellie was when she first met you, all weird around the new person and-” It’s obvious he’s changing the subject, Grian knows it too well by now with all the times ConCorp had worked back in their last season. “Scar,” his friend stops talking immediately, tensing right back up, “If you don’t want to talk about it in detail I’m not forcing you to, I just need to understand.” Another moment of silence, Grian doesn’t say anything else as he removes his hands from Scar’s shoulders and moves one of his hands down to Scar’s forearm - not once does he stop the grounding technique, and he leads them towards Scar’s starter base. Grian sits and leans against it, and Scar follows without complaint; he fidgets with his hands, running fingers along his knuckles as he looks at anything else but Grian, and yet he stays as close as he possibly can to him, and Grian rests his hand against Scar’s back. And Scar talks. He talks about bites and turnings and loneliness, of scavenging old buildings and travelling and loneliness. In every bit of this story, from the beginning until the end, there is loneliness. Scar doesn’t explain it all, even though he tries to, choking on his words and blinking back tears until Grian pulls him closer after wrapping an arm around his shoulders and the man breaks. Grian doesn’t ask him to keep going, he doesn’t want to be told until his friend feels comfortable enough to explain more - as much or as little as he wants to. “I'm sorry,” he says, and he means it. “You don’t need to be okay all the time, you don’t need to be sorry about holding it in, I’m sorry that you had to relive that. I’ll make sure to do my best so you don’t have to, alright?” Scar says nothing, but he nods, and it’s enough for that moment.

–

In this new game, the closest thing Scar has to having company is the red life at the bottom of a mountain - a friend he wants, who he’s willing to put himself into danger with - and the memories he has of every place that isn’t this one.

The loneliness is its own chokehold, crushing his ribcage and squeezing his heart; it’s so similar to a world before, a world that gave up on itself and yet still lived on. At least the living dead were company, something that resembled a person. That’s what he tells himself. Up on a mountain, so far away and yet so close whenever people need him for a life or two, Scar mourns what he knows he will grow used to again - what he’s already used to. The only difference between now and then is that the undead crawling around his base during those days were a sense of normality - their undead groans were a comfort, they had been living before; if he looked at it from that perspective, it was both sickening and comforting in a way he had to get used to. The undead were better company then no company at all. He probably really needs to unlearn that, he knows that the mindset he had during that time isn’t okay, isn’t entirely healthy - but hey! At least he knows how to deal with loneliness!

Scar tells himself that, and yet the silence has never been more suffocating.

And when the arrow enters his back and strikes true, he tells himself that at least he didn’t die alone; it’s so hard to believe when he’d given away everything he had for company, when no one’s there by his side. He misses Monopoly Mountain, even though his partner killed him after it all, it was so much better than this.

–

He feels as though he can’t catch his breath, his soul connected to Grian and their pain shared like a loop of him meowing back at Jellie when she would cry for food. They’ve once again become enemies with every member possible - though he tries not to think about secret soulmates and heartbreak.

It’s hard to remember what’s happened since he lived from that high of a fall after he watched them attack some of the Jellie Panda’s, that’s really the last thing he can remember easily. The adrenaline of being on the run courses through his veins, the only difference between this game and the others is that in the first one he’d never been on the run, and in the second he hadn’t been wanted; though the only difference between the second game and this one is the fact that Grian didn’t him out of his sight in case he got into danger. It hurts a bit, knowing Grian wants another soulmate, that he has another soulmate, but he’d take it if Grian wanted to keep him around a moment longer. Despite knowing it’s because his soulmate didn’t want them to lose, he tries to believe it’s because he cares. They’re the last green lives for heaven's sake, cut him some slack! He wishes Grian would have faith in him, wishes all of them would. It’s all fuzzy, words spoken and anxious laughter shared. They were the last greens.

They had been until he and Grian started hearing those horrible, painfully familiar cries of the undead, and Scar’s heart drops in his chest just like he does into that pit of them.

He remembers asking “Is this safe?” and yet he knew it wouldn’t be.

Grian shouts for him in a panic, he doesn’t whether it be for their life or for Scar himself. There are other people talking too, and yet all he hears is Grian - asking him to do something, to get out, and he feels guilty for knowing they both feel his fear. Scar tries, he really, really, does, but the pain is too much, too familiar.

Scar tries escaping, running through the hoard and trying to dig his way back up, but there’s nothing you can do when you’re cornered.

Teeth sink into his flesh, and the faint memory of jumping from a building - thinking he would make it only to break his leg and pump himself with enough drugs to keep him moving until he made it back to his base - comes to his mind as he screams, as Grian’s shouting echoes it. Scar remembers doing what he could’ve to fix himself up when no one else could; you learn a lot when you’re alone.

They had been the last greens, and when he heard Grian’s shouting cut short, feels another set of teeth sinking into his flesh, another cold hand gripping onto him, and then nothing? It’s not hard to tell he’d died and respawned.

He respawns in Pearl’s tower, body aching with phantom pains that he knows are probably scars now and his heart racing as his breath comes in short bursts while trying to calm himself.

He’s in Pearl’s tower, his soulmate is Grian, and the world he’s in is not that one. He is not back there. What is hard is trying to keep his breathing steady. Cub wasn’t there to help him, reminding him of the world they made it to, his brother wasn’t there to keep his gasping breaths steady. Jellie wasn’t there to nudge him when she knew when something was up, to distract him when those thoughts of panic and dread swirled in his mind whenever he caught sight of one of the undead mobs that roamed as if they never died. Grian isn’t there, and though Scar doesn’t remember setting his spawn here after taking Pearl’s last bed, he does know that he needs to find his soulmate.

With trembling hands and a forced steadiness of his breathing after time that feels like minutes and hours of calming himself to the best of his ability, Scar makes his way down the tower - using his time on the ladder to make sure he could try and calm himself to the best of his ability.

He was expecting Pearl there, but he wasn’t expecting the entire Divorce Quartet or whatever the other members called them. He wasn’t expecting Cleo. Scar feels his heart pounding in his chest, feels the need to run all over again, and yet he puts on the businessman mask. Pearl’s look of understanding and a hint of pity is all too easy to see in her yellow gleaming eyes; she found out when Scar tried masking his breakdown after a run in with armoured zombies, and Grian held a meeting and explained it to their fellow Boatem members with Scar’s consent, but it still made him feel weak.

It makes him feel weaker when he takes a step back in panic after Cleo hands him steak, but he hopes she doesn’t take notice.

Scott asks how he died, and he tries to make himself sound as Scar as he possibly can when he explains the pit full of them. Ren’s zombie spawner, Martyn says, and that doesn’t make him feel any better.

He rides back on Etho’s horse, in a daze with his anxiety simmering, but Grian destroying the spawner with eagerness after it all makes him feel a little bit better. Grian knew, and it felt nice to watch him destroy it when he knew his soulmate was doing it for him.

He makes a comment about becoming secret best friends with Joel and Etho - a subtle nudge at secret soulmates, but it doesn’t work, and so he continues on. At least they were the last greens. At least he wasn’t alone this time.

#gtws tcd #gtws #gtwscar #grian #double life grian #last life smp #ll!scar #double life smp #double life scar #dl!grian #dl!scar #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #the crafting dead #ficification

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quaranmine · 6 months

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Hi yeah its me again, sorry for the spam, not my fault you made cool and inspiring stuff. This time actually, i couldnt help myself and have made a short crackpodfic of an alternative universe which is basically 'AU where Mumbo is frolicking in the wild and Grian doesnt exist cause itd be too sad for him to do so, so hes gone.' Its stupid, ist badly written (literally my first ever creative writing work other than a 300 word school asignment) but like idk. if you dont want to or cant read it (cause its so bad and burns your eyes out) you can just not read it xd idc honestly but decided to maybe give you the choice of reading it or not. Excuse my weird and unusual ways of writing dialougue and monolouges This is part 1 of 3

Jellie meowed cutely, demanding for food most likely just as a familar figure walked into his cabin. —Oh Hello Cub! It's wonderful to see you again! How was the trail, you're earlier than usual, no? — Scar exclaimed happily, looking at the sweaty man now standing before him. The air was hot, the many glass windows of the watchtower could make a great greenhouse. The open windows allowed for a warm flow of the early summer's air to pass by and refresh the mostly closed space. —Hey hey. Yeah the traffic was better than usual, but there was more sand in on the trail today. I think it could be the Sahara desert dust that was supposed to get carried in with the wind. — Cub said, taking his backpack off and pulling out a rag to wipe his head off. No matter how many times he hikes through this trail it never gets much easier. — Oh, Cub. The Sahara desert was blowing on Europe! And also it's the 80s and this specific situation you're referencing is gonna happen in late March of the year 2024! That's at least 35 years into the future! —Oh yup I forgot. Sorki bout that —Cub, you silly silly man! — Scar said in a singsong tone. Both of them started laughing and looked straight into the readers eyes, smiling. Hi reader they both thought and went back to laughing looking at each other. — Actually, Scar, while hiking I heard some tourists talking about some newfound cryptid roaming these parts, what's up with that? – Eh nothing special, some bikers saw a 'humanoid lanky bugman' or something. — The man said — I've seen it all over, people come, they see a black bear or a deer in the shadow and think it's a newfound species. But honestly! I gotta give credit to the bikers relating said encounter cause the guys were better than most at storytelling! The missing food cans, rustling in the bushes all around them, the feeling of being watched.. Truly creepy stuff! And then — Scar took in a breath, talking so much in one long exhale left him almost dizzy —the moment when they saw it fully...They described it as 'particularly lanky with black fur' and something about purple-pinkish fingertips as well as residue on its paleish naked face with a weirdly shaped snout. 'Like a Walrus' they said! A crazy comparison for a bear, but you know, human mind can do wonders! — Scar clapped at the last statement and closed his eyes smiling charmingly at his companion who was now drinking the rest of his water.. After a while, comfortable silence filled the watchtower as both of the men enjoyed eachothers company. Jellie was now purring against scars leg and promptly jumped on his lap demanding more pets as Cub had finally spoken up — Any new paintings done in the meantime? I don't recognise these two, are they new or recycled? — He asked, curiosity clear in his voice, lookin at the, indeed, two new paintings decorating the cabin. One of them depicting a landscape with a sunset. From where Cub was sitting, he could watch the same, now hidden under an overcast, mountains and trees. The other painting was of a group of three tufted titmice sitting on a branch. Cub took out his American bird field guy and read a couple of paragraphs to scar on what kind of bird has he drawn exactly. It's weird that he saw these birds cause apparently they don't live in that part of the US! Crazy.

HELPPPPP this is completely insane the best way, thank you. Love that Grian doesn't exist here because it'd be too sad for him. Love the fever-dream quality to the writing. In all the best ways you're taking me back to the crack fics I'd read on ff.net in 2013, it's great. Love the breaking the fourth wall abou the Sahara dust and the (assuming) European birds. You've got a certain hint of Douglas Adams flavoring happening with the switching to an "above" perspective for a moment to give a wry little fourth-wall comment.

Mumbo Jumbo, new forest cryptid. I can see it. If Hermitcraft!Mumbo eats redstone, do you think forest cryptid!Mumbo would eat like...rocks??? dlfjskfljslkfs

#i was ignoring this on purpose i promise i just wanted to sit down to read + respond #this was very funny thank you #hc_firewatch_au #quara asks #ngl your writing here reminds me a bit of my first chapter draft of my hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy au #wherein (former) ceo mumbo of boatem says something about 'work from home being the future'#before essentially remembering none of them work from home because. well. it's boatem.

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yacinthemorning · 7 months

Text

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 7

[First] [prev] [next]

Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting, verbal fight, anxiety attack

Jimmy tapped at his desk, staring down at the skeins before him. A weepweave was laid out across the table behind him, waiting to be drawn into shapes. He’d worked out the patterns weeks ago. And adjusted for the weight Tango had gained since. If he could just get himself to work it could be done in no time.

But there in lied the problem.

He pulled from his breast pocket the little brass bird. A canary, like the ones they’d used in the mines Tango worked much of his life in since coming to this continent. The ornament was truly lovely, something Jimmy would cherish, but he knew the poor thing carried much more weight than that. It carried a culture Jimmy wasn’t especially familiar with. The weight of its material and its palm sized stature. Tango had given it to him, but he’d avoided looking at it since.

It hurt, just a bit. Irrationally. If it was a symbol of his intentions then what did it say to be so ashamed of it? Jimmy knew better than that, of course, but it didn’t help emotions. Especially not when Tango had begun to treat Jimmy much the same.

A glance informed him it was nearly five o’clock. Ten hours since he last saw Tango. Where was he? What job had he found that took up so much of his time? They better be paying him more than a few copper if they’re going to-

Jimmy took a deep breath. He pushed out of his seat, grabbed his hat, and abandoned his shop for the day. There was no point in driving himself mad indoors if he wasn’t going to be productive for it. There was something else he ought to do anyways.

He made it to the end of Main Street, where a large, white building lay quiet. Few people approached the town hall most days, not unless there was a holiday. Besides Lizzie’s family, in fact, only its two employees could be found in its vicinity. Their presence was part of the reason it remained so silent.

Taking unsure hops, it seems he was ever so lucky enough to catch them both reclining at the front desk. Two sets of glowing, cyan eyes immediately snapped to Jimmy the moment his talons brushed the wood floor. Cub was the first to offer a welcoming smile, though Jimmy always found it rather unnerving. Not so much due to the skulk that draped him, but the knowledge that Scar thought quite highly of him. A “retired” doctor beloved by a snake oil salesman was no one Jimmy had a desire to trust.

Luckily Pixl was the one to motion for Jimmy, greeting him with a silent nod. “Welcome, Mister Solidarity. How may we be of service?” He voice was soft, not even an echo forming in the grand hall.

“I was actually interested in accessing the library, though I don’t imagine I’ll find what I’m searching for.” Jimmy admitted.

Curiosity raised Pixl’s eyebrow. He nodded to Cub, their teal antlers vibrating. Nothing Jimmy could understand, but he was sure others felt similarly to how the avians in town flared and flattened their feathers. “Of course, follow me. Perhaps I can help in your search.” Pixl suggested as they made their way down the hall, leaving Cub behind. “If it’s a matter of history, I could be of great service.”

The pickings were slim. What wasn’t bookkeeping or dictionaries were the few documents and books brought in with arriving citizens. The worldliness of the collection could be attributed to the variety of folks that wandered their way into Tumble Town more than interest in the topics. It made the collection particularly eclectic despite its size, everything from children’s books to family trees and obscure novels in languages Jimmy had never seen before.

An album of miscellaneous photographs found its way in front of him. Some were from events, others collected upon deaths, many donated by Mumbo. Jimmy was nearly through the entire album before he spotted it. The photos were in horrid condition, even a bit burnt at the edges. Each portrayed one of two women, one elderly and the other a bit older than Jimmy’s age, both alike to one another. Their hair flowed like fire and their sharp ears were adorned with jewellery. Though the young woman wore a skirt similar in style to what Jimmy often made, the elderly woman dressed entirely differently. Thin layers of cloth draped her body, with some sort of shaping going on underneath. The shoulders sat loose under the clutches of gold ornaments, with a particularly intricate necklace. A favour. Jimmy absentmindedly rested his hand over his pocket.

There were a few others, including a photo of the younger in a similar garb, though the decor seemed to be of a different material and less intricate. It seemed to be some sort of celebration. There were short notes on the backs but they were all written in Pigling. Even in the black and white photos the gowns were gorgeous. He continued to flip through the dozen photos, trying to figure out their make. The waist pulled in but there was no seams visible anywhere on the outer layer. Not at the visible angles. Their trousers, too, were tailored into anklets. There was no embroidery or decorative stitchwork in the cloth itself, and no patterns. Were the layers different colours? Knowing the material they were likely made of they were most certainly vibrant...

So entranced was Jimmy that he didn’t notice Pixl approaching until a loud thud made him jump up out of his seat. A stack of three books had been placed on the table. Pixl shrugged in apology. “These are all we have that mention in any capacity the Nether or Netherborn, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you.” Jimmy muttered in a daze. As he flipped open the first few pages, it occurred that he had never told the sculkling what he was looking for. He whipped his head up to give some type of indignant remark he had yet to think of, but Pixl was already gone. In a huff, he gathered up the books. It was getting late, and whether Tango came home or not, Jimmy needed to make dinner for at least himself.

To his surprise when he reached home, Tango’s shoes and jacket were there at the entrance. More surprisingly, there was a smell wafting out from the kitchen. Jimmy poked his head past the door. Seeing Tango at the stove momentarily brought out a moment of panic, but there were thankfully no metallic smells, only the scent of spices and chicken.

A curious tweet slipped out of the avian. Tango jumped so high Jimmy worried he might hit his head on the ceiling. He spun around, spilling whatever had been in the ladle in his hand across the floor. And his foot. He jumped a second time, curses spilling out of his mouth, until his knee hit the back of a chair and they both went down. In a panicked flurry Jimmy went to the poor man’s aid, himself almost slipping on the spilled substance in the process.

“My goodness, are you alright?” Jimmy squeaked.

Tango was still dazed, though his face had contorted in guilt or pain, likely both. “Just peachy. Ah!” His neck cracked as he rolled it. It seemed unsatisfying, but he left it to return tending the large pot on the stove. “At least I didn’t knock anything important over.”

“What are you doing?”

Instantly Tango shrunk in on himself, held himself like a scolded dog. Was Jimmy’s tone so accusatory? He couldn’t deny being more than a bit frustrated with the man’s indecisiveness. “Well, I’m making dinner.”

“Yes, I can see that. But why?” Though Tango often helped in the kitchen he’d never taken the initiative to cook himself. It was never clear whether it was out of the delusion that what he chose to make would be poorly received, the nonsense idea he had no right to use the ingredients Jimmy bought, or the only reasonable explanation that he simply didn’t enjoy cooking.

Tango didn’t look up from the pot. “You weren’t here when I got back, so I thought I should.”

Jimmy hadn’t been there because Tango hadn’t either. There was nothing stewing because Jimmy had been too distracted thinking of the party. Tango always picked up more chores when he was feeling useless. There were many things Jimmy could say, but, perhaps for the best, they were all stuck on one another in his throat. “What are you making?” He asked instead, approaching the pot.

“You like curry? It’s sort of like curried chicken. Except not. They call it Nether peppered chicken here I think, but there’s no Nether peppers in it. It’s...”

“Tasty?” Jimmy offered an out, which Tango graciously took with a nod. “I’m guessing a Nether dish?”

The tuft of Tango’s tail swept against jimmy’s leg in absentminded agitation. “Sorta. It’s actually something I learned from a workmate after I first arrived here. It’s...” He tilted his head back, brows knit. “Like, it’s hard to get certain spices and vegetables here, so people make due, and it sorta turned into its own thing. I guess I did, too. I had this friend for a while, Brody, he couldn’t handle the spiciness, so I started making it differently, less spicy more bitter.” He paused to pour a mixture of ground spices and greens into the pot. “It’s why I like making it, probably.”

Because you can’t say you made it wrong, Jimmy managed to not say aloud. Was it reasonable to be envious of a man’s relationship to his dinner? Most likely not, but that was the only way Jimmy could describe the melancholic lump in his chest as he watched Tango stir the pot without tension in his shoulders.

“It looks delicious.” He murmured. Tango hummed in reply. While he continued to stir Jimmy placed the cutlery and plates and sat down. Something dropped into the pot with a pop. “... You know, you can make it as spicy as you please.” Jimmy’s voice pitched up, “I don’t mind, it doesn’t bother avians.”

“The peppers in the market aren’t very spicy, it’s better this way with what w-you have.”

“Oh, okay.” Jimmy adjusted his wings around the back of his chair. Feather wrapped over his arms. The ladle scraped against the side of the pot. “How was work?”

Tango paused for a moment, tail twitching with anxious energy. “Fine. Just helped Etho and Pause with some barn repairs at Beef’s ranch. Was done by noon so I helped Impulse with bottling his beer. Then Chef let me help load the coal wagons going to the station for a couple gold.”

“That’s nice of him...”

“It is. Way more than I ever got paid as one of Fwhip’s guys for the same job. Funny that.”

“Funny that.” Jimmy repeated mindlessly, talon tracing the pattern of the table cloth. Why did it always have to go back to money lately? He knew why. “Have you made anything recently?” He asked, hoping there was some odd little redstone scheme boiling in Tango’s mind ready to spill out into hours long explanations Jimmy could barely wrap his head around.

But there was none. “Not really. Been busy.” Tango shrugged.

“The shop’s closed tomorrow, we could go down to Joe’s and see what he’s selling?”

“I don’t wanna waste money-”

Both jumped as the silverware crashed down against plates. It took Jimmy a heartbeat to realize it was his own fist against the table that had caused it. He mumbled out an apology, not daring to return the blazeborn’s gaze.

“Jim-”

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

Tango had abandoned dinner, now leaning against the chair beside Jimmy. “Jimmy.”

Why did talking have to be so difficult all of a sudden? “You don’t have to take so many jobs in one day.” He managed to choke out.

“Well... I had the energy, I guess.”

“You didn’t want to come back.”

Tango’s tail wrapped around his leg, frown twisting with guilt as he was now the one who couldn’t look at the other.

Jimmy felt his stomach sink. “I’m not... I understand, but I don’t get it.”

“Why I work?”

“Why you won’t let yourself be good enough.” Jimmy reached out, hesitating when Tango leaned away. “And I don’t know what you need to help you.”

“Then I got bad news for what it’s like being stuck with me.”

“Tango...” He was right. Jimmy couldn’t do anything to help Tango if Tango wasn’t willing to be helped. Perhaps he couldn’t help even if he wanted to. This wasn’t something Jimmy could bull-headedly push through like usual.

Tango approached the table, plating their food. As he placed the ladle back down, Jimmy reached out for his hands. He stared at the avian. Surprise, confusion, then concern. “You know you’re a wonderful man, right?” Jimmy asked. It was returned with a dumbfounded shake of Tango’s head. Jimmy almost laughed. Almost. He clutched Tango’s hand closer. “You’re the most intelligent person I’ve ever met, with your strange machines and inventions. And you’re too kind. You’re always helping other folks, I swear there isn’t a single person in this town that hasn’t something sweet to say about you-”

“What are you doing?” Tango asked, tugging weakly against Jimmy’s hold.

Jimmy gave him a sad smile. “You need to know, even if you don’t listen to me right now.”

Quiet fell over them, Tango not replying. Trapped somewhere between peace and tension, they ate dinner in silence.

Weepweave splayed out across Jimmy’s work station, its natural matte crimson colour darkened ever so slightly. It would suit Tango, easy to see long before Jimmy carved it into clothing. There were a few other materials, hoglin leather and twist, but the dark crimson weepweave was what he had the most to work with.

Tango hesitated at first, but his hand ran with fascination over the material. “This is nice.” He said with genuine surprise.

Jimmy shrugged, “Well, when it take this long to import we can’t have it falling apart on you after a few weeks. Otherwise you’ll be right back where you started!” He adjusted the fabric, giving one more once over. “There’s more than enough for three outfits. Four if we pushed our luck but I think it’s best to save some for future repairs.”

A gesture was enough for Tango to fetch the chalk while Jimmy turned the fabric over. Slowly the shapes of an outfit began to appear across the various pieces. Tango remained to help where he could while Jimmy worked.

It continued on through the morning, until the afternoon sun beat down through the windows. Jimmy could feel himself beginning to overheat. In a brief lull, he began to remove his vest, piling the tools that had begun to accumulate in its pocket down beside the cloth. By the time he’d placed the vest aside Tango had also frozen up, staring at the ground. Among the piled treasures was the metal bird.

Jimmy bit his tongue, picking it back up carefully while he sat down in his stool. Silence stretched out. “You know,” Jimmy tentatively broke it. “Avians are also known for their favours.”

“Oh?” Tango murmured back.

“Yes, a feather.”

This captured his attention. “A feather?”

Jimmy nodded, thumb rubbing over the canary’s wings. “Our own. Usually from along the spine, those aren’t quite as large.” He looked up to his companion, who was staring with knit brows at Jimmy’s yellow wings, befuddlement clear. “False will tell you there’s ceremonies and words to go with it but Grian simply handed them over one day to Scar and Mumbo. I suppose it’s one of those flock to flock things. Still, feathers are special to an avian. There’s many traditions involving our feathers, but I suppose you could call it the biggest one.”

“But…” Tango stumbled, seemingly unsure of his next words.

“It’s important it’s your own feather, that it’s a lovely one any damage to can be seen. I think it’s quite lovely, trusting a part of yourself to someone, and being trusted the same.”

“… I suppose.”

He was once more turned away. Jimmy worried his bottom lip. Had he come across as condescending? It was not his intention.

A great sigh escaped the blazeborn as he reclined onto the bench. “Not everyone has feathers to give, though.”

Jimmy’s heart sank. “No, I suppose they don’t. But the purpose is-”

“Gold’s quite common in the Nether, you know.” He continued, as if Jimmy hadn’t spoken. “In very small bits, but it’s everywhere. It’s more of a time investment. If you spend the time, you’ll have enough, eventually.” His gaze downcast. “But time is money, as they say.”

The little metal bird thunked against the table, muffled by the weepweave between them. Tango’s chest heaved as he tried to keep himself calm, and Jimmy wanted nothing more than to get up and go to his side to comfort him.

When Tango’s breath had evened out again he continued. “There was a moment, back with Brody, when we went out to the market together. We’d had nothing but stale bread and stolen eggs for a whole week. But we finally had thirty-four copper between us. That was the first time I was able to purchase everything on my own without messing up my words. At least, not bad enough that I was looked at funny or told to repeat myself. I thought, ‘This is it. I worked hard, I can speak the language, I can finally get a real job here.’ I was a real stupid kid.” His face twisted as his fists clenched the hem of his shirt, tail waving wildly beside him. “Guess I’m still stupid, cause I kept telling myself that until there was nowhere else to go. Doesn’t matter what words I say, or what continent I’m on, I’m still just some netherborn in rags. I can’t find a way to be more than that.”

Tango threw his hands out wide. “This is literally the peak of my life. I can’t-”

The blazeborn choked. Jimmy jumped out of his chair to Tango’s side in an instant, tucking the bird back into his breast pocket to free his hands to hold his companion. “Oh, Tango.” He tried desperately to soothe.

“I could see it, y’know. Last time you opened that vault, it looked like less.” Smoke billowed out like breath on a cold day, small sparks living for a fraction of a second within them. “And you’re here, working with the nicest material I’ve ever owned, and I shouldn’t own it. You shouldn’t have bought it. You shouldn’t be working on this instead of Katherine’s tea dress, or Mumbo’s coat. And I-” His hand shot out with desperation, ripping the bird out of Jimmy’s pocket and shoving it in both their faces. “-I shouldn’t be making prototypes for something I’m. Never. Going to get to make! I let myself get stupid ideas again, and dragged you down with me.”

Blazeborn couldn’t cry. Perhaps that was why they produced smoke, so that those around them could cry for them. Jimmy certainly was, clutching tightly to Tango for dear life as he tried to put together anything he could say. Minutes past, however long Tango needed to pull himself back together.

“Sorry.” He sniffled, to which Jimmy shook his head. Because he understood. Everyone in Tumble Town did. Not for taking the same road, but for winding up in the same place. Somewhere where problems didn’t go away, but they didn’t seem as big.

Jimmy glanced back over at the fabrics, all the shapes perfectly traced out for another well-fitted suit. He buried his cheek into Tango’s warmed hair, cooing comfortingly. Whatever bit of help Tango was willing to take, he’d make the most of it.

“How does it feel?”

Tango stepped back, turning in the mirror as he examined the vest. The last piece of his first outfit. He did a spin, tail training after him hotter than usual. No cloth caught aflame. He smiled bashfully over to Jimmy. “Feels good. Feels fancy. I’m scared people might start mistaking me for Scar’s assistant.”

Jimmy muffled his laugh against his sleeve, though the bell drowned it out for him in the end. “Why, what would scare you about that! It’d be a great compliment to be my assistant!” The man of the hour declared, clacking his cane against the floor for emphasis. A strange little noise escaped Tango in response.

“Good afternoon, Scar.” Jimmy greeted, unable to hide his amusement. “We were just finishing up, doesn’t Tango look handsome?”

Scar hummed and pulled his top hat down to his chest. “Why I’d say he is absolutely dashing! You’ll have every little canary in town swooning.”

Both men turned pink. Jimmy took advantage of his closer proximity to their menace to smack him across the shoulder. “Hush!”

“I’m terribly sorry, Timothy, but I’m afraid I cannot!” Scar announced dramatically, producing papers from within his coat. There was a paused in his theatrics, during which he sent Jimmy a wink that straightened the avian’s spine. “I, in fact, came to speak to you Tango. There’s a job I need your assistance with.”

Tango’s tail twitched, “Oh yeah? What’s the job?”

“A bit of work we’re doing with the Luxo Company. Fwhip informs me you were quite the handyman in the mines, and there are some drafts for the new rail line and station that need an extra hand in drawing up.”

“Uh, sure, but,” Tango glanced awkwardly between Jimmy and Scar. “I mean I’ll be glad to help but I would have thought you’d ask Mumbo.”

Scar waved dismissively. “Oh, Mumbo is off on one of his cycling trips right now, he won’t be back for a few months at least! And this needs to be done now. It’ll be a couple weeks’ work once the materials are delivered.”

Anxiousness vibrated through Tango’s tail, “No offense Scar, but it is you. What’s the catch?”

“No catch! Just some honest work that needs doing, and not a lot of qualified individuals in this one-horse town. Good pay, too.”

Tango finally threw his hands up in surrender. “I mean if you’re okay with it. I’m not exactly qualificated myself, I learned this stuff hands on, on the job.”

“That just means you have experience!”

“Alright, Scar. You got a deal.”

“Great, great!” The papers were placed down on Jimmy’s desk. “I’ll come by and grab you in a few days if Jimmy’ll be willing to let go.”

Jimmy scoffed. “Excuse you.”

“Excusing myself!” He agreed, rushing out the door. “Have a good day, fellas!”

“That man, honestly.” Huffed Jimmy, shaking his feathers flat. Tango didn’t reply, scanning the papers with his nose scrunched up. He peered over the shorter man’s shoulder. “Do you need help?”

Tango jumped. “Huh? Oh, no, it’s just. My name’s on here?”

“Pardon?”

“My name’s in the contract.” He repeated, holding up the page. Indeed, among the many printed letters instead of something neutral it specified ‘Mr. Tek’.

It took everything Jimmy had not to audibly groan. “I suppose he had faith in you.”

“Yeah…” Muttered Tango distractedly. He shrugged and put down the papers.

Tango spent much of the next two weeks off somewhere with Scar for most of the afternoon. Scar couldn’t work very long but they did the best they could with what time they had. Before and afterwards Tango would take other jobs, no matter how much Jimmy told him he didn’t have to. Catalogues were easy to find and he’d calculated what he owed Jimmy on his own. Some questionably true assurances convinced him to lower it at least a bit, to about half of what Jimmy might normally price his work at. Still, he was determined to pay.

At least Scar’s job took a good bit of the burden off. It was paid for by the Luxo Company who’d trusted Scar’s scouting. They didn’t need to be informed the details of the individual he scouted, so long as the plans were good. And Jimmy had all the trust in the world that Tango would make good plans.

More importantly, when he returned home in the evening he didn’t look like walking misery. Dead on his feet, sure, falling asleep in his dinner, but not defeated like he had the previous few weeks, which a horrified Jimmy had only realized after how familiar he’d become with it.

He was nearly done paying for the second set of clothes when they were done. The silhouette was looser, perhaps not as fashionable, but Jimmy could tell Tango was more comfortable. It was more like what he enjoyed wearing.

Tango had his hands shoved into the pockets, swaying back and forth in the mirror with a wide grin. “My gods, he’s done it again.” He declared, tilting his head to look at Jimmy.

“Stop it.” murmured the avian, swatting at the man with his wing. A raspy giggle was his response.

“Have you ever made this many clothes for one person in such a short time?”

Jimmy smiled, reaching out to adjust Tango’s skewed collar. “Can’t say I have… Tango?”

“Hm?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask about your last outfit.”

This got a curious glance. Flexing his wings nervously, Jimmy ushered them over to his desk. Ensuring Tango was paying attention first he pulled out a pattern, one he’d only finished piecing together the night before. He rolled it out. Tango’s eyes went wide. “This…”

“I wanted- is it too much?” He worried. “Or, wrong, maybe. I had to make some choices. I can use another pattern if you’d prefer. I’d understand.”

Tango’s hand was pressed the pattern. He looked back up to Jimmy, eyes round and disbelieving, before they softened. “No, this is good.” He said, almost too quiet for Jimmy to hear. “Jim… This is good.”

Warmth fluttered in Jimmy’s chest as relief washed over him. “I’m glad.”

But Tango sighed. “Jimmy, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Jimmy knew. It was something he was waiting to happen for the last few days. So, he sat down at his desk, took a deep breath, and said, “Okay. What is it?”

“Scar’s job will be done this week. I’ll get my last pay the day after.”

“Yes.”

Tango looked away. “It’ll be more than enough with my other jobs to finish paying for this before it’s done.”

“And you��ve been saving some for yourself?” Jimmy asked, though he already knew. Some part of him wanted Tango to say it just so he was sure.

Tango did just that. “Yeah, just a bit. Enough.”

Enough. “For what?”

A bristled tuft wrapped around Jimmy’s leg. Jimmy reached out to lay his hand over Tango’s, nudging him to continue. “Scar says they’re looking to build some new infrastructure for the railway. New engines, new machines to build those engines. That sorta thing. They got a lot of new jobs opening up ‘cause of it. He thinks with my work for them so far I got a shot above the rest. At the very least they can put in a good word for me somewhere else. But-”

“But none of that work is here.” Jimmy concluded, willing his heart not to give. He tried to smile.

Tango winced back, “Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. “I understand.” His voice cracked anyways.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and as he choked back the first sob, he couldn’t help think about how ridiculous this all was. It’d not even been four months since they first met, not five before they would part ways. He’d patently refused Tango at several points just to avoid being like his thoughtless brother, yet here he was anyways. There was a blooming of relief through his chest that contradicted everything else, from the thought that this could possibly be it for Tango. Jimmy couldn’t help him, but someone else could, and more importantly would.

He’d only received news he already knew was coming, yet it all seemed too much.

“Sorry.” He hiccuped, wiping his wrist over his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m happy for you, I promise.”

Tango’s arms tightened around his shoulders, a soft hum vibrating through Jimmy as his head rested into Tango’s throat. Somewhere he’d heard that cats purred when they were hurt as well as happy, to do with comfort instead of contentment, and he wondered in that moment if blazeborn were the same. “I know.” Tango said, his own voice breaking. “I know.”

The last outfit took Jimmy the longest, long enough for confirmations to happen and Tango to finish preparations to leave. It wasn’t that Jimmy was putting it off, if anything he’d worked so diligently. Others in town were accommodating, happy to accept that their orders would be put off for a while. The pattern and even some techniques were completely new to Jimmy, things he’d never tried. He was no grand artist making the next biggest trend or a high end dressmaker creating something everyone would talk about for weeks to come. He was a simple tailor for a small town in the middle of the frontier, who specialized in accommodating those that did not fit the mould. Maybe, by that description, there was something he could have been doing that he completely overlooked.

A very particular feeling overwhelmed the avian as Tango stepped out of the changing curtain. Like seeing the world’s most beautiful painting jump to life, filled with colours and textures and shadows that seemed too rich for reality. In a sense that was exactly what happened. Loose crimsons and warm grays draped down the man’s form, shaped as Jimmy had only seen in photos until now, no need for modifications for any part of the man.

It looked good on Tango. It looked really good. It was perfect for him, more than just the right colours could ever be. He’d never worn clothes so comfortably before or seemed so assured that he was wearing something unquestionably his. There were alterations, from where Jimmy could not figure out the way to recreate certain things, or where decorations had to be compromised for material’s sake, or where Tango had given input for his own preferences and insights. In front of Jimmy was a netherborn, and the most beautiful man Jimmy had the pleasure to meet.

“How’s it look?” Tango asked, though Jimmy didn’t think he needed to say anything from the smug grin on his face.

Jimmy was still too stunned to come up with something clever. “You’re perfect.” He said a bit breathlessly.

That seemed to knock the man out of his element a bit, smirk shrinking to something a bit shy that matched his reddening cheeks. His tail curled around his ankle before twisting back out. “Then, maybe I should wear it out today.”

“I thought you’d already planned your outfit for today?” Jimmy laughed while Tango bounced up to his side.

“I’ll wear it tomorrow.” He snickered, running a hand over the weepweave. “Can’t not show off my little birdy’s gorgeous work, now, can I?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Tango, all your clothes are my work.”

“True. Maybe I should wear them all every day.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot more laundry if you try.”

“True, true.” He sighed, but continued to smile.

Jimmy smiled right back. “Oh,” He suddenly realized, looking around his workshop. “There was, um, there’s one more thing.”

Tango watched him curiously as he ran over to one of his drawers, one he knew Tango never used himself. There it was. Nervous energy ran through his wings. He approached Tango slowly, hands behind his back. “If you would, I was hoping I could trust you with this.” Gathering his nerves, he held out his hands, delicately folded fingers unwrapping from around a bright yellow feather, as perfectly preened as he could manage. Wrapped around the base was nothing as nice as the bird Tango had made, a simple gold chain attached to a series of metal beads which held the feather in place. Tango stared down in wonder, carefully accepting the feather into his own hands while anxiety prickled down Jimmy’s wings.

Clawed finger rose up to Jimmy’s cheek. He leaned into it as they ran themselves through the feathers around his ear. For a moment Jimmy closed his eyes and basked in the warmth radiating from the man. “You’ll come visit now and then, won’t you?” He asked. Pleaded.

When he opened his eyes Tango eyes were warmer than he’d ever seen. “I’ll come back.” He promised instead, far more than Jimmy cared hope for in the days leading up to his departure. Tango’s hand fell away, instead resting over Jimmy’s breast pocket, the metal bird tucked within pressing into his palm and Jimmy’s heart. “Could you… Would you hold onto that? Until I do? Until I come back with a proper one?”

“This is the proper one.” He chuckled, placing his own hand over Tango’s. “But, if you insist, then of course.”

“Then I’ll take good care of your feather, and the clothes you made me.” Tango said, a determined spark flying from his tail. Jimmy grinned.

“Please do.”

#team rancher #solidaritek #rancher duo #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #goodtimeswithscar #traffic series #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #western fantasy #alternate universe #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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doctorstrangereview · 25 days

Text

Strange Tales #123

Cover Date: August 1964 On-Sale Date: May 12, 1964

Doc once again interacts with the Marvel Universe at-large. He faces a new-to-him, but not new foe. The Mighty Thor's sparring partner, Loki, visits our master sorcerer with evil intentions. Doc shares half the cover this round! His popularity must be growing. He's also got something weird going on with his hands that may be the colorist's bad decision. Doc's hands are flesh colored but his wrists are orange like his gloves. It's almost like the gloves are in multiple parts and Doc chose to wear only the gauntlet parts. However, no line creates a clear delineation between hands and possible gauntlets. The masterworks recoloring respects this odd choice. The Pocket Books reprints from 1978 did not and made them appear as regular gloves. The bottom of the splash page promises Thor putting in an appearance "drawn in the somewhat different Ditko style." Ditko is better at Kirby characters than Kirby is with Ditko characters.

Doc, enjoying a casual day (sans big cloak,) floats in his study attempting to master the art of levitation, while he is being spied on by Loki, Asgardian god of evil. At this point, Loki is pure evil and not the ambiguous, non-binary imp of today. As we've seen multiple times before, Doc isn't so hot on the security thing, mystic or physical so any magic user can peek on what's going on inside the Sanctum Sanctorum. Doc may be in the same study we've seen before, but the Sanctum's depiction has always been really inconsistent so who knows?

Loki spends several panels in long-winded exposition for the audience's sake which boils down to "I will trick Doctor Strange into stealing Thor's hammer for me!" He conjures a cool looking insect type sigil above his cauldron (which is really just a hole in the ground) and pops into Doc's Sanctum delivering Doc quite a surprise! He even dressed in odd chains for the occasion and blaming the "evil" Thor for his predicament!

Now, the Avengers have been around nearly as long as Doc has at this point and Loki has been annoying Thor for longer than that. Doc is also a highly skilled and well informed magic user. It seems to be stretching suspension of disbelief to think Doc is completely unaware of who Loki is. Yet, he seems to have never heard of Loki here. I guess no one had answered that Village Voice ad for continuity coordinator yet.

Doc's All-Purpose Amulet probes Loki's chains not suspecting that the evil he senses is Loki, not the fake Thor chains. "Dude! Only Thor's gnarly hammer can free me!" "Okay dude, but I need a piece of the hammer to cast the proper spell!" "What a coincidence! I have this little sliver of leather from the handle that I've been carrying around since the beginning of time!" "Perfect! Let's go!"

Doc throws the sliver into his own cauldron, mumbles some mumbo-jumbo and viola, a metal hand rises from the cauldron, flies off and grabs Thor's hammer. He's in mid-flight so he's got no where to go but down. Loki is able to see this and then imagines a giant version of himself standing on the earth with a giant version of the hammer, apparently unaware of the massive gravity disruption giant Loki with giant Mjolnir would cause.

Doc, using his own investigative skills and the All-Purpose Amulet sees there is no evil in that little, tiny bit of leather and realizes "It was Loki all along!" He might have been smart enough to deduce this, but not smart enough to not say it out loud. Loki's sharp ears (even though covered by his costume) catch this and he attacks Doc. Doc threatens to stop the spell which has stolen the hammer, which is probably something he should have done at that moment.

What follows is a visually spectacular battle between the two. Doc is severely outmatched by Loki, but soldiers on. There's some back and forth where Doc imprisons Loki who shrugs it off and Loki imprisons Doc who has a much more difficult time escaping. Using illusion images of himself, Doc hides in the next room, changes to his spirit form, sneaks up on Loki and cancels his "steal Thor's hammer spell."

The hand disappears and the caption reads that "time spins back, back... until, before Thor's fall finished..." Does this mean that Thor went splat? Did the spell rewind the world, like Superman in the first Christopher Reeve movie? The world may never know.

"Oh, hell!" thinks Loki, "I really need to hurry things along." Doc attempts to entrap Loki in the Purple Dimension, but that doesn't work. Doc uses the All-Purpose Amulet to throw up a shield as a last resort. Loki crouches like a monkey and uses what looks like a floppy lightning bolt to pummel Doc. It's quite a ridiculous panel! I love it!

Thor flies toward the Sanctum as Loki prepares to administer the coup-de-grace. "Damn it! Gotta go, Doc!" Loki's spirit form returns to Asgard as Thor flies by the Sanctum. We get a close-up look at Ditko's Thor. It's definitely different from the Kirby rendition, but it certainly isn't bad. In fact it's slightly more realistic.

Just wait until Kirby draws Doc again in a couple of months!

Thor's hammer stops tingling so he doesn't visit Doc but flies by the big, round Vishanti window as Doc looks out. Doc says some platitudes on how good must always triumph over evil out loud to himself and our story ends.

Well that was exciting! We get a truly one-sided battle where Doc is really overwhelmed by his foe. As a bonus, we get an Avenger guest starring. But that's really a cock-tease since he's more plot device than character. I really wish I could ask Lee and Ditko if Thor actually died in this story and was magically un-splatted. Visually, the battle between Loki and Doc is great. Ditko is getting more and more imaginative depicting magic. He is also getting lazier when it comes to backgrounds and they're mostly negative space. I suppose it helps when the funky chairs don't distract from the bolts of bedevilment. Overall, it was nice to have Doc interact with the rest of the Marvel Universe again, especially in his own series.

#doctor strange #doctor strange reviews #strange tales #thor #loki #stephen strange #marvel #comics

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bluiex · 9 months

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((Hahaha take your fucking Angst. This dives a bit into my lore of Avatars of Chaos and their duties

Based upon the song ‘Just Look My Way’ from Hellva Boss))

—————

Scar looked at the object in the box, the key that is said to break any bond of contract. His eyes then grew sad as he ran his fingers over the heart key. He took a breath and set it down on the desk beside him.

"It is expected. An oath by blood to hold the tomb." he closed the book beside him that had the white and red book with the hourglass on it. Getting up from the desk running his hands past the key.

"And the starlight passes overhead, fuels all the skills I've honed." Scar walked up the stairs to the room of memories. As an avatar he could see all destruction of the world, of the order being broken to fix it or give it to the Void. A heavy choice of when to allow people to fall into insanity or not. "I am a guardian, a Avatar of these ancient rites."

He looked around the room at the memories of his life, walking past the ones from before the Life Series. His days in the Crafting Dead allowing the world to fall to Chaos's maw, then being pulled into a world that would never end... as his friends souls would fall into destructive patterns until nothing was left.

"Yet I find myself," Scar reached out as he took a memory into his hand. "drawn from that path."

In his hands was the sand of a memory from the first time he met his pretty bird. "On those dazzling desert nights."

Scar smiled softly looking at the place built for them, the lama Pizza outside, the moon over looking them. As they would cuddle together in a bed together for warmth.

"Let me hold you, keep you close to me." Scar held the place close to his heart with a smile. "I long to hear your voice." he remebered Grian's warm voice in his ear, soft feathers on his scarred cheeks. How warm they were around his bare chest.

He pulled back the memory, looking at it sadly. "But dearest, I know better now." Scar said reaching up to the tip of the building as he tapped it as the memory shifted to show of the home destoried by TNT. "I must give you this choice."

The memory dissolved into sand as he swirled it around in his hands. Scar looked at the golden sand silently, "I can give you everything you need." he spun it around watching it turn into a bird flying around with specks of sand behind it. "Or do you want to hear me plead?"

Scar watched the bird fly around and followed it as it flew away. Memories of third life playing out, the war, the chaos that he brought in his wake. "Just look my way... Just look my way."

He reached out to the one where Grian called him a traitor, something that stung with truth. He was a traitor, he was sent to make things worse. "Is there something more that I don't know?"

Shifting the memory to when they had to fight in the cactus ring. He couldn't bring himself to spill the Watcher's blood, Scar just didn't want to hurt Grian anymore than he had to. His own blood staining the sand and claws red. "that you won't say til we've both grown cold?"

The memory faded into sand in his hand as his lifeless eyes looking at Grian. Fading down into the void below as Grian won the games yet falls from the grief. "Just say..." Scar looked at the void and the reflection of antlers on his head and spotted scars on his face. "Please, Stay... Look my way..."

The memories shifted to Last Life, as Scar walked through the void pools. "This unspoken contract, a deed we forged for mutual gain." he looked at the memory of his lonely mountain, how Grian pulled away Mumbo, and Joel fell to Red so quickly.

Chaos sewed as is his duty, to stir the pot, in a world ready to be consumed by the void. Grian refusing to even acknowledge him most of the time. How Scar couldn't understand why he was alone, but also silently accepting it. Such was his life, Avatars always walked alone.

"If that's all this was when you're not here. What is this rooted pain?" Scar watched Grian being happy with the Southlanders from afar, knowing it'll fail and they'd break apart.

"I don't care that you're of lower station!" Scar said in defiance to the void as the memory flew off. He knew Grian was a Watcher, was there as a punishment by these beings of the void. Those who created this world to be a prison, a prison that was breaking apart.

The memories swirled forming the image of Grian out of starlight and wither sand. Scar leaned into the touch even as wither effect spread on his cheeks. "Or primed to sate my dark temptations." he smiled sweetly to the image as it pulled back from him.

How Grian used him for a life at sword point, then easily left him even after forging a real contact more than words. As if written words held no real value unless he said them to true. And not caring about his death in the end, shrugging it off. "Why can't you understand!?"

Scar asked this out loud, reading out to the image of Grian fading away. "let me explain!" he begged out to the void, he just wanted to tell his Watcher, his pretty bird, that he didn't care who he was. If Grian only understood what he was, even after all the hints Scar gave him.

Scar looked down at the image of Grian summoning the wither. How the plan failed, and how Joel and him died running away from their own failed plans. "And I'm terrified, as I cry, to make these feelings true!" he lifted it up as the memory to the others floating it away. "What's left for me, and my broken heart, if I cannot have you?"

Tears fell from his eyes wondering if Grian would ever return the feelings. Double life began, soulmates, true and tried. His string tied to his pretty bird, truth of their bond he knew was there. Scar felt such joy in the moment.

Holding the memory as Grian showed they were soulmates. And Scar... Scar thought it'd be like old times. Aloof he was and thinking back to the time in the sand. Where he could depend on Grian... Yet the words stung deeply, how Grian didn't want to be depended on, but wanted a partner to let him be his chaotic self. Refusing to let Scar be his own chaotic self too, for someone needed to be the order...

"Unless it's me?" maybe it was, useless as some said. Accident proned. Chaotic. By himself he could make this mistakes and it not affect another. The string of fate jolting with their shared pain, wishing Grian could also feel Scar's love through it like Scar felt Grian's love for another.

"And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough, to get through the walls you've conjured up to live?" Scar looked at the memories of being alone in the home Grian built. A fortress... not a home, a stance against all, meant to be scary looking, uninviting.

As Grian spent his nights with BigB, snuggling up to him, star gazing. The string on his ring finger, tying to Grian, as he held the hand of another, with an invisible string between them. Someone he chose, someone Grian wanted to be with by choice.

"Is this what you feel?" Scar asked watching them as he walked around them. Seeing BigB giving cookies made by his hands to Grian, Scar could make cookies too. Even did a few times. "Scorned by Watchers that cannot comprehend, what you are?"

Grian never had been given a choice, always having to do as he's told. as expected of him. Duties expected of them both. Though Scar knew that pain, without choice and wanting to break it, why did it still hurt?

Scar's hand touched Grian's smiling face, stepping into the image of BigB, wishing that was smile to him. His hand holding Grian's, making him happy. "So I'll grant you this mercy, this bind, on our souls..." he pulled away from the image, letting it again be BigB that Grian smiled at with love.

the string between them growing tant, straining, yet breaking all the same. "Need's to end..." Scar whispered as he watched BigB spin Grian around their laughter fading as they walked away.

Scar looked at them fading away, as Double Life ended in pain. The Warden shreik in his ears and nothing, dying alone. Though Grian killed Ren, he still loved BigB, Secret Soulmates... he crushed the memory in his hand of the grave as the wither sand faded into the void.

Limited Life began, with Scar putting the distance between he and Grian. Cleo and Bdubs were so kind to him, accepting his chaotic need and laughing about it, joking with him. Loving him.

"I will try to make amends!" Scar said as he held the memory of Clockers Tower in his hands, watching the Bad Boys build their Bridge. How Grian would love on Jole and Jimmy so freely, laughing happily, more than he ever had in Double Life.

It hurt, but Grian was happy there, happy to be free to choose again. "For making you means to an end!" Scar wouldn't cage his bird again, for he refused to sing in a cage, no matter if made of gold or diamonds.

"So look my way, please, look my way!" Scar wished though for Grian in the game to look at him. He gave an olive branch, telling Grian if Jole also died he could join the Clockers... Yet Grian headed to the Nosy Neighbors, to be with BigB again.

"And if there's something more that I don't know?" Scar wanted to so badly know, what could he not give to Grian? What did BigB, Joel, Jimmy, or even Etho had that he couldnt give him!?

He kept the space though, Grian didn't need him anymore. So... Scar resolved to not need Grian anymore, as he took another memory. "I'll save us both before we grow cold..."

Watching his bird fall from a great height, his wings clipped as he fell from a height. His freedom came without the comfort of knowing he'd be caught. This was what Grian wanted though, the flying freedom even with the fear of the fall. And Scar would be a fool to keep him from that.

Yet, as he shifted the memory back to the axe in his back by Grian. Perhaps it was payback for the many times he killed Joel? Or maybe Grian just saw him as in the way of a win? Did it matter?

"If you'll stay, and just say..." The wither sand and stardust formed the bird in his hand, as he petted it's head, Scar smiled at it's soft chirps. Holding up his hands as the bird flew off so easily.

His green eyes had tears in them, as the void pulled at his legs. Into it, and possibly to another life games. Scar reached up to the fading light all the same, watching the fuzzy image of the bird fading away from view.

“Look my way..."

#submission #SUBMISSION NOT MINE #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JADE #GODS SO GOOD #long post #fanfic #ficlet #cw angst

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crystalkitty1220 · 2 months

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Monthly-ish check-in

Aka more of a diary entry than a blog post

Gonna disappear again for a bit after posting this

Decided to major in animation because ever since losing all of my confidence when it comes to writing creatively in Creative Writing class, my focus has been moved entirely to storyboards and scripts. Storytelling is still my passion but clearly I'm not very good with words, and tbh the only reason I had ever really been confident in my writing is because I'm good with grammar. I feel like my storyboards/scripts are pretty good and capture the exact energy I've never really been able to get across in my writing, but actual animation capabilities are still yet to be seen because I can barely fucking draw in the first place. Gonna also experiment with 3D modeling in college, because who knows, maybe I'm better if I can see my work from multiple angles at a time.

Maybe I'll host a MAP at some point when I fully come back to tumblr. If I do, it'll probably be centered around Traffic Life. Or maybe IBVS if there's enough people.

Fandom-wise, I somehow managed to get Echos obsessed with Traffic Life by showing them some episodes of Secret Life (specfically Tango's Torchy one). Then we watched Empires together, and now Echos is watching season 10 of Hermitcraft with me (Grian, Scar, and Joel's povs, though without them I've also been watching Mumbo, Bdubs, occasionally Zed, and now Doc. Before season 10 I only watched Grian, Scar, and Bdubs). I've even started working on a little something centered around Jimmy and the Canary Curse. Also add Xornoth to the list of even remotely evil-aligned characters that I thought were dudes at first and find out they're nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer after I start crushing on them. This is the, what, fifth time? At this point if I get a crush on a character I should just immediately start calling them by they/them. Specifically the Empires the Musical one btw, not the one that's just Smajor with a voice filter.

Still been having major nostalgia for Feral ever since downloading Emuferal. Got Krita to paint something based on it but I don't know when I'll post that. Wrote around three complete animatic scripts featuring the Blood Tundra kobolds. Three is actually a very small number compared to the amount I normally write per fandom. (Then again, I've only got around 2-ish for IBVS. That's probably because I like to focus on symbolism for my animation scripts, and the only consistent symbolism I can think of for IBVS is with Isaac and birds. He's been drawn in a bird cage, which is very much known to symbolize being trapped or lacking some kind of freedom. In another bit of art he's been drawn with wings, showing the achievement of freedom. Freedom from what? Hell if I know. Possibly unrelated to the bird stuff, in another bit of art, Isaac is seen holding Drew's hand. Drew has a confused, upset expression, and Isaac's expression is unreadable as always but I interpret it as being rather solemn. Isaac's feet are, notably, not on the fucking ground. He's drifting away, and Drew's trying to hold onto him. This could symbolize Isaac shutting down emotionally/socially and Drew trying to help. Or, if this connects to the freedom symbolism, Isaac might fucking die by the end of IBVS. It's probably the first one. I am eating this shit up I fucking adore symbolism.)

Speaking of IBVS, I've been reworking Curse!IBVS. The version I posted about in the past was basically the second version of Curse (I never posted anything about the first) so this one would be version three. Isaac's going back to being much more like version 1 because I decided I'm not a huge fan of the second one for multiple reasons. Due to Drew having healing powers, he and Nevin are also getting reworked - I even wrote a little snippet surrounding them just to get the vibes right, but I don't think I'll ever post it. Edward's curse is basically staying the same, but the way he handles it is being changed so he can work as a sort of foil to Nevin. I'm still trying to figure out how to turn Dez's power into a curse without making it too similar to Nevin's or Edward's. And I'm thinking Chris and Charlie can be more similar to normal IBVS, and then I can use Chris as a sort of anchor to introduce everything else. Also my brain keeps showing my this huge dramatic climax scene but unfortunately I think it's a little too out-of-character and I have no clue how it'd even get to that point.

Got the fourth Animorphs graphic novel. The whale thing is still super weird. Ax looks nothing like I imagine him. Not much more to say on that.

Started playing Royale High more regularly but it's a bit depressing because I've been playing since it was Winx Fairies and Mermaids Roleplay and now it's just Work a Job to Buy Useless Items and Invest in the Stock Market Simulator. Idk the musical chairs minigame is pretty fun.

Warrior Cats animations continue to be my main inspiration for basically everything I've ever drawn. I could write about them for hours but it's already 1am so I probably shouldn't. Oh and the new arc is pretty good if you cut out everything that isn't Frostpaw. Might be my new favorite pov character.

Really disappointed Camp Camp ended on ep 4 of the new season because literally episode 5 is always either a Jasper episode or my favorite episode Quartermoon Convergence. I can't believe my favorite character is now bald forever and my second favorite character hasn't been mentioned since season 3. On the plus side I have a whole separate document from my main script one just for Camp Camp animatic scripts because I've written so many of them. I don't know what I have more of, UTMV scripts or Camp Camp ones.

For years, crossovers have for some reason been my brain's main focus. Probably because the first ever fanfic I read was Morphing is Magic, and that shit was fire. So here's a few of the odd ones that have found their way into my thoughts:

•Yet another variation of an Animorphs and IBVS crossover.

•"The Othermind from WoF can affect people who ingest the Breath of Evil, and Nightmare's goo can break down and absorb anything, so could he be affected by the Othermind if he was stabbed one of the vines? Would it not count because he doesn't have a bloodstream?"

•IBVS constantly haunts my brain so that last one turned into the IBVS characters being dropped into the WoF world (as humans, mind you) but Drew and Nevin are in Pantala while the rest end up in Pyhrria.

•Similarly (while I was reading the new Warriors arc), the IBVS being dropped into the lake territory (this time catified) and all into different clans.

•Speaking of catification, I found this shit (below) in my ibis paint drafts, and immediately screenshotted it to send to Echos.

I don't remember how or why I drew Drew's hair like that. I don't know why Dez would be trying to catboyify Drew, or why using the wrong materials would get him possessed by Ende from Feral. But by god, the thing that caught me off-guard most is the words "Is this what I get for saving your life? Catboyfication?" and I don't think I could write something funnier if I tried. Of course my brain immediately began to run with this, resulting in this blurb of text later being sent to Echos:

Me: it's four in the fucking morning, *stop* thinking of dumbass crossovers, they don't even make any fucking sense / My brain: monika said she had some of rachel's memories when possessing her. What if, when ende possesses drew, she's led back to his home and immediately feels like this place is a sanctuary - a safe place after being in danger for so long - something that drew has managed to find but ende still longs for. When she walks inside and sees nevin, she gets really emotional and can't stop herself from hugging him, then has to come up with the excuse that she (still pretending to be drew) didn't realized how much she missed him, then makes a fake promise to explain what happened in the morning. When she's by herself in drew's room she silently swears to drew - despite the fact she can feel he's falling into some kind of 'sleep', one that she can only recognize because she herself has been in an absent 'sleep' like that for so long - that she'll do everything she can to make sure they can both be free in this place. And when she goes to bed, she experiences drew's memory dream, and ende can relate to the feeling of having an important memory be kept from her. / And then the arms around her feel like they're turning into wings, and when she opens her eyes (though still dreaming) she sees luka. And ende demands to know why, if she's supposed to forget everything, can't they let her move on? A blizzard rages on in the background. She tries to pull away from luka's arms, but they still feel like wings encasing her - trying to keep a member of the flock safe, but only trapping her there - or like those of the watcher's. Again, she demands why they can't just let her go. Luka keeps their signature empty smile, but their eyes are not their own, boring down into ende like those of an all-too familiar statue. And then she wakes up, and she makes a second promise to the boy who can't even hear her: she's going to help him remember. / Me: stfu its sleep time. honk shoo. honk mimimimi. go to fucking bed.

Echos' reply was: "Ooo".

•Hermes from Empires SMP using the Staff of Sanctuary for Multiverse Shenanigans™

•Multiple concepts of villains from different media being thrown into Gotham City, and how they'd fare against Batman. I blame Echos and the other one for being obsessed with the Batfam and talking about DC constantly.

•Doodles of Empires!Smajor, Celestia from MLP, Dream from Dreamtale, and Sun from FNaF interacting in "my sibling got corrupted by an outside force and turned evil" club™. At some point I threw DogDay in there just for the hell of it even though he doesn't fit the criteria whatsoever. One of the doodles is just Scott, confused, with a thought bubble containing a cartoony sun symbol. (Wait, does Jake from Animorphs count? Can't believe I missed that.)

•Some other IBVS ones idk it's just constantly in my head

Also been reconnecting with some irl friends I hadn't spoken to since the Women List Dude incident. First time hanging out at a friend's house for as long as I can remember, and you best believe one of my rambles led from Spiderverse to Undertale AUs to Kirby Takes Manhattan to the origins of the ship Fingers In His Ass Sunday. Also got to learn a bit more about Women List Dude, whom none of them even knew I had experience with, and vice versa. To quote one of my friends, "Every time I talk to someone new about him, the story grows." Apparently he was fucking infamous in our school, and not even just in our grade. Istg he's practically an urban legend. "Oh, [Woman List Dude]? Yeah, I've got some stories about him..." *crackling of a campfire, the smell of smores.* Except there's concrete evidence and multiple witnesses to every account. It's honestly hilarious.

Uhh I think that's basically about it for this update. It's now 4am and I just finished rereading everything, so I'm gonna hit post and then not check tumblr again for like another month.

#ck check-in #i have no clue if thats gonna stay as a tag #also might delete or edit this if i decide i dont like that i rambled for so long

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ironstakes · 1 year

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YCTiB Moon Big and how the Hermits ended up in Naruto + wth is up with Kaguya. Also, plants.

Once again, this is for my hermitcraft x naruto crossover fanfic You Can’t Take it Back. This is, obviously, HUGE spoilers of the current fic and subject to change. Anyway, onwards, the ramble is a long one. So, as the first part of the title says, let’s start with MoonBig:

I’ve decided that there was a catastrophic server failure. After the moon crashed things were bad. One by one the hermits died off, alone or in small groups, except Xisuma who couldn’t die. A lot of the hermit’s deaths were unpleasant and as the admin, Xisuma felt echoes of all of them dying and losing their connections to his world and how their souls were drifting, waiting for him to make a new world as they were still tied to him and the season 8 world too. Between moon big and how he’d been under Evil X’s control all season, Xisuma’s not exactly at his best. I made a different post that mentioned server stability and Mumbo’s role as ‘CEO of the server’ before and I like the idea of Xisuma being in an admin-related unstable state right out of the season 8 gate. Regardless, Xisuma is stuck with a faulty connection to a dying world where his hermits are suffering and he can’t do a thing.

Instead of creating a new typical minecraft world like normal he instead makes a smaller, finite world and because of the moon ordeal of season 8, creates it without a moon. The world is ‘modded’ and it’s easiest to farm and harvest plants for exp and to get resources in this world. In theme, a special tree grew at spawn and over time it would be overshadowed by the growth around it.

After guiding the hermits’ souls to the new forming world and waiting a bit Xisuma started to build a thing. It wasn’t really anything specific but it had a lot of rooms, some dedicated to the things they’d never get to complete in the season cut short, and after a while he stopped moving and stood, afk, and wouldn’t move for millions of years.

Time passes and eventually this world becomes recognizable as the Sage of the Six path’s era. A young pale princess named Kaguya who yearns for peace hunts down the god tree (unbeknownst to her, the spawn tree) and eats a chakra fruit to gain supernatural power, intending to use her abilities for peace and to be a just ruler.

At some point she stumbles into a ravine, perhaps subconsciously drawn to the root of her power. Deep below ground, buried beneath sediments settling atop it for longer than humans have existed in this world, is the thing Xisuma built. She wanders the rooms and finds him AFK but believes him to be a statue. She moves to wipe away some of the grime on Xisuma when she notices some color beneath the debris but the chakra she had from the spawn tree reacted with Xisuma, a player and the world’s admin. She saw snippets of things about Xisuma as her main powers were eye based, including the moon crash, a respawn, the impression of afk as a sort of stasis, and a primordial version of her world and she incorrectly deduced that Xisuma had destroyed the world with the moon in the past before creating the building as a temple of some kind and falling into a slumber.

Now throughly terrified of a creature that was certainly not human and had ended the world before she flees, and slowly she begins to accumulate more and more power, haunted by what she’d seen and determined to prevent another apocalypse by any means necessary. Her measures seem extreme to everyone and she begins to turn crueler as people turn their backs on her and lose trust in her, but no matter what she implies or says no one believes her about a slumbering god that could end them all. Realizing that she’d have to stand on her own against Xisuma should he ever awaken she strives to cast aside her humanity and become a god herself since it was the only thing she could possibly do to combat him without help.

This leads to her lust for power and the ends justify the means ideals that give rise to her zetsu army, however her sons never learn that she was driven by fear, not greed. They fight her ‘corruption’ and seal her away, making a moon much to her horror- she then believes that Xisuma influenced them to do so and is preparing for another armageddon; he had corrupted her sons behind her back somehow, making her mourn that they’d been turned against humanity but as a ruler she understands sacrifice. She is determined to stop them by any means necessary even if they are her sons because the entire world isn’t worth ten thousand lives, never mind two.

Xisuma meanwhile has no idea any of this has happened and is anxiously waiting for his hermits to be reunited (as they won’t ‘spawn’ in until certain conditions are right). He’s long overdue for some hugs, they’re long overdue for some bodies, and they all need to recover from Moon Big.

When he finally feel’s Scar’s soul tugging some hundreds of years later he stepped out of his crumbling build and was pretty upset to discover that the world formed a moon anyway.

Phew, finally done with this segment! I tried to keep as many elements as I could from the canon Naruto Kaguya storyline and tried to make them cohesive, like adding reason for Kaguya to go from kind to cruel as she had canonically and added an explanation that actually makes sense as to why she interacts as she does with her sons. Like, if she hated them for ‘stealing’ her power why would she get so teary in the final battle when Naruto and Sasuke reminded her of them? That didn’t make sense to me… same with her power lust conflicting with her supposed desires for peace. If she wanted to protect earth from the beginning, which was her reason for eating the chakra fruit, then why was she ‘kind’ at first with a milder approach? The reasoning for her temperament shift never checked out as the level of danger she was aware of never changed; nothing really prompted that huge shift in her as far as I’m aware. I mean, she is an alien in canon, she knows what her kind are capable of from the start so why the back and forth? Plus adding Moon Big and Xisuma purposefully making a moonless world explains why there wasn’t a moon initially as in Naruto canon the Sage of Six Paths creates it when he seals Kaguya away. I thought that lined up so neatly!

Plus the naruto world being a plant based modded world explains the importance and power of plant based things in Naruto canon (wood release, the god tree, etc.) as well as the hermit’s obsession with plants… there are no exp grinders or deep mines that reach to nonexistent bedrock, no villager trading or iron farms: everything is plant based, hence their focus.

So yeah Kakashi’s going to have A Time. Seriously, how the hell is he supposed to piece this story together?

I guess the plants will continue to whisper to him ominously for a while yet.

#Thoughtful rambles #Hermitcraftxnaruto #hcxnaruto #crossover #Naruto #hermitcraft #Yctib #fanfiction #Xisuma #kaguya otsutsuki #what a combo #I’m actually really proud of how I slotted this all together #I don’t mention it above but the pre sage moonless planet in naruto canon really bothers me

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