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sulfuric-deity · 13 days

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Hermitcraft Pokemon AU thoughts!

(If using this as reference please tag as 'Hc poke au' so I can see, also feel free to tag me :))

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This has been haunting me for a while so I figured I would throw them here for some people to enjoy

Basically this region would have a gym for each type, and the order is pre determined so each gym holds pokemon of a certain level. Once you get through all of them four are randomized to be your big trail at the end, with their real Pokemon.

The pokemon trial is a BIG DEAL needing to be signed up for and then selected as it is so intensive.

The main antagonist is an organization researching 'Sculk' who got infected :)

As well as an unusual myth that seems to be interested in a few of the members. The Watcher.

Now onto hermits and the rough order of gyms!

OTHER ROLES:

Rendog-

He is the host for the trails, the charming man who will guide you along your journey. However, somethings seems a little off about him...were his eyes always red? He is not infected with Sculk like the others think, instead The Watcher is using his eyes to gain information about its victims.

Xisuma-

Head pokemon professor, oversees all other branches of research as well as the trail. Elusive to the public, who has never seen his face, but close with the gym leaders as he is the one who calculates pokemon level for that year. Absolutely distraught at the appearance of Sculk, and values the safety of his friends over himself.

Cubfan-

An odd pokemon professor, researching the effects of pokemon moves on humans. He is considered odd, and many protest actually using people for his trails, but he is very careful and ensures consent. Was chosen to go and supervise the Sculk trials alongside the company to see if its harmful to people. (wink wink nudge nudge)

Mumbo-

The youngest pokemon professor, he focuses mostly on the evolution of pokemon and how and when it occurs. He is likely the professor you would see the most, interacting with gym leaders and Ren. When Xisuma begins to evacuate things, and Cub goes missing he is forced to run everything himself. On top of that, his close friend Grian goes missing. Absolutely crumbling under the pressure of the many tasks.

DocM-

The head of the organization researching the Sculk, he seems unaffected by the possession. (Until too late hehe) Cold on the outside, friendly on the inside he won favor of many gym leaders, even if the HEP and public are skeptical of his involvement. He is determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Cleo-

She is the head of HEP (Human, Environment, Pokemon) who focus on the human treatment of pokemon and the protection against pokemon rampages. They were tasked with monitoring the Sculk situation. With their 'no bs' attitude, you'd think they would have no friends with all the goofballs around, but its actually just a front for their pure sarcasm.

Joe Hills-

A member of HEP who came from distant lands, wont tell you exactly how or why but will spin fanciful tales of adventure. Actually under arrest for breaking pokemon out 'illegally' in his original region. Protected by HEP now, at least for a while.

XbCrafted-

A field expert HEP member, usually taking care of water based missions. He is close friends with Keralis and beef, often teasing that he could defeat their regular teams easy. During a mission to investigate Sculk along a beachfront, he goes MIA. He is eventually found stranded on an island with all his pokemon fainted, talking to a volleyball with Keralis's face on it. He is fearful of the man after being haunted by the small volleyball child.

Zedaph-

The last member of HEP, hard to spot and even harder to understand in a conversation. Smart enough to be offered a spot as a professor but denied it as he 'doesn't want his creativity limited.' Takes care of the technical aspects.

Etho-

Former Champion, held the title for many years before willingly giving it over to his apprentice. He is many peoples spark for wanting to be a trainer, and he is still incredibly talented. (Despite Gem's boasting.) Now he wanders across the land to revisit friends and watch the youngsters train.

Gem-

Current Champion! Rumored to be Etho's sibling or otherwise related she takes great pride in her title. Known as GeminiSlay, her pokemon are ruthless, mostly tanks and quick attackers. She often worries about how the public compares her to Etho despite their obvious differences. She takes care of her gym leaders, but always looks for opportunities to drop in for surprise battles, especially with Pearl and Joel.

Grian-

Very close with Pearl, former water gym leader but retired the position to her after she defeated him. Now he takes joy in annoying the other gyms and assisting Mumbo is his research. Still an expectedly powerful trainer. Snail, marine biologist man, surprisingly smart. Goes mysteriously missing during the Sculk breakout, and is found stolen by one of the legendaries of the region (the Watcher.)

GYM LEADERS:

BdoubleO- Grass

Disgruntled about being the first gym leader faced, but takes great pride in wowing the trail-goers and being a difficult first challenge. He takes excellent care of his gym, and enjoys his trail. He claims to be the only Gym leader who defeated Etho. One of the longest standing leaders. During the Sculk infection, he helps to maintain a safe area and contact Etho for help.

Pearl- Water

Takes excellent care of her pokemon and it shows, they are fiercely loyal and in tune with her. Sometimes seeming to move as one entity. Admires Gem for her determination and skill, the pair have a joking rivalry. Also very close with Tango, she likes having the upper hand in battling. She pushes Tango to train his pokemon better against water types. She leads the search for Grian when he goes missing, facing off against the legendary by herself.

Tango- Fire

A bit hot-headed, he can sometimes gain a one track mind when it comes to his projects and forget about his responsibility as a gym leader. He created his own trail, and ensured it was as far from the scorching flames the trail-goers would expect (Decked out themed.) Close to Zedaph, and often helps in HEP contraptions. When his dungeon starts to gain a consciousness of its own, he is surprisingly delighted, even if it costs him possession.

Impulse- Rock

Stubborn, vengeful, and critical he relies on his combined Gym to help even out his flaws. Despite what he considers fatal flaws, he is intelligent, loyal, and protective of his friends which compliment his other half. Like earthquakes he is a powerhouse with his pokemon, often intimidating trail-goers. Although they are very quickly shown otherwise with his welcoming personality.

Skizz- Ground

Overly trusting, friendly, and slack he relies on his combined Gym to help even out his flaws. Impulse pushes him to grow and match his level, as well as not immediately giving up on a grudge. While he calms and grounds Impulse's intense energy. The pair make a deadly duo and are the trial-goers first introduction to the concept of double battles. Warm and welcoming he surprises a lot of people with his demeanor.

Scar- Normal

While normal types seem boring, Scar would adamantly disagree. They have very few weaknesses, and have the potential to learn to many moves outside of their type! A lover of all pokemon trail-goer expect scar to be easy, but are very wrong. His Persian, Jellie, is not as friendly as her trainer. Distraught by the loss of Grian he is incredibly frustrated he cant go to look for his friend due to his wheelchair.

Keralis- Bug

Wide eyed and not that competitive Keralis aims to just have a good time. He showers any trainer who makes it to his gym with compliments luring them into a false security. Despite not being competitive, he is ranked higher than the rest for a reason. Bug types are underrated. Keralis was terrified when XB goes missing, he completely closes his gym to go looking for his beloved princess.

Ijevin- Poison

Goopy spooky guy, takes great joy in being so relaxed and still absolutely destroying people. Stock up on poison heals and hope he's having a good day! He is also one of the original leaders, and has fallen into a comfortable groove and gained mad skills. Overall reliable, and sturdy.

Beef- Fighting

His bulky figure leads most people to believe he is a ruthless fighter, and while this is true, he also has a heart of gold. During XB's disappearance he too closes his gym, strong arming any authorities away as he searches for his friend. He is the one to first find XB, who is fearful of Keralis after being haunted by the ball man.

Hypno- Psychic

A slinking, cheeky figure. No one has ever seen his eyes, and it is rumored that he can brainwash people with his gaze. It is of course not entirely true, but he continues it as it tons of fun watching trial-goers squirm as he watches them. Close with Wels and Ijevin, who takes great pride in making fun of being super effective against his pokemon. One of the older gym leaders.

Welsknight- Steel

What better category for a knight? With speed and tactic he tears down those who get in his way. He takes pokemon battling very seriously, but only because the competitiveness brings him joy. If he wins or loses, he had an amazing time. Although it can be hard to tell, the glare he gives while focusing would make anyone nervous. He plays heavily into the knight bit, people are unsure if je truly believes it (he doesnt.) But...recently he seems a tad more aggressive. And was he always so fascinated with the colour red? The watcher has taken a particular interest in the knight, and is attempting to use him in much the same way as Ren.

(Joel) Smallishbeans-Dark

His sarcastic ease makes most trainers doubt his skills, and he takes great pleasure in watching their faces fall as they realize it is NOT an easy fight. He is not what you'd expect for the Dark element, and he enjoys using contrast to highlight the shadows rather than just cast everything into night. One of the newer Gym leaders, he insists Etho would not get past him in a pokemon battle, and has spent most of his carrer jokingly threatening the man, and trailing after him to beg for a battle.

Iskall- Dragon

With a cackle he unleashes literal dragons upon trainers, likely named something ridiculous (such as The Sweed). He is very close to Stress, and the object of her terror via adoration tiny pokemon. He is also close with Mumbo, yet they drift apart as Mumbo takes on more responsibilities, due to the secrecy of projects he starts to feel resentment towards Mumbo for ignoring him in favor of Grian and Scar. However that quickly changes as the Sculk is revealed and Grian goes missing. Still reminds Mumbo that he wont judge him and wants to help when things get to be too much.

Stress- Fairy

She finds it absolutely hilarious that fairy types are stronger than dragon, and often terrorizes Iskall. Using the 'pretty but deadly' motif she dances circles around her opponents. Her pokemon are absolutely gorgeous! :) She cares deeply for the other leaders, and helps to calm and care for their mental health as the Sculk attacks happen.

False- Flying

The strongest of the gyms she is known as the 'Queen of hearts', as she often destroyed the dreams of those who dared to face her. She is the last hurdle before the final stretch, trainers often get sloppy now and she takes advantage of it. The longest reigning leader, she doesn't seem to want to retire anytime soon. Very close with Ren, but too busy to immediately notice his changes.... She is vital in helping drive off the Sculk, her powerful team helping to clear infected Pokemon and trainers.

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cleostoohot · 2 years

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“i’ve been doing everything right but it didn’t manifest, why?”

when you guys come to me saying things like that it low key irritates me because first of all why are you asking me lol. i teach loa but I’m not a you so i can’t fully tell you where your going wrong off a “cleo, i don’t did everything right but it didn’t manifest”. but, from looking back at earlier in my journey when i had several failed manifestations, i was able to put together some reasons why you may have not been able to manifest your desire.

︴assuming you are not successful or can’t experience success

» it’s easy to feel like you’d never be one to become successful. but if you keep resonating as an unsuccessful person, how would you be able to manifest? manifesting your desire is a form of success right? assuming that you’d never be/experience success could clash with you finally doing so. i feel like this is why improving your self concept can be very beneficial. because there’s many problems like this that people don’t know they have but once you start improving your self conception, you naturally get rid of any backfiring assumptions.

╳ how to solve this problem: from now on declare that you are successful. you are a success magnet. you allow great things to come to you at all times because you deserve it. you don’t even need to spend a significant amount of time affirming that you’re successful, you can simply just decide it. but if you struggle with declaring, then of course there is no shame in repeating it until it becomes an assumption.

︴looking forward to your deadlines/time crunches

» a lot of you guys make deadlines for your manifestations. setting deadlines and putting to much focus on that final day can cause you to think thoughts from a reality of not having it. you are supposed to think as if you have it now, not “i need to have it by x day”. same with time crunches. don’t focus so much on when when it has to be manifested because babe if you think as if you have it now you can get it as soon as instantly (and yes you can manifest using future affs or manifest for a day that hasn’t came yet but that’s not what deadlines are so i’m not talking about that).

╳ how to solve this problem: first i’d like to say that if you don’t need a deadline or need to be on a time crunch, don’t make one. it’s pointless & you’re just being impatient and eager. if you struggle to manifest normally then why would you put the extra stress of limiting time on yourself? but if you insist on having one, once you have the date in mind, let that be your last time thinking about the day. from now on you have it now. why would you be worrying about having something by a certain date if you already have it now?. the math ain’t mathin. another thing you should do is affirm that your manifestations always come faster than you expect. i love that affirmation!

︴assuming time delay

» time delay isn’t real. it doesn’t have to take time for your manifestation to come from the 4d to the 3d. if you assume there is a time delay it’s like you’re giving your desire free will to manifest whenever it wants to. but since it can’t necessarily manifest when ever it wants because your in control, you assuming there’s a time delay and thinking that’s the reason why you don’t have it now will just show more and more in your reality: you not having it now because of the 3d delay that you “don’t know” will end. i hope that makes sense lol.

╳ how to solve this problem: understand that there is no time delay. majority of the community already established that time delays are limiting beliefs months ago. don’t hold yourself back.

︴not being consistent or giving yourself enough time

» y’all be affirming for one day, then the next day complain about no movement. *sigh*. first of all, repetition is very important, there’s only so much repetition you can do in a day. you gotta be consistent in this new way of thinking babe, don’t give up easy. especially because it takes so little time to get a lot of movement but y’all don’t get to see that because after a few hours you wanna stop. the only thing you need to be stopping is being an impatient and inconsistent person.

╳ how to solve this problem: persist for longer than just one damn day. when i wanted to give up after a couple of hours but finally decided to actually stick for a couple days longer, i got success. like please stop being so freaking impatient then running to other people asking where it’s at???? ask your damn self.

︴not responding to contradicting thoughts as you should

» y’all could be affirming for your desire for a week, but each time you affirm you contradict the affirmation. “i have my desired lips - no i don’t - i have my desired lips - hoe your lips still the same - i have my desired lips - no tf you don’t stop lying” bitch i said i got my desired lips and that’s that. i have my desired lips right now regardless of what i see of think. y’all need to be firm with those thoughts. contradicting thoughts are just like stubborn children. they don’t conform so easy with a sweet, soft voice. you gotta deepen your voice bout 3 notches, scrunch up your lips, and tell them exactly what to do and what how it’s gonna be done quicker.

╳ how to solve this problem: you are the one in charge, sound and act that way. like i always say, flip opposing thoughts consistently for one day and watch how by the next day you barely get any. don’t be all gentle with them. i mean i wish tf i would be gentle to something that’s trying to stop me from living my best life.

︴scared of having your desires/anxiety

» i understand it can be kind of nerve racking to know there’s a way for you to actually live your dream life, but if you weren’t meant to have it then you wouldn’t be desiring it. your dream life is meant for you. don’t be scared of it because only the best will happen.

╳ how to solve this problem: affirm that you deserve your dream life and you’re worthy of it. affirming can change your thoughts so if your affirming that you deserve your desires, you’ll very soon start to believe that affirmation.

︴calling yourself “the problem”

» this was probably the #1 thing that got me out of my cycle of failed manifestations. i always told myself and coaches “i know i’m the reason why i don’t have my desire” “i know i must be doing something wrong” ew. thinking back to that makes me cringe. if you resonate as the reason why you can’t manifest then you will continue to be the reason why you can’t manifest.

╳ how to solve this problem: what i did was tell myself? “i am not the problem” “nothing and nobody can stop my desires”. from what i remember that very same day one of my desires came to fruition. do not resonate as the problem!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #neville goddard #self concept

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deafchild2000 · 2 months

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Okay, a few years ago, my mind played with some crazy and unique ways to explore or rewrite H2O characters (at most: Lyla being Dr. Denman's adoptive daughter and healthily researching mermaid magic.)

But I've cooled down over the years and settled on a few that make sense (Charlotte being a mermaid again under dubious circumstances - being one of them and Kim actually being smart and figuring out the Secret using photocopies of Cleo's diary before it was destroyed).

Or maybe I'm not above writing stories with second chances, but not without taking liberties such as avoiding dumbing someone down or giving credit where it's due.

So, I had this idea for a story I attempted but didn't quite publish. The context: What if Charlotte, Miriam, and Sophie were mermaids?

Considering I go back and forth between Reddit and Tumblr, I was surprised (and not) by the Antis and the ones willing to indulge in the characters - I ended up joining in too. But this idea was me really pushing the envelope, so to speak, and thinking outside the box. And another thing, I'm kind of not afraid to go into mature themes that exist in real life.

So why these three? Because everyone hates them, and the exact challenge of making them worth reading about is what I strive for. And since I do believe being in the Moon Pool alone is why Charlotte got three powers, then making her part of a group & dividing said powers avoids some problems.

Charlotte is the easiest of the three, she deserved better in character development and writing (and I'm not above laying blame on the girls for creating her antagonism, to begin with). If H2O had started off with the story of a girl finding out her grandma was a mermaid, it would have felt fitting as it would involve her meeting Louise and doing the supposed job of tying both generations of mermaids together. Essentially doing what S2 chose not to due when introducing a former mermaid having left a legacy behind. On that note, Charlotte is Cleo's foil, so she does get Hydrokinesis.

Miriam is...so fascinating! Between her and Sophie, it's so easy to imagine Miriam disliking having a tail to begin with. At best, she's unilaterally Emma and Rikki's foil (everything Emma's not and Rikki hates). With the Mean Girl/Ice Queen persona she had going on, I'm not too against the trope of her using being a mermaid for popularity but I imagine having Charlotte involved means the worst gets curbed. However, I do imagine the "One Drop" policy getting old pretty fast, and sick of it as well. It was actually pretty difficult (and felt generic), but in the end - I settled for Miriam getting Hydro-cryokinesis.

Sophie, Sophie, Sophie...Not gonna lie, getting the one who destroyed the moon pool for financial gain (and more of a villain than the other two) was when I knew I had my hands full! Not to mention, she's an ADULT! Not an elderly or a parent - an adult with bills to pay and a brother to take care of. And that's where I feel her arc should be (adulting and a caregiver who now has to deal with a tail). But because I don't mind taking liberties, I traced her actress back to her previous role (Rachel Samuels of Blue Water High) and that's where things came together! Overall, she does have hints of Emma but could be more dangerous than Rikki. So hydro-thermokinesis for her.

There's so much to this dynamic of the 2000s mermaids not being like anyone expected and the potential. Charlotte is the first to embrace being a mermaid while Miriam fights it every second she can (Sophie being between the two). Given what happened in Red Herring, I'm particularly fond of the idea both Miriam and Sophie have dyes in their hair and the transformation reveals their natural brunette and blonde tones. As an anti of Will Benjamin and his behavior with Bella in canon, perhaps exposure and learning how NOT to treat a mermaid from the source could go a long way. I'm definitely LIVING for Louise adoring Charlotte yet meeting Miriam and Sophie and having difficulty adjusting to someone like them being mermaids & far removed from what she, Gracie, and Julia were. How Zane fits into this as without Rikki, Miriam's all that ties him to her. Sophie's past and why teenage drama dictates Miriam be such a bitch (as well as whether Tiffany has a place in her life). Or better yet, Lewis was the researcher, so is he obsolete from this AU or can he be brought in? Does Miriam have an Elsa episode where she freezes everything?

I can't promise Linda Denman or other likes in canon, but like lightning - some things don't happen twice without reason.

But main question: Why would these three meet? Charlotte and Miriam make sense, Charlotte moving a year early isn't hard to do as well as placing Miriam with Zane & Nate and having her steal the spark plug. Given the lack of background on their folks, Sophie and Will moving to Queensland is easy to arrange with the right backstory. So in the end, it all goes straight to the beginning - the Pilot.

(And where are the original girls? Given the effect this AU would cause, a lot gets undone. Cleo and Emma were already friends, just not likely to meet Rikki - whose actions triggered the events of canon to begin with! So at best, side characters who interact but don't influence the narrative as much...possibly.)

#h2o just add water #charlotte watsford #miriam kent #sophie benjamin #cleo sertori #emma gilbert #Rikki chadwick #lewis mccartney #zane bennett #H2o just add water tiffany

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dmwrites · 1 year

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Of course, he could sense it. Hell, Ren had reeked of the stuff when he’d gone to see him. The boogeyman corruption was extremely strong to those like Skizzleman, whatever stupid angelic sense tuned him in to these kinds of things.

Frankly, he’d been expecting some kind of reaction to the boogeyman curse ever since they’d entered the Last Life server, but nothing to this extreme. See, Skizz knew red life, had been one himself once (and boy oh boy had he gotten a real talking to after that one, some stupid stuff about sin and examples). Red Lives were simple- their corruption was basic human instinct. Kill. Fight. Win. They were almost hot to the touch, the air around them tasted spicy and smoky, every sense was taken over by the innate, simple desire to kill another.

Needless to say, as soon as the snow fort of team BEST came into view, Skizz could smell the red-hot bloodlust that was so very much Bdubs. Team BEST’s own personal sunburn. Skizz grit his teeth- it had been so long since he’d been so close to a red name, and every angelic instinct in his body was screaming at him to run, or worse, to slaughter the sinner before they had a chance to do worse to the world.

So consumed with pushing back this urge, Skizz didn’t notice the other, sharper feeling that the snow fort held within it until he was inside, and staring Etho right in the face.

“Hi homie bud- oh.”

Etho looked up at him, as even-tempered and chill as ever, but there was a deep, terrible chill that radiated out of the man. This wasn’t the frantic, red-life feeling- this was death in its certainty.

“I gotta admit, bud, I’m kinda scared of ya- are you the boogeyman, dude?” Skizz asked through numb lips.

Etho chuckled. “Oh, you know me, Skizz. What do you think?” Even from the distance Skizz stood from Etho, he could feel the terrible sensation of drowning, of danger.

“I can’t lie to you, buddy, I think you are.” Skizz whispered. Etho laughed like it was a joke, and Skizz coughed out a strangled laugh too. He’d never been more certain in his life about the cold corruption of the boogeyman that Etho now held within him.

“You’ve never been Boogeyman, have you Skizzle? Too pure.” Etho mused, smirking at him.

Bdubs came in as sufficient interruption, making all sorts of silly, red-name noises and hullabaloo about killing and murder. Skizz was stuck between two killers, and both of his friends overwhelmed his senses until it was all he could do to not cry.

“I know there’s still some good in you, Bdouble0.” Skizz told Bdubs at random. It was desperation, some kind of reminder to himself that he would not, could not go full angel on these people just playing a game of life and death.

“No. None.” Bdubs said. “And it’s great. Skizz, step into my office for a second.” Bdubs indicated to a door that mirrored one on his side of the red-name wall. In Skizz went, and he laughed like a man in the gallows.

“Dude this totally looks like a confessional booth.”

Bdubs laughed. It wasn’t the most pleasant of things. “You have any sins to confess, Skizzleman?” He asked sarcastically.

Skizz laughed uncomfortably. “Nah…”

Bdubs snorted. “Too pure, huh Skizz?”

Skizz didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Listen, Skizz. We’re friends, right? And you miss team BEST, right?”

“I do.” Skizz replied.

“I have a way we can get the band back together. All you have to do, and it’s very simple, very easy, is fall off a cliff. Hell, I’ll kill ya. Cleo can. We- join us, Skizz. It’s a lot more fun on the dark side.”

Skizz was already shaking his head. “I can’t man, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“You’re too pure, Skizz. You need some corruption in your soul.” Bdubs growled at him.

Skizz chuckled, knowing damn well that his soul was nothing at all, but the purity of an angel rang out like chimes, and when he went down, so would the rest of the damn server. But for now, all he could do was shake his head and try not to get overwhelmed by the boogeyman and the red name that he had once called friends.

#December 24 2022 #fic #last life #skizzleman #team beat mention #I believe in angel!skizz with my whole heart #long post

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queeniecook · 1 year

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"Welcome Home" - Part 3

I had a surprise for him as well. I loved my home in Windenberg. I had helped design it. It had been my home for all those years after I moved there. But my real home was with Pak and the cats. And I knew that living in Windenberg would eventually not be good for him. He needed to be near the ocean. Not only for his mental and emotional health, but for his physical health. And so. I made a purchase right before our wedding.

We flew home. To Sulani.

Pak was stunned at first. Stunned speechless. Then he stuttered a lot before taking off in a jog towards the ocean. He spent an hour or more swimming around. I watched him happily, before going inside to get the cats settled in.

I knew it'd be an adjustment for them, but I was hoping they would like it. I made sure to keep most of our things, so at least not everything would be new. At least some things would be familiar for them.

"Ahhh, I love it here. I love the house." Pak said, walking in. A neighbor had brought him something. I guess when there's extra food they share on the island, pretty cool. What was not cool was him eating all of it. "And I love you."

Okay, I was no longer mad at him.

I loved it too actually. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about it at first but I really loved it.

I got my office setup upstairs and realized there was something missing from the pictures on my desk.

That made it complete.

Pak made sure to show me how much he loved my surprise for him.

"I still can't believe you did this, Evie. You left your home behind so I could be with the ocean." Pak said, before picking up a cookie off his plate. "Thank you."

"It was easy. I knew you belonged here and honestly, I'm loving all the sunshine." I told him, smiling at him. "I just want you to be happy."

"I'm the happiest I've ever been." He told me, before eating his cookie.

Cleo wasn't happy though when I had to take her to the Vet. Somehow, she got fleas and Salem didn't. I was worried it was something else, due to her age. But thankfully, it was just fleas. She was treated right away.

A BBQ Searer came with the house and I tried it out with Pak's help. I was totally new to cooking that way, though I had seen it done on the cooking channel. I was worried how it'd turn out.

While we waited on the food, we did some yoga and meditation. Pak opened the door so we could hear the ocean while we did our session. It was amazing.

In the end, our Pork Adobo turned out really well. We ate it on the beach, watching the water.

It really is beautiful here. I don't regret moving at all.

Unfortunately, the next morning I had horrible heartburn from the Pork Adobo. I puked until I couldn't puke no more. It tasted good going down but not coming up. Sadly, I had to swear off on eating it ever again.

<-previous

#the grant legacy #ts4 legacy #generation 1 #evie grant #evie grant uha #paka'a uha #cleo grant #salem grant #ts4 #sims4 #simsstories #sulani #ts4 mermaids #ts4 story #sims4 story #sims4 storytelling

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froggymarsh · 1 year

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Thinking so hard about tango who actively tries to take care of littles but he is so easy at making regress that a little is like “play with me?” And he is suddenly rather small and is like “absolutely just one moment I really should contact someone bigger to watch us”

REAL AND TRUE REAL REAL REAL REAL

gosh ok so. headcanons. the very first time Tango ever ever regressed was with Zed and Impulse- Zed was doing experiments on different coping mechanisms for. reasons. (a lot of the hermits have been through some stuff) and he came across age regression and decided. "Hey! i could be the test subject for this, it seems harmless enough :)" he then roped Tango into trying it as well to get more varied results, and the two of them asked Impulse to look after them to which he laughed brightly but said yes to, and boom. that's how team ZIT started regressing sjdkflsjdf

sometime after he initially starts regressing, he's hanging out with mumbo, they're working on redstone stuff. usually the two of them never EVER let themselves be little around redstone - it can be incredibly dangerous depending on the machine- but the line between big and little Mumbo kinda sorta begins to blur because he's tired, and Mumbo starts making pictures with the redstone rather than just laying it out in lines. he's quietly doing this to himself for a while before Tango notices. He chuckles to himself, Mumbo goes a bit red, (he's very embarrassed about being little all of the time), and to show that Tango doesn't mind he starts drawing with the redstone too. This is before he learns to send warning texts to the caregiver chat, so Impulse finds them many hours later, both napping under a stray flying machine and speckled from head to toe in redstone dust jsdkflskfd

Jimmy is small in Double Life kind of a lot, despite the circumstances of the games he's safe and happy on the ranch so he's just a little guy :D he can get tango to regress with him by asking him to preen his wings or to play simple games. also. naps. jimmy will fall asleep on his shoulder with his wings wrapped around him, and Tango can feel himself getting pulled under, so he sends an sos text to Cleo that he doesn't get to see the answer to because he falls asleep before he can see the reply, and when he wakes up Cleo and Scott are giggling and taking pictures and he and Jimmy are very much cuddling. He pouts about it, Jimmy's a little embarrassed, but then the four of them start building a blanket fort together, going back and forth on all levels of small

i'm sure i could come up with more but it is late so just. YES. ALL OF MY LOVE THIS IS SO CUTE.

#my headcanons are. NOT what u said sjdfklsjdfkl but they're close!!#thank u for this i will be thinking about it sjkfljsdklf #ivorys headcanons #asks #anon #tango tag

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foxgloveblue · 1 year

Text

pale in a liminal moon 🌙 chapter 20

Pairing: Grian/Scar

Tags: selkie AU, steampunk AU, enemies to lovers, slow burn

Summary: Scar has twenty-two minutes to find Grian.

Words: 4,768

previous chapter || next chapter

ao3 link || masterpost

The crowd felt alive.

The people themselves were obviously alive, but that wasn’t what he meant. The hundreds of guests milling about and chatting were each their own being – each an individual with their own life, own motivations for being there.

Normally, Scar reveled in these differences. It was almost like a game to him. With a few observations and careful words, could he dissect their life story? Could he connect with them, find a mutual understanding? Could he gain advantages, use their own nature against them?

Such thoughts, usually the crux of his galas, were now nonexistent. He couldn’t help but view each person as just another feature of the landscape – jewels, silks, bustles, tailcoats, all as uninteresting as an individual cobble of a road.

And yet that cobble was alive. Shifting, pressing, bumping. Talking to each other, talking to him. The party wasn’t even close to the height of revelry that Scar had seen before. People were still relatively sober. No untoward scandals had yet occurred. Nether, the dancing hadn’t even begun. And yet, the chatter of voices was somehow more deafening than Scar had ever heard before. Searching for Grian felt less like wandering through a crowded room and more like being swallowed whole.

It wasn’t just that people were in his way. Some were actively reaching for him – sometimes with words, sometimes even with their hands, grasping his shoulders, his arms. One even had the audacity to grasp his hand where he held his cane, as if physically trying to prevent him from walking away. He had wasted valuable moments wrenching free and barking out something quite curt, wishing he had the time to take an aside with his guards and have her escorted out.

Time. Time, time, time – that was really the crux of it. He had no time at all.

He checked his watch, something he had surely done more in the past precious few minutes more than the entire week beforehand. Only seventeen minutes left. Less when he considered that he had agreed to meet with Mumbo five minutes before his speech if he didn’t manage to find Grian himself.

The worst part, however, was the uncertainty. With every mask he glanced over, every turn of his eye, he worried that he had just… passed Grian over. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? He had no idea what his mask was, and even if he did, the constant swell and shift of people made every glance fleeting.

And that wasn’t even considering the very real possibility that Grian wasn’t here at all. That he was hiding away in some other room, swimming in the garden pool, sequestered away with Jellie or Grumbot, waiting for this entire foolish affair to pass. Even though Scar would be shocked at Grian’s willingness to throw away his freedom, it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t be the first time that Grian surprised him.

Scar cursed under his breath. He was getting too lost in thought. He could talk it out with Grian after he found him.

There was a soft tug at his sleeve. Scar instinctively yanked his hand away, turning on his heel to chew out whoever had the gall to touch him this time.

He came to face a heavyset, dark-haired man, slightly shorter than himself. His mask was some kind of… blue imp? It was frustratingly familiar, but Scar couldn’t seem to place it.

“Sorry, sir, but I’m in a hurry.” Scar barked out, already pushing past the man.

This time, the man’s grip was more forceful. “Scar.”

Scar froze. Oh, shit.

He turned back, actually looking. “Cub?”

Cub let out a sigh, folding his arms. “I can’t believe you ‘sir’ed me.”

Scar scratched the back of his neck. “I… I didn’t recognize you.” It was more that he just couldn’t believe Cub had actually come. They hadn’t spoken since their little outing – Scar had figured his appearance at Joe and Cleo’s was, well… an excuse to talk to him.

“Clearly. I don’t think you’ve ever been so simultaneously respectful and rude.”

Scar laughed at that, some of the tension draining away. “Sorry, sorry. I honestly figured you weren’t coming.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“I… suppose you did.” Scar couldn’t help it – he checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. “Listen, Cub, I really am happy to see you; but I actually do have to go. We can catch up after my speech, I promise.”

“I actually have some rather urgent business with you.”

Scar blinked. “You… you do?”

“Yep. There’s someone I want you to talk to.”

Someone…? Cub wouldn’t be so insistent about a business proposition – or so mysterious. The only explanation that Scar could think of was that Cub was, well… involved with someone.

It was almost enough to make Scar laugh, but he stopped himself. Not so long ago, he had trouble picturing himself with any romantic involvements. Was the idea of Cub finding someone really so strange?

Of course, that might not be it at all. It didn’t help that Cub was hard to read on the best of days, let alone when he was wearing a mask.

Regardless of what it was, Scar still had the same answer for him.

“Whoever they are, they’ll have to wait.”

“Scar…”

“I promise I’ll come talk to them later!” Scar called out, already rushing through the crowd.

Cub moved as if to stop him again, but this time Scar was too quick, managing to slip into the crowd. Even that was odd – Cub wasn’t one to push like that. Not him, anyway.

Scar shook his head. He couldn’t worry about it right now. Whatever was going on with Cub could wait – it had to wait.

As if summoned by that thought, he heard a voice call out – “Scar?”

He tried to duck away – just another person to avoid. “Hey! SCAR! Get your sorry butt over here!”

For the second time that night, he froze with sudden recognition. Whirling on his heel, he scanned the crowd for any sign of his friend.

His eyes landed on a rather short figure, clad in a lovely green velvet cloak that looked almost like moss, and a truly horrific mask. He grimaced as Bdubs approached.

“Did you have to wear that mask? Again?” he complained as soon as Bdubs was close enough to speak at a normal tone.

“I like the mask!” Bdubs huffed, adjusting it so he could peer up at Scar. If Scar were forced to describe it, he would say that it was similar to the prototypical comedy theater mask, except far more grotesque. It was made of solid brass, but the mask somehow looked alive. The smile was stretched to the limits of the face. Patina patterning the metal so that it ironically looked like there were tear tracks cutting across the mask’s visage. Worst of all, however, were the eyes – rather than a mirthful upturn, the eyes were just wide and staring, repulsive in its mismatch.

Scar hated it. He had always hated it, and Bdubs’ insistence on continuing to wear it had not lessened his hatred in the slightest.

He, however, currently had more important things to worry about.

“Have you seen Grian?” he asked, not quite managing to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Bdubs cocked his head. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Scar’s heart soared. Unable to contain himself, he grasped Bdubs firmly by the shoulders, practically shaking him in his excitement. “Where? Where is he?”

“Jeez, Scar, chill out!” Bdubs huffed in annoyance. “Saw him by the wet bar, nursing a glass of… something. ‘S why I wanted to talk to you, actually. Looked pretty down.”

As soon as his good mood had come, it evaporated. Grian getting drunk easily was an endearing trait when they had been on vacation – now that Scar wanted to have an honest, very serious conversation with him, it was a recipe for disaster.

Not to mention the fact that Grian had to give a speech in front of hundreds and hundreds of people.

“I need to talk to him.”

“Uh, duh.” Bdubs laughed, though he didn’t sound very amused. “I was worried that you already had, and it had gone awfully.”

“No, no. I haven’t said anything to him. But I clearly need to.” Scar instinctively straightened his back, fiddling with his cravat. “What’s he wearing?”

“You don’t know?” Bdubs tsked. “Dark red cloak. Seal mask. I’d say he’s impossible to miss, but… well, he has a lot of competition.”

A seal. It seemed obvious, but Scar hadn’t wanted to assume. Grian so often surprised him. He had been ready for him to be wearing… a macaw mask or something, just to throw him off.

Though maybe it was comforting in some way – just for tonight, he could be a seal again.

He shook himself out of the thought. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He exclaimed, giving Bdubs a cursory handshake before pushing past him.

“You still owe me that paycheck!” Bdubs called after him, though he was quickly swallowed by the fray. Scar made a mental note to double what he had been planning on giving him.

The wet bar wasn’t too far from here. He checked his watch. Eleven minutes. Not enough time for a proper conversation, but certainly enough time to reassure him that he was ready to talk, to apologize, to make it right. Enough to soothe Scar’s frayed emotions.

Tilting his head up, he could see the dark wood of the wet bar, art nouveau frame curving as it grew into the wall. He was so close, surely only seconds away from seeing Grian –

His sightline was suddenly cut off by a tall, long-haired man, standing resolutely between him and the wet bar. He was about to ask – not so politely – for the man to move when a second figure stepped in front of him as well.

The appearance of this second figure was so surprising that for a moment, the words died in his throat. She was a short woman, dark brown hair tied up in a fashionable, elaborate hairdo that even had fresh-cut flowers tucked into the whorls and braids. There were even real flowers on her dress, pinned between bunches of pale pink silk.

Her dress was much wider and more elaborate than most of his guests – a sure sign that she wasn’t from Cambria, where the dresses had been getting sleeker and more modest. Vindouxian, no doubt, which spelled trouble.

That little revelation was far from the most notable thing, however. Scar’s skin crawled as his eyes were naturally drawn to her mask. In a horrific contrast to the rest of her outfit, her mask was a snarling monster, too-many teeth bared in a gut-churning grin, features somewhere between human and… not.

Its horns, however, were decorated in green ribbon and pretty flowers. That was a nice touch.

“Mr. Scar,” the woman said in a heavy Vindouxian accent, confirming Scar’s suspicions. “May I have a moment of your precious time?”

If only she knew how precious that time was. Scar had to resist the urge to check his watch again.

Instead he bowed slightly. “May I speak to the madame after my speech? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Ah, but Mr. Scar, I’m afraid I insist. It is the contents of this speech that concern me – no, concern all of Vindoux.”

Scar’s heart sank. “Are you the wife of the diplomat?” Truth be told, he was a little surprised. The diplomat was a rude and cantankerous man. Despite his prestige and power, Scar had difficulty imagining any woman actually settling down with him, but if anyone were to… this woman certainly exuded some powerful air of control.

She cocked her head. “The monsieur is unfortunately feeling rather unwell tonight, so I came in his stead. I am his eventual successor – I’m rather surprised that you haven’t heard of me. The lady diplomat of Vindoux is quite the cause for chatter in this country.”

Scar was very grateful that his mask was full-faced – his cheeks were definitely burning. He had always thought of himself as rather progressive, but he supposed old biases died hard.

He bowed again, ducking his chin. “Forgive my rude assumption, madame .”

She tittered, producing a fan from… somewhere, fluttering the delicate, lacy contraption in front of her face. “You’re forgiven. Not everyone reacts as gracefully as you.”

She then turned, glancing back at the man who Scar now presumed to be her bodyguard. “ Ma chérie , leave us for a moment – I wish to speak with him alone.”

He hesitated. “But madame… ”

Oh. Not ‘he’ at all. At this point, Scar felt about ready to crawl into a hole. At least this time he hadn’t managed to put his foot in his mouth.

Though honestly, he could be forgiven for his assumption. She was certainly dressed like a man. Her long, blonde hair was tucked back in a no-nonsense bun, more suited for a working woman than a fancy party. More damning was, of course, her suit. The only times he had seen women wearing pants were the few militaries that allowed female soldiers, and even then, they usually had long coats that looked almost like a pseudo-dress.

Even her mask was, well, masculine. It was clearly a bald eagle, each feather meticulously sculpted as if to be as sharp and off-putting as possible, beak gleaming gold in the light; though Scar supposed it didn’t hold a candle to her companion’s mask in terms of fear factor.

“I insist,” the diplomat said, snapping Scar out of his momentary distraction. “I want to have an honest conversation. No intimidation.”

She lovingly ribbed her companion, who still seemed hesitant. Nevertheless, after a moment, the tall woman bowed. “Of course, madame. I will be waiting for you.”

With that proclamation, she disappeared into the crowd, melting away as easily as a shadow.

“Now then.” The diplomat said, snapping her fan closed. “To business. What was this I heard about your Solvan fiancé?”

“Husband.” Scar automatically corrected, then flinched. Void, his husband. The man he very desperately needed to talk to; the task he was rapidly running out of time for.

She made a noise. “Husband, then. Mr. Scar, do I need to remind you of your neutrality agreement?”

She did not. It was one of the reasons he so very desperately needed to give a speech.

At the beginning of ConCorp’s involvement in the war, Scar had signed an agreement to sell weapons to both sides of the conflict, with no exclusivity promises – other than, of course, the exclusivity that came with selling to the highest bidder. It was an arrangement that often benefitted Vindoux. It was simply a wealthier country.

No doubt she was scared to lose that edge.

“ Madame, all of this will be addressed in my speech. If you are really so worried about it, then let me assure you right now, my marriage was purely for love. There is no business about it.”

“You say that, but how can you promise it?” There was an inescapable edge to her voice, a driving, demanding force. “Even if it was truly for love and love only, can you really say that your husband’s country means nothing to you?”

“It doesn’t.” Scar said flatly, then froze.

His vision had melted away. No longer was he gazing down at the cross diplomat of Vindoux. Instead, he saw beauty.

A stark, craggy mountain range, dusted in snow. A thick forest in autumn, red and gold leaves turning the light rich and otherworldly. An entire ocean turned to ice, each crack an opportunity for fishing, for living . Solhav.

But the vision didn’t end there. A cold north gave way to a mellow south. Grand moors, dotted with flowers and cut open by trenches of white chalk. Beaches not so dissimilar from the one below Scar’s manor, water pale but holding secrets of great beauty. Cambria.

He even saw rows of vineyards and orchards, felt the wonderful crush of sweet juice in his mouth as he swiped plums off of trees. Vindoux.

And just as he had that thought –

The orchards were on fire. Acres of trees, turned to jagged black skeletons, fingers reaching desperately for a reprieve that would not come. The ruins of buildings, of entire towns – hundreds of years extinguished in the matter of seconds. The cold water of a ocean, far from here, littered with the ruins of boats and bodies, the desperation with which his lover clung onto life –

Scar gasped, shaking his head as the visions faded away. What… what had just happened?

More memories. There was no other explanation – he had experienced another foray into Grian’s mind. But why? What triggered it? It felt almost like karmic retribution, a rebuttal to his callousness.

But even still, why Vindoux? He had no idea Grian had even been there. Surely if he was being punished for not caring for Solhav, he wouldn’t be shown its enemy.

“Mr. Scar?” the diplomat called uncertainly, snapping him out of his haze. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry, just – just got lost in thought.” He took a grounding breath, rubbing his finger over the smooth metal of his pocket watch. He could worry about… whatever that was some other time.

“Look, madame, the neutrality agreement is already in ink. I can’t give much stronger of a promise than being legally bound to follow my word, and certainly not at a party. All I can offer you is this; I have no plans to go back on my agreement, and if you’re still not satisfied, you can take it up with ConCorp’s lawyers. They’ll tell you the same thing.”

She hummed, clearly not thrilled by his answer – and yet she didn’t press further.

“Now, I really must take my leave. Perhaps I will see madame and her chérie later tonight over hors d'oeuvres ?”

She opened her fan with another clat – this time, the flutters had a distinctly embarrassed edge to them. “Perhaps. Though don’t think you’re off the hook yet.”

“Noted.” Scar said, bowing his head.

As he straightened, finally walking past her and towards his destination, his mind couldn’t help but wander back to his vision. Had he been reaching out inadvertently? Or maybe it had been Grian, opening himself up for the first time in days.

That was almost certainly just wishful thinking; the bond had been horribly still for days. Cut off from each other, from themselves. Not surprising, but… it still felt terrible.

It should’ve just been a return to normal – after all, Scar had lived the first thirty-two years of his life without experiencing anything like it. And yet… that bond, that connection between them, was so sweet, so unforgettable, that its absence was all the more torturous.

If Grian had opened himself up, even just a little… maybe there was still hope.

Scar checked his pocket watch, cursing under his breath. Four minutes. Not enough time for a conversation. Nether, it probably wasn’t even enough time to get to the stage – as the hour drew nearer, the excitement was palpable, making it even more difficult to get through the crowd.

But even just seeing him beforehand, reassuring him that he wanted to reach out, to make some amends…

Scar stopped.

There weren’t many people at the wet bar. A couple sitting at the edge, chatting away. A man already slumped over, head in hands. The bartender, cleaning a glass.

None of them wore a red cloak. None of them were Grian.

Scar’s heart plummeted.

He made his way to the bar as if in a dream, not even feeling the plush velvet beneath him as he sat at one of the stools. He just stared, unseeing, at the dark whorls of the wooden bar.

He had been too late. And now it was all for nothing.

He wouldn’t be able to save his reputation – not without Grian. The rumors would just continue, compounding into greater, more lascivious lies.

And yet… Scar couldn’t manage to muster up any kind of feelings about that other than a dull apathy. The worry that had been haunting him for weeks – no. Had been haunting him for years.

He tried to really picture it, picture the consequences. Scandal, dissolution of ConCorp, going completely broke, losing everything. It all barely registered.

All he cared about was Grian.

“Mr. Scar?” Oh. The bartender.

He managed to drag his gaze up. The bartender had his head cocked as he gazed down at Scar, concerned expression plain behind his small blue half-mask.

Right. He knew this bartender, didn’t he? He had certainly been hiring the same person for every gala – much easier that way.

“Keralis.” he finally managed to reply, digging the name out of the recesses of his mind after an awkward few seconds.

“My, my.” Keralis clicked his tongue. “You are the second-saddest fishie I’ve seen tonight.”

“Axolo’ls aren’ fish.” A voice beside him slurred. Startled, Scar turned towards its source, and was even more surprised to see that he now recognized the man as Xisuma.

He was wearing a startlingly pink suit, complete with a strange mask that appeared to have some kind of… fronds sticking out of the side. Scar supposed that he was supposed to be an ‘axolo’l’, though he had no idea what that was.

It certainly didn’t help that Xisuma’s natural north Cambrian accent was out in full force, making him even harder to understand. He usually repressed it for fear of looking uncultured, but Scar supposed being drunk unlocked all sorts of things.

“Orcas aren’t fish either.” Scar ran his finger morosely over the fine wooden grain of the bar. “They’re not even whales. Isn’t that funny? They’re called ‘killer whales’, but scientists say they’re dolphins. Guess ‘killer dolphin’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

Keralis put his hands on his hips. “Well, aren’t you just a pair of smarty-pants. Fine then. You’re the saddest killer dolphin I’ve seen tonight.”

Scar managed to laugh at that.

“M’kay. So, what’ll it be?”

Scar sighed. What he needed was to bite the bullet, get up off this bar stool, and go give his speech. Instead, he just said “Whiskey neat. Whatever you have is fine.”

Keralis laughed. “My my, Mr. Scar. It’s like you’ve forgotten that you have the entire world at your fingertips.”

Xisuma cocked his head. “Don’ listen to him. He jus’ wants to make a frui’y cocktail.”

“Oh, hush up, Shashwammy.” Keralis tutted. Nevertheless, within a moment, Keralis had poured a plain glass of whiskey, sliding it to Scar with a flourish.

Scar reached behind his head, undoing the ribbons that held his mask in place. After a moment, it fell away from his face, and Scar placed it in his lap. The orca stared back at him, teeth still gleaming.

Scar brought the whiskey up to his lips, and despite it undoubtedly being a rather fine liquor, he could barely taste it. Just felt the fire going down.

“Mm. Very sad indeed.” Keralis said thoughtfully. “What has you so down, Mr. Scar?”

Scar swirled the contents of his glass. “Have you seen Grian? Wearing a seal mask, red cloak?”

Keralis cocked his head. “Sure. Was here just a few minutes ago. Went off with a woman.”

Oh.

A woman. Scar shouldn’t be surprised – they weren’t even in a relationship, let alone an exclusive one. It was completely within Grian’s right to enjoy some company at a party.

Didn’t make him feel any better about it.

Scar hadn’t realized it was possible to feel worse than he had, but tonight was apparently a time of new lows.

“Who is he, anyway?” Keralis asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. “Talked to me in Solvan. Interesting fella.”

“He’s my husband.” Scar said mournfully, staring at his drink.

“Oh… I’m sorry, Mr. Scar.” Keralis replied, sounding genuinely remorseful.

“‘S okay.” Scar managed. “Our relationship is complicated. I was just… I don’t know. I was hoping to talk to him.”

“Well, you still can.” Keralis encouraged. “He almost certainly hasn’t gone far.”

“No point. Had to talk to him before my speech in…” Scar pulled out his watch. “Two minutes ago.”

“Mr. Scar!” Keralis admonished. “You need to get going! There are journalists who are waiting for you!”

Scar groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Stage fright?”

Scar managed a derisive snort. “Hardly. I’ve faced those vultures many, many times before. I just… I can’t bring myself to care.”

A sudden banging noise startled him, and he whipped around to face the source. Xisuma had slammed his pint glass against the table, some of the ale inside sloshing onto the surface of the bar table.

“Sashwammy…” Keralis started, a clear tone of warning in his voice.

Xisuma ignored him. “Mr. Scar… how can you say tha’?”

Scar blinked in shock. Was Xisuma… angry? Was he getting angry? At him?

When Scar didn’t respond, X just barreled on. “How could you say that? After all of this – after all of the last minu’e changes, the nether you put me an’ my team through, the funding you pulled – how could you say you don’t care?”

Scar just blinked stupidly. He had never seen Xisuma like this. He had seen him drunk before, certainly. Nether, X seemed to get drunk at most HEP galas. Something about being glad it was finally over. But this… this was something else entirely. Some facet of his personality that Scar had seemingly dragged into the light.

“Are all the things they say true?” there was an edge of desperation to his words now. “That you founded HEP as a vani’y project? That you only care about your reputation? What’s the truth, Scar? What is it?”

“I…” Scar started. He swallowed thickly. “I… I did care. I do care. About HEP, I mean. The environment. All of it. I just… I lost focus of what was really important.”

“If you care, then go up there!” Xisuma swung his arms wildly. “Go beg from donations from your rich friends. Do wha’ good you can.”

Scar ducked his head. He really had screwed X over – taking over what should be his ball, forcing donations to go towards his selfish project rather than raising any money for actual conservation.

It was too late to change any of that now. But it wasn’t too late for the truth.

“It… it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… the donations don’t matter. This whole ball – no. The project itself. It doesn’t matter. Not the way you want it to. The marine research facility, when completed and utilized as planned, would have… maybe twenty percent of its operations dedicated to discovery and conservation. The rest would go towards weapon development.”

Xisuma was silent for a moment. “Why… why are you telling me this?”

Scar shrugged, shaking his head. “You asked for the truth. Maybe I wanted to try telling it for once.”

There was a long beat of silence. Xisuma took a deep, deep swig of his ale. “You’re no’ gonna have me killed or somethin’, right?”

“I’ll be honest, X, I have bigger fish to fry.”

“Not a fish.” Keralis corrected, startling Scar – he had somehow forgotten the man was even there.

He was once again surprised, this time by Xisuma bursting into too-loud laughter. Harsh cackles that shook his entire frame, which rapidly dissolved into awful sobs.

“Oh, Sashwammy…” Keralis sighed, leaning over to pat the man on the shoulder, who was inconsolably wailing into his mug.

Void. He must’ve lost his edge – giving concessions to diplomats, working up previously loyal employees to the point of tears, not even managing to gain an audience with his own damn husband.

At this point, Scar wanted nothing more than to crawl back to his room and sleep the rest of the night off.

But he had made promises, hadn’t he? Promises to the diplomat – void, he hadn’t even caught her name – promises to his friends, promises to himself.

He knocked back the rest of his whiskey, nearly choking on the fiery liquid as it ran down his throat. The clink of his glass felt like a death knell.

He went to put his mask back on, but something stopped him. Instead, he just placed it on the bar’s surface, the empty eyes of the orca staring back at him.

He was out of time. Had been out of time for a while. Whether he liked it or not, the only way out was through.

#scarian #hermitshipping #hermitshipblr #hermitcraft fanfic #pialm #my art #my writing

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wraithcxre · 9 months

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at this point in time, i once again allow myself to feel and love.

looking back, the universe had cradled me in its arms of space and time without the past, unascended me knowing.

i love the world because i love that one random atenean who gave me her 3 day pass to conquest just so i can hang out with my friends. despite my offers to compensate, she declined just because. i love remember hans who gave me his m&g so i can see hakao. i love because daniel has always seen my brain rot and meme'd the fuck out of my stupid shenanigans. a distant yet long term friend for years, i knew that he was game for anything risky, fun and borderline illegal. i remember the time we door bell pranked other houses within tondo for the hell of it. also because he smuggled smirnoff and watched autotelic live with me and other friends we've met as well. because sigrid blessed me with her amazing dj set and through music, i made a friend.

mani and hannah and sab and shiva was love when they reminded me of my worth. that boys aint shit. that womanhood doesnt have to feel like a chore, and that being a lady is a blessing. they reminded me of what i was and what standards should be. kiel reminded me i belonged when i was invited for a second time to knkland, and i get to meet so many amazing people like nica, jd and etc

love is abundant because through ej, i met new friends as well. these friends turned into late night sessions in discord complaining about coursework and planning spontaneous after class detours, like little trips to tomas morato. i would eventually come to see tagaytay with these people, trying out rides i alone would never do. anchor's away was hell but it wasnt when ej told me to inhale and exhale upon descent, and when kyle shouted about how he hates sir harold. i came to enjoy the bumpy ass ride of life with these people, the people i shared grab fees with. the people i had treasured conversations with as we went home. erika and danne always were spot on with their motherly advices and gayish quips about life, and i would always appreciate cleo stealing my phone just to fill it with wack-ass videos about them knocking on it. sitting through 9 hours of college was easy when i get to navigate it with people like alessandro and kyla, whom i shared a newfound love of 3D with. i always looked forward to the tusok tusok ventures and how kyle would always treat me street food, even when he didnt need to. fibel was there for every spontaneous paresan adventures . i would never forget the time he and hannah handled me like i was chinese porcelain during a frenzied breakdown at a place where i couldn't hold myself together. these people have seen slivers of the real me and looked at me straight in the eye anyway despite my qualms to push them away. being loved while juggling the mortifying ordeal of being known is a terrifying feeling, but i felt safe because of these people.

love is when you have people to cook with. ej taught me that care came in the form of a microwavable container filled with a generous amount of food - food that my mother would come to love. that you can share the kitchen as a sous-chef and that you would be cooked for, too - like how you used to cook for others. that there are many ways to cut an onion and that you'd end up crying as you peel the layers (of people?) everytime. it was a lesson in aromatics.

kei, my friend for more than a decade, reminded me of this when she brought me food despite the fact that it was raining. percy, who made sure i ate before i took my medicine the time i had a burning hot migraine fever because of how stressful finals week was.

i knew i was loved when despite the nosy banter from friendship, i had someone to cram requirements with. that i dont have to go through finals week alone. that a treat of strawberry drink from kyle and jeff meant that theyre giving you energy to get through it, through a warm cup. francine, the ever so strict blockmate of mine loved me when she helped me manage our production team, because she knew i had too much on my plate to manage and handle. even if she was sometimes a bitch about it.

i love the world because of precious experiences. tamiel, with her chatty nature, was loved by me because she always made sure to invite me wherever she goes - may it be ukay, a spontaneous trip for ramen, the tattoo shop id eventually come to work for and the stories we tell each other had no end. she'd tell me otherworldy stories about her OCs and i knew despite the harsh exterior she usually projects, she's a softhearted child at heart. kuya, who trusted my vision and talent, gave me love when he offered to do my tattoos for free, in exchange for my work. dell and i watched barbenheimer together in matching themed outfits. it was a refreshing break. dell also witnessed the time when the UP prof gave me fish for free, then we visited UPCM afterwards. a dream, fulfilled. i had always dreamed of playing UP's pianos and i had done it. gan and i shared a lighter after we departed the jeep, after coincidentally riding the same one. gan, ej and angelo and percy and i formed a band after we found out our shared love for music and it has been one of the highlights of my college life so far. i looked forward to the jamming sessions every tuesday and saturday, and imagine my excitement when i found out there's a nearby studio :D

i felt like a game character in persona 5 who had multiple waypoints along kamuning. i had a newfound love for persona 5 after andres lent me his copy. he also was the one who taught me how to mix and record in fls. i wont forget the time i also was given fish supplies for free by that one stoner dude from reddit and i was also accompanied as i shopped for my fish. aquascaping as a hobby introduced me to newfound connections and people who liked the same things as me and it was nice. if i could talk to my betta and told him these, i hope he is happy n proud i am making friends bc of him. i still havent named the others yet, but i do know that he is blade - because he's colored like that one character from star rail.

i know that love can extend so much more from this. and so ill keep my head, heart, arms and palms open - walls broken as i move to accept what has always been rightfully deserved - love. it nestles in every leaf and every whisper of the wind, and it exists even in waters and fishes. it exists in animals and people and lives ,

and if life is not about love, then what is it supposed to be for?

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dreams-of-the-arcana · 1 year

Text

In the Line

Characters: Cleo Rosehyn and Amir Pinawal ( @snikker-doooo ‘s OC)

Type: Fluff, Drabble

Warnings: None

“What horrible level of hell spawned this torture? Are we being punished? Is this the real eternal damnation we’ve brought upon ourselves for our sins?”

“It’s a car pick-up line at an elementary school, Amir. You’ve faced harder challenges than this,” Cleo said and turned to look at the frustrated man beside her.

Amir only rolled his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. They’d been stuck in the line for almost 20 minutes and had once again come to a standstill. Every Friday they both endured it to pick up their kids and spend the afternoon together. Despite not being a couple they agreed that it was important for the pups to spend time with them both occasionally. That led to their Friday afternoon hang-out. All five of them did something fun, ate dinner, and put the kids to bed together.

Cleo stifled a giggle as she imagined what Amir must look like on his days to pick them up. His sensitive ears picked it up though and he looked at his companion. She was the very picture of serenity in her sunflower sundress with her curls cascading down her shoulder and back. Sometimes he wished he had her patience.

On her side, Cleo admired him. She knew he wasn’t really that frustrated. His words were sharp but his body relaxed in the driver's seat. Even with his dreads pulled back and jeans on though he looked like a man of action. Ready for anything at a moment's notice without hesitation. She loved that about him.

“Finally,” he muttered as the cars began to move again. “That last batch must have been a truckload.”

“Some parents say that about us as well.”

“Ours know how to move though. They’re efficient.”

“And excitable.”

“That too.”

They shared a smile and pulled forward. A teacher with a walkie leaned down to Cleo’s window.

“Who’re here for?”

“Tamora, Sylvia, and Neil Rosehyn-Pinawal”

“Alright,” he stood back up to speak into the walkie. “The Rosewals parents are here.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth three children burst through the doors.

“Mama!”

“Dad!”

“It’s Friday!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Me too!”

“What’s for dinner?”

“Got any snacks?”

They trampled over each other to get into the backseat, not pausing to breathe or get any answers. Amir gave them a look in the rear-view mirror and they quickly settled down into their seats with their big smiles.

“Hello, my little loves, how was school today?” Cleo asked and pulled out the little cooler she brought. The pups were usually hungry so she always came prepared. After they each had their snack they started recounting their days in the usual pattern; Tamora spoke while the others ate, then Neil took over so Tam could snack, and finally Sylvia.

“Did you catch any bad guys today, old man?” Neil piped up once he was finished.

“Of course, little pup. I am the best Detective you know.”

“Officer Scott said the same thing last time we visited your work, Dad!” Tam said.

“Scott doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m the best and he’s just jealous.”

“Mama, is that true?”

“Oh absolutely, sweetheart, your Dad is the best.”

Amir’s proud smile shined a bit brighter. He took a lot of pride in his work. Someday he may even tell the kids it was how he met Cleo. But that was a hard story they’d need to agree to tell together many years in the future.

“Well… if Mama says…”

He scowled in the mirror.

“If Mama says? What about dear old Dads word?”

The triplets only giggled.

Amir looked back over at Cleo, she smiled and shook her head. They had gotten so good at communicating without needing words.

Co-parenting wasn’t always easy and they’d had their fair share of problems. But in moments like these they both loved every second. They shared a mutual respect and admiration that their kids thrived with. Plus the love of the three little pups in the backseat. There wasn’t anywhere they’d rather be

#Cleo Rosehyn #Cleo the Apprentice #modern au #Amir Pinawal #co-parenting #Drabble #fluff #fluff prompts

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Angel With A Shotgun

Rick Flag (The Suicide Squad) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE NEW SUICIDE SQUAD MOVIE, Death, Blood and Gore, Swearing

Summary: Being Christopher Smith’s best friend since the early days of army training camps Y/N is more than honored to be going on a mission with him. Little does she know, there are more secrets at play than she could ever imagine. Good thing the girl’s always prepared.

Requested by no one, I’m just PISSED!!! The writers did us dirty AS FUCK and I’m not gonna stay quiet about it so please enjoy this fic and let’s pretend it’s canon. Cool? Cool.

“Careful up there, ok?“ That’s the last thing he said to me before we went our separate ways, following the plan we had conjured up earlier. I knew he wasn’t referring to the bombs I was supposed to plant or the ‘always watch your back, even around allies’ rule. He meant it genuinely. And he meant it for me. That sentence coupled with the look in his eyes when they met mine was enough for me to read between the words and grasp the true message.

And all I could do was offer him a small nod and an even smaller smile.

A smile he vaguely returned before turning and walking off with Cleo and Grieves. And that’s how I remembered him, wishing for that picture to be the one I remember of him in case I die.

In case I die. I never considered the other possibility.

“Listen, Y/N. I’m gonna do something bad. Something really horrible. But it’s the right thing to do. I must do it. You know I only do things I must, right? You know me.“ He pleaded with me, eyes begging me to trust him as he basically told me he was derailing from the plan we had constructed down to the tiniest detail.

My hands shook as I adjusted the bomb to the wall, my eyes widening and any words I wanted to tell him dying in my throat, leaving me speechless before him. As if automatically, my head moved on its own, nodding. It’s the only thing I’ve known I guess. Chris says something and I automatically agree cause I trust him limitlessly. Isn’t that how it always is with best friends after all? Can anyone blame me really?

But can anyone also blame me for my gut screaming not to let it go so easily?

There’s no real friends in the field, Y/N. He’s got a mission, you’ve got one of your own. You shouldn’t even be here, goddamn it! Go! GO, right this instant!

Gut feelings, the closest thing to being psychic. And boy does Flag owe my gut feeling his life.

But heroism always comes at a price, doesn’t it? There’s always a reward and a price that you never saw coming in the first place.

The reward is easy to guess, but the price can vary so drastically it can never be measured or foreseen.

That’s what happened to me when I decided to follow Chris.

The task I gave myself upon boarding the aircraft was simple, and the biggest price in my eyes was losing my life but I was already prepared for that when Waller recruited me on the very first mission.

Little did I know the price of saving Rick would be the look of utter betrayal in my best friend’s eyes, looking at me with the same intensity as a hundred voices screaming ‘TRAITOR’ at me.

“I’m sorry, Chris.“ I managed to say, my hands gripping the shotgun with all my might just so I don’t drop it. “You were sent here to cover up Waller’s dirty laundry, and I came here to protect Flag.” I cock my gun upwards, praying Chris doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. “So keep your hands off him!“

He shakes his head, “You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, Y/N! Him over me?! Some fucking nobody over someone who’s been by your side for a whole fucking decade?!“

I gulp, my resolve only strengthening as a result of his guilt tripping. “You heard me. Friends or family, you don’t get a second chance for being a traitor.”

“Me?! I’M the traitor here?! He just threatened to send our country into chaos because of his righteousness!“ He roared, his gun clutched just as tightly. It may be the tension suggesting it but eventually, I know it’ll come down to who’ll pull the trigger first.

And that realization has cold sweat running down my body.

“Fake peace built atop lies is worse than a war!“ I snap, now aiming my gun at him, determined to be the first to send a bullet flying across the room. Not cause I want to survive for myself. But for Rick. If I die, so will he. Chris doesn’t play fair. Rick is knocked out and Chris won’t even think before turning his body into a bag of bullets.

I won’t let that happen.

A gun’s pointed at me now too, sending my heart beating louder.

“Then you’ve picked the wrong side.“ He mutters with despise, “If you see me as no friend, I have no reason to hold back either.“

And that’s the last push I needed to send those three bullets I had with his name on them straight into his chest, at least one undoubtedly hitting his heart.

Did it hurt with all the memories we have made together in mind? Of course it fucking did. I may be a soldier/criminal but I’m not made out of stone, damn it.

But did it feel relieving knowing what he was seconds away from doing? Pains me to admit but yes.

With a heavy sigh I sling my shotgun over my shoulder and carefully walk over to Rick’s still unconscious form laying on the tiled floor.

“Colonel?“ I whisper, ducking down to give his shoulder a slight shake, “Flag, please don’t do me like this, wake up. Please wake up, Rick.“ I jump, almost losing my balance when I hear what sounds to be Harley screaming for a brief second before a loud crash echoes above.

I can’t stay here with whatever hell my teammates are going through going on above my head, threatening to wipe them all out and them Rick and me too. So, I make a quick and a rather stupid decision. Slinging one of Rick’s arms over my shoulders I wrap an arm around his waist and somehow manage to hoist him up, bringing him weakly to his feet and earning a small groan from him as if reaching me from the other side of a wall of fog.

“There you are, Colonel. Let’s go, the team’s counting on us.“ I say, desperately trying to push forward with the weight of my shotgun and Rick pushing my already exhausted and weak body down.

“Y/N...that you?“ He asks, his voice groggy, “Or am I dead? Are you an angel? Where am I?“

Damn Chris must’ve knocked his head pretty hard, I think to myself.

Just as I’m about to answer, Rick lifts up his hand to run it over his face to help himself wake up fully but he accidentally hits the handle of my shotgun, causing him to let out a chuckle. “Angel with a shotgun, I see. Then it must be you, Y/N.”

“Bet on it, Flag.“ I reply with a chuckle, almost sighing with relief when he manages to hold some of his weight up by himself, “Not gonna lie, you gave me quite the scare.“

“Never gonna happen again. That’s a promise, doll.“ He drawls, his head resting against my shoulder more as an endearing gesture than need for support.

“Better keep it. Not looking forward to finding you actually dead one day.“

“No worries, angel. No such thing will happen.“

“Good.“

He knows better than to disobey an angel with a shotgun. Smart man.

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myundeadgayson · 2 years

Text

Last Life SMP Assassins AU

Yes, I have many AUs and stories to be working on, but then I got a thought about Flower Husbands being Rival Assassins and it was all downhill from there...

So without further ado, welcome to the brainrot, everyone!

Let me introduce you to all our lovely alliances and civilians:

The Southlands (Otherwise known as “The Southerners”):

The Southlands is an underground organization that’s run by its founder, Grian. The members include Mumbo Jumbo, Impulse, Martyn Littlewood, and Jimmy Solidarity.

Members are hired out by clients to “take out” given targets for a fair price. The group began as a small project by Grian to give the crew a way of making quick, easy money by sabotaging targets as needed. Somewhere along the way, they ended up falling into the “do you want me to kill that guy for you:)” line of work.

Considering Grian’s background in having previously been an assassin before the group was created, it felt almost natural for him. Perhaps that’s why he got positioned as the leader. The others came into this life one-by-one, and don’t plan on leaving.

They’re founded on trust and loyalty in one another, but its hard to miss the way they glance over their shoulders. Each of them have their secrets to hide. Some can’t help wondering if they stick together out of loyalty, or they’re just in too deep to find a way out.

The B.E.S.T. Organization:

As the name implies, they are the BEST! (Or well... That’s the tagline anyway.)

The B.E.S.T. Organization isn’t much of an organization. It’s more of a ragtag group of friends that randomly became hitmen for money. They’re led by Skizzleman, mostly because Skizz is the only one that keeps them on track. The other members include Etho, Bdubs, and Tango.

They’re much more well-known than their competitors, probably because they’re basically just casual hitmen. While all the competition feels professional with their actual meeting places, the BEST team mostly just hang around at night in shady, underground bars playing pool and joking around until someone approaches them.

There’s a running joke about how their weekends were either going to consist of regular game nights or killing people, and this is what they settled on — both.

Regardless of how unprofessional they feel, they actually take their jobs very seriously. Another joke is how Etho feels far too natural in this line of work, which... isn’t far off. He just doesn’t ever mention that there’s a reason he’s so good as sneaking around and taking lives.

They have, in fact, considered putting out a newspaper ad about their “removal” services. It’s only by pure luck that they haven’t been arrested yet.

The Fairy Alliance:

The Fairy Alliance is an underground organization led by Lizzie. She’s known by the Alliance as the Fairy Queen. Her righthand is known as the Queen’s Hound, or Rendog. The two other members are Cleo and BigB.

Unlike their competitors, the Fairy Alliances seeks to be more of a helpful service. They’re willing to actually counter the attacks of the other organizations and offer protection to those that seek their help. Seek to avoid murder and death, but they will take all necessary measures to make sure their job is done.

Due to their excellent ability of keeping to the shadows, the Fairy Alliance has rarely been seen and their existence feels more rumored than real. However, as unreal as they seem, it’s a well-known fact to avoid invoking the wrath of the Queen, lest you want to meet the Hound.

Strangely enough for an organization that prides itself on protection, the Queen is often described to look quite vicious. The descriptions usually consist of her having a blinding smile full of razor sharp teeth. Her face is always shadowed and the rumors always include the weight of eyes on their back. The glowing red eyes of her Hound glower over her shoulder.

Lizzie actively encourages the rumors because it means no one suspects a sweet, pink-haired woman to be the leader of a secret operation.

Girlboss and Gatekeep:

Not an organization, but it’s more just Scott and Pearl’s own assassin services. There’s no leader between them either.

The typical dynamic between them is that one of them goes out to do a job while the other secretly feeds them information through a comm. Most of the times, Scott is the one that goes out while Pearl acts as his person in the chair, or his Oracle.

They do often swap depending on the missions. While they’re both entirely capable, Scott usually ends up going out to work the more stealthy missions. Pearl is usually reserved for the more “stabby stabby kill” missions.

That doesn’t mean that Scott can’t be deadly. Scott is dangerous in a very Black Widow-esque way. He’s silent and methodical about every task given, and completes it in the most efficient way possible. He doesn’t waste time, but simply goes in, does his job, and gets out in a timely manner.

Pearl is very much capable of doing the same, but occasionally there are missions that require more... ruthless forces. In short, there’s a reason Pearl enjoys throwing knives for fun.

They tend to take job offers from the biggest clients. While they’re most notable for completing hits, they’re also willing to go on information-gathering missions and secretly sabotage the opposition of their clients. As long as they’re paid well, they’re willing to do about anything.

Magical Mountain:

Scar runs a magic shop. That’s it that’s the tweet.

asjdakgjdsh But no, really.

Magical Mountain is a quaint, little shop in the middle of the city. It sits on the corner, easy to miss but upon noticing, near impossible to forget. It’s made from beautiful teal warped woods and copper. Glowing lanterns dangle from the overhang roof. The shop appears rather thin from the outside, but it’s actually much bigger than it seems.

There’s two floors. The top floor is meant as a storage/working space. Though it’s mainly a mess of boxes and knickknacks, there’s an area set up for Scar to tinker in. There’s also some furniture setup for lounging, but also for those occasional nights that Scar stays a bit too late.

The bottom floor is, of course, the shop area. As the name implies, it’s a magic shop full of “magical” items. It’s more like a kid’s toy shop themed around wizarding items, but Scar does pride himself on certain items, such as his “Magical Crystals” that he claims are 100% Real and Authentic. It’s a bit of a scam, but Scar makes the sell pretty convincing. (And considering he has actual customers than praise the magic for actually working, it’s kind of hard not to believe sometimes.)

Through a shimmering curtain of amethyst is the backroom, which leads to the stairs, but also a Employees Only area where Joel can usually be found.

Joel works at the shop as well. Though he’s seen most times lounging around and teasing Scar, he actually really enjoys working there. Both of them dress as wizards on the daily, and Joel has a blast playing up the part for the kids that come in. Occasionally, he’ll act like “The Evil Wizard” and put on a whole show for the customers with an “evil voice” and everything. It makes the kids laugh, even if he looks pretty silly while doing it.

Surprisingly, it is, in fact, just an innocent magic shop. There’s no secret organizations here. Just two goofs that like playing dress up. Yes, this is somehow related to the AU.

And there we have it! Those are all out organizations and non-organizations. Feel free to ask questions about how everyone is connected and what not, or whatever else you’d like to know. I’ll come back with more info about that later! (For now, just know I did take a little inspo from the other SMPs as well when connecting people. Take that note as you will<3) For now, I hope you guys enjoyed this!! Thanks for indulging my brainrot!!

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redwinterroses · 3 years

Note

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

///

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

#here have some impulse hc #as a treat. and because impy deserves it #redwinterwrites #sweet dreams #impulsesv #hermitcraft

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redorich · 3 years

Note

-slips into your inbox-

Hullo red, 'tis me, Fidget. Here to haunt your inbox because you have gravely wounded me with so many things today.

First of all, sad Phil. God, he guts me. 'Impulse has a family, he does not need Philza.' has ripped out my heart. Please, this man has been trough so much. Willbur died by his own hands, Tommy he almost killed because he believed dream, and apparently not even Techno trusts him. After all, he did keep Tommy's location a secret from even him for a long time. (That Techno is loyal to a fault does not matter in this horrible interpretation of things.)

And then.

And THEN you hit me with the replaced family bit? Bdkandjakyba. My heart is weak and fragile, please Red.. Please I just... Want this family to heal a little. Someone please teach Phil that he can not shoulder the burden of the world by himself, that he was just one man in a war torn world who did the best he could. And his best wasn't good enough, but that doesn't mean he wasn't trying, that he is a bad person for it.

Like, Tommy had a whole, peaceful Server of well adjusted adults looking out for him and Phil had his bootstraps and the voices of the blood god first in his own and then in Techno's head.

It must've been hard to keep sane (I don't think he quite managed either.)

And maybe Phil doesn't go to see impulse to help him. Because he can see that the hermits are doing a much better job than he ever could, can see that Impulse is getting better not worse like Phil did all that time ago.

But Impulse now helped to save two of his sons. Perhaps Phil ought to make the journey and thank him, shoulders heavy with broken wings and broken hopes. He couldn't give his family what they needed, but impulse could. The hermits could.

It would be rude to leave this deed unacknowledged. (Perhaps Impulse or another hermit who's around sees the Trauma that seems to cling to this family like tar and thinks: Oh, it's free real estate(for adoption). You did mention Xisuma likes to adopt sad people.)

Cleo keeps nudging Philza to talk to Impulse. Philza's friendship with Cleo is new, so he can't yet tell whether it's an "as an immortal I'm telling you not to make a mistake" thing or an "I'm a nosy little weasel" thing. Not that Philza would ever call Cleo a nosy little weasel to her face, even if she'd probably take it as a compliment.

So, he goes and says hello to Impulse in his giant quartz base, even though he doesn't want to. Impulse, for his part, looks a bit taken aback, but takes the visit in stride.

“Y’know, call me crazy, but I got the impression that you don’t like me much,” Impulse laughs awkwardly.

Philza tilts his head, recalling his interactions with Impulse-- or rather, lack thereof. “Oh, ‘cause I was avoiding you?”

Impulse starts, caught off guard by the blatant admission. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did.”

Waving off the concern, Philza speaks freely. “Nah mate, you’re fine. I’ve got no quarrel with you. Anyway, I was just stopping by to say thank you. For-- for taking care of Tommy, and Techno too.” Philza smiles wryly. “’S more than I ever did for them, I guess.”

“You did plenty,” Impulse protests with a furrowed brow. “Techno talks about you all the time.”

The immortal blond blinks, as if he didn’t expect to hear that. “Eh,” he says in lieu of addressing it. Instead, he changes the topic completely.

“I’m trying out this whole ‘Hermit Therapy’ thing,” he says with a shrug, “so I guess that means I’m supposed to talk about my feelings or something? And I’m a grown-ass man, so that feels more than a bit condescending, but I suppose I’ll tell you my opinion so I can at least say I tried.”

Impulse winces at the harsh, uncaring way Philza addresses the situation. Should Impulse be offering Philza a place to sit? For all the redstone farms in the base, there isn’t a chair to be found. Philza doesn’t seem to care.

“I tried raising my kids. Failed.” Philza runs a hand through the long feathers on one of his wings. “You came in and taught Tommy more about being a person than I ever did. That’s fine, he deserves it. I can’t hold it against you.”

“I--” Impulse tries to interject, but Philza talks over him.

“You helped Techno-- I never did figure out how to do that. Again, he needed that, and I’d be a petty fool to get upset just because the person who gave him what he needed wasn’t me.” Philza’s mouth flattens into a grim line.

“But then,” he says, “you went above and beyond. You saw Kharneth hurting Techno-- my boy. And you gave him hope that Kharneth could be killed. Do you know how long I spent, trying to help him come to terms with the fact that Kharneth isn’t someone-- something that can or should be killed?”

Impulse leans back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knows that Philza tried killing Kharneth, the Blood God, and paid a price, but...

Philza runs a jittery hand through his hair. “And then you did it! You killed the Blood God. And I thought, oh, this poor man doesn’t know what he’s done. Surely the Blood God’s powers will break this man’s mind-- after all, if I couldn’t handle it, how could this soft human hope to?”

Wincing again, Impulse stays quiet. Obviously Philza needs to say his piece.

“Then you did,” the immortal says. “Why is it that everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever tried to do, you’re better at it than me? You’ve got my sons wrapped around your finger, you’ve got better control of those powers than I ever did, you’re goddamn happy,” the man spits.

“...I’m sorry you feel that way,” Impulse says in mild shock, groping for the right words.

“And the worst part!” Philza steamrolls over Impulse’s apology, “Is that I don’t even hate you!”

Impulse blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re just...” Philza sighs, holding a wing in front of him like a shield. “You’re everything I wish I was, and I’m jealous and I’m mature enough to recognize that, but... is it weird of me to want to be friends with you too?”

Licking his lips, Impulse chooses his words carefully. “I’d love to be friends with you. For what it’s worth... You’ve got your own strengths, it’s just... harder for you to see them? Because you’re looking at everyone else’s strengths, comparing yourself to them, and evidently, uh. Finding yourself falling short.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I’d never last a month in a hardcore world.”

Philza looks away. “Hardcore, the one thing I’m known for. Easy enough for you to say.” He frowns, not because he’s upset with Impulse, but because he realizes he’s being a cantankerous bastard.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you too well,” Impulse says diplomatically. “Maybe... Yeah, let’s be friends.” He claps his hands together with the air of a man making a plan. “I’ll get to know you better, and then I can tell you what you’re good at, until you can learn to see it for yourself.”

The immortal swipes at Impulse’s head with a wing, but pulls the swing so that he only barely brushes the man with feather-tips. “Good lad,” he says gruffly, but he can’t quite hide his smile.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #impulsesv #philza #ph1lza #sleepy bois inc #zombiecleo #technoblade #me.cpp

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