#i should maybe make a tag for the smp

[tommie-exe]

babababa

Vinestaff doodle from before but more coloured (having complications with her pallete so i might change it a bit)

A vinestaff design for that phighting smp im in ^_^

and Biograft 77 from the smp as well : 3

you guys would never guess what phighters are family in the smp.... although two of them r kinda obvious-

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

hot take, ashril and sylph kinda hate each other. they got some funky rivalry stuff goin on over there. maybe they should kiss about it. who's to say.

[tubbytarchia]

Sosig talking brining up ranchers STAY AWAY FROM THEM GET A JOB

LITERALLY GET AWAY FROM THEMMMM GET A JOBBBB can Sosig's entire character stop being "haha gay people !" and "reference !" sorry

[approximately12lbs-of-ducks]

Whenever I go through @painted-illusions-au or any of the AUs of that AU i feel like I’m just vigorously shaking hands with @rozugold we both love putting c!Tommy in Situations fr fr

I’ll draw their happier healing arcs later together too ksfklksankfl but for now have two Tired Traumatized Boys 

[Image ID: A digital pencil drawing with minimal shading of two exile arc Tommys sitting side by side, facing away from each other. The Tommy on the left (mine from my extended exile AU) has shaggy hair that’s scorched on the ends and is wearing a frayed trench coat and heavily patched pants. The Tommy on the right (Rozu’s from PI/DI) had overgrown hair and eyes painted on his arms, and is wearing a frayed tank top and pants with bandages wrapped around his forearms. Both look very tired and sad]

[comfymoth]

y’know what should have happened cquackity should have killed cdream last spring instead of just torturing him. 1) it would have gotten rid of cdream solving all my problems and 2) the conflicting guilt and righteous fury would have made quackity even sexier. him and sam could write it off as an ‘accident’ and bond over this fucked up secret only they know about it would be just like h—

[antimony-medusa]

One of the things that I think sometimes gets lost when we talk about what's appropriate in fandom spaces is the notion that things can be appropriate in one space, but not for another. And that doesn't mean that the thing that's inappropriate in that setting is wrong, it just means that it's rude in that space. I think people want a single set of rules that's appropriate everywhere, but the thing is, you have to be able to assess the situation, and adjust your behaviour accordingly.

So an example. I have a fairly popular text post that was me asking about c!phil and religion in all innocence, and someone said "the only thing I have to say about c!phil is that he worships on his knees, thank you and goodnight". And I reblogged it like "I can't believe I forgot about how this fandom does phil analysis", cause it was at the height of the dilfza memes.

Anyways that's obviously a phil-is-happily-married/oral sex joke, in an oblique innuendo way, and on this site, where Phil is not here, and his friends are not here, with it being clear I was talking about the block man character, and we make jokes about sex and profanity (a very popular url scheme for a long time was "[name]shugecock" (or smalldick, depending on the joke)— that's a fine joke to make. I'm an adult, I can make sex jokes about fictional characters on the sex joke fictional character social media site.

If I was to make that joke in Philza's twitch chat, a) in his face, b) with his wife modding, c) in an enviroment where people aren't prepped for sex jokes, d) with it being not clear if I was talking about the cubito or about the real guy, that would be wildly inappopriate. I would be banned in every chat Philza mods in and I would deserve it.

That doesn't mean that it's inappropriate to make the joke in the first place though, just because I wouldn't do it at a Phil meet and greet. It means you gotta learn to read the room. (And like, sometimes it's hard to learn to read the room, but you can do it by pure brute-force memorization. I did.)

This is the same theory that underlies the fact that you can call your friends a bitch in a friendly way, because you are friends and you know each other's boundaries, but if you call your boss a bitch, you will be fired. There are rules about workplace appropriateness, and there are rules about what's appropriate in front of kids (I teach teens, I do not swear in front of them, I swear a LOT in front of my roommate), and there are rules about what's appropriate in different fandom spaces. Participating in an exchange about pregnancy and babies with your favourite blorbo of the moment? Great. Showing the actor gift art you got of him pregnant? No. Bad. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The thing that concerns me is that I think there are slight signs that as we get more comfortable with sexy jokes and offcolour remarks as a MCYT fandom (QSMP is the big banner example but it happens with other smps), we're taking what's appropriate in one space (tumblr, home of the brain worms, where I have seen the blog "philzaswetpussy" on my dash), and we're bringing it into places that it's not appropriate (sure, slimeariana is clearly canon, but maybe don't put the actual dicks-out fan art in the art tag on twitter that slime checks). Cause we can obviously tell that the rules twitter is going with are silly for here, so it's full speed ahead for roier/spreen etc, but the trick here is that it's full speed ahead HERE, or in fandom servers, and not necessarily in the streamer's faces.

We have a bunch of situations where creators have said that it's not their place to weigh in on shipping or nsfw etc, and people have taken that as a go ahead and that's fine, but thats still something where I'd like, caution people that just because they said "not gonna look at it not my deal", that doesn't mean that like, you should make it difficult for them to avoid looking at it. Talking about scitties is an honourable tradition, but telling scar that he makes you question your sexuality in his TTS— I made a horrified noise in real life and the cats came to look at me.

And I'm talking about the shipping, but this is also a thing with like— sometimes I see a streamer and I go "my friend you just vividly described neurodivergent symptoms" but it is ABSOLUTELY not my place to say that in their chat. It might not even be appropriate to make comments about it on my blog, with the amount of followers I have. I have to keep the "streamer just described the ADHD experience again :pensive:" comments for the group chat. And we all nod and go "yeah sounds like streamer", and we do not put it in his face, cause that's inappropriate.

We get to have fun with the fictional characters, including off-colour fun, but we still have to remember that there are real people who don't know us who are steering those fictional characters around, and it can be profoundly weird to see some of the (stuff that is appropriate in fandom spaces!) just up in your face in the regular fan art tag.

Just think about the space you're in, and who you're in front of, and if a CC notice is actually likely, and if a CC notice would be Very Bad actually with what you're doing, and keep the "world's sluttiest absent father" bracket (with associated slutty fan art) for here, not with the streamer tagged on twitter.

[floweroflaurelin]

wait you said you did an animatic on your main blog! is that for traffic series’s, is it posted here?

Oh right yes I was meaning to mention this here!! Thank you ahaha

Okay so YES! I did do an animatic, it’s for Empires SMP! No it’s not posted here yet because I am kind of unsure about what do with it… Let me explain.

Over the summer I had to do a big project for school, and it was entirely self-directed with no supervision. That meant it had to be about something I’m Really Passionate About to make sure that it would actually get done. So naturally I chose Empires! I got in touch with Pixlriffs and got his permission to use his audio for a school project (he said yes, thank you Pix <3) and then, audio in hand, went nuts and roughly storyboarded out 8min of an animatic in a single night.

When getting the project approved I told the professor, “hi I am going to do an 8 minute full colour animatic in two months while taking a full course load of classes” and he said

So the plan became to begrudgingly take a 2-3 minute excerpt of the audio and just do that for the class. And I did! And it slapped!! Full colour, rendered paintings you know and love from floweroflaurelin, except they’re moving a little bit. And Pixlriffs is there talking.

I figured at the time that once the semester was over I would paint the other 6 minutes of the animatic on my own time!! How hard could that be, right?? Except Things Kept Happening With School, and once it was over I was moving to a new place and getting sick and Tango’s desk mat took priority, and suddenly it’s over a month later with Do Those Other Six Minutes still on my to-do list.

The real kicker was that one of the Things That Happened With School resulted in me not getting feedback on the project—the teacher wasn’t able to really look at it. I got a grade, but a series of ridiculous circumstances meant that all that work was only briefly glanced at and a grade hastily entered, which was frustrating and resulted in me resenting the project a bit, since I worked hard on something I loved and it got no appreciation at all.

I’d love to share it with people who would appreciate it, which is to say, other fans!! But the thing is—as much as I want it to be Done the way I intended when I storyboarded it out initially, I won’t have the time to paint those six minutes any time soon: Huevember is in a couple weeks, and that’s a big commitment! But in my mind it’s not a complete project unless it’s a Complete Project. So I’ll put the question to you:

So yeah let me know! I’m still pretty busy but either way I want to revisit the animatic, either to paint more frames or to get it prepped for posting (something I’m not sure how to do yet).

(Also good news about Things Happening With School: I graduated yesterday!! Bachelors degree with honours, baby! Maybe now that school is behind me I can turn a new page where that project gets shared 😆)

[sinning-23]

My Latest crush is an alien car from space Pt.2

Okay so iwasnt expecting so many Mirage smps to like up my post but HEYYY welcome home yall lmao. Heres part two and let me know is yall want like a tag list for the next couple parts. ANywhoo there's some tension that forms this chapter so start getting ready for more flirty and spicyyyy interactions with old boy.

Heres the link to pt.1

Heres the link to pt.3 shawty

ANywho ENJOY!

Pt.2

Touch me softly 

Mirage had allowed you to explore his anatomy, and he was more willing than you thought. You had managed to make a nice little sketch of his body and made 4 separate copies to try and get a placement in where everything was. Then you had 5 more separate sheets just in case there were some more internal systems you wanted to note. He watched as your eye brown pinched and formed a line on your forehead and your fingers guided the pencil to the paper. 

“Wow, you drew me kinda sexy.” He jokes making you draw a breath trying to hold back a laugh. 

It really wasn’t sexy, it was about the equivalent of the Vitruvian man drawing and basic anatomical positioning for a robot. He watches you stand, hair pulled back, yet a couple of braids still fall in front of your face. He’s quiet, looking at the way you focused so intensely on exploring him.

When you gestured for him to move his leg, he did so without complaint, the feeling of your soft, warm hands under his exteriors heating him up from the inside. Of course, you’d never know that unless you kept poking and prodding. 

“Ok so compared to me, and well, other humans I’m sure your overall body parts are called different things. So let’s start from top to bottom, yeah?” You suggest, eager to learn. 

Mirage kneels in front of you, giving you an opportunity to see better. You’re much smaller than him, but he could tell when you stood next to Noah you were definitely average human height. Small to him but normal to everyone else. 

“Alright I hope you’re ready cause there’s a LOT.” He explains, clearing his throat as you move closer to his face just to see better, he blinks a bit, getting used to the feeling.

You smile slyly, placing your hand under his chin to  guide his face, 

“Let’s start with your face. Stick out your…tongue?” 

He opens his mouth and lets the ‘flesh’ inside lol out before speaking 

“Gloth-ah” he announces and you tilt your head in confusion, only for him to repeat.

“Glossa” 

You nod prodding at what you soon learned was his helm and face plates. You brush over his vocalizer for a moment and he hums, high-pitched enough to be a moan but not loud enough for either of you to acknowledge it. You know what you heard though.

“Whoa- lets not touch that alright ma?” He asks. 

Soon enough your trailing downward and when you do he announces each part for you to make a note of. This is the quietest he’s been since earlier today. He lets you work, touch, poke, pull, and press whatever you'd wanted. It’s not like it hurt really, but he’s never had something smaller than him want to examine at such close range and actually touch places he’d never been able to. In fact, it was kind of nice-

He yelps when you slide your hand down his chest plate and even farther under his chassis. You pull away, startled at the noise with wide eyes. 

“OK, that’s enough exploring don’t you think?” The statement is rushed and you side-eye him when what sounded like cooling fans whirred from inside.

Had you gotten him worked up? Maybe those were sensitive spots that had never really been touched like that before? You nod, not wanting to pry and ruin this newfound friendship by being a perv. You collect the papers and paperclip them together as he begins to wind down. It's about 6am now, and the sun peeks in through the garage windows. Your dad should be awake about now and- 

You gasp pushing Mirage back into the space he was originally parked in last night(even though he didn’t budge). Your dad couldn’t know about this! AT ALL! Knowing him he'd stress out and then his pressure would get too high and he’d have a heart attack and-

“Whoa hey, what the rush, mamas? Got something to hide?” Mirage questions, figuring out why you were trying to get him back into a corner. 

Was he being clueless on purpose?!

“YES, YOU! Now go back to being a car! My dad can't know about you, it might just be the death of him.” You huff out, gripping your scalp and pacing back and forth. He gets the idea, chuckling a bit before right back to that beat-up Porsche.

You sneak out the garage, tiptoeing up the stairs and into your room. And the moment your head hit the pillow, not even a tornado could wake you. 

__________

You'd be lying if you said you didn't sleep the rest of the day away. By the time you woke up it was already 3-4pm and sounded like your father was cleaning up the kitchen. You sigh, running yourself a shower considering you didn't get one the night before. Mirage was still in the garage as far as you knew and you were hellbent on getting the rest of those notes.

You step in, the water feeling soothing against your skin, steam filling up the bathroom as you sigh in relief. Thoughts of your apartment fill your head. 

‘Maybe Mirage could help with the unpacking? Or maybe not. He could be spotted and then that’s more problems for us. Mirage…..Miraaaaageee….’

Your turn to face the water, soaping up your towel as suds slide down the drain. 

‘I wonder if a car wash is the equivalent of a shower for him….does he stay a car or like…fully transformed….does he have a-‘ 

Shutting the water off you opt to pull your hair back today since youd being doing more exploring. The steam from the bathroom escapes when youleave and pad downstairs, catching a glimpse at the note you father let you on the kitchen counter

~Working late, leftovers in the fridge~

You smile to yourself, grabbing a bottle of water to try and beat the obvious heat outside and head to the garage. Sure enough, the Porsche is right where you left it. Mirage is right where you'd left him, and when you tap on the window, the doors unlock almost instantly. You flatten the back of your blue jean skirt and adjust the seat. Awfully quiet today?

“Well good afternoon to you too sunshine? You realize it’s almost 5 right?.” You joke, hearing him rev his engine and the radio humming to life with the sound of his voice. 

“You had me up all night! Looking this good doesn’t happen on its own! But how tired can I be when a pretty girl in a miniskirt‘s got her thighs on my seat?” He shoots back, making you gasp. 

“Drive you flirt, I got more notes to take. Wanna go to that garage you took me to yesterday?” You ask, using the garage clicker to leave. 

It was hot, the sun beating down on you as Mirage insisted you keep the windows down instead of running the ac. The streets were somewhat empty on this fine Sunday morning and Mirage’s only response was to drive in what you assumed was the direction to the garage. You fidget with the radio nobs and glance at the aux cord below the cd player. Maybe he did have CDs in here? You open the armrest to find nothing but-

It was easy to be nosy and explore when Mirage could drive himself, youd put that together on your own last night. There was so little you knew about him but his demeanor overall made you feel comfortable enough to ask. He was…charming. You pull the blank CD case out the armrest, and dust it off. 

“MIrage’s Mix (from-)”

The name was scratched off, well more smudged than anything. You crack the case open and slide the CD into the player, the wait for the music to start making you a bit nervous. Had he realized you'd put it in? Was it personal? You begin to regret your decision but before you could press the eject button, it began. N.W.A. blasted from the speakers, startling you for a moment but you're soon amused.  What did he know about N.W.A?

________

It doesn't take much longer for you to arrive at the garage, most of the lot being empty while the two of you enter to complete more of your research. You set your purse down, taking the papers from yesterday out and trying to organize them as he peers over your shoulder.

“Still think you drew me sexy-”

You scoff playfully and push him a bit, not moving him in the slightest but still, but he still finds it amusing. 

“Stop it, I need you to sit so I can finish. You got all squeamish on my last night.” You tease, sliding your hand down the back of his ‘leg’ and he freezes.

He kneels back down, watching your every move. Your fingers hover over his vocalizer, the warning from yesterday replaying in your mind. Right, don't touch. You skip his chest plate and chassis, watching his expression slightly change to disappointment for what seemed like only a second. Again, he announces each part of himself, the air slightly awkward and VERY quiet. Maybe now was the time to try and strike up some more conversation.

“Soooo, where are you really from?” You ask, writing down each part you trace over when he speaks. 

“Cybertron actually. Not in your solar system lil mama.” He flirts, turning his palms slightly open when you tap them. 

Servos 

"Never been?" He jokes again, admiring how small your hand looked compare to his.

'Careful Mirage your size kink is showing' he thinks to himself, avoiding your gaze.

You shake your head in response, looking at the details of his hands, moving back to his torso, purposefully skipping over the plated area between his thighs. Boundaries were definitely not something you wanted to cross, trying not to make him uncomfortable. I mean, he was willingly letting you poke around, and he clears his throat when you skip that spot.

“You, you can look if you want. And touch…ask questions. It's all good babygirl.” He offers, almost melting when you look up from under your lashes at him.

 He could practically feel his pump about to explode. Why did Earth girls look so damn pretty? Mirage couldn't wrap his head around it honestly, the feeling he got when he passes a pretty girl when Noah would take him for drives. How they would gasp if he revved loud enough to embarrass Noah a bit but also score him a couple numbers.

Talk about a damn good wingman. You were different though.

You were a softer kind of pretty…He'd seen you come into the garage so many times before you really met. The day your dad parked him in that spot, he watched you skip in with your little low-rise jeans, the piercing you sported shining in the sunlight. 

You hugged your dad, eyes lighitn up at the new car with a gasp. 

“A Porsche! Dad oh my gosh really?” You ask, seeing him nod. You squealed more, inspecting his paint job, it was just as beat up then as it was before you officially met. 

You chatted on and on about how ‘cute’ he’d look when you finally got to paint him a nice shade of hot pink and added your glitter seat covers. Not so exciting for him considering pink wasn't particularly his favorite but god did you look adorable when you were excited. 

And there was that same look. Pure, unbridled excitement, yet your eyes shone almost darker this time. That look is almost salacious. It makes him swallow hard, legs opening a bit more and you brush your hand over his thighs, sparing one more glance as if to ask, ‘Are you sure?’ He only nods. 

“Mirage, you gonna keep telling me what everything is, or am I to assume on my own?” You question, tracing the skirt plate.

Ita hard to speak, his fans feelijg as if they were working overtime to keep him from overheating. Primus you looked so pretty between him and now he was wondering how would you look riding his-

You stop touching, whistling to get his attention. Damn, he kinda liked that.

“ ‘Rag, we good?” You questions and he swallows hard at his new nickname.

Where did all that slick talk go now? 

“Yeah, y-yeah we’re good ma.” He responds finally, optics low when your light chuckle reaches his ears. 

You slide your hands up and down his midsection plating, teasing at this point. How was he supposed to focus on helping you learn when you touch under his plates like that? When your fingers slide over his thighs and over the skirt plate over and over, the pace only makes him want to thrust into your touch.

He felt perverted sort of, getting off on you exploring him in the name of science. That was such bullshit. He looks down at you, watching you pinch your lip between your teeth. Oh….you liked this. Your thighs pressed together as your tongue darts out to lick your lips. 

You look up at him again, smile mischievous. And before he could ask any questions you slid you hand right back to his chassis and vocalizer. Oh that was a moan without a doubt. You hum in satisfaction, you’re practically playing with him, his body. It wasn’t helping that he hadn’t been touched like this in so long either p.

“Wanna tell me what happens if I keep touching you like this?” You purr, seeing Mirage avoid eye contact. 

“C’mon ma, don’t mess with me like this.” He breathes out, hollow.

You stop your ministries after hearing tires and revving come to a halt. With footsteps approaching you stand quickly, Mirage doing the same. He crosses his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall as if he’d been caught while you shove the papers into your bag and swallow hard. You’d never moved so fast in your life.

Noah enters, feeling as if he’s just interrupted something but panicking once he realizes the predicament you were about ot be in. Why were you two here? Did Mirage even think this through? Probably not.  He glances back at the other 3 bots behind him, trying to find a quick solution to hide you. But, before he could get any sort of plan out, three other robots similar to Mirage walked in, and one of them, was not at all pleased. 

“Primeee, i had no idea youd be back so soon!”

_______________________________________

Lemme know waht yall think in the comments lmao and let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist as well!

Mini Taglist: @gniteruirui @veggiepizzababy panty-h03

[spacedykez]

violence? WOOO!! lifesteal.

so, you heard about a silly little server called lifesteal. maybe u wanna try watching it. well what if i told u that we here at lifestealblr have put together a helpful guide to help you succumb to the poisons start watching the server?? join us we are very normal

so! lifesteal! first, a summary. lifesteal is a server where when u die, you lose a heart off your permanent health bar. when you kill another player you gain a heart. heres a list to sum it up:

dying loses you a heart

killing someone else gains you a heart

losing all your hearts = dead and gone from the series, unless youre revived

you can revive dead players through gay sex crafting a special item

you can withdraw hearts from your healthbar and give them to other players

still have questions? heres a better explanation. ok moving on

lifesteal smp has FOUR seperate seasons so far!! the players are the same, give or take a few people. so, where to start?

first, you don't need to watch the seasons in order. you don't need to know anything about previous seasons to watch lifesteal. start with whatever season you want!! that being said, i'd advise starting on season three or season four (the current season) as they are the most popular.

anyways, if you want to just start watching: here is the link to the playlist containing every lifesteal video on youtube, seasons 1-4 here is the link to the playlist containing every season 3 lifesteal video here is the link to the playlist containing every season 4 lifesteal video

[thank you to @a4g and @aroaceacacia for creating and maintaining the lifesteal s1-4 & lifesteal s3 and the lifesteal s4 playlists, respectively]

HOWEVER

if you'd like to start out slow, pick one lifestealer and start watching them!! honestly, the best way to get into it is just to find a guy (or ten) that you like watching and watch their videos!

a note- i am tagging the user who created each propaganda post so that if people change their urls, you will still be able to find the post. theyre definitely NOT the lifestealers themselves lol. also, some of these are not finished! however this has been sitting in my drafts for six months and i need to post it for my own mental health

i should make this a google docs actually. might do that sometime if i get motivation. but anyways, without further ado:

looking for redstone? mrcube (@tater-noodle)

want to feed the adhd? no rlly if u want adhd fuel watch ashswag (@cherubium)*

ever wanted to see capitalist technoblade? reddoons (@bearandhoney-com)

do you want a new cringefail streamer? itzsubz (@rendogdomesticated)

what about a paranoid escape master? rekrap (@vanivanvanilla)

loyalty and storylines to get invested in? leowook (@totallynotrico)

everyone's favorite special little guy? planetlord (@getwoold)

want gay people or pranks? then go watch branzy (@pacificseaotter)

the server's best PVPer? clownpierce [NEEDED] (NOT TAKEN)

1/3 of a whole idiot on a permanent YouTube grind? baconwaffles (@aroaceacacia)

local bird man done with everyone's shit? parrot (@getwoold)

the local funky hand guy? roshambo (@techno-in-a-boat)

background character incarnate? poafa (@simply-scrolling)

the special little guy who can and will kill you? spepticle (@cogmented)

quirky smiley guy who'll kill you? princezam (@vanivanvanilla)

incomprehensible violence! mapicc! (@cogmented)

sillay liddol guy? Creechur™️? pangi [NEEDED] (NOT TAKEN)

DRAGON GUYY!!! vortexdragon. (@vanivanvanilla)

lifesteal's local polar bear? woogie (@tater-noodle)

stuborrn, endearing guy who likes a challenge? jaron (@aroaceacacia)

cringefail foxboy streamer? vitalasy (@rendogdomesticated)

the walking pride flag guy? spoke (@a4g)

"annoying little brother" but endearing? mcclutch!! (@simply-scrolling)

chaotic rascal who loves doing events? midmystic!! (@xxswagcorexx)

awesome visuals and serious storylines? terrain!! (@cherubium)

*my girlfriend's favorite lifestealer and approved by multiple friends of mine with adhd. i really do recommend him just in general.

also, please do go check out the blog of everyone who helped me with this, they're all amazing!!!

[arthropod-concoctions]

And here's a treat i wrote for @oshawottarchive, inspired by @greenix' fantastic artwork "The statue queen and her knight!" very happy i managed to finish this one in time for the @mcytrecursive exchange.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Category: Gen

Fandom: Secret Life SMP

Relationships: Ethoslab & ZombieCleo, Grian & EthosLab

Characters: ZombieCleo, EthosLab, Grian

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, kind of; theres monsters at least, Weeping Angels - Freeform, EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF) is a Weeping Angel (Doctor Who), Gorgon ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF), Time Travel, petrifcation

Summary: What happens when two monsters that can't kill each other cross paths?

Fic below the cut!

Deep in the labyrinthine halls of an abandoned temple that only the exceedingly reckless dared enter, a gorgon stood next to a petrified warrior, trying on his armor.

Cleo fastened the clasps of the breastplate, but quickly unclasped them after seeing how poorly it fit. She sighed as she put the armor back onto the warrior's body. She was getting a bit tired of the dress she was wearing, but none of her recent victims had anything that fit her. It's because female warriors are going out of fashion again, she thought, and no civilians ever enter this temple anymore. Maybe she should try going out into their settlements again. That didn't end too well for her last time, but honestly, she was starting to get bored all alone in here...

“ˈiːθəʊ?” a voice suddenly called out. “hɛˈləʊ?” Cleo froze in place, almost like one of her own victims, trying to determine the source of the call. It was clearly a human, but that wasn't a word in any human language she knew. she also heard footsteps now, seemingly getting closer.

The same words were called out again, and the footsteps grew louder. Maybe this was some fool from foreign lands, who hadn't understood the locals' warnings about this place. That would be a nice opportunity. Cleo began to move towards the sound.

A man with unusually light hair turned the corner, and Cleo watched the expression on his face go from concern to relief to horror within a second. He screamed, first wordlessly in terror, then again in some unknown language. “ wɒt ɑː juː-”

Cleo lifted her veil, and the scream died on stone lips.

“An honour to meet you too.” Cleo said. She moved over to inspect her newest statue, but she could already tell it was going to be a good one. Most of her recent work didn't show abject terror like this one, they were too prepared for her presence. And the clothing-

Huh. The clothing wasn't like anything she'd seen before. The man wore tight-fitting trousers that were almost as grey as his skin now was, made of a material she could not identify. By contrast, the garment he wore over his torso was as red as blood, and very soft- soft enough to make Cleo gasp slightly as she ran her finger over it. it didn't fit the man's form in the slightest, almost as if it'd been made for somebody else. Fortunately, that meant it might fit her as well.

“I'll be taking this... whatever it is, thank you,” they said as they lifted the garment off of the statue, and chuckled. Who were you, oblivious wanderer? She found herself wondering. Where did you come from?

– – –

Etho stalked restlessly through the overgrown stone building. He'd picked this spot to camp out, hoping he'd easily blend in with the statues all around, but that was days ago, and he hadn't seen a single human since. And he was getting hungry. He was beginning to suspect humans purposely avoided this place. Maybe they did that because of the statues? He'd heard once that some humans were scared by statues. Which was stupid; why would they make statues if they were scared of them? These couldn't possibly all be his fellows either. He froze in place, which told him that there was somebody seeing him. Finally, he thought. He couldn't see anybody, which meant they must be behind him. He could hear footsteps, and then, a voice.

“...You're new,” the voice said, and then the human it belonged to stepped into Etho's view-

Nevermind. Etho was quite certain humans didn't usually have snakes emerging from their heads. The not-human woman was wearing several layers of mismatched, brightly coloured clothes, and a veil covering the top half of their face. They circled around him, hands clasped behind their back, almost as if they were inspecting him. Infuriatingly enough, Etho saw them blink, but couldn't regain his mobility; the eyes of the snakes watched him too, not leaving him unobserved for a moment.

“I didn't even know i could catch other monsters,” they said, and Etho felt them touch one of his wings. He wasn't sure how he felt about that statement. “You're definitely getting a place of honor... but first, I'm gonna try on that mask.”

Then they did something Etho definitely did not like: they reached towards his mask, aiming to take it off. That would nullify his only trump card, unless he played it now.

“Please don't,” he said. The woman stopped.

“What!?” they yelled out, then took several steps backwards. “How are you talking?” they demanded. The snakes on their head seemed surprised by their sharp voice, which was good for Etho; it meant they at least didn't consciously control two dozen eyes.

“You're not technically looking at my mouth. The mask covers it,” Etho replied. It was a trick that most of his fellows knew, but few ever used it. The mask just got in the way unless you liked talking to your victims, like he did.

“That's not how this...” the woman trailed off, flabbergasted. “Oh, whatever. Monsters petrify by different rules, i guess.”

“Monster? Oh, come on now. I'm just a regular human. Who turns to stone when you look at him. Something which you are used to, apparently,” Etho rambled. If he had an organic body, he would be sweating right now. Normally he'd be having these kinds of conversations with regular people, and he'd be able to move about two percent of the time, leaving him comfortably in control. With this creepy snake lady his mobility was reduced to zero percent, which was a whole different story.

They just chuckled at his remark. “And has wings. Can't forget about that.” They briefly placed their hand on a wing again, then took it off. “What's your name?”

“Etho.”

They turned their head sharply at that. “How long have you been in this temple, Etho?”

“...Two, three days?”

“Well now that can't be true,” they said, eyes narrowing, “because I've been getting confused wanderers walking in here calling out your name for at a century.”

Ah. He figured this had to come up eventually. “...It's complicated. Let's just say, those people haven't entered the temple yet.”

They grunted. “Traveling through time, then? Doesn't seem that complicated to me.

“Well, Etho, I am the gorgon Cleo. I'm the scourge of this temple, as they say, so I'm supposed to chase out or kill anyone who dares enter, but...” a small smile quirked their lips. “Well, clearly I can't get rid of you, because you have to be around in the future to send these people to me. So it looks like I'll have to... tolerate your presence near me.” Despite their words expressing disappointment, Cleo's voice didn't sound disappointed at all. They sounded happy about it, even.

“...Thank you?” Etho replied. He decided to keep to himself the fact that he was unlikely to stay here for much longer if there really were barely any people. Unfortunately, they did have a point; causality dictates that he would have to hunt here at some point in time, and it didn't seem like he would ever be able to get to Cleo, given the amount of eyes they had. So, it would be better to keep them happy for now.

“You're welcome,” Cleo replied, still smiling. “So, I understand you can't move as long as I'm looking at you?”

“Maybe,” Etho replied. “Maybe I'm just standing really still for fun, though.”

they laughed at that. “Right. Well, I can't keep you here forever, so I suppose I'll get out of your way for now. Until we meet again, angel Etho.”

With that, Cleo turned around and walked back the way they came. Before turning the corner, they looked back to see Etho still standing where he was; some of the snakes on their head had been lookng in his general direction still. They waved at Etho.

Then they turned, and as soon as Etho was removed from all their lines of sight, he was gone. That was by far the strangest conversation he'd ever had. It looked like he would have to abandon this hunting ground, which was a shame-- it really would have been a fun one, had it not already been occupied. Although, the gorgon didn't seem to mind sharing the space with him. they seemed happy about it, even. That was the weirdest thing; never before had he ended a conversation with someone on good terms. They always ended with one person hunting the other-- but he could never hunt Cleo, and they could never hunt him, so instead they were... friendly with each other. Fascinating.

Maybe he'd give the temple another shot after all.

_ _ _

This is it, Grian thought to himself as he took a deep breath, then stepped through the gate-like shape of the rubble, into the gate filled with statues. His head swiveled around, looking for one that seemed out of place. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect-- well, no. He knew exactly what to expect: a talking statue. That's what this ruin was known for, after all. He just didn't know the details; what did the statue look like? Did it move as well as talk? This place didn't have as much documentation as other monsters' domains in the area, which is exactly why Grian was drawn to it.

“Hello, weary traveler!” A voice suddenly spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. Grian turned around to see the answer to his questions: a stone statue of a winged figure, wearing a scarf across his face. He was standing with his hands on his hips. “What brings you here?” he asked.

“Oh. You, mostly,” Grian replied. Honestly, he wasn't expecting his exploration to be over so soon. Did the statue really have to come right to him?

“Aww, me? You shouldn't have. I'm just a humble tour guide.” Grian never saw the angel move, but every time he blinked he had a different stance- and was standing slightly closer to Grian. “There's so many beautiful statues here. Don't you want to take a look at them?”

Grian shrugged. He might as well make the most of this trip. “Sure. Lead the way.”

“Great!” the angel responded, and didn't move. Grian blinked, and he moved about a foot, then stopped again. “Uh, maybe you following me isn't the most efficient way to do this. Just wander around, and I'll provide the commentary.”

Grian snorted, then followed the angel's advice and started looking around the yard. The first thing he noticed was that all the statues-- apart from the angel-- were naked. Some of them were holding what looked like weapons and shields, but they were rotting, not sculpted from stone like the bodies. And most of them were striking thoroughly unimpressive poses. The whole thing weirded Grian out a little. The statues didn't look anything like what he would call art, realistic though they were. “Do you have any idea who made these?” he asked the angel.

“An old friend of mine,” he replied. Then he asked: “So, I'm famous, huh?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Grian turned around and searched the room for the angel, and saw that he was standing between some sculptures, filling a gap in the rows. He fit there weirdly well. “Everyone knows this as the ruin with the talking statue. Uh- do you have a name, by the way?”

“Etho.”

Grian hummed. It was a surprisingly... modern name. “My name's Grian,” he replied, then continued looking at the statues. He'd noticed some of them were covered in some weird dust, which he figured might be the remains of fabric clothing. Whoever made these statues had apparently decided to dress them in actual clothes, instead of simply sculpting them clothed. In order to avoid looking at what the decayed clothing was failing to cover, Grian now focused on the faces of the sculptures. Some of them-- mostly the ones holding decayed weaponry-- had an expression of noble determination on their face, but the majority of the statues looked scared. And they were incredibly detailed; to the point it gave Grian the creeps. “Your friend had some... interesting artistic visions,” he said.

The angel-- Etho-- chuckled. “Isn't it great?” he asked. Grian decided his honest answer to that might not be what Etho wanted to hear, so he didn't respond.

Etho spoke up again. “'The ruin with the talking statue', you say... is that all this place is known for?”

“...I think so, yeah. Why?”

“No stories about, like... people who go inside and never return?”

That did not help with Grian's creeps in the slightest. “Why would you ask that!?” he asked, spinning around to face Etho.

“Oh, no reason. Hey, have you seen that statue there yet?” he replied, moving with a blink to point somewhere behind Grian.

Grian hesitated to turn around, suddenly worried what Etho might do behind his back. This feels like a trap, he thought; but at the same time, he was very curious what the angel was getting at. He took a few steps backwards, ensuring that Etho didn't get too close to him-- then he turned around. Behind him was another statue with face and limbs contorted in apparent terror- A very familiar face, actually. The face Grian saw every time he looked into the mirror. Grian's blood ran cold. There was a statue of him in this ruin. Why the hell was there a statue of him? Was this some kind of elaborate prank someone pulled on him? The statue's moles lined up exactly with his own. No, it couldn't be a prank, he hadn't brought anybody with him on this trip. He was alone in this ruin with Etho- Etho! Grian whirled around to face the angel, but couldn't find him. He'd only been turned around for a few seconds, where could he have gone?

“Oh, wonderful!” Grian heard a voice behind him, and spun around again to find Etho's face inches from his own, his hand reaching towards the scarf around his neck. “Looks like you get to meet my old friend!”

Grian backed away, breathing deeply. He looked at Etho, avoiding blinking as long as possible- but it wasn't long enough. The second his eyes closed, he heard an indescribable static noise and felt a horrible squeezing sensation around his entire body... And then it was over, and Grian was still in the ruin, and he felt fine. Except... was he still in the ruin? The sun was coming from a different angle, the place looked less decrepit than it did before, and there were significantly less statues. There was no sign of Etho.

“What in the... Etho?” Grian called out, his terror having mostly changed into confusion. “Hello?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[note: the bits in IPA read "Etho?" "Hello?" and "What are you-" respectively.]

[moomoorare]

Welcome one and all to Mcytblr's Fancharacter Fest!

March edition 🌷🌱🌿

ID in alt is available! 🗒️

Some info about it:

An art challenge started by me to celebrate mcytblr's creations! Specifically OCs or fancharacters inspired by the gimmick of an smp, the story or origin of your favorite character, fankids, fanpets and similar!

All the prompts were chosen through a poll and the most popular option between three words was selected.

If anyone is wondering you can absolutely draw other people's fancharacters (as long as they allow it) and in fact, from me at least, you're encouraged to.

For art I don't only mean traditional and digital drawings, I also mean paintings, writing, singing, web weaving, anything that is creation! If you write something and post it on AO3 please make a post on the challenge's tag and link your work :) go nuts with it and have lots and lots of fun ! :D

There's no obligation to make all 31 prompts, even just one that you like a lot. You should post it on the day you've chosen, you don't have to make it on that day.

And don't worry if you're late to the party, you can post prompts you've missed, sometimes schedules are hard and posting on time is impossible, so no worries.

Also maybe you didn't know about this and you wanna make something. Go for it ^_^.

But! You can't post a prompt early, they have a specific date for a reason.

Tag for the art challenge will be #mcytblr's fancharacter fest

If you have any questions about anything my inbox is open :)

Reblogs to share this around are really appreciated! <3

Thank you so much and here!!

づ⁠｡⁠◕‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ 💐🌹🌷🪷🌸🏵️🌻🌼 for u

[pastara-cell]

Tad bit about me?

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Realised i should probs make an about me or something lols

Hellooooo!! My name is Pastara, You can call me Pastara, Pascell, Pasc, Laurie, Laurence, Lauren, Or basically anything if you’re not being rude about it!

Nicknames are 100% allowed, you don’t even have to ask!

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@totallysean ‘s most devoted follower 🔥

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Dms, Asks, Tags, and allat shazam are 100% a-okay! I like being interacted with!

(Please don’t tag me in posts that violate creators boundaries)

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Dear mutuals, PLEASE TALK TO ME I LOVE YOU🤍/p

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DNI if you’re an ableist, Homophobe, Transphobe, Z1onist, A-phobe, Dont include intersex people in the LGBT, or call people who use Neos weird.

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Scene Kid 🔥🔥 (Ur average 6arelyhuman, Asteria, Odetari, and Clover!! fan. Always looking to expand my music collection tho, so song recommendations are super appreciated and accepted!)

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Otherkin!

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Diagnosed Adhd, on meds for it, but chances are I forget to take em 50% of the time XD

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Ijevin is my Idol, comfort streamer, and just a cool dude. Definitely recommend checking him out!

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Pronouns are (In order of preference) He/Him, Star/Stars, They/Them. Still experimenting with neos, so this may change one day

My gender is I dont give a fuck its tuesday (Genderfluid) and my sexuality is Pretty on the inside by Chloe adams (Pansexual)

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70% of my friends and my mutuals too I think are on the a-spec, So shoutout specifically to acesexuals, aplatonics, aromantics, aroaces, and literally just any a-spec people. Y’all are literally the coolest people every and I love you all ♥️♥️/p

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My fandoms include, but aren’t limited to:

(listed in order of interest)

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The Music Freaks 🐀🥚

Hermitcraft 🦀

The Life Series/Traffic life ♥️💛💚

Witchcraft SMP 🪄

Lifesteal SMP (relatively new to it) ⚔️

Haikyuu!! 🏐🏐

Evolution SMP 🟪🟪

Empires SMP 🤠🐟

The outsiders 🔫⛓️

The Hunger Games 🔥🐦‍🔥

Very rarely, I do dabble in some Dream SMP 💚🤍

Same for Qsmp and Origins smp 🤍🟪🤍🟪

Afterlife SMP 🐈🦝🐉

Steven Universe ⭐️🩷

General MCYT/Minecraft community 💚🤎🤎

Ace attorney 🟦▫️🟥

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Fandoms I used to be in but have left, can probably talk about them a bit?

Wings of Fire

Percy Jackson (Every book really)

My little pony

My hero academia

Country humans/balls

DDLC

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I enjoy writing fanfiction, Drawing, and writing poems! I’m super into Au making as well, so really, If you want a fully finished, Fleshed out Au for a fandom that I’ve listed in my Fandoms list, Send me an ask! No charges or anything, just tell me what AU you want and I got you!

I draw traditional and semi-realism, so as much as I’d love to do fanart, It often comes out looking slightly horrifying. Getting better though! Maybe i’ll post something when I make something i’m proud of!

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Hyper fixation hobbies are rock collecting, Bracelet and keychain making, and ranting about stupid little things!

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Comfort characters are Ijevin, Drew (tmf), and Noya (HK)!!

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So uhhh Yeah!! Thats all! Will probably update this someday but thats mostly it!

[lunarsands]

ESMP S1 Fanfic - A Garden's Path - Ch 1

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the rest of the cast of Empires SMP S1, featuring blaze-hybrid emperor TangoTek, and introducing: The Children of Mythland (specific characters to be tagged when they appear in each chapter)

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Smallishbeans, Shubble/Katherine Elizabeth, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, fluff, wholesome, so much wholesome fluff you would not believe, a bit of angst here and there, Sausage has a few nightmares for Plot reasons, acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

WARNINGS: fantasy racism (human v elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Scott set out to Rivendell to start visiting orphanages, hoping to find a child who won't mind their differences. It ends up not being Sausage's prosthetic arm that is off putting, and yet it turns out they don't even have to worry about traveling elsewhere when they meet two young boys who are not only simply curious, but also a perfect match when it comes to compassion and magic.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ]

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Chapter One – The First Princes

Dressed in plain travel clothes and with an overnight bag on hand in case they needed to stay in Rivendell for any extra time, Scott and Sausage stepped up into the simple carriage devoid of any official heraldry that waited in the stable yard. They settled in across from each other as the carriage began to move, and for about the tenth time that morning Sausage adjusted the partial shirt sleeve over the top end of his prosthetic, trying to get it to lay just right.

“Nervous?” Scott asked.

“A little. I hope this thing doesn’t scare too many of them.”

“It’s your arm, plain and simple. Just think of it that way.”

“Maybe I should have asked fWhip for a full sleeve cover or at least a glove.”

“I remember him saying things like that could get caught in the struts or the gears when you move.”

“Well, I could just hold it still in that case.”

“What if one of the children wants a hug? You would need to move it then.” Scott smiled, knowing the magic word.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that is true.”

“So nervous, you forgot about things like that. It will be all right, Sausage. This is you now. Just be yourself. There doesn’t have to be any final decisions today, either. We have time.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He stopped fussing with the sleeve and gazed out the window for a while instead. When they passed the final border into Rivendell territory he began to absently rub at his right shoulder. He was still at it when the carriage stopped. Scott gently pulled his hand away and gave him a reassuring smile before exiting onto the dirt road.

A large cottage with a moss-dotted roof and matching extension to the right side sat in a slightly overgrown grassy field. Further down the road the rest of the village was visible, but the area certainly gave the orphanage a spacious feeling. Sausage tugged at his cloak as he followed Scott to the door where they were greeted by two elven women who spoke warmly in Elvish at first – Scott translated that they were grateful the couple had safely arrived and that they were welcome to come inside and walk around.

As they entered, one of the women did a doubletake upon seeing Sausage’s right arm but she only offered a sympathetic smile afterward. Relieved to have passed that much judgement, they continued further into the building where a large classroom was set up. Most of the space was clear of furniture so the younger children could play with toys on the floor while some of the older ones were seated at desks by the far wall with books or actual classwork. Scott remained near the door, chatting away in Elvish, while Sausage ventured into the room, making sure not to startle any of the children with his approach.

He smiled when some of the little ones looked up at him, giving a small wave with his left hand, then stepped closer to start offering comments on their toys. However, a few of the older children suddenly came over and pulled the smaller ones away while giving wary looks – but it was the side of his head they were looking at, not his arm.

Sausage brought his left hand up to trace the outside curve of his ear, realizing that him being a human was more of a concern than the appearance of his arm. He lowered his hand and turned toward the blackboard, pretending to study the words written there as if what had just happened hadn’t bothered him. He recognized a few of the letters and knew the sounds that went with them from what Scott had begun to teach him. Just to take his mind off the less-than-welcoming reception, he muttered a few out loud. “Lah-ela-ha. Sen dra-ah-din. Te…Tehn. Si-veh…”

“Almost got it,” said a voice to his right. “We’re learning constellation names. The accent can be hard on some of the syllables.”

Sausage glanced down to see a boy with a warm umber complexion, tightly curled orange hair, and amber eyes, who then reached up to tap one of the words. Another boy, pale-skinned with longer, dark green hair and light blue eyes stood behind him. “Sieveh.”

Sausage repeated the word, trying to imitate the melodic sound. The boy shook his head. Sausage tried again, then chuckled. “Sorry, I need more practice. I just started learning.”

“That’s okay. Common is hard to learn sometimes, too.” The orange-haired boy nodded sagely. “By the way, I’m Azahar. I’m eleven years old. This is my best friend, Elowen. He’s nine.” It came out sounding rehearsed. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. My name is Sausage. I’m here with my husband, Scott.” He pointed toward the door with his right hand, being the side closer to it.

Azahar nudged the younger boy and said quietly, “I told you it worked like a normal one.”

Elowen nodded enthusiastically then piped up, “Excuse me, can I ask about your arm? It looks really cool! Have you always had it?”

Relieved that they were interested over intimidated, Sausage gave a patient smile. “You can, and thank you. I think it’s cool, too. It’s actually pretty new.”

“Can I touch it?” Elowen asked, and Azahar nodded as well.

“Um, sure. Just be careful of the wiring and those overlapping parts there, they might pinch your finger.” Sausage got down on one knee so his prosthetic was closer, stretching out his fingers so they could get a look at the mechanics of his hand, too. He turned it over as they cautiously poked at some of the metal.

Azahar began looking over the parts connecting to his upper arm but refrained from lifting the partial sleeve. “Can I ask what happened to your real arm?”

An amusing thought popped into Sausage’s head. “A dragon ate it during a fight!”

“Whaaaat?” Azahar’s eyes went wide.

“That’s even cooler!” Elowen exclaimed. “Did it hurt when the dragon bit it?”

“Yes, but I have a friend who is good with healing magic and she helped me.”

“Did you try to get it back?” Azahar asked.

“No, the dragon really wanted it for lunch.”

“Where did you get this one?” was the orange-haired boy’s next question.

“A friend who invents lots of cool stuff made it for me.”

“How does it wo—”

“What happened to the dragon?” Elowen cried, interrupting. Azahar didn’t seem to mind, and was actually looking happy to see the younger boy so engaged.

“Well, I had to take a break from fighting because that was also my sword arm, but my friends defeated it.”

Elowen was beaming, although still attempted to be a little quiet as he said, “I could have a dad who fights dragons? That’s so cool…”

“Two, actually. He helped me.” Sausage pointed again to Scott, who had noticed the exchange going on and was now walking over. “Scott, this is Azahar and Elowen. We were just chatting about dragon battles.” He gave a quick wink.

Azahar asked something in Elvish, to which Scott laughed and spoke a reply where the only word Sausage understood was brave. Then Scott switched to Common. “So, boys, I hear it’s lunchtime soon. Would you like to sit with us and talk some more? Besides about his fascinating arm?” He grinned, directing the look mostly at Sausage.

“Yeah!!” Elowen cried, then ran back to the desk he had previously been sitting at.

“We have to put away our schoolwork before eating,” Azahar explained. He glanced after Elowen, then gave the two adults something of a sad smile and looked up at Scott in particular. “His eyes are like yours.” Then he walked back to his own desk.

Sausage and Scott traded glances and then started toward the door. Scott asked quietly, “Did – Did you tell them we were only looking for one?”

“No, it didn’t come up,” Sausage answered. “They just wanted to know about my arm. Both of them,” he abruptly marveled. “And neither seem to mind that I’m human, which…the others do care about.”

“Maybe we’ve gotten lucky that there are two who are accepting of the situation,” Scott murmured thoughtfully.

“I think Azahar was trying to make sure we at least choose Elowen. They’re already close friends…”

“We could take both…”

“Let’s see how lunch goes. Maybe… just to make sure they’ll be okay with other stuff about us – uh, aside from that part about where we live. Ahem.  We could talk about some other things besides the obvious. Do you want to show them some ice magic, to be on the safe side?”

“I could. Let me talk to the lead caretaker.” Scott broke off to wave at one of the women, while Sausage wandered further from the classroom door, not wanting to be a disruption when the children left for their lunch at wherever the eating area was.

As an accommodation some food was brought to him, Scott, Azahar, and Elowen in the classroom so they could talk without stares from the others. The boys asked about things like their adventures and hobbies, while Scott and Sausage volunteered as much information as they could without giving away their full identities. Azahar grew increasingly more involved when it became obvious that they were both being considered together.

Scott revealed a few tricks he could do with conjured ice magic, making the boys even more curious and intrigued, leading to questions of whether they would be allowed to learn magic. It was agreed that it could be included in their education, prompting them to promise they would do their very best at all their studies and then they showed off some of that day’s classwork.

Not long after that, the boys were sent to pack up their belongings while Scott and Sausage finalized documents with the lead caretaker. She eyed the official seal of Mythland that Sausage placed after his name before hiding the stamp back in his pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them who you really are before you leave?” she asked in Common.

“We’re certain,” Scott replied. “We’re just two fathers starting a family.” He did trade another glance with Sausage, however. “If for any reason it doesn’t work out, we’ll do the right thing and let you know. But we both hope the next you hear will be about them settling in at their new home.”

When they met the boys at the door, they each took a bag to carry for them, letting Azahar and Elowen run ahead to the carriage, where they none-too-quietly speculated about the size and style belonging to a noble, and asking if it had been rented for the trip since Sausage had told them over lunch that they would be travelling a fair distance to get home. Once their bags were stowed they inspected the interior, having never been inside an enclosed carriage before. Scott and Sausage sat together and watched them with amusement at their curiosity, fielding more questions as the journey home began.

The boys eventually settled down, each taking a side to stare out the windows as the scenery changed from the familiar lands of Rivendell’s climate to the different hills and fields of the neighboring empires. When the first outlying settlements of Mythland came into view, Sausage reached for Scott’s hand with his left, seeking a little reassurance for his nerves.

“Are those giant mushrooms?” Azahar asked, peering out the window at an angle as if to look up under the plant’s cap. “I’ve seen this kind of forest in a book before, it looks amazing up close!”

“We can take a walk out to see some tomorrow,” Sausage suggested. “You’ll be able to see them from the – house, too, when we’re actually home. This is just the outskirts of where we live.”

Elowen looked over with wide eyes. “How big is this forest? It just keeps going! There’s no mountains anywhere!”

Sausage chuckled. “The forest of Mythland is mostly flat, but you’ll be able to see more when the trees thin out.”

The boys went back to watching the outside pass by, having the occasional comment but staying calm until the carriage finally rolled into the main city. Then Elowen gasped and beckoned Azahar over to his side. “Look, look! There’s a big castle!”

“Whoa! Are we going to go past it? Who lives there?”

Sausage couldn’t contain a grin. “We do, and now so do you.”

Azahar turned a look of disbelief toward him. “Wait, that means you… are nobles? So, you own this carriage?”

“Well, not just any nobles,” Scott said, grinning as well. “Our official titles are Lord Sausage of Mythland and King Regnant Scott.”

“K-King? …W-Wait, that means we’re…” Azahar looked at Elowen and wondered if he understood the implications.

“You are the new princes of Mythland,” Scott declared warmly.

Azahar sat back against the seat, digesting the news while Elowen seemed to still be working things out. “So…my new dads fight dragons and are kings of a whole big place with giant mushrooms and no mountains… This is kinda weird but it’s still cool!”

Azahar gave a little laugh and patted his friend-turned-brother on the head. “So, are we supposed to call you ‘Lord’ and ‘King’, um, ‘King Regnant’, too? I don’t know how being a prince is supposed to work except what’s in fairy tales.”

“You can just call us Dad,” Scott indicated himself, then pointed at Sausage, “And Papa, if you like. Or just our regular names. Titles are for use outside the family. You’ll meet some of our friends who go by names like Count fWhip and the Wizard GeminiTay. fWhip was the one who created Sausage’s prosthetic arm. He’ll be like an uncle to you. You’ll see him around because that arm needs regular maintenance, so you’ll see it when he’s not wearing it, too.”

“I hope that won’t bother either of you?” Sausage put in.

The boys shook their heads and Azahar replied, “We’ve seen – what’s it called – ampu…tees? Before. There are some old veterans in our village. But none of them have anything like that.”

“It’s a fWhip original,” Sausage explained, and then began to think of asking the inventor if he was interested in doing similar projects.

Scott had more he wanted to tell them, but at that moment the carriage came to a halt. “Here we are,” he said instead. “Mythland Castle. I am going to ask that you not run around right away. It’s a big place and you could maybe get lost.”

“We won’t, sir—uh, Dad.” Azahar paused then gave a delighted smile at being able to say the word. He helped Elowen get down from the carriage and held his hand to make sure he didn’t start wandering off, since the younger boy was already looking around in fascination.

Sausage followed next and took all of the bags as Scott handed them out to him. Then all four of them went up the steps to start a tour of the boys’ new home. One of the first stops was their bedrooms, down the hall from the royal chambers, and Sausage was now glad he had the foresight to clear a second room previously intended for guests.

However, the boys looked very confused by the options, each staring into the same room, with Elowen questioning, “Where’s my bed?”

“You can each have your own room!” Sausage pointed to the other doorway. “See, there’s another right across from here.”

“No, I wanna be in his room.” Elowen suddenly clung to Azahar’s arm.

The older boy spoke quietly to him in Elvish, and Scott flashed a sympathetic look as he overheard, then Azahar asked, “Can we share one for now? I’ll help move a bed over if you need me to.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll get it,” Sausage chirped, and set down the bags to bustle about in the second room, removing the bedding. Scott directed the boys to stand to the side and went to help him, and a short while later they had rearranged the agreed upon room to accommodate everything. They left the bags to be unpacked later and continued the tour, which included the library, treasury, dining hall, and a stop off in the courtyard for an introduction to Bubbles, which lead to more delight from the boys when they were offered a chance to run around with her.

Sausage told them that she had her own castle to look after but she visited often, so she was their dog to play with, too. Bubbles gave her approval of the children – not that Sausage ever thought she would doubt his decision in the matter. Not long after, he joined in the running around, pretending Bubbles was a scary beast that required fleeing, with extra flee. At one point he hoisted Elowen onto his shoulders, getting him out of range as Bubbles feigned nipping at his ankles. She jumped repeatedly, not getting much higher than Sausage’s stomach, causing Elowen to laugh.

Azahar, meanwhile, drifted over to where Scott sat on a bench watching with his own joy at seeing Sausage having such unrestrained fun. He commented to the older boy, “You’ve been watching out for him for a while, haven’t you?”

“He was really shy when he first got there. I don’t know what happened to his family, but I wanted to help.”

“I heard you were there for a long time.”

“Yeah. I just wanted the littler kids to get a home. I thought I could just, you know, grow up there, and work there. That seemed okay.”

Scott’s heart broke a little at hearing the tone of his voice, the weight of too much knowledge for his age. “If that’s something you would like to do when you’re grown up, we’ll support you. But you’re allowed to be a kid right now, and we’re here to look after Elowen now, too. So go play some more.” He turned a kind smile to him.

“No, let him have Papa to himself for a while. I’d like to sit here with you, Dad.” Azahar returned the smile and sat down. For the next hour or so they simply chatted in Elvish while Sausage and Elowen tired themselves out chasing or being chased by Bubbles.

~*~

Later, after dinner, the boys returned to their room to unpack their things. Azahar had a few of his favorite books that he placed across the top of his dresser. Elowen held up a picture book of his own, which the older boy smiled at and put next to his. Then he helped Elowen organize his clothes before hopping up on his bed to think about the day’s events.

Elowen took a slightly ragged-looking teddy bear out of his bag and climbed up next to Azahar, hugging the doll as he, too, thought about things. “Do you think they’re going to let us stay?”

“I think they’re very happy to have us. Papa is… different, and the other kids didn’t like that.”

“But he’s nice! And a lot of fun! And he has Bubbles!”

Azahar chuckled. “Well, we didn’t know about Bubbles before, either.”

“He let me ask all those things and didn’t get mad and was nice at our home. I don’t know why everybody else didn’t want to talk to him. They didn’t even try to ask him anything!”

“I’ll explain it to you later. Are you going to sleep in your own bed, or do you want me to tuck you in over here?”

“Umm… Can I stay here?” Elowen squirmed. “This place is nice but it’s… kinda scary, too?”

“Well, it’s a lot bigger than we’re used to, and it is a castle.” Azahar went over to get an extra pillow from the other bed, then arranged the blanket over Elowen and smirked. “There might even be ghosts hiding in some secret passage!”

“Nooo! That’s too scary!”

The older boy laughed. “Don’t worry, our dads are brave heroes, remember? They wouldn’t let ghosts or anything else hurt you. We’re their family now, right?” He climbed back onto the bed and made himself comfortable, letting the younger boy snuggle against him for familiarity’s sake.

“So, if we’re princes now, do we have some kind of job we have to do?”

“I don’t know. You can ask tomorrow. But I think we just get to be kids, and run around and have fun like you did today.”

“Okay. … … I’m gonna be extra good, just in case. I wanna stay here.”

Meanwhile, down the hall, the two newly minted fathers were also settling in for the night. Scott picked a stray leaf out from under a strut on Sausage’s prosthetic as he put it away. He looked at the leaf with amusement as he twirled the stem between his fingers, then set it on the windowsill before turning to his side of the bed.

Sausage was already laying down and gazing at the ceiling, then he looked over at Scott. “We have kids now. Two kids. Two… sons.”

“I know. I was there.”

“H— come on, now! Don’t ruin the moment!”

Scott laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. You did seem to be having a lot of fun out there.”

“I’ve ended up always being too busy to play with Bubbles most of the time. But today it felt different, anyway.”

“Now you have someone to share that with you, and meeting Bubbles was like a new experience for them, too.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Sausage went back to staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, then said, “I hope they’ll want to stay. Mythland is going to be different for them.”

Scott thought back to some things Azahar had told him. “It’s something of an adventure for them. Give it some time and we’ll find out how they feel. But I think we made the right choice.”

~*~

Over breakfast the next morning the boys were more subdued and being extraneously polite, with a few ‘sir’s slipping out as food was passed along the table. Sausage cast a couple of worried glances at Scott, who wanted to assure him that they were still adjusting but didn’t want to say it out loud in case it might make them feel like they were doing something wrong.

Finally, it was Elowen who broke the tension. “Excuse me, I wanna ask ‘cause Azahar didn’t know – do we have to do anything special because we’re princes now? Do princes have jobs? I know they rescue girls sometimes but that’s always in stories! What do they really do?”

“Well,” Scott replied, “Princes your age don’t have to worry about jobs yet. You might learn some things about the work we do when you’re older, but even I was only a prince until I married your papa. My brother, who is now also your uncle, has the job of a ruler, and I would only help out if he needed it.”

Azahar waved his fork. “So, if you lived in Rivendell instead of here, we would still be princes?”

“That’s right. Your whole family is royalty.” Scott smiled, feeling that he got past the technicality of having also been a king elsewhere. “Sausage does most of the work because this is his kingdom. The only work you have to do is your studies. We’ll set something up in the library later for that, but this morning we can all go out for a walk or look around the castle more if you like.”

Then Elowen remembered. “The giant mushrooms!”

Sausage nodded, also recalling the boys’ fascination from the day before. “There are some right behind the castle. We’ll go out after everyone is done here.”

Elowen excitedly began eating faster to finish his breakfast, although Azahar quietly reminded him to not eat too fast.

On the way out they ran into Bubbles, so the boys had another good run through the trees until they came across one of the giant mushrooms, which they inspected and made a brief attempt to climb. This time Scott was the one to lift Elowen on his shoulders to reach the underside of the mushroom’s cap, with Azahar watching from below while Sausage had a word with Bubbles.

Apparently, there was something important she needed him for, so after helping Elowen down from Scott’s shoulders, Sausage excused himself but promised to meet back up with them for lunch. The three elves walked for a little while so Scott could show them some of the paths that led either to other outside parts of the castle or into town, then they headed back inside for the remainder of the tour they hadn’t finished the previous day.

They ended at the library, with Scott saying, “I have someone else for you to meet who will help with some of your studies. Please wait here while I go get him.” He held the door open and the boys began to wander around to get a better look at the inside of the library. Elowen hopped up on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, glancing at the books someone had left on the table beside it, while Azahar went to the nearest bookshelf and looked at some of the titles.

Scott returned a few minutes later with some paper and quills tucked under one arm, and the boys were extremely confused to see that he was being followed by a… chicken. A chicken wearing armor with red and yellow heraldry, but still very much a chicken. “Boys, this is Sir Carlos. He’ll be teaching you Mythland’s history and helping with some other lessons.”

Sir Carlos tilted his head at each of the boys in turn, then clucked and said, “Young master Azahar, young master Elowen, it is a pleasure to meet you. I understand your studies center on Rivendell, so I will include that in your lessons. You are welcome to ask any questions about Mythland and I will do my best to answer.”

The two boys couldn’t help staring. Sir Carlos clucked quietly, then sighed. “Yes, I am currently a talking chicken. No, I wasn’t always a chicken. Your… papa has endeavored to return me to my original form but the spell was cast so long ago that it has been lost to time. I have gone on several quests to find the solution, and yes, I will tell you about them, but that will come later. Sire,” he nodded to Scott, who motioned for the boys to join him at one of the reading tables, where he set out the paper and quills, with one set of each for himself, as well.

Sir Carlos flapped his wings and got himself up onto a chair, then onto the table where he began to walk back and forth. “Firstly, tell me about your schoolwork so far, then we will choose a curriculum from there.”

Scott explained the concept of a curriculum in Elvish, then proceeded to help, translate, and take notes of his own. He and Sir Carlos soon had a general list, and then it was Azahar who reminded them about the possibility of learning magic. That one was out of Sir Carlos’ realm of expertise, but Scott decided he could get them started on some of the casting forms for ice magic, while another tutor would be needed for other types.

A little while later Sausage returned from the business with Bubbles for lunch as promised. He put in his thoughts on school lessons and agreed to sit in on the ones about Mythland’s history when the boys asked if he could tell them stories about their new home, too.

~*~

Extra-curricular lessons ended up diverging after a few days, however, when Scott was teaching them how to shape spell sigils in the air and, while Elowen was able to get it on the second try, Azahar struggled – with not a wisp of spell energy being conjured. It soon became clear that he simply didn’t have the propensity for magic. Sausage stepped in and offered to begin his sword fighting training early so that he would have something to do while Scott helped Elowen develop his burgeoning skills; Azahar was, of course, happy for his brother, especially because it looked like ice magic could be his specialty, and it gave them each a different way to bond with their new fathers.

What he lacked in magic he made up for with agility and analysis while using a blade, quickly picking up on the forms, if not yet having the strength to back up his strikes – although those, too, were only meant as examples, and Sausage didn’t push him too hard during practice. He enjoyed the chance to spend time with Azahar, though, getting to know him and making up for the slight lack he felt about not being able to hold full conversations in Elvish like Scott. The boy, in turn, helped him work on learning the language in between their own lessons and Sausage’s kingly duties that kept him busy.

Around three weeks later, everyone seemed to have settled nicely into their new routine, and there were no more worries on either side about whether things would work out. The boys were out playing in the garden with Bubbles during an afternoon off from lessons. Scott sat reading a book and occasionally glanced up when they ran by, although it was something mentioned in the book that made him get up and wander off in search of Sausage.

He found him where he expected to, standing over a desk sorting through a wide assortment of papers with requests from around the kingdom. Scott leaned on the doorway, tapping the spine of the book against his chin. “Sausage, I was just reminded of something. Do you remember how old you were at your debut gala?”

“Ummm, I think maybe I was ten.”

“Oh. It’s different for the elven court. But since this is Mythland, we could start thinking about having one for Azahar soon, since we missed that window.”

“Well, I think my parents waited for one reason or another. Considering the stories, they might have been waiting out a curse or something.” He laughed but cut himself off. “Uhm, maybe it’s not that funny actually, eh-heh. Okay, well, we could just make our own tradition. Split the difference and have one now for both of them, instead of introducing them separately. That might…actually work out better for Elowen, you know? I noticed he, um, gets a bit clingy toward Azahar when new people are around.”

“That’s true,” Scott agreed quietly. “I do like the idea overall. It might be easier on them to experience that part of royal life if they’re sharing a special day.”

“How big are we going to make this thing? Mine was open to the whole kingdom because I was the sole prince at that point. I don’t want to put too much pressure on them.” Sausage then added in a mutter, “Also, remember what happened at that one party after the wedding…”

“I think we’ll at most invite our friends, with the rulers of all the empires being a courteous necessity. It isn’t a secret to our kingdom anyway, but this will be one of those official introduction things.”

“Okay!” Sausage grinned and pushed all the missives into one pile, then took out a fresh sheet of paper and a drafting pencil. Then he began to rattle off fancy phrasing in an ostentatious voice, “Dearest friends, allies, and others, you are hereby invited…”

Scott chuckled as he continued with an exaggerated courtly tone and waited until he was done writing to pluck the pencil from his hand, turn the paper around, and start adding decorative flourishes around the border.

~*~

Everyone had just settled down for breakfast when Sausage announced, “Lessons today will come later, boys. We have an appointment at the tailor shop for something special.” He couldn’t help throwing an excited look at Scott. “We decided we’re going to have a special party for you that royal families hold when introducing a new child to the kingdom called a debut gala. Usually, it’s for one child at a time – well, unless there are twins or triplets, or something – but we’re going to have it for both of you at the same time, so you can share it. We thought you would prefer that.” He smiled gently at Elowen, whose eyes had gone as big as saucers.

Azahar seemed to be fighting back some tears of his own. Then he blurted out, “That – That sounds like it really makes things official! That we… we really do get to stay!”

Now Sausage and Scott traded alarmed looks, and the latter said with concern, “Of course you’re staying! You’re our sons. I – I’m sorry if anything in the last few weeks made you think we weren’t going to keep you.”

Sausage abruptly stood, nearly knocking his chair down, and hurried over to enfold Azahar in a hug. “We - We’ve been worried you might not want to stay, because things are different here, and we’re a little different, but… we love having you here with us! We want you as our family.” He tried to convey his sincerity without squeezing the boy too hard with his metal arm.

Elowen let out a sort of squawk and ran around the table to throw his arms around Scott. “We love you, too! I told Azahar I would behave really good because I really wanted to stay! I’ll keep being really good! A big party sounds scary but I still wanna be a prince!”

Scott gently patted Elowen’s back. “It’s not going to be too big. We’re inviting just our friends and other rulers so they’ll know we have more family now. It will be a bit fancy, but you still don’t have to worry about knowing everything about being a prince. You’ll be introduced to everyone by name, then everyone dances and has some food, and they might ask you some things to get to know you a little. We’ll be right there if you’re not sure about something, or even if it is a little scary.”

Sausage returned to his seat after straightening the chair. “And there’s one more thing: you’ll each get your own special crown! Not like my silly old thing, but something nice that you can wear whenever you want, or not at all – unless there is another fancy event that you’d like to go to.”

Azahar asked curiously, “Then, what will they look like?”

Sausage grinned. “It’s a surprise. But you do get to pick out the outfit and colors you want to wear for it! We’ll head out after breakfast, so eat up!”

As with almost all of the recent trips into town, such as the last time they had gone out to get the boys some new clothes in general, the more people they passed the more Elowen retreated into himself. He clung to Azahar’s hand and shied away against him despite the warm greetings from citizens who were merely happy to see their king and his husband out among them. By the third instance of a shopkeeper attempting to draw a smile from the shy boy, Sausage fell in beside Elowen and offered his left hand for him to also hold, acting as a second barrier to what was meant as politeness, yet was obliviousness on the part of the outgoing citizens.

By the time they reached the tailor’s shop, Elowen had begun to peek around with more curiosity toward his surroundings. Inside, the tailor also greeted them kindly before bustling off to the back room. He returned a moment later with an assistant and a small basket. From it he took three bobby pins with tassels made from metallic string on the ends. He gestured for Scott to lean forward, then he slid a pin with a red tassel into his hair near his ear, then turned to smile at the boys. Azahar accepted a gold one threaded carefully into his hair, while for Elowen the tailor knelt and gently slipped a silver one onto the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

Elowen looked at the tassel dangling from his cuff and the tailor lightly flicked it to make it sway. Elowen smiled and began playing with it, neatly distracted. The tailor then moved to get a tape measure from the basket and took Azahar’s measurements, with the older boy following instructions for how to stand and when to hold out his arms. When it was Elowen’s turn, the tailor asked him to hold out the tassel in different ways, effectively getting him to make the same poses for measuring.

The next step was picking out the style of outfit they wanted. The assistant brought out some examples, which were decidedly on the Mythland side of fashion. Seeing that both of the boys were uncertain, Sausage suggested they could get the same thing in different colors. Azahar glanced at Scott a few times then asked if they could get something similar to his elven tunic with a Mythland-style doublet over it (after he figured out what the clothing pieces were called).

At that point Elowen began to clutch at the tassel instead of still playing with it. Sausage held out his hand again, and now the boy practically buried himself in his papa’s cloak. The tailor cast a sympathetic look at Sausage and Scott, then quietly asked if Elowen would like to touch the fabrics; he didn’t even have to choose one, it was okay for him to just see what they all felt like.

Elowen nodded, and soon he and Sausage were walking through the shop patting at the assorted bolts of fabric with Sausage commenting how soft one was or how the textured pattern on another was weird, getting Elowen to laugh a few times.

Azahar smiled after them, then turned his own attention to choosing something he liked. He eventually settled on scarlet and yellow, hoping to lend significance to the colors of Mythland’s banner as his new home. After some gentle coaxing from Sausage, Elowen went back around and patted some dark blue fabric to indicate his choice.

With everything settled and a follow up day for a fitting agreed upon, they set off back home. Elowen was quiet the entire way and only relaxed once they were on the castle grounds. Instead of departing right away to tend to daily work, Sausage nodded meaningfully to Scott, then nodded toward Elowen as the boy seemed to meander aimlessly away whereas Azahar set off immediately toward the library for the expected delayed lessons.

Sausage moved to Elowen’s side with Scott a step behind. “Elowen, can we talk out in the garden for a moment?”

The boy glanced around for a second, but not seeing Azahar for reassurance, he silently nodded then lowered his head. Sausage gently took his hand and the three of them walked down to the doors leading to the securely walled-in outside area. Once there, Elowen continued to look at the ground. “Sorry if I didn’t act like a brave prince should today. I’m… I’m…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I get scared sometimes…”

Sausage lowered himself to one knee to get closer to eye level. “You know what? It’s okay if being around a lot of strangers makes you nervous. All those people out there were happy to see us, and they’ll be nice to you, but if you’re nervous about it, you just tell one of us, and we’ll be right there to keep you safe. We don’t expect you to be brave all the time. I mean, we appreciate if you be a polite young elf, of course. But if there’s something you want to talk about so we can help things not be so scary…” He attempted to drop a hint without being pushy. He couldn’t help wondering if something in the boy’s past had contributed to this.

Scott, however, was the one to pick up on the hint. He placed his hands on Elowen’s shoulders. “Um. We’ll listen and help you with anything, but you don’t even have to talk about it right now. We just want you to know that as your dads, we’re here for you.”

Sausage smiled up at Scott with a sheepish look, realizing he was softening the potential pushiness. Sausage then placed his right hand on Elowen’s arm. “It’s always okay to say if something scares you. Adults get scared of things, too.”

Elowen glanced at Sausage’s prosthetic arm, then put a hand over the metal and gave a small smile before hugging his human father. “Thank you, Papa, Dad. …I don’t wanna talk about anything right now, but I feel better. I’ll try not to be so scared next time.” He stood back but kept his hand on Sausage’s prosthetic and said quietly, “Getting bitten by a dragon must be scary, too, and maybe too scary to talk a lot about.”

Sausage smiled back at him then ruffled the boy’s hair with his left hand. “That’s a good point! I’ve got an idea for something else we can do today that’s more fun than scary dragons: Why don’t you help me finish the invitations and get them sent out? You know all those ravens that hang out on top of the tower? We can tell them to go to Uncle fWhip and everyone that’s invited to the party! Let’s go find your brother!”

The three of them quickly went to collect a surprised Azahar from the library, but he caught on to Elowen’s enthusiasm after the quiet walk home. They relocated the stack of invitations – and Sausage’s stack of daily paperwork – to the dining room table to have space for all of them to work.

Now that they had an idea of when the boys’ outfits would be ready, they could set an official date for the gala, which Azahar and Scott wrote in the space left blank in the original draft. Scott signed each one, then passed them to Elowen, who put them in a neat pile for Sausage to sign in between his other missives. Elowen then took each one back and carefully rolled it up. Scott showed them how to apply enough wax before pressing the seal of Mythland into the middle to show that this was an approved royal message. He put the boys in charge of keeping hold of the dozen invitations while they waited for Sausage to seal some other scrolls, then up they went to the raven aerie.

The majority of the ravens were out on the rooftops. Sausage took care of a few unrelated missives first with quiet instructions, then turned a big grin to the boys. “Okay, where should we start? Alphabetical in Common? The closest first? The farthest – oh, we should probably send Tango’s to Jimmy, I don’t think any of the ravens know how to get to that particular Ancient City, um. Hmm…”

Elowen glanced at a raven that was hopping around on the nearest windowsill. “Are we gonna go by their first names or the name of their empire?”

“Good question!” Sausage replied. “What do you think? Which ones do you remember better from geography lessons?”

Elowen placed his set of invitations on the floor so his hands were free to count on his fingers. “Uncle fWhip is in the Grimlands, Auntie Gem is at the Crystal Cliffs… Auntie Pearl is in Gilded Heel-lee-lanthia—”

“Helianthia,” Azahar corrected.

“Umm, so, Auntie Pearl would be first by the closest empire, but Auntie Gem would be first by name…”

“Wait,” Azahar put in, “Would the Cod Empire be first by empire, or does it go under ‘the’ instead of ‘cod’? …That would mean the Grimlands wouldn’t go under ‘g’ either, huh?”

<i>”Cod! Cod!”</i> the raven on the windowsill called out.

Azahar nearly dropped the scrolls he was holding. “D-Did that one just say ‘cod’ or ‘caw’…?”

Sausage tried to suppress a giggle but failed. “Crows caw, ravens have a deeper kind of <i>grunk.”</i>

“Cod! Cod!” the raven repeated. “Cod Empire!” It then tilted its head and looked at the invitations Elowen had put down. “This letter is for Jimmy!” It hopped down to the floor and began to poke at the scrolls with its beak.

Scott scooped one up and held it out to the raven. “They don’t have individual names on them, but you can deliver this one to Jimmy, in the Cod Empire.”

“Cod! Cod! Jimmy is a cod!”

Scott smiled with a chuckle of his own. “Close enough.”

The ruckus got the attention of a few more ravens, who fluttered onto the windowsills and were soon calling to each other as word got around among them that there were quite a few scrolls in the hands of their young masters, as Elowen picked his up to start offering them to whichever raven ventured near. “This one goes to… GeminiTay at the Crystal Cliffs,” he said, trying to sound authoritative while keeping the order of empires listed in his head – since the choice had been decided for them. “Oh! This one goes to Tango the Blaze Emperor, he’ll get his from Jimmy – in the Cod Empire,” he said to the next raven, almost forgetting what Sausage had said earlier.

After he had gone through his half of the invitations, Azahar took over. “This one goes to King Joel in Mazelea. This one goes to Queen Lizzie in the Ocean Empire. Next is Shrub… no, Princess Katherine, in the Overgrown. Heh, I kinda keep messing up the Overgrown and the Undergrove, sorry.”

The next raven croaked at him then plucked at the scroll still in his hand. He hastily handed it over and continued with the rest of the list. He and Elowen then ran to a window to watch the ravens flying off in various directions, including the two going the same way to their neighboring empire.

~*~

Sitting on the dock outside the humble, littlest shack in the Cod Empire, Tango the Blazeborn Emperor held his feet just above the water, casually humming while watching Jimmy swim around under the surface. He was generally careful to not touch the water himself, out of an overabundance of caution, but he did lean over to look at how his fires, black cloak, and blazerod crown was reflected between the ripples.

The mirrored image of two birds flew into view, then they circled and landed at the edge of the shack’s roof. Tango could see they each had a scroll clutched in the talons of one foot. He stood up and held out his hands. “Those are for Jimmy, right? I’ll give them to him. You can’t swim either, can you?”

“Jimmy the cod!” croaked out one. The birds – ravens, Tango now remembered they were called – looked at each other. The second one croaked, “Give it to Jimmy! For Tango the Blaze!”

“Hey, that’s me! So, you were going to give both to Jimmy, and he’d give me one? He’ll probably be up in a minute, but it works the same way: give both to me, and I’ll give him one!”

The ravens conferred with each other in quiet creaking sounds, then both fluttered off the roof. Tango held his hands out again, only for both birds to drop the scrolls while remaining a distance above him, missing his hands completely. He realized they probably didn’t want to get too close to the flame atop his head. “It’s okay! I don’t take it personally!” he called after them as they flew off back the way they had come.

Tango picked up one scroll and broke the seal, softening the wax with his touch but reining in his heat to not set the parchment itself on fire. He unrolled it then tilted his head as he puzzled over some unfamiliar words.

The Codfather climbed up onto the dock a few seconds later and noticed his companion’s look of concentration. “What have you got there?”

“Hey, so – what’s a gala? And what are princes?”

“What? Let me see.”

“Oh, there was one for you, too! I guess they’re the same, but…” Tango turned and bent to pick up the other scroll that the ravens had dropped. “Here! Tell me if yours says it, too!” He handed it over and rather eagerly bounced on his toes while Jimmy struggled for a second to break the seal with his still-damp fingers.

Tango waited patiently for confirmation and an explanation, but all Jimmy did was exclaim, “Wait, since when has Mythland had princes??”

[Chapter Two - The First Gala ]

[blocksruinedme]

Something big is happening in Empires & Hermitcraft. Let's discuss! Specifically, Grian, Smallishbeans, LDshadowlady and Fwhip's episodes the week of October 9, 2022. I've clipped all the relevant scenes down below. I'm very interested in corrections and commentary!

[Note: They all ended their episodes at a portal with weird stuff happening, so if you're looking to check videos for rift lore, maybe skip to the ends.]

- October 9 - Grian finds a button in front of his Hermitcraft rift. It says "Begin?" Grumbot[1]  gives him a message that says "Push the button". He tries not to, but eventually gives in. (This is typical Grian behavior.)  (HC 9: Ep 23)

- October 11 - Lizzie finds a portal on Empires that bears some suspicious resemblance to Grian's rift. Hoping she might get crystals, she sends a fox named Gary through on a minecart to investigate, and bring back "lots of crystals, the shinier the better". They hit the portal, Gary goes through, the minecart doesn't. (Is Gary a modded villager? That's lizzie's thing?) (Empires s2, Ep 11)

- October 13 

(1) Joel spies the portal from his bridge, having heard about it already. He says he'll send something through because Lizzie already did. He sends one of his Jimmy dolls - it's important to remember the doll is named "Smallishbeans's Head". There's no minecart, he just chucks it in.  (Empires s2, ep 19) (2) Fwhip hears an explosion and finds the portal, decides to not engage with any of it. Later, Lizzie comes to Fwhip for help rescuing Gary, and they send Fwhip's creature, "Sniff, Explorer of the Deep", through the portal on a minecart to get Gary. I have no idea what kind of creature Sniff is. Some modded goblin horse I get. Snort's older brother. idk. (Empires S2 : Building a GOBLIN LAVA FORGE, because he can't be bothered to use episode numbers I guess?)

Maybe it's not Grian's rift, maybe Hermitcraft and Empires aren't connected, but that would be WILD. If you don't know, Grian is IRL friends with Lizzie and Joel, so them collaborating makes a lot of sense. Sausage is having big flashbacks to Empires s1 and Afterlife SMP. Gem and FalseSymmetry are in both Empires & Hermitcraft, and False's plot is about having woken up in a strange place. Pearl is in Hermitcraft, and was in Empires s1, and there's deep lore about her that I'm not caught up on, but she already exists between series, she sent Oli (theorionsound) from Afterlife SMP to Empires season 2, from her base in the sky. She's been Watching everything! She's a Saint? A Goddess? (I am going to catch up, I only finished emp1 this month.) And I'm told her afterlife/empires sky base is her hermitcraft s8 base. 

The Jimmy toy looks like Jimmy and has Joel's name. Their Double Life soulmates are in Hermitcraft. I saw a comic once that had Tango finding a Jimmy doll and it feeling familiar. Thus, I am now insane and will be at least until empires s2 is over, probably forever.

Here's some videos and some transcripts, but I've been at this two hours and I'm not transcribing them all, sorry!

(I will hopefully keep updating as things develop, but no promises. Probably with less transcription. I'll tag them all #mcyt crossover, because who knows how deep this will go.)

Joel transcript, at 13:26 - Joel spies the portal. "and whilst we're here, look at that. that's lore right there. weird lore stuff's happening on the server guys. what is it? I don't know. But I saw that Lizzie put something in it, so we should go put something in it as well. So what better than this little toy man here? Well, the toy version of the toy man. Have fun little toy-- oh, it's missed. Let's try again." [toy name says "Smallishbeans's Head"] "Have fun little toy man! And just like that, he's gone. I hope he's okay, but if he's not okay, then that's fine as well to be honest.

Fwhip transcript

11:57 - Fwhip says Jimmy is toying with his heart. </3

12:00 - Fwhip hears an explosion. "What? Bridge? What is (x3) that? I'm sorry but this is brand new. How did this pop up here out of the wall? [confused goblin noises] You know what, if I've learned anything being underground in the goblin cavern it's don't dig where you're not supposed to be digging. I'm going to be leaving that as if I've never saw it [things about copper and cave safety] spooky things are happening". 

15:30 - (too long to transcribe) Lizzie blows the emergency horn, says there's a situation with Gary, the greatest explorer who ever lived in Animalia. She's upset that Gary hasn't come back, Fwhip tells her that he heard an explosion earlier, Lizzie is more upset, wants a rescue mission. Fwhip says his empire's greatest explorer, "Sniff, Explorer of the Deep" has just returned home, [they laugh heartily]. Lizzie takes Fwhip and Sniff to the "crystal cave". Fwhip says maybe Gary did the explosion. Lizzie says Gary had a very specific mission (get crystals) and he'd never stray from the mission protocols. They tell Sniff to find and bring back Gary. Sniff spins around a lot, because he's excited for a job. They put him on a minecart, Lizzie makes a Harry Potter reference (which she and Joel do all the time), and the episode cuts right there, no outro. 

Time stamped links to the original videos (give them a like!): 

Joel https://youtu.be/rUmWjXaJGcw?t=805

Lizzie: https://youtu.be/bunhaERjxmE?t=533 Fwhip: https://youtu.be/jI3bYNJXuVs?t=717 (second part is at 15:30)

Grian: it's the whole episode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Onsbmy3r70g

[1] Grumbot is... in HC s7 Grian and Mumbo he made a robot son to help Mumbo win the mayoral election, then they lied to him and sai that he won, and put him in a (nice) box. Now there's a grumbot here and maybe he's from an AU and he says creepy things like "My Grian was sorry too" and I've only watched bits of all this.

[nefkyo]

This is a wip of a personal project. Please note the tags before reading:

dream smp lore, post Doomsday era, implied character death, implied suicide, necromancy, crimeboys mope around in Limbo, mild description of a panic attack, mild description of body horror, miscommunication, tntduo is real, tntduo family who cheered, avian Quackity, ram Tubbo, Quackity is trans because I believe he can do anything

this is for @werenotacoupleyesyouare.

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Faint footsteps echo towards him. He's back from his light jog in the tunnel that loops into itself. He heard him get frustrated fifteen minutes ago but didn't say anything. "Hi again" he says. Even in Limbo, Tommy comes back after arguing with him, sits down next to him and gives him the silent treatment. But at least he's sat down. Does nothing he says ever sting enough? No, never enough. Nothing is ever enough to drive him away, far away enough. Not even a kind invitation to never return. "I have to tell you something about the Overworld, Will." Tommy starts, only to be cut off as usual. "I've already told you, I don't want to know whatever you have to say when you start off like that." "It's really big." Tommy looks up at him, or at least in his general direction, and for a brief moment he sees a sort of pity gloss over those blank orbs. It irks him. "I *really* don't want to know, then." he groans.

"But- How are you not even a little bit curious?"

"With the way you're looking at me, I'd rather keep whatever dignity I have left through ignorant bliss."

"H- That's nothing like you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I've changed."

"You have."

He quickly diverts his eyes back towards the train tracks. Still, cold, unforgivingly grey and dirty. "Will you tell me anyway if I say no?" Wilbur asks, he has before, and he shakes his head, he has before. "Good. Because you told me that it's a secret you were told to take to the grave." he continues. Tommy perks up then, "See?" he says, a knowing smile "That's why I should be able to tell someone else that secret now, especially you!" "You know that's not how the saying is supposed to be interpreted. It doesn't matter how important it could be, Toms," he mumbles into the pitch black horizon, "once you tell me, what would I be left to do about it? I'm dead, we're dead. I'd just spend eternity asking you why you didn't keep your mouth shut." "Yeah, but--" "Just forget about it." Tommy makes a series of noises out of frustration and then stands up, arms crossed, as he starts wandering around again. Wilbur is starting to get tired of watching him do this every time, especially with the way he phases through the shadows of the platform like nothing. "That's such bullshit! How am I supposed to forget?" "By talking about something else?" "No! It's- If anything, it's the evil shit you've been saying lately that makes it harder to choose!" "I haven't said anything necessarily "evil" lately." Wilbur shrugs, angering the blond again. It doesn't take much. "You're constantly praising Dream!" he exclaims, "you praise him, the bastard who took our lands and killed me when I tried to avenge you!" "You weren't avenging me Tommy, we both know you were in Pandora's Box to mock him and avenge yourself." Wilbur corrects him as if he'd seen the whole scene himself. He hasn't, but he got the crude details narrowed down. "Besides, if he's got this necromancy thing down, you have to give him some credit." "Well he probably fucking doesn't, it's been three months! I feel it on my skin!" "Yeah, I know." "And he has not revived me, the green bitch, so my point still stands! A-And you wouldn't feel the same about him if I told you The Thing!" Tommy defends, but once again, Wilbur refuses to hear whatever The Thing. "I'm just saying, if Dream has all this arcane power at his fingertips, then I see him in a new light. I'd be honored to pick his brain at this time." "You would NOT." Tommy groans, but he sits back down.

"...Is The Thing going to make me angry?" he asks suddenly. Tommy nods, his eyes would light up with surprise if there was any life behind them. "Probably." "Is it going to make me hate Dream like before?" "Maybe. Not directly, at least." Wilbur thinks about it for a hard, long minute before he answers. "Fine, tell me." he sighs. Tommy seems to make some mental gymnastics beforehand, then, when he feels ready, he speaks. "I know you and Quackity were dating during Pogtopia, he told me. And... He laid an egg a few days after you died."

----------------------------------------------------------

Wilbur is stunned into silence, frozen in place as the information makes its way to his brain. Not the first part of the information, of course, who cares about that. "Are you..." he stammers, "...Are you serious?" "Yeah, uh... Yours, obviously. The egg." Tommy shrugs, but this is not a casual matter at all. "I promised Big Q I wouldn't tell anyone you were the father, but you should know. She was doing ok the last time I saw her, she looks like you." "She? I-It hatched, the egg hatched?" "Yeah." "Is she healthy?" he asks, his voice constricts in his throat, and Tommy just nods quietly. It takes him a long time to accept that information. He repeats it under his breath, over and over. "A daughter. I have a daughter." he whispers, and Tommy just stares ahead as usual. Tommy touches the back of his head uncomfortably, where the gash that killed him sits in its crimson glory. "Quackity told her about you, showed her pictures of L'Manberg and everything, but... Y'know, more in a symbolic way, she probably doesn't actually know anything." "So..." he hesitates. It's like someone just tossed his brain onto the train tracks. "...So that whole story you told me about Quackity starting that project, the casino, that was a lie then?" "Oh no, I didn't lie about that. He really was building a casino last I saw him." Tommy says. "He called it Las Nevadas." "Yeah, he.. He told me that's what he would've called it." his voice dies out. Wilbur thinks about Quackity, what he could look like now. Their daughter, their daughter must be a little lady now. Does he make her play in the casino? Does she deal cards with him? "When *did* you guys start dating anyway? Like, before the elections or during Pogtopia?" Tommy breaks his thought patterns suddenly. "Because I'll remind you, *you* were the one saying not to fraternize with other candidates at the votes and I will never let you live it down." "Shut up," Wilbur sighs in response, and he knows he would usually smile at this kind of tease, but he doesn't. Even if the images of those times still make something bloom in him. "We started dating *during* Pogtopia, after the festival fiasco. We'd watch over Tubbo together, console each other, as usual. It just felt different that time around." he mutters.

"Dude, ew. Tubbo was unconscious and you were kissing in there?!"

"No- No no no, what? We didn't kiss in his room, we just- we talked about it, our feelings. *Then*, after he recovered, we kissed. Completely separate occasion."

"Right. I'm gonna believe that for the sake of my sanity."

----------------------------------------------------------

So Tommy is now stuck answering whatever Wilbur may ask about her, about this kid nobody has ever seen more than once or twice. But when he's voluntarily about to tell him her name, Wilbur orders him not to. "Are you sure?" Tommy says, but he's already moved on to other questions.

"Does she have brown eyes?"

"I don't know, I only saw her while she was sleeping."

"So how could you tell if she was healthy if she wasn't awake?"

"Well, Quackity would've probably said if she was sick with something."

"Did she ever chirp like a duckling?"

"She did a few times."

His baby girl, nuzzled in the arms of her father, chirping in her sleep. He can't picture her, but he wants to. "Does he miss me?" he asks suddenly. "Quackity. Does he miss me?" "Well... I think he did. He was skittish of other people, he didn't really want to talk about you much. He didn't even want Phil seeing her." "Phil doesn't know about her?" Wilbur jumps up a little, and Tommy tilts his head slightly. "I think he's seen her at least once. He doesn't know that she's yours, Quackity didn't tell him." "Why?" Wilbur asks, but then he stops and thinks about it. Of course.

There's another stretch of silence. Wilbur sighs heavily and thinks on how everyone knows about a child that he can't even picture. "Do you... Do you think that I could've been a good father?" he asks with wishful thinking on his tongue. "Yeah, you wish! You couldn't even keep yourself alive, man." Tommy chimes with another tease. But after staring out into the dark for another long few minutes, he shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe you could've been." "Ouch." Wilbur smirks briefly then, only then. They're both contemplating a thousand different thoughts a minute.

"Would I have gotten to see her if I'd lived?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Did he hate me when I...?"

"Oh yeah, a lot." he nods. "He screamed a lot, then he went quiet and didn't say anything about you again." he actually turns to look at him - in his general direction at least - and with a voice below a whisper, with that same, angering pity in his eyes all over again, "Why didn't you tell him?" he asks. "I get that you didn't tell me what you were going to do, but him? Why didn't you tell him if you loved him so much?" he feels the faint taste of bile, just for a split second, before he replies with a very weak excuse. "Because I knew that if I did..." He sighs. Now he sees why he and Tommy keep secrets from each other, why they don't want to hurt each other with the truth. "...I knew that he'd never let me die. He would've done anything to keep me alive, and my brain was so set on it, so sure that I *needed* to die. He would've gotten in my way, just like you always did. And I couldn't do that to him, to you, to anyone else."

He remembers it. The night he had a breakdown so violent he almost told him his plans, thinking he was about to die from rabies anyway. In the dark, damp tunnels, pain stinging in his trembling arm, bite marks and blood and a sensory overload. Quackity held him up and looked at him with eyes of horror and repressed despair and kept telling him "It's ok, it's gonna be ok, it was just a wolf," while disinfecting the wound, pressing hard on the gauze. He looked at him and said "Q, I'm so sorry, I--" but before he could find the word that came after that "I", he froze. He couldn't tell him. So he said "I'm scared", which wasn't really a lie, and Quackity held him through that too.

Wilbur sighs as he snaps himself out of it. "Could you tell him that I'm sorry?" he mumbles. "If Dream finally decides to stop playing games and bring me back to life?" Tommy asks "Sure. But how would I let you know what he said?" "I don't need to know." Wilbur replies quickly, then, after a pause, his brother nods. "Ok."

----------------------------------------------------------

A week, maybe a month, maybe an hour later, a train came to the station and actually stopped. Wilbur was sleeping on the floor as usual when the screech of gears and wheels halting startled him awake. He looked up, at the opening doors, at the bright lights inside the car, and he felt this faint rise in his stomach, this feeling that told him exactly where the train was headed. And he must admit, he got excited. A tall, long figure stepped out, a blank face in a dark green cloak walked past him and grabbed Tommy, whose blind eyes darted around in confusion. "Wilbur?" he said, he spoke and Wilbur said "Toms?" with the same tone. "Wilbur, I think he's taking me back!" he exclaims, but he doesn't sound happy at all. "That's ok, I'm right behin--" he tries to stand up as he says it, but a force he can't explain, a pull keeps him seated. He can't go, of course he can't go. He doesn't deserve to go. So he starts again, trying to use that same voice of enthusiasm. "That's great Tommy, that's great! Be careful out there, don't come back here too soon!" he tries to joke, but Tommy doesn't seem glad to hear his voice so far away, to not *see* him when they're just a step from each other. The tall figure keeps a thin hand on the back of Tommy's head. "Will, I'll find a way to make you come back too!" "Don't do that, Tommy, don't try that!" he warns, but Tommy doesn't seem to be listening anymore already. The train doors start closing, one by one, now Tommy isn't even looking around anymore, he's frozen, catatonic. That's when Wilbur realizes, "TOMMY! You didn't tell me her name! Tommy! Tell me her name!" he screams, his voice rasps and the figure, the long, tall, white face in a dark green cloak puts a finger to his mouth to shush him, though it has no lips of its own. "TOMMY, HER NAME!" he begs, he feels as heavy as the day he died. Tommy mouths something, his lips quiver and make a word but the shrill of the metal doors makes it unintelligible. Then, the train departs. Wilbur feels a gust of wind, of life, trailing behind those giant tin cans that just took his brother back to the land of the living. And then it's gone.

All that's left is an empty train station. Nothing but dust on the track, and the echo of the train's wheels as it leaves the tunnel. Wilbur is alone again. That's what makes it hurt the most, really—he was right there! He had a chance, even the smallest, slimiest chance in hell, that he could've seen his own kid. That he could've kept Tommy safe with him too. Now it's gone. All that he has left is to wait, once again, for the wheels that will bring them all back together. Time is never kind to souls that refuse to move on. Wilbur has lost track, how long has he been here? That's another thing he should've asked him, isn't it ? He can think about a moment in time, remember something about himself on the surface and use it as a measurement, but those memories are all slowly fading away. Maybe that's for the best, he can't keep thinking about the people he knows, can't look back if he wants to move forward, so he waits. He waits, he waits, he waits. One day is another, and another, and another.

The train comes again. This time he's not weighed down by anything, by anyone, but he doesn't want to get on. The long, tall figure with a blank face in dark green cloak walks out, dragging from the scruff a pathetic, limp soul. He throws him out onto the pavement, a ghost that looks exactly like him. They stare at each other and they feel so terrified of the other. They can't tell who is more person, but now there's this twisted realization in both of them, that they're not the original. He tries to say anything to him, but he can't, and he doesn't either. And once they're done stalling, trading places, the figure begins to drag him in. "Wait, wait! H-he's part of me, let me get him!" he protests, but the figure doesn't let him. Some things must be sacrificed. The ghost sits in his place and looks at him with neon blue tears brimming in his eyes. As the doors close, he knows he has the other's mission now, just not what it is. He stares into the mirror image of himself, his face hollowed out from burn scars along his cheeks. It's the same in everything other than that. The way he sits, the way he slumps. He frowns, but he's not mad, really. It's just a part of him that will carry out this burden. It'll have to, whether he likes it or not. The train rumbles to a start again, he waves at himself, he waves back faintly but starts sobbing loudly soon after, almost louder than the train's screams. There's this understanding between them that they are not the same person, they could never have been, and this switch was bound to happen, whether the other thought he'd done enough up there or not. So, cheers to the other guy. Everything goes dark as they enter the tunnel, darker than death has been so far. The figure puts a thin hand on his back and he hates it, he hates it so much.

Time passes incredibly fast, all at once, faster than Limbo, faster than life. He feels vertigo pull his body in all directions, pulling his neck backwards, his chest forward, his back up, his legs down. For the first time in such a very long time, pressure enters his body. His body has depth. He sees a light, ironic, oh so ironic that he wants to go towards it but instead feels himself being pulled away from it. He fights the current, the figure stares, unaffected. He pushes through the barrier, the train shakes and rattles and screeches. He doesn't dare look.

----------------------------------------------------------

The cold, dewy air of an April's early morning fills his lungs. Lungs, he has those. He has to get used to that feeling again before he opens his eyes. His head spins, his whole body hurts like hell. Air shudders out of him violently, like a spring has just jumpstarted the valves in his system and now he's feeling the reebot. He tries to move his arms and legs, and he succeeds, but the pain that shoots through his body makes it hard to enjoy the discovery. Every joint and bone screams at him, every suture. Suture? He lifts his hand, tentatively, carefully to his eye. Stitches. Along his wrists, the creases of his fingers, his legs, his ankles. He's been pieced back together into a single string of flesh. By who? He knows who. He doesn't care, for now. For now he's alive. He groans, and for the first time in over a decade he hears his voice without echo, he can feel heat around him, his nerves are full of blood. His body aches in places that he didn't even know could hurt, but maybe he's never been more glad. And he's laying in front of a small altar, a memorial to his name, literally. Strangely enough he can still read, and his name is written at the bottom of the marble. There are drapes of the old L'Manberg flag hanging unceremoniously over his date of birth, flowers - mostly wilted - have been left beside pictures of him. And a single, still lit lantern sits near his boots. His boots? It's strange, but he's almost certain this isn't how he was dressed when he died. He uses the flat marble surface to hoist himself up again, the weight of his own body might make him throw up if he thinks about it too hard. He glances all around. Everything is empty, quiet—like a museum. Except it's not, this looks more like a rocky pit overgrown with nature. He groans aloud, the pain is excruciating but he tries to focus on the sights around him. His body wants to shut down once more, but despite the overwhelming weight of the world that's bearing down on him, he can't let his mind slip away again. He must keep going. He stands up, head bobbing slightly. This doesn't feel like any afterlife or secondary plane, it feels like the Overworld. It just *feels* like it. He stares up, he looks as far as he can squint, at the hills of exposed rock covered in dew and moss. These are ruins alright. He wants to laugh, but he just sneers. Someone built him a memorial over the ruins of what he destroyed, it's like making a plaque for the potted plant that fell on the pavement and made a crack, except the potted plant was him, and the crack was more of an abysmal crater. He squints at the ruins in front of him, everything is still and silent. Not one sound but the wind. Not one person but himself. It's all here in front of him, in this broken down splinter of what used to be L'Manberg. There's a sense of finality in the air, but it's not sad, it feels like an ending. He feels the air chill his breath and the cold ground underneath his feet. But it's a different feeling from what he was experiencing when he was dead.

Not anymore, apparently.

He hears those footsteps behind him, hurrying, running on stone and wood. Two, no, three people, and at least one other creature. He turns around in time to find himself smiling at a horrified Tommy, a very drained, jittery Tommy, with a blue sheep on a leash, and then Tubbo and... An Enderman in a suit. Tommy walks towards him carefully, maybe a little cathartically, like one walks up to a heaving rabbit they just shot with an arrow. "Oh, you fuck." "Hello again." he says, and he can't help laugh at his little audience. Tommy is looking *at* him, and he's cussing him out, it's just like the old times. Nothing's changed! Well, besides everything else. "Hi Wilbur!" Tubbo waves from the back of this posse - when did he get so tall?! "Is... is this real?" he asks, breaking the teethering tension. "Yeah. Where's Ghostbur?" Tommy asks back, and he can't answer that. He was expecting anything, a 'Welcome back', a clear indicator that he was anywhere near missed, but instead he's asked where the other guy is. The better version, he imagines. "Oh, he's... He took my place in Limbo." the words just sort of slip out of him. "He WHAT?? How do we get him back??" "I-I don't know, I just got here! I'm back." he shrugs as he speaks, like this was supposed to be obvious. He's still taking everything in, glancing at the blue sheep and the enderman, still mostly paying attention to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of the solid ground underneath his feet. So *real.* "You're supposed to act at least a little bit happy to see me." he mutters. "W-We are." Tommy forces out, but he doesn't want to move towards him any further. "So why aren't you coming here? Hey, it's me! It's me, man!" "I-I didn't think you'd-- trade places with him. I thought you'd be all in one piece together. I didn't even have a ghost, why'd you split?!" "I-I don't know." and Wilbur really doesn't know, but it feels weird not to lie anymore. "Tommy, we just got him back, can you guys not complain about each other already?" Tubbo chimes in, sliding past Tommy to walk over and hug Wilbur. It's an instant regret. It feels strange, uncomfortable, irritating like a stubble rash. But Tubbo's heart is in the right place, so he lets him. He instigated it anyway. Then the sheep tries to sniff his leg. "Oh god don't tell me I have to hug the sheep as well" was not a thought, or sentence in general, that Wilbur ever thought he'd hear himself saying, but thankfully he doesn't have to. "That's Friend," Tubbo says as he steps back "Ghostbur befriended it and we- we thought he'd be here, so we were gonna take it to him." he hears a faint and shy "and I'm Ranboo..." from behind Tommy. "Yeah that's Ranboo. They're here too." Tubbo nods, taking Friend's leash to hand it over to the creature. "...Charmed." Wilbur says, a little too focused on the other matters at hand and, quite frankly, a little unsure whether he can look them in the eyes or not.

"Y'know, you look like you haven't aged." he tells Tubbo as they accompany his out of the caved in rock. "Really? I reckon I actually look different, like, my horns came in, fuckin' finally. Didn't you notice?" he asks when he puts his head down to show him. A set of horns, already scratched in. "I mean, yeah, I did. Looking good." "Thanks bossman." "It's just... I thought you'd be... Older, older than... This." Tommy and Tubbo share a glance, then look back at him. "How long have I been dead?" he has to ask the two. He has to ask before he starts moving his legs in any direction and he doesn't stop, it's getting hard to sit still. "About a year and a half." Tommy says something finally. "A year?! A year and a half??" he spits out. "A fuckin' lot's happened, Will, and I need you to promise that you're not gonna say some weird shit about Dream being cool or--" but Wilbur is too busy laughing incredulously at how little time has passed since he died. "A year and a half, are you kidding?? I was dead for thirteen and a half years, Tommy!" "I- No, Will. You weren't dead that long, it's just a Limbo thing."

He stares at them both, his smile evaporating, his breath catching. "No, there's no way. I feel so... I feel jaded, jaded and stuffy, Tommy!" There's no way he was only gone for so little time, it's impossible. He could swear on his life that he was alone for so much longer, there's no way his own memory could deceive him like this. But Tommy looks almost the same as when they last saw each other in Limbo, Tubbo's just a little taller than before. It's the landscape, that's what really changed. He can feel the rushing of wind from nearby cracks in the stone, he can feel the need to look through them. "I mean, no offense, you look older than you're supposed to be..." Tubbo says, cocking his head slightly. "Did you know you've got white hair?" "I got white hair too, after I was revived." Tommy points out. Wilbur hasn't even had the chance to think about a mirror, he's just wandering off, staring out into the sky, the blooming dawn. If he's not thirteen years older, then his daughter, who's out there somewhere, isn't a teenager. She might still need him. Quackity might still need him. His soles find a step and he stares down at a sea of glass. If regret needed a preview, it would look like what's underneath it. "Is this L'Manberg?"

[officialgleamstar]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thank u for the tag @cerealmonster15 :] sorry for forcing you into tagging me and then FORGETTING TO DO IT ONCE I GOT OFF WORK but insomnia is killing me tonight sooo tag game time :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

127 fics on my account, and then 130 anonymous fics, and two? maybe three? orphaned fics lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

826,251! getting close to 1 mil... maybe that should be a writing goal for this year :0

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently its oxventure all the way down, baby bfdjgfdhhj i have a few dndads fics im still working on though, and i have an aftg fic im working on for an event right now as well! i need to... make sure i finish that on time, actually

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they aaare mostly anonymous LOL but! for fics i list, these ones. the way that three of these are from 2017 and 2018... i know that makes sense because theyve had more time to accumulate kudos and also are for more popular fandoms but :') man 1. Cleaning Up - Haikyuu!! - 908 kudos 2. heart under your sleeve - 3rd Life - 616 kudos 3. four am - All For the Game - 502 kudos 4. his soul - Empires SMP, 3rd Life - 391 kudos 5. "Are you dense, or do you just not know how to say no?" - All For the Game - 288 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes i do!!! im bad at it, but i do :D

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

just like cereal, i dont write much angst, but probably you know i love you, right? or these feelings, they're not gone :0

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of my fics are disgustingly sweet and sappy so its hard to judge

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i have a few times but not enough to be a trend, lol

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeah lol if i cant write pet play and/or breeding kink i wither up and die. who said that

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

just once! (can you kiss me more) absolutely beloved

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

two times that i know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah lol someone translated a handful of my old rpf fics into russian :]

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeah, but never a finished fic

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

you simply cannot make me choose. you cant make me choose. please.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Divorced Dad Rock Mix you are everything to me but chapter 3 thru 6 are probably never seeing the light of day

16. What are your writing strengths?

im really good at telling a compelling story in a very small amount of word :] also, SPEED WRITING. i can write very quickly when i put my mind to it!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

im so awful at ending fics just absolutely dogshit at it

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

its . writing dialogue in another language, i guess? lol its fine

19. First fandom you wrote for?

pokemon or harry potter i think. maybe my little pony or minecraft. or world of warcraft but i think that was later? id have to dig through my deviantart and i dont feel like it lol

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

god that is a hard question to answer, i love all of my fics a lot bfdgfjhdbghjd i think... the first fic to come to mind was, naturally, my beloved your love is tried and true-blue. normscary <333 AND my glennry soulmate fic as well, so where do we begin? hmmm... the johnny spells thing comes from a very personal space, and its a fic that i thought about for literal years, so its very near and dear to me in that sense as well. and on our dates, it's never daytime is a super self-indulgent fic that i reread a lot because its so perfectly targeted at myself lol same thing for fall (back) in and i love mine, mine, mine for more recent examples. uh. okay thats a lot of rambling LOL those i guess :3

tagging: hmmmmm @bidoofenergy and @cookies-over-yonder i think!!! have fun guys