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silvertws · 6 months

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"Hermit craft" and other ccs because they are cool. STAR WARS AU (I think imma do different ones depending on like Prequels, Sequels, and Present or whatever it's called yk, droids, Vader and Kylo)...? Unsure I'm just doing Vader now.

*Cries in the amount of research I'm going to have to do*

Xiuma and Mumbo -> def mechanics, ships repairing, Mumbo never drove any of his fucking ships, he would suck as a pilot, Xiuma is good at it tho!

Grian -> one of the best, if not the best pilot in the galaxy -> does bro have the force? Yuh, does he know or use it? Nuh uh also Pearl's sibling, they got separated when little.

Scar -> co-pilot of Grian, has a motored wheelchair, he's the most curious one out of the two. He is the one that tells Grian to do something and join the rebellion.

Doc ->maybe some imperial scientist of some kind???? He scares me.

Scott... You scare me but! Leader potential? Scavenging with Cleo, Scott -> the brain, Cleo -> them muscles, she's a skilled blaster fighter, possibly Mandalorian..? We're there mandalorians of that species....?????Cleo is a Togruta def.

Pearl -> definitely started off as a Padawan, sister of Grian -> = older (aka, yes the gist of "mf is too old to be trained, but his sister ain't, YOINK"), yeah he was not pleased. Pearl basic doesn't remember him, like, she knows she has a brother somewhere, but yk. Yeah so, Master dies, obviously 🙄, cause you know order 66, still debating who that should be... Uhhhhh Maybe Impulse? Yes you're dying boi. Be sad. Someone has to. So yeah, she escapes, and then I'm going to presume she's going in hiding... With another surviving Padawan... Maybe Gem, yeah. Yeah shiny duo why not. So they go into hiding, they survive by themselves, somehow, a bit of thievery never hurt anyone... Oh wait.

Anyway happiness doesn't last.

Bye bye Pearl, to get captured and become a sith you gooo.

Sorry Gem <\3 you'll see each other again.

While Pearl is "busy" turning to the Darkside and Just not having s good time, Gem joins the rebels, not revealing her past, he's lightsaber was broken during her qnd Pearl's escape after all. She does still have her Kyber cristal (green..? They focus more on defending to my knowledge, plus healing? Something like that) Pearl's used to be blue.

So yeah, Gem joins the rebels, where she does missions here and there and meets people like Tango.

Tango -> Pilot, and one of the leaders of a small squad that usually does ambushes to the Empire. (This is due to how fucking mental this guy was with EVERYTHING last season, he deserves to have a leading and planning spot)

Etho is a spy for the rebels. No questions asked. He is. Why? Don't exactly know...? He gives me spy vibes. Mf works for the Empire but is a double agent.

Joel and Lizzie have a bar where they try to keep it neutral, they don't enjoy the empire but don't want to risk loosing what they have to actively fight. They do hide rebels from time to time and share some rations. They know Tango, since he's the one who usually contacts them and also hid there a couple of times. They also know Etho since he goes there whenever he's dispatched to the planet.

Yes. The "Etho stop being obsessed with me" joke lives on.

Now... Owen. You sir. Terrify me. You're very scary as a villain but very adorable as a hero which you know what that means.

BETRAYAL.

oh this mf is playing the rebels like fools!

Nobody suspects the nice mechanic and co-pilot to be an imperial spy... Definitely didn't install a tracker on the ship AND the droid.

Grian and scar + Cleo and Scott + Etho, Gem, Owen all know each other.

Cleo and Scott do not care to join the rebellion and probably never will.

Scar convinces Grian to help.

Etho squad and Scott team have often had fights because of one stealing stuff before the other.

Joey is a pirate with Sausage, Skizz and Martyn. The often had fights with literally all of the other teams.

Ren -> imperial general.

Jimmy -> you know what..? Bounty hunter. And you may think. Jimmy..? A bounty hunter? Bro u cray cray, Nuh uh. Listen. Listen. He's not HORRIBLE at his job, he's not super great either. But he does get enough cash to survive.

Now. Who has a bounty on them..?

Literally everyone I mentioned tbh-

But for plot, and because you guys love flower husbands, I'm gonna go with Scott.

So yeah goofy bounty hunter×the one mf who keeps on slipping away.

And yes, he does go to Joel bar to complain and Joel keeps on taunting him about it.

Ok now.

We did flower husbands.

So I think it's time for the Nature wives.

Shelby is indeed a force user... Or maybe a Witch from Dathomir??? Or maybe.. ok.

Let's say.

She goes to Dathomir.

And like, I remember basically nothing about that so please don't come for me for inaccuracies.

If I remember, from Star wars fallen order (I have not played survivor yet.), the witches are dead. Except one yk, our beloved girlypop, so idk if I should do Shubble being the last one, and meeting Katherine as she crashed down on her planet. Or idk.

Also Katherine is a princess 100%

Think about her like Leia, cool, badass, and fights, I'm thinking for her to be a Mandalorian, because fighting you know. Wither that or she's just the princess of idek. My memory of the planets and systems is very limited ok? I'm very bad with names...

So yeah, maybe a bit of a black lightsaber situation could happen? Idek.

BigB and B-Dubs... I again have no idea.

I don't watch these two- they could be bounty hunters...? Merchants...???? Mercenaries....???? No clue- I mean, I have basically 0 villains planned but I don't think either of them could be an inquisitor or a general/commander of some kind- and I don't know how I wanna do the stormtroopers so... They could be Jedi masters? Maybe one died and the other didn't? Maybe they both died to protect the Padawans? Maybe they're both alive..???? Ughhhhhh ToT

I definitely need to put more villains-

But I don't wannaaaa ToT like sure, the pirate gang, sure, bounty hunter Jimmy.

But the inquisitors brooo.

Like other than Pearl idkkk

She slays so hard she doesn't need other inquisitors-

Like idek know who to make the BBEG

cause like... Scott could definitely be Vader ok. I know. I Know........ And Cleo be an inquisitor??? But I like Jimmy and Scott possible dynamic as bounty hunter×that one mf-

Likeeee arghhhhh

Ren is just too Goofy to be plays as a BBEG

Owen just has to betray someone ok? He needs the switch up.

Uhhhhhh...

Literally idek-

Do I randomly put Kier and Dev into this???

Quackity?????

Philza and Tommy could definitely be Jedi Master and young Padawan...

Like Ranboo is not giving villain.

Technoblade definitely would but, I don't want to put him in... In case I get yelled at TwT

Niki could be an inquisitor- definitely giving "the Jedi are corrupted at and so I decided to kill them all as revenge for taking away my childhood and my right of choice". So yeah.. definitely a "Padawan indoctrinated by the Darkside becomes inquisitor". Kinda like Pearl? But she didn't get tortured- it was kinda her choice sooooo. I guess I'm putting Niki in

FableSMP members???? Do I just put Fable as the BBEG????He could be more like Palpatine than Vader tho, since the manipulation and being well, powerful as fu- like, he works...Ok now I have ideas for FableSMP characters... Enderian would def be a witch of Datomir, my only issu with that is that I don't exactly know how that would work with Centross.

But. For what does work.

Wolf/Fenris??? Idk how it's written.

Used to be an imperial general, betrayed Fable. When he realized his kingdom was not safe even if he stayed with him.

Rae -> in this universe Enderian is out of the picture, like not even mentioned, sorry girly.

Rae is the child of Isla, who was the queen of whatever because again, this is just me writing down dumb ideas. So, Rae and Icarus were sent away when he was little by Isla, who wanted to keep him away from the empire's arms due to his connection to the force.

Icarus -> older sibling to Rae, has no connection to the force, (no Quixis, you're not doing shit this time >:(), when them and Rae were sent away, they didn't understand why fully. As he got older they resented Rae because they felt like if Rae didn't have a connection to the force then they'd be able to be a family. But that resentment soon moved to the force itself, the stores about the Jedis, the sith, all that chaos. They don't know exactly how to help Rae, all they can do is try to protect him from the empire. (I'm giving Rae and Icarus a good-ish relationship ok? We all need that)

Momboo and Ocie -> are sisters, both use the force and both were trained by the Jedis, needless to say they are not like 20 yo, I think imma make them around 35/40..? (Safe to say Icarus and Momboo won't have a relationship.No.)

They both survived order 66 but got separated.

Now for the angsty part.

Momboo during her travels tried to find and protect kids gifted with the force. She would then proceed to die, leaving Jamie and Uhh fuck I don't remember their name, well, her other kid ok? With one message, to find Ocie, she could help them.

Ocie did not have as much maternal instincts as her sister, but, she picked along a small child, Oscar, a child made orphan by the empire. I'm figuring out the species still. She would settle down, she thought she was away from everything, that she could heal. Then Momboos kids came, and boom, training arc for those little shits. (/Sarcastic /not mean /please I'm not serious)

Centross -> now, I know in FableSMP he's not on Fable's side but Enderian's, the problem with that is that I think that the only thing that fits Enderian is a Dathomir's witch. And I don't exactly know how that could work. Like sure, let's make her a sith, but she's supposed to be like on Fable's power level, and she's definitely not a Jedi. So. For Centross, he could 100% be an inquisitor. 100% not even questioning it. This is based upon when he was violet reaper, yes yes, I am aware he was not on Fable's side, but I believe Fable is more fit as Palpatine than Enderian, sorry girlboss. Also sorry Centross, you're not getting a redemption arc.

Origin members..?????? (Except you know who ofc)

Do I just mix up some Steve Saga like- I CAN'T DO THAT YK.

Like so many but yet arghhhhh

Idkkkkk

So many possible heroessss.

Like the only ones I KNOW could be great villains for sure are Pearl, Scott, and Owen. And Scott and Owen are the only ones who I could see as the BBEG.

But again, you know... TwT

Can't use Scott, Owen is already a traitor, unsure if he should be using the force.

And Pearl is just- s c a r y but she will have a redemption arc so yk.

Ughhhhh

Like Gem could also have villain potential but likeeeeee

®×`]?×¢{§`}~[¢÷!4(&(&(2)

I will maybe get more ideas in the future once I've done more research.

Please this is just a draft so don't come for me and the inaccuracies. I'm not even sure I'll actually bother to write an actual storyline, this is for funzies. Also the ages of characters might vary from the originals because again, this is an AU.

Also if anyone sees this and knows how to write and for some reason does anything with this, cool! :DDD it's not gonna happen, but cool!

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yacinthemorning · 6 months

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Birdsongs

Chapter 6

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Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, peer pressure, mild homophobia, bar fight, life crisis, anxiety, dancing

It was just after seven that they all walked down to The Mineshaft Pub, the favoured locale for dancing according to a woman in town. The decor was western, with the walls covered in historical pictures of the old miners that used to frequent it. Not the place to find anything fancier than a rum and coke.

It was surprisingly packed for a week night, though half the patrons were vaguely familiar. The second they entered the bar there was a shout in their direction, and Scott’s face lit up. A large woman pushed through the crowd, a lanky man on her tail, in neon everything like they expected a rave rather than Tim McGraw. “Scott, dear! You made it!”

“Cleo! Joe! I thought we were ahead of you.” He laughed, happily accepting a hug which quickly continued on to Pearl. Scott vaguely turned to the rest of them. “This is my band. Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, this is Cleo and Joe from HHH.”

“And those are my guys,” Pearl threw her thumb over her shoulder to the rest, “Gem, Impulse, Skizz, and Tango.”

“A Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Joe bowed like he was in a medieval court, which contrasted greatly with his thick southern accent. Gem giggled. “I didn’t happen to catch your bands playing a the last venue, but I hope fate is kinder to us at the next.”

“I think I heard a bit of you guys!” Intruded Skizz, pushing past Scott in his excitement. “You guys have crazy range, real interesting mix of folk and disco you got going! Especially with your poetry.”

It sounded like a horrendous mash-up to Jimmy, not even able to picture how it came together in his mind. Until he heard it himself, he’d just have to trust the event organizers’ tastes. The three groups exchanged a few more pleasantries, Scott and Pearl slowly drifting to Cleo’s side. Then, both were being beckoned away with promise of free food and dancing. “Watch your drinking, Jim. You know how you get.” Scott called before they disappeared into the crowd.

Jimmy huffed. Well, that was two less people to pay for, at least. Fwhip shrugged, and waved down a waitress as they found a pair of tables, “We’ll see them later. For now, lets get some wings and beer.”

“I think I’ll just have a coke.” Jimmy murmured while he slipped his guitar onto the back of his chair. He read through the tiny menu, only for it to be snatched away from him. “Hey!”

“Nuh-uh. C’mon, Jim, you’re a big boy now. We ain’t smokin’, it’s just a drink.” His manager insisted, ordering full pitchers of whatever beer was on tap for the whole table immediately along with the wings platter. “Joel can be our good little sober boy today.”

The man’s head shot up off the table immediately, “Uh, excuse me? I need at least two mugs of pisswater before I’m touching that dance floor, and Lizzie isn’t gonna let me not dance.”

“It’s fine, Fwhip, really.” Jimmy tried to insist. Some of GIST were looking at their table with concern. Tango’s brow knit behind his bright red sunglasses. He could feel his ears get hot, shrinking in on himself. “I’d rather do it then risk no one.”

Fwhip wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though. Not tonight. “You’re only saying that cause you’re still embarrassed about how you acted at Sausage Fest after downing those seven mojitos.” He teased, and god were those memories Jimmy would rather forget.

A mug slammed down in front of him, and the biggest pitcher Jimmy had ever seen saddled up beside it, Fwhip’s shit-eating grin distorted through the ruddy liquid. Jimmy glared right back, but eventually he gave in. If only to stop a scene. “Just one glass.”

“Hell yeah!” Fwhip cheered, stealing the pitcher away to fill all their glasses before holding his own up in cheer. “Grown ups table only today, men- and lady,” He winked at Lizzie, who stuck her tongue out. “Here’s to that amazing performance, and all the amazing performances to come!” Their glasses clinked, separating for Joel and Fwhip to almost instantly chug half their glasses. Lizzie took a much more modest sip. Jimmy swirled the glass for a moment, bringing it to his lips when Fwhip and Joel put their glasses down. He’s not sure he got more than a taste of the foam, but he pulled the same sour face the rest of his band did.

“I didn’t mean literal pisswater, jeez.” Joel coughed, but took another swig anyways. It certainly smelled bad enough to be true. There was probably nothing fruity on the menu to mask the alcohol in a bar like this.

Skizz held up his glass, shouting over almost the whole bar, “That’s the taste of freedom, my friend!”

“From what? Regulation?” Tango snickered.

“From modernity! Civility! Authority!”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sooo, yes.”

“Hey! This is a sacred place of debauchery and hedonism! Feast upon the grapes of whatever and dance till the sun rises upon us! Let us make our great father Dionysus proud!”

Both tables clapped, GIST shaking their head in amusement. Wings soon arrived, though, and they all dug in. Jimmy nursed his drink at a snail’s pace, hoping Fwhip would simply think he was hungrier than he was thirsty. It got a bit more difficult when Lizzie dragged Joel to the dance floor when a song she like came on, dinner be damned.

There was a few minutes when a man, another band’s manager apparently, passed by, and Fwhip spun around to chatter with the man. Someone tapped on his shoulder at that moment. Jimmy spun around to see Tango holding out his mug, near empty except the foam slowly sliding to pool at the bottom. It took him a moment before he realized what was happening, and grabbed his own mug. The transfer was far from smooth, slopping onto the floor a bit. When Jimmy’s mug was mostly empty Tango pulled it back with a mischievous grin and a wink before bringing the mug up to his own lips. Jimmy returned it with the same smile and turned back to his table. Behind him, he heard Tango wretch. He tried not to laugh.

It was a little over an hour into the night. Most tables were cleared of real food, replaced with glasses of various substances, and the air had become thick despite the no smoking signs. Tango was having a lovely time shouting with his friends when one song ended and a mic came on. Gem shrieked with glee, “Oh my god, guys! Come one, come on!” She dragged Impulse out of his chair, abandoning their table for the dance floor while one of the bar tenders tried to get the place pumped up for a line dance.

They nearly crashed into Scott and Pearl, who were already rosy-cheeked and giggling nonstop alongside Cleo. The three were linked hand-in-hand, pushing to the front of the group at Pearl’s insistence. It’d been a while since Tango had seen her let go and have fun. Not that she wasn’t always a joy, but... Well. Tango was still convinced waking up at five am to work for a band that had never once taken the gig seriously was crazy people actions.

He knew in the grand scheme of things it was for her career. GIST was her first foray into management and they weren’t going to be around much longer. Pearl was destined to move on to bigger and brighter bands, and he had all the confidence in the world she would with how brilliant and hard working she was. He just wished she took the chance to let loose while she still could. And the fact Scott and this Cleo person were able to get her to was enough to put them in Tango’s good books.

Joel and Lizzie were at the far end where they were previously dancing alone, and Fwhip dragged Jimmy into line right behind GIST despite his protests of leaving his guitar alone. The bar tender was up on a small stage, and began demonstrating the moves. Half of them hadn’t realized they were starting already, causing gem and Skizz to smack into the other two. Eventually after many bumps and giggles the whole crowd was on the same page doing the cupid shuffle. Skizz was the first to wrap his arms around Tango and Gem’s shoulders, until all four were linked, at least until they were asked to turn. It switched up to the cha cha slide, at which point Tango lost all coordination, much to his band’s amusement and their neighbour’s bemusement.

By the end they were all cheering and out of breath, Impulse being the first to retreat back to their table, Fwhip not far behind. Skizz swept Gem back over to the dance floor where Lizzie was happily dragging around Joel. Cleo, Pearl, and Scott tried to navigate into the crowd but nearly fell into a cackling heap with how drunk they’d gotten, and chose to bow out for the time being. Tango was in the middle of contemplating whether to do the same when a bright eyed face invaded his vision.

“You’re not throwing in the towel already are you?” He said with amusement.

It was almost wrong, to see Jimmy sans guitar on his back. His face was flush, not drunk on alcohol but some sort of adrenaline. His hair had fallen out of how he’d had it styled, sticking slightly to his forehead and up where a hand had been run through it. The sweetest smile stretched across his face, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. There was a stain on his cream button up, presumably from the hot wings, which Tango desperately wanted to point out just to say something instead of staring like a brainless goldfish. Before he could have the chance to say anything he was being pulled over to the centre of the dance floor.

“You know how to dance without instructions, I hope.” Jimmy laughed as they came to a halt.

Tango crashed right into him. Taking a moment for his brain to restart he put on the cockiest grin he could muster and confidently informed the men, “Pssh, I’ll have you know I’m an expert.”

“Oh yeah?” They’d began to sway with the crowd, nothing specific.

“In fact I’ve take a whole half a dance class before.” He did an awkward exaggerated jig for emphasis, which got a laugh.

“Oh, please tell me it was-”

“The tango? How’d you know?”

Jimmy cackle-cheered so hard he had to stop dancing for a moment to recover. When he calmed he reached out for Tango’s hands and they turned with the rest of the crowd, finally adding a few little cowboy steps to their swaying.

In truth, the sum total of Tango’s former dance experience mostly involved swaying cross-legged in the mud high out of his mind, headbanging in in a pit, and the macarena at a wedding. That hardly mattered now, especially when Jimmy just as uncoordinated. Whatever dance they were doing involved at lease one person’s foot on the others with each step and a lot of giggling. Tango was beginning to wonder if Jimmy had slipped away to grab his own drink at some point or inhaled a bit too much of the smoke, but his eyes were too focused for that. No, he really was just absolutely delighted to be moving around in the crowd, singing suspiciously well alongside Shania Twain. It was absolutely...

Well, Tango tried not to think too hard about what it was. Especially not when his gaze momentarily slipped away to avoid going blind and instead landed on Lizzie, who was giving him a knowing look. He couldn’t tell what emotion it was on her face, only able to presume she was still mad at him. A suggestion was on the tip of his tongue as the last stomping beat of Any Man of Mine played. Out of guilt or nerves. But he felt Jimmy back away with another airy sort of sound and he was dragged back in. He beamed, “Wanna go sit and grab a drink?”

They wound up at the bar rather than with their friends, where Jimmy could order a coke in peace while Tango could grab a nice whisky instead of more Molson. Jimmy was still giddy, his heel bouncing on the stool as he smiled down into his drink. He glanced over, though, to Tango’s glass. “Can I try?”

Tango slid it over, “S’bout as good as reasonably priced whisky gets.”

Jimmy rolled it a bit, took a sniff, then a sip. His nose wrinkled a bit before he passed it back. “Yeah think I’ll stick with mine.”

“Not for everyone.” Tango concedes.

“I just don’t like the taste much, or the feeling.” He brushes his chest, chewing on his lip and side eyeing Tango. “Just not...”

Ah. He shrugged, trying to act as casual as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself, partner.”

“No, I guess I don’t. Not to you.” Jimmy smiled, then took a sip of his coke.

“So, you like to dance?” Tango said, approximately as smooth as a cactus made of sandpaper covered in barnacles.

Jimmy by some miracle didn’t notice, and lit up once more as he went on a tale of childhood fairs and forced square dancing lessons and learning that dancing could actually be fun after years of spiteful refusal to ever perform again. It devolved into another story, and another. The bar tender was happy to slip yet another glass in front of Tango after each one.

Their chatter was only interrupted by Joel, who practically screeched across the bar from the stage, calling for his ‘babe’ which was apparently not Lizzie. Jimmy laughed and screeched back, back to full energy, and darted away back to his table to grab his guitar. They quickly took over the bar’s attention as they both began wailing away with the song, Jimmy strumming scratchy notes on his guitar. Some shouted, some cheered. Tango watched with great amusement, entirely missing when the seat next to him became reoccupied.

“Having fun?”

Tango’s head spun around. Lizzie was staring into Jimmy’s empty glass. He cleared his throat and swivelled back around. “Think so. You?”

“Of course.”

An awkward silence befell them, a not very silent one given the screaming and music and thudding and clinking. It all sounded like a distant whisper right now.

Lizzie huffed, and looked up, “Look, Tango. I’m not sorry about earlier.”

“Oookay.” He quirked an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought she was, but it seemed rude to come and say to his face.

“I’m not.” She insisted looking frustrated. “But I guess I can’t exactly tell you to not speak to my brother when he’s the one speaking to you. So, I’ve decided to call truce.”

“Thanks? I think.”

The silence was back. Lizzie chose to ignore it this time, flagging down the bar tender to get her own drink. Tango continued to sip his own.

He cleared his throat. “I liked your set.” Wow, way to go. Might as well call myself a climate-denyer with all this ice I’m not breaking.

That of all things got her undivided and startled attention. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. You guys got some serious talent. I don’t think I saw anyone with as much range.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She said, stuck between wanting to be mad and soaking in the praise. “I’ve been working for this almost my whole life, you know. Since I was eight.”

Tango whistled, genuinely impressed. “Ain’t that the sorta dedication and ambition we all wished we had. Definitely shows. You’ll have to show me how you did that one bit in... What was it called? The one that was all-” He squinted in frustration, drawing shapes in the air to hopelessly illustrate his point.

Lizzie blinked, then clapped happily, “Oh! Destiny?” She beamed, and that was the first time Tango had been sure she and Jimmy were siblings. “Yes, well, it only really works with my keyboard specifically...” She descended into a rant, explaining what she had done with modes and foot pedals, completely forgetting to actually tell Tango what model she used in the first place. He could ask later. For now he nodded along, making mental notes. Now and then he asked questions, the conversation on the brink but never quite fully petering out to chase away the awkward silence. Tango wasn’t even sure it would still be there if it ended, but he much preferred happy Lizzie elaborating on how she played the keyboard over grumpy Lizzie ready to punch him in the throat.

Jimmy’s voice carried over the crowd, who roared to life as he started singing along with Dolly Parton. Tango took the briefest moment to watch, smiling to himself.

“Suppose...” Lizzie began, the words dying momentarily before she took in a new breath. “Suppose I was wrong.”

“About?” Tango tilted his head in confusion.

“Someone Jimmy met.” Her gaze was permanently fixed on her drink, obscuring whatever complicated emotions were passing over her face. “Suppose I was distracted with my own relationships and dreams. Suppose I was bias cause I knew them, and too young and stupid to notice it just wasn’t right for him until I had to forever hold my peace.” Fingers tightened around her glass. Tango worried it might shatter. “Suppose afterwards I had to help him unpack everything I helped him pack up before. Comforted him when he cried then go comfort the person who made him cry when they cried too, and couldn’t tell which was wrong, if either was. Suppose even after it was over it still wasn’t, and I couldn’t stop thinking it was for my sake it wasn’t.”

Her eyes were glossy when she timidly looked back up, threatening her perfectly done eyeliner. “Is there something wrong with trying to protect him from something like that happening again?”

And Tango couldn’t say no. He knew what it was like to be on both sides half a dozen times over. Maybe not the exact scenario she was alluding to, but ones similar enough. Hesitantly he reached out, and when she only shrugged he place his hands gently on her shoulder, giving her a comforting rub. “I think the only person who can answer that for you, is Jimmy.”

“And what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t want help?”

“I dunno, be there for him in other ways? You’re both adults, you’ll figure it out.” He snorted, his own bittersweet memories playing out in the back of his mind. Mostly of himself. “Some people just need to make their own mistakes to learn, even if you can tell them exactly what will happen if they do. It’s a lot better than feeling like you aren’t allowed to make mistakes at all, I can tell you that.”

“He’d make so many.” Her laugh was humourless. “And don’t think I don’t know what you stand to gain from this.”

Did he? Tango glanced over his shoulder to where Jimmy was, laughing and leaning over Joel as they belted along with the song. The guitarist paused, their eyes meeting, and an enormous grin stretched across his face as he waved to Tango. Tango waved back and turned away. He supposed he did. Was he just being biased? He hoped not. It was hard to think clearly through the buzz. “Well, you could always just beat the crap outta me. He can’t do much about that, can he?”

That got a real laugh, so he turned back to her. Her eyes were still wet, but there was determination there now. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I ain’t gonna defend myself!” He threw up his hands in concession. “Seriously, though. Jimmy never has nothin’ but good things to say about you. I think he really admires you, y’know? Just my two cents. You should just talk to him yourself, can’t imagine he’ll be rude about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” She agreed, shaking her head. “It’s just hard to have some conversations with younger siblings. Hard to see them as grown up when it feels like they were shoving crayons up their nose just yesterday.”

That was where Tango’s expertise ended, as an only child, so he shrugged. “When I was a kid we just ate them.”

“Oh, that was Joel’s thing. I was the smart one, you see. The only one who knew to draw with them.” She turned up her nose, dramatically sweeping her bubblegum pink locks back.

“... Sooo, on the walls?”

“It was a big canvas!”

Their conversation was cut short by a crash and commotion in the crowd. It didn’t take much else than spotting the mop of teal poking a few inches above the rest of the crowd to send both racing over.

There was a shit-faced cowboy, oddly familiar but Tango wasn’t sure from where, in a soaked flannel, flanked by two similarly dressed friends. In front of him stood Scott stuck somewhere between ‘ready to fall over and puke’ and somehow still high and mighty sass. There was an upside down cup in his hand, barely held there by three fingers. Tango didn’t need to see the pool of ice on the floor to put the pieces together. Especially not with Pearl huddled behind him in Cleo’s arms as she too glared daggers into the strangers.

The rest of their group quickly showed up, Jimmy and Joel shoving their way through the opposite side of the forming circle while the rest appeared beside Tango and Lizzie. Gem’s eyes narrowed as she snarled, “It’s that creep!” It took all of them to hold her back from marching into the conflict.

A fist wrapped around the front of Scott’s shirt and dragged him down to eye level with the cowboy, “The fuck’s your problem?” He snapped. Behind him his buddies jeered.

It took Scott’s alcohol addled mind a visible moment to register what just happened. His nose wrinkled, turning his face away. “Not my fault you can’t take a hint. Or a shower.”

There was a chorus of laughs, mostly from his own bandmates and Gem. All except Lizzie, who was giving Jimmy and Joel a nervous frown. The two weren’t paying attention, looking far too amused by Scott’s antics. Joel whispered something into Jimmy’s ear and Tango could only guess it was another one of their bets.

The cowboy spluttered, entire face red at this point, and shoved Scott back. His glass crashed to the ground. “Ain’t none of your business sniffing me, fairy boy!”

Scott’s eyebrows went up. Behind him, Pearl tried to whisper something to him, but it went ignored. Then he laughed, throwing his hip dramatically and leaning in. “Flattery won’t get you on this dick, princess.”

Then his fist connected with the stranger’s jaw.

“Jesus Christ, Scott!” Pearl shrieked, her and Cleo dragging him back as the cowboy went down.

Completely chaos broke loose. Gem ran free with a battle cry and launched herself onto the back of one of the cowboys just before he swung for Scott, her brother not far behind. Others broke through the crowd, friends or just rowdy patrons. It took Scott only a moment to get back into the fight, Jimmy and Joel cheering the three on. Joe jumped up on the bar with the mic, attempting to implore the crowd to calm down, but someone snatched his ankle and he quickly went down. Skizz shouted, though it was so incoherent Tango wasn’t sure if it was for peace or war. A plate smashed against a post. Both Tango and Lizzie shrieked as they ducked behind Impulse.

“Oh- those-” Lizzie blabbered while the three backed out of the main conflict. Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Jimmy, Joel! No!”

Tango turned just in time to watch the blond slam his guitar case into a guy who’d latched onto Gem’s pigtails. It was swiftly retaliated with a kick to his gut. He dominoed into a small crowd, from which Joel slipped passed and decked the offending cowboy in Jimmy’s stead.

People began pouring out of the bar, some fleeing and others fighting. “You two grab your boys before they get their teeth knocked in.” Impulse directed. “I’ll find Pearl and we’ll grab the rest when it’s safe.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Tango cleared a path behind the main brawl, Lizzie close on his tail. By the time they reached Jimmy and Joel they sported matching dark bruises on their cheeks, and there was blood dripping from Jimmy’s nose. That’d been enough to get them to bow out, but not to back off as they egged on their bandmates. Lizzie wasn’t having any off it, grabbing the strap of Jimmy’s guitar and the scruff of Joel’s shirt. Tango squeaked as Jimmy was practically tossed into his arms. “Let’s go!” She shouted.

All four stumbled out into the cool night air. They didn’t stop moving, not until they were halfway down the street and wheezing. “Oh my gosh!” Jimmy gasped for his life while Joel doubled over beside him. There was still adrenaline pumping wildly through Tango’s whole body, giving him the shakes.

Lizzie took just a moment to lean against a stop sign before her face twisted with rage and marched over to the two, shoving her finger into each’s chest. “What’d the matter with you two?” She screeched. “You could have gotten killed or arrested or- or- Gyahh!”

“Never been to jail.” Jimmy mused, which was the wrong answer. Despite Lizzie berating, the two devolved into giggles and bolted on ahead towards the campsite.

Lizzie was absolutely furious, read to chase after them if not for Tango’s hand on her shoulder. “Let ‘em run it off, Jimmy’ll make sure they don’t get far.” He assured. Jimmy may be high on the excitement of it all, but he was still sober. Just as he thought so the man in question nearly face-planted into the gravel road, saved only by his guitar case hitting it first. Joel paused to laugh at him before dragging him back to his feet and running once more.

“you see what I deal with?” She said, shrill and throwing her hands out towards her husband and brother, before they flopped to her sides. Tango couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “Well at least they weren’t stupid enough to throw the first punch.”

They jumped at the sudden tone of Tango’s blackberry going off. It took the man a moment fiddling in his jeans’ pockets to find the thing, then nearly dropped it. A small reminder of his own numerous drinks that night. “Hello?” He answered. Lizzie leaned in.

“Tango! Are you guys okay?” Pearl’s frantic voice shouted over the sounds of a crowd. “We can’t see you, Impulse said-”

“We’re fine, Pearlie-pop, don’t worry.” Tango hastily assured, double checking that the other two hadn’t passed out on the road ahead or something. “Got out of there, heading back to the campsite right now.”

“Oh, thank god. Listen, everyone here’s mostly okay, but I think Scott, Joe, and Fwhip need a couple stitches. So Impulse is gonna bring Gem and Skizz back and steal the van from you to take us to the hospital.”

He nodded, smiling at Lizzie who visibly deflated with relief. “Roger dodger, boss-lady. We’ll get everyone tucked into bed, don’t you worry.”

The walk back was quiet, only a few bats and an owl filling the crisp night air. Tango had to pull out the flashlight on his keychain as they turned down the dirt path that took them directly to their end of the campsite. Despite their earlier stress they couldn’t help giggle as they found Joel passed out against the running kitchen sink, a sticky note stuck to his sleeping face telling them Jimmy went to see if the store was still open. Tango wished he stayed long enough for someone else to check out his nose, but he was ready to crash.

“Do you mind-?” Lizzie began, practically collapsing onto her bed after she dragged Joel over.

Tango smiled, “You go to sleep, I’ll wait for everyone.”

She nodded, that being all she needed to roll over and get comfy. There was a brief moment, in which Tango nearly left before she called out, “Tango?”

“Hm?” He leaned back inside.

There was a strained smile on her face, “I am sorry about earlier.”

He let out an airy noise, and waved her off. “Don’t be, I was an ass. Wish I had a big sister like you. He’s lucky.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse Jimmy of being lucky. But thank you. It means a lot.”

“You just worry about getting some sleep for Hangover Road Trip Electric Boogaloo tomorrow.”

There was a groan of realization, which finally got her to nod and roll over.

Tango closed the door as quietly as possible, and sat down on the steps to wait. He hadn’t realized how out of it he was, not until there was some sort of strange sound that knocked him back into the world of the waking. When had he even nodded off in the first place? There was the sound once more, though. Tango stood up, eyebrow and flashlight raised. “Hello?”

There was a rustle from the other side of the trailer, and a screech. Jimmy’s head popped out from between the bushes they were pushed up against. He had leaves stuck in his hair, and the buse on his cheek had become yellow and purple. Another was forming on his chin along with a half dozen on his arms. But the blood from his nose was wiped away or dried and it didn’t seem to be broken. “Um, hi.”

“Jim? What are you doing?”

“Uh, nothing!” He squeaked, and stumbled out. The top of his case smacked against the back of his head, getting a wince from Tango. “Just got- got lost in the dark. The store was closed.”

“Closes at dinner time.” Tango pointed out.

Jimmy’s face went red, looking away. “Yeah... Sorry.” He eyed the trailer warily. “Is she mad?”

“Don’t think so.” Both moved to the picnic table. For once Tango thought he must look more tired than Jimmy. Something had torn open one of their chip bags while they were gone, the crumbs strewn about. Jimmy paused to wipe out towards the bushes, then plopped down with his arms slung over his guitar case.

“Do you wanna set up the tent?”

“Mmm, too much work now.” Tango would much prefer the air mattress to the table, but he was drunk and it was almost midnight.

There was a moment where Jimmy leaned back, puttering a three note beat against his case. “She yell at you? She said she was gonna go yell at you.”

A noise escaped Tango, too much of a reaction to deny it.

“Sorry for whatever she said. She likes playing big sister, all brave and smart. Forgets she fell from the same tree.”

“Nah, I ran my stupid mouth, I probably deserved it.” Tango shook his head, also leaning back.

There was a shift, and Tango felt the guitar bump his hand. “You know I was hanging out with Skizz today.”

“Yeah?”

“Made me think.” He hummed, not continuing until Tango nudged him back. “I know why we’re here. To make Lizzie and Scott famous. But... I don’t know why you guys are here.”

Tango blinked. He turned to look at the other man, who’s face darkened as he realized what he said. “Not like- I mean- Not that you don’t deserve it or anything-”

“No, I get what you mean.” He snorted, a bit lost in memories. Old ones from when they first met in college, new ones of Zed leaving and the girls joining. Promises they made to Pearl as they worked up professional contracts for the first time in their so-called career and sombre conversations between just him, Impulse and Skizz.

“You can’t say this to Gem.” Is all he asked, tone a bit desperate. Jimmy made a small noise, an agreement. Tango sighed. “Truth is, this is probably our last gig.”

Jimmy didn’t seem surprised.

“Dunno what we’re gonna do after this. Maybe we’ll make one last album, maybe we’ll leave how it is. Depends on how we feel I guess. Been living our whole lives doing this first and everything second. And not that I ain’t thankful for every minute of it, but, y’know. We ain’t rockstars. Got bills to pay and jobs to start taking seriously. Impy and Skizz do, at least. And if I can’t play with them I ain’t sure I wanna.”

He shifted his position, pulling his legs up to chest to rest his chin on them. “Honestly, we were thinking about it a few years back, after Zed left for his career. Then we met Gem, though, and- well, you met her. Shines like the sun. Something about her. She’s gonna be a star, we all knew it.” A smile sneaked onto his face, remembering the first time they heard her sing. “Never had big dreams like you guys, but we loved what we did and she loved playing with us. It was different, but it was like the good old days where it mattered. But life’s been catching up. I guess we just wanted to do one last big show together, something to remember. Y’know?”

It seemed like Jimmy did. At least, that’s what Tango hoped his sleepy smile meant.

Tango relaxed himself running a hand down his face to try and keep himself awake until their bandmates got back. “Told Pearl already, back when we signed her on. Don’t expect this too last too long. But we’re still trying to find a way to break it to Gem. Think she suspects it, but it’s still hard.”

“What about you?” Jimmy asked. Had he always been sitting that close, or had one of them scooched over in the breeze?

“Hm?”

“You said, Impulse and Skizz have plans. But what about you?”

There he was, a fish drowning in the sea. The question he’d not even realized he’d been avoiding. Imp and Skizz had full time jobs and family and homes, Gem and Pearl had their whole careers ahead of them, and he had- what? “That’s the question, ain’t it.” He murmured, suddenly feeling quite lost as he stared up at the night sky through the trees.

It wasn’t as though he’d taken their band any more serious than the rest of them, but somewhere along the way they’d all managed to build their own lives between the margins. Probably while he was passed out after playing roller coast tycoon all night or doing one of his other dozen going-nowhere hobbies.

A hesitant hand slipped onto his shoulder, massaging comfortingly. It brought Tango back down from wherever he was floating off to a lot easier than he’d ever like to admit. Jimmy didn’t bother to say anything. Not that he didn’t seem to want to. Nothing ever quite made it out until his mouth snapped back shut into a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have to. For once Tango thought he could understand. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the only time. It felt good.

Leaves ruffled and there was a loud, familiar whining. Both men stood up in time to watch Impulse drag Gem and Skizz under each arm into camp. “Almost there, guys.” He announced, shoulders falling as he spotted Tango and Jimmy.

They put the new pair to bed first against their whining and waved Impulse off. The little sleep demon in Tango’s mind screamed to finally get into bed. He heard Jimmy’s laugh when they both collapsed, creating a bounce back that shook the whole trailer and the pullout off the ground. “You’re makin’ breakfast, by the way.” Tango grumbled, already curling up against his cuddle buddy.

“Not fair!”

“Shh.”

Just as he drifted Tango heard a strange little whistle. Please birds, let me get at least a few hours of sleep, was his last thought as he drifted off.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #trafficshipping #traffic series #hermitpires #mcyt #fanfiction #fanfic #modern au #hurt/comfort #sharing a slice of cake

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shyrose57 · 1 year

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I was INSPIRED by this gorgeous piece of drowned Pearl fan art by @dailypearldoodles.

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If there was one thing anyone could tell you about Kestrel Scar Goodtimes, it was that he was a liar. And a very good one at that.

The second thing was that, like any doomed man, he had ghosts snapping at his heels, and the seas were not his friend.

(There are five rules for anything to do with the things beneath Scar’s boat)

The water is dark where his ship lays docked, shadows rolling beneath the waves that follow it wherever it sails.

Captain Sausage comments on it, only once. But the shrieking laughter that erupts from the dark mass follows him into his nightmares for days after, and he learns to avert his eyes, lest he dream of something like screaming again.

(The first rule you need to know is that if you speak of them, then they’ll visit)

Whatever haunts him sends his boat rocking at every move, lurching wildly to both sides. They cannot overturn it. Not yet. They’re young still, in death. His days are counting down, but for now, he simply learns to work with it, and politely smiles when others decline to come aboard, eyeing the things below.

(The second rule is that they’re only here to haunt one man, but if you get in the way, they’ll happily take you overboard too)

Scott Denholm dips his feet into the sea, decidely drunk. A hand settles against his leg, light and curious. It feels like a hello. A pair of eyes in the water, shining blue, blink up at him in greeting. There’s a name on the tip of his tongue, as he dips his fingers into the waves to clasp someone else’s. It feels like running into an old friend.

And then he’s hauled back into someone’s chest, looking up at a pale face as Martyn shouts at him. The thing in the water is gone, and Scar’s ship sways beside them, waiting for the realization to cut through the alcohol’s pleasant fuzz.

(The third is that they remember things you don’t, and are all the more bitter for it. Sometimes though, it means they’ll play favorites)

Oli tries to sing to them sometimes, usually in boredom than any real desire to soothe the things in the water. Most days they seem to delight in it, muffled calls rising up to join his half-strung shanties, distracted from rocking Scar’s ship as much as usual.

Some days though, it seems to do nothing but grate on their ears and nerves, if they possess them in any sense, and instead shrieking loud enough to make ears bleed while they turn their violent attention towards whoever’s ship he’s on, be it his own or others.

(The fourth rule is that while they can be appeased, they can just as easily be angered, often in the same method. Dead things do not care for predictability)

There are good days and bad days, for Scar Goodtimes’ trips at sea. The good ones are more usual lately, plently of things in his new area distracting his phantoms and drawing them from their usual destructive habits. Of course, then comes the days they make up for it tenfold.

Those days, even the ocean bends to their wrath. The sky darkens and pours, as it did so many years ago when they toppled overboard with gaping wounds that bled the water red. The thunder screams in tandem with a past long gone and hidden, behind deceptive smiles and tongues lost to landfolk’s ears.

The tide pushes with them, putting it’s strength behind their clawing hands to try and bring the ship beneath the waves where it has belonged since the moment he put them all down there. The scent of blood in the water brings all sorts of deadly things about, waiting for the stronger predators to reach their prey, hoping for the scraps their messy kill will surely leave behind.

Those days, Scar docks his ship wherever he can, and makes his way towards whoever he can. Sausage is easiest, an arm tossed over his shoulder and a look directed at the water has it writhing in anger even as his captain guides him away.

Martyn too, works, though not quite to the same extent. He’s of similar nature to Scar, after all. He looks out for himself before anyone else.

If he’s feeling particularly bold(or as some might put, cruel), he invites his two favorite Herons out to talk about interesting new discoveries by the ship. Scott and Cleo always keep one wary eye on him, which works just fine, because it means they don’t look too hard at the sudden, furious stillness of the water, or the hand settled where he keeps his blade in a familiar threat-to his ghosts, of course. The two Herons would just be the unfortunate collateral his warning requires.

Scar is a dead man walking. He’s not too concerned-he’s very good at stretching both the truth, and his time.

(The fifth rule is that they are going to win, in this battle of patience. That no matter what he does, they’ll still be there, waiting for any slip.

But they can be held back. If you’re clever, and you know what to look for.

If you know what to hold over their heads)

#pirates smp #drabble #goodtimeswithscar #boatem crew #yes the implication is that he's threatening to kill them if boatem doesn't chill #i did put scott smajor in here he's my favorite #scott smajor #scurvyblr

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dmwrites · 1 year

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It was… quiet. Unusually quiet, Joel decided, as he buffed a bit of gold on his sky kingdom bridge. True, the harsh wind of Upper Stratos usually blocked out most noise, but Joel could also see into other kingdoms from up here, and it all looked so still. Scott’s kingdom, silly Chromia, was closest, and he couldn’t see the colorful man, or any of his strangely intelligent llamas anywhere.

Flying into Chromia, Joel could tell that something was off. The air felt stale here, still and gritty. Joel strode through the land, calling out for Scott, but there was no answer. Similar were the other kingdoms, quiet and silent, like a tomb. Animals were dull-eyed, buildings seemed less vibrant then usual. Joel called out the name of every friend he had, but there was no one.

Joel flew back to Stratos with his chest squeezing in an uncomfortable kind of way. They must all be somewhere together, Joel decided, and forgotten to invite him. It was a sad reach, but still possible. More possible then the deep paranoia that was clawing it’s way up Joel’s chest, screaming that something was very, very wrong.

“Joel? Joel!”

“Sausage?” Joel almost fell out of the sky, catching sight of a handsome, muscular man, dressed in dusty greens and yellows. Hermes stood beside him, looking at the fountain. Joel landed beside them, a wave of relief flooding his body.

“Joel! I brought Hermes by!” Sausage was smiling. “We wanted to say hi.”

“Sausage. Hermes. Oh my god, you’re both… here.” Joel smiled shakily. He’d been wrong, it was all okay. Everything was okay.

“Yep! We’ve been so busy…” Sausage began going on and on about his adventures with Hermes, but Joel wasn’t listening. Pure relief and adoration for his son was all he could comprehend. “…and of course I’m using a gold pickaxe, as the sexy king of the server demands.” Sausage winked at him.

“Glad to see you obeying.” Joel joked back.

“Oh yeah, and this thing is efficiency five, look-” Sausage swung the pick through the air and accidentally broke a block off the fountain. Water seeped out onto Hermes, and suddenly, there was someone else standing in Hermes’ place.

It looked like Jimmy, almost, small and doll-like, but with a painted-on face, black splotches for eyes, and a dash of red for a mouth.

“You guys are terrible parents.” It said in a mocking, squeaky voice. The creature- Joel couldn’t even begin to think of the thing as his son- flew off, vanishing into the horizon.

“Well, I guess that’s that plot point done.” Sausage turned to Joel with a neutral half-smile, and dissolved into red sand before his eyes.

“What?” Joel asked the open air, taking a step back, staring down in horror at the sand, which was picked up by the wind and scattered.

“You know what they said about the king of Mezalea.” There was a colorful man standing on the fountain before him, picking at something under his nails. “They said he died of sadness. All alone. Kind of pathetic, when you think about it.”

“Scott?” Joel asked, but even as he spoke the name, he knew it wasn’t true. The man who looked at him had dark brown hair and a golden crown. And his face looked… warped. Like the very air around him was melting away. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am, stupid demigod?” The man asked, glancing up at him in clear irritation before going back to his nails.

“You’re the King of Mezalea.” Joel guessed. “You’re talking about in the third person for some reason. You died of sadness from being alone, and now you’re here to what, to haunt me? Jealous of my muscles and hordes of adoring followers?”

“Oh please, Joel. I’m clearly talking about you. How you have died from sadness. From being alone. And how it’s happening again. I’m here because you can’t seem to escape this stupid fate, and if anyone’s going to torment you about it, it’s going to be you. Me. Whatever.”

“That’s not me, fella, that’s you you’re talking about!”

“Is it?” Asked the man in a bored drawl. “You know who I am, Joel. I’m you.”

And Joel did know, he could see his own face reflecting back at him.

“Well, maybe you- me of the past- died of sadness, but I am not sad. I am loved, you miserable ghost.”

The king of Mezalea’s eyes flashed in anger. “Loved by who? By the child who preferred the peaceful protector to the absent god? By the other rulers who batted their eyes for a quick hookup? By the citizens who looked up to the sky at a god who never answered their prayers unless they lied? Where are they all, Joel? Where are those who you claim love you?”

Joel reeled back. “They’re- I am loved, I am!”

“Then where are they all? Huh?” The king laughed. It was a cruel, barking laugh. “You’re no god, Joel. You walk among the lands, gold and quartz embellishing your every step, and yet, and yet, you have nothing but a graveyard of a kingdom to show for it. And it’s the end. You know that, don’t you?”

Joel looked around, at Lower Stratos below him, at the dulling Chromia. “This can’t be real. I- we’ve all been having so much fun. It’s not the end- you’re trying to trick me into thinking… something else.” Joel finished lamely. “And I am a god, more powerful then a king!” He added, trying to sound triumphant.

The king of Mezalea snorted. “If you’re really a god, then you don’t need these wings to fly. If this isn’t real, then jumping off of here will mean nothing. Let’s find out if you’re a god, if you’re going to live forever, wandering a land that never loved you. And if you’re not…” the king chuckled. “Well, you won’t need to worry about anything anymore.”

Joel shucked off his elytra with a brevity he did not feel inside. “I will figure out who is trying to trick me, and I will kill them. You go and tell your master, whenever created you, that I will not fall for this stupid plot. I know I am happy and loved and not alone. I will fall, and I will wake up and it’ll all be fine!” His voice broke on the last word, and he gritted his teeth to keep any fear from forcing its way out of his mouth.

“What’s worse?” The king of Mezalea asked, coming to stand beside him, looking out over the still and silent world. “Thinking that this might be all in your head… or knowing that this is all very, very real?”

Joel stood beside his past, looking down at the ground. The king of Mezalea wasn’t laughing anymore- he was crying, and it was that miserable howl that Joel heard as he jumped.

#idk if this makes any sense to anyone but me #but #anyway #smallishbeans #esmp 2 #long post

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swordswoman97 · 1 year

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So that lore then

First off I think it's safe to say Aimsey is definitely dead now. There's no way he's coming back from that. It's not happening.

But no one else died! That's good news! Less good news is that in her desperation to save Aimsey and Guqqie, Michela unleashed the purple corruption on the faction isles. I do find it interesting that we hear the voice from the corruption almost apologize to the pirates before rushing off, as if it's regretful for whatever pain it's going to cause but feels it has to or something? I'm really interested to see what's gonna happen.

We also see who I'm guessing is the leader of the hooded figures, I believe Aimsey called them the church? She's sitting on a throne and she's wearing a dress very similar to their robes, so I'm assuming for now she's probably the leader.

Right now I'm guessing both the corruption and the church are gonna end up causing problems, whether a case of gray and gray morality or at least one group is gonna be an example of "the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Either way I think both are gonna end up playing an antagonistic role.

We also get full confirmation that the ice wall Sausage and Martyn found circles the entire faction isles, and it's also going to play a role in the story.

My current theory is that the ice wall's presense is the main source of conflict between the church and the corruption. The corruption is trying to break through or down the ice wall for whatever reason and the church is trying to ensure the ice wall stays whole. Now why exactly either side wants this, I'm unsure. I'm also unsure which side is right in this, or if instead neither is entirely right.

Owen's also confirmed he's reworking P!Owen's character and whether the next video or the next couple streams are gonna be more information about her and her backstory, it was kind of unclear. She's still gonna be her, but I think details of her backstory have been reworked so I'm interested to see where's going with that.

He's also mentioned the next pirates episode on the channel is gonna be a lot of animations telling the story from Bek killing Owen to today's stream, so killing Bek, finding the bounty guild, that promised scene of P!Owen and Gabriel getting drinks, Gabriel's disappearance, and presumably the trip to the island that led to Scott seeing Aimsey. I'm a bit torn on this, on one hand I definitely understand Owen wanting to catch up but on the other I do feel like at the very least the hunt for Gabriel deserves to be it's own episode, even making it one full episode would involve cutting a lot out cause that quest sequence took about an hour. Owen is gonna have to cut a whole lot out if he wants to fit that and all the other stuff in one episode, unless he just makes a fucking giant episode. Either way, there's a lot to look forward to.

#pirates smp #scurvyblr

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lunarsands · 2 months

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Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate's Fairest To Us All - Ch 4

Afterlife SMP, New Life SMP and Empires SMP S2 crossover combo!!! I'm back with more MythicalSausage meets MythicalSausage shenanigans!

Characters: Mythical Sausage (1st), Rusty the Copper Golem, PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor (1st), Mythical Sausage (2nd), Hermes, Mythical Sausage (3rd), Scott Smajor (2nd), Rocky the Goblin, and a couple of briefly mentioned cameos at the end!

WARNINGS: Character death (but they get better because Afterlife/New Life rules are in play), body horror

Chapter Summary: The groups separated in the labyrinth finally reunite. Myth has all the evidence he needs to tell him where they are, and where to go to escape. Things don’t remain that easy when they come across more sculk...

Sequel to Mirror Tenfold, Beyond the Wall and follows sometime after the events of Thou, O Kings, Fair Be You All (“sometime” being relative to how much time passes in each universe)

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ] [ Chapter Three ]

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Chapter Four

The two followed Myth all the way to the crossroads where he had found Scott. There, Myth seemed to be searching for something. He walked to the passageway to their left and inspected the wall then the floor. Scott warily eyed the small patch of sculk near the phoenix’s hand. He was then shocked when Myth grabbed a strand of sculk vein and yanked it free of the floor. Flames engulfed his fingers, incinerating it. Myth then touched the floor again.

“This way,” he said. He prevented any questions by adding, “Call it a hunch.”

Scott would have commented that this passage ran parallel to the one he had fled from, but saw the wisdom in keeping silent. He did discover what Myth had apparently been searching for when he stepped forward to follow and his foot slipped downward into a divot in the floor. He wasn’t sure what it signified but it seemed to mean something to Myth.

Something that made flickers of flame come off his wings.

To Scott’s relief, however, the sculk thinned out after a point, no longer forming masses that spanned between both walls across the floor like in the other section. Myth continued to check the ground at the open end of each passageway they came across. He always chose the ones with divots in either the floor or near the open edge of a particular wall.

They seemed to be making good progress this way, at least, although Scott had begun to wonder what had made the divots. His concern really ramped up when they reached a wall with a hole in it. Myth’s flames flared up even more, causing Scott and Sausage to step away from him simply by instinctual caution. Myth inspected the edges of the hole, then stepped through. He glanced back and now noticed an indentation on the opposite side.

Myth hurried back into the first passageway, and was soon rapidly following a trail of destruction through multiple walls. Scott and Sausage attempted to keep up, although the more Sausage saw of the damage, the more it reminded him of the state some of the buildings in Sanctuary had been left when the Superhero had interfered between the two battling angels.

Eventually the holes and debris along the ground gave way to the unblemished walls of an intact passageway stretching off into darkness ahead. Myth continued forward, a scowl of determination on his face. Scott looked to Sausage for reassurance; the older man didn’t seem to have any doubts or lose faith even though Myth was obviously following something he was familiar with rather than whatever influence the Staff was having over him.

It was at the next crossroad, though, that Scott saw what had first signaled to Sausage that he could trust where Myth was going. As the phoenix repeatedly inspected the floor and walls, the gemstone in the Staff twinkled. In that same second Myth decisively turned to his right.

A few minutes later the other end of the passage came into view. First they saw part of a giant statue, then the debris around it became apparent, and upon fully entering this open area, they saw a battleground with more damaged walls and scorch marks in various places.

They also saw two figures: a tall one seated on another piece of a statue next to a perpendicular passageway, and a very small figure on the floor below the first. The latter seemed to be pacing but in very small increments. Myth stopped and gripped the staff so hard it creaked. When Sausage glanced over to reprimand him, he saw that Myth’s gaze was scanning the whole tableau rather than focused on the figures.

It was then that a third person joined the other two – by floating down from above, a trident held in one hand. They immediately addressed the person sitting, who nodded a couple of times before coughing into their elbow.

Sausage smiled, relief flooding through him. He strode around the assortment of debris, disregarding Scott, Myth, and everyone else. “Mijo!” he called, just loud enough to not startle the man that his son was talking to.

“Dad?” Hermes turned in response to the affectionate term. He spread his arms wide and ran to embrace Sausage while carefully holding the trident at the same time. “Dad! I’m glad you’re alright! We were going to go look for you, but my new friend here isn’t feeling well, so I’ve been out scouting while he rests.” He stepped back and gestured to the man seated on the statue, then hastily motioned downward. “Oh, and of course my other new friend, Rusty. He can’t really introduce himself.”

“Hello!” Sausage cheerfully greeted the Ghast Mage; neither of them was phased by the fact that they shared an identical face. “And hello, Rusty! I know someone who has been looking for you!” He smiled at the copper golem, then shifted his gaze to the trident Hermes held and asked quietly, “Um, mijo, where did you get that? I don’t remember you packing it…” He seemed unable to resist the urge to reach out to touch it. “I can sense energy coming off it that feels… familiar?”

“Yeah, I thought I noticed something, too,” Hermes replied. He nodded toward the Ghast Mage. “He found it here in the rubble and thought it might work best in my hands.” The young man grinned and flexed his biceps. “I figured Thunder-dad couldn’t hear me in this dimension, but maybe he found a way to help out, y’know?”

A cryptic if not amused expression danced across Sausage’s lips. “Oh, yes, I get a sense of involvement from your other parent, alright…”

The chance to elaborate on this comment passed when the Ghast Mage spoke up, sporting a cheerful smile of his own. “It’s nice to finally meet Hermes’ dad! He’s a good boy! Very helpful.” His gaze then slid to Myth and his smile faded to a tight line. He coughed politely – unrelated to his current malady. “And hello, Rusty’s surrogate dad.”

Myth didn’t acknowledge any of what was going on. He was facing away from the group and was clutching the Staff close, apparently staring at something on one of the walls.

If any of them were to have a view of his face they would have seen that his eyes had turned pale and his expression had become haunted by a past memory that took over his thoughts.

Scott, equally oblivious to Myth’s affliction as everyone else, jogged over. “Saus—er, Ghast-sage! Did you run into that thing, too? I never saw you when I was escaping from it. Or, um, I didn’t notice you. I ran into it way back that way.” He pointed over his shoulder. He was dismayed when his Sausage pointed in the opposite direction.

The Ghast Mage sighed in exasperation. “Oh, no, don’t tell me there are two of them! One is enough! Sheesh!”

Scott couldn’t help pointing out the humor in the situation. “Well, there are three of you here right now, so maybe we shouldn’t complain about only two Wardens.”

Ghast-sage folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not.”

“You’re handling this well,” Scott said in a softer tone. “I’m still wrapping my head around it.”

“Yeah, well, we were going nowhere fast, so Hermes and I talked for a while and he told me about his dad, and Rusty told me about my usurper, so I knew what to expect.”

Scott pointed down at the copper golem, who was now calmly standing still beside him. “Rusty… told you about… this guy?” Scott rotated his torso to the side so he could gesture at Myth with both hands while not moving his gaze from his friend’s face.

“Yeah. In his own way. I have a special rapport with him,” Ghast-sage bragged.

“I hate to tell you this,” Scott said, “But I’ve seen them interact, and the phoenix hybrid over there can also communicate just fine with Rusty.”

“Oh.” The Ghast Mage looked less proud of himself. “I guess, uh… I guess that just means all versions of me are special! Ahem.” He went quiet for a few seconds, then began coughing again.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just—” Cough, cough. “You know that trick people use in the Nether? ‘Return to sender’?” Scott nodded while the Ghast Mage coughed again. “It turns out… A sonic shriek… can turn back a Ghast ball, too… Really quickly. Right back into my mouth. Ghast hybrids aren’t quite, ehhh, built for that internally. I can conjure fireballs, not eat them!” He coughed a few more times, then leaned back on his hands. “Whew! Young Hermes there tried to give me a healing potion but it evaporated as I started to drink it. We figured the ones from his world don’t work on people from our world. Or, our world’s configuration? I forget how he explained it, but he’s the one with experience traveling the multiverse, so it makes sense to him, and he sounds very confident about it! Like, there are other realities parallel to ours that have similar rules about physics and nature, and realities like his, where the rules can be slightly different, or completely different! So, the way a certain potion is formulated can vary.”

“Uh-huh,” Scott murmured as his friend continued to ramble. His mind went back to what Myth had said about no one being bothered by a phoenix and a fungal mage taking the place of a ghast mage and a transporter, which made him wonder what the two masqueraders’ world was like.

Suddenly, Myth’s distinctly gruffer voice rang out over the Ghast Mage’s rambling. “I know exactly where we are in this labyrinth, and I know where to go to get out.”

All eyes turned to him, including Hermes’ – and Sausage noticed a look of distress on his son’s face, as well as the young man’s posture tensing, knuckles white around the haft of the trident. He lightly touched Hermes’ arm. “Mijo?”

Hermes inhaled and forced his body to relax. He responded quietly, “Sorry. I… I’m used to meeting other versions of you in different realities, but none of them had similarities to… that one. The… first one I ever met.”

Sausage quickly hugged Hermes. “It’s okay, mijo. This one is grouchy, but the Staff trusts him. You know it has a failsafe now to prevent another imposter incident.”

Hermes gave a start. “Wait, the Staff…” He turned, eyes going wide in disbelief. “I hadn’t even noticed!”

Myth had paused upon seeing that The Protector was distracted by the unfamiliar young man whom Myth assumed must be Hermes. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the cautious looks made him resigned to accept more negativity based on who he was. So, he went on with his announcement. “There’s just one catch.” He removed one hand from the Staff to point upward. “I only know it from above. Last time I wasn’t able to get there under my own power and had help finding it.”

Here he laid a glance over the Ghast Mage and Hermes. “As you can probably guess, it was yet another version of us.” He then looked at Sausage. “One that you personally know. So, if you don’t want to trust my word, you can obviously trust that one’s.”

Sausage frowned regretfully at him in response. “Myth, did you hear any of what we were all saying a few minutes ago?”

Myth blinked. He realized that he hadn’t heard them nor could he even remember if anything had happened between exiting the passageway and seeing the rest of the group comingling without him. Rather than admit his inattention he merely shook his head.

Sausage’s hand trailed away from Hermes’ arm as he took a few steps in Myth’s direction. “Can I be honest with you, triste pájaro de fuego? I think you need to stop comparing yourself to that other angel, and focus on what you can do. If you can get us out of here, please show us.”

Myth harrumphed. “What about you, though? We’ve found everyone we came in here with. Why don’t you just send us all back?” He thrust the Staff toward Sausage. “Just make sure you grab Smajor for me and throw him back into my world, then he and I can both return to our inconvenient existences and not get in the way of someone we happen to look like.” He lowered his head with a scowl – only to sneak a forlorn glance at Rusty. “…Everyone back exactly where they belong.”

Hermes took note of that glance. He was ready to say something, but a slow shake of Sausage’s head made him pause. “I can’t,” Sausage confessed. “My powers are limited here, or else I would have been able to find Hermes without your help.”

Myth’s lip twitched into a sneer as he lifted his head. “What do you mean, my help? We were lucky to find them here!”

“Here, of all places in this labyrinth?” Sausage countered. “The specific point of reference that only you have? The Staff sensed it in you. That’s why it let you hold it.”

“What are you talking about?” Myth scoffed, although his loss of time from a few minutes ago had sparked some internal panic spurred on by Sausage’s words. “How can an overgrown magical stick let me do anything?”

Sausage chuckled quietly. “It holds the magic of Sanctuary, and the magic of all of reality. It knows what it’s doing: trusting you.”

Myth exhaled an uncomfortable breath as he held the Staff at arm’s length and placed the end of it against the ground. He attempted to be subtle about running his gaze up and down the length of it as he reevaluated his opinion of it.

Hermes now saw his chance to chime in – as well as get the group to make some progress toward escaping. He was just as concerned about the Ghast Mage’s condition as he was for what Myth was implying about himself. “You get used to it. I had to wait for the Staff to accept me, too, and I’m a demi-god on my other father’s side.”

The comment worked to sidetrack Myth’s discomfort. “Other father…?”

“Yeah. He has control over the weather.” Leaving those words to sink in, Hermes swiftly continued, “I’ve been to the top of the walls. I can probably get at least two people up there before I need to rest.” He saw Sausage was about to say something out of worry so he added, “There’s something about the atmosphere here that is dampening my powers, too. This trident can only help me so much with the traveling part. I could use my reserves, but I’d rather not do that just yet. In my case it’s probably the lack of open sky.”

Sausage nodded at this reasoning. He scratched at his beard with one hand in thought. “No, you’re on to something. No open atmosphere means no energy connecting outward to the rest of reality, which is what could be preventing my powers from working.”

Myth interjected, “There’s some kind of energy here that influences people’s powers, because—” He stopped himself. In a defeated mumble he said, “…Never mind. That’s about other people. Let’s… uhm, focus on what we can do.”

Having muddled over Hermes’ dilemma, Scott offered, “I can help get everyone up top. My powers have recharged. Hermes, if you take me up first I can set a teleportation point and go back and forth taking one person with me. You can stay there to make sure they recover from any disorientation, and then we can be on our way in less than two minutes.”

The Ghast Mage piped up, “Oh, yes, his teleportation is completely accurate! Not a lot of disorientation at all! Um. Unless you happen to get motion sick from dimensional displacement. Not a big deal, really!”

Scott rolled his eyes, “Saus – er, Ghast-sage, you can stop now. You’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry!” The Ghast Mage coughed between words. “Just speaking from my own personal experience, you know! It’s not necessarily universal!”

Hermes couldn’t help a small laugh, then he turned to Myth. “Which wall do you recommend we start from?”

Myth looked around the old battleground again, hoping that this time he didn’t zone out. Scott took the opportunity to help his friend down off the statue. Rusty immediately began tugging on the latter’s cloak while whispering repeatedly, “What’s wrong with you?”

The Ghast Mage gently shooed him away. This motion caught Myth’s attention, causing him first to look away from the walls, and then to hastily move to supposedly study the passageways to his right.

Hermes, in turn, again noticed Myth’s behavior. He glanced down at Rusty, who continued to fuss over his creator. After a moment’s thought, Hermes crossed over to where Myth was. He could see the phoenix’s expression seemed to be one of disappointment – yet it quickly changed to distraction as the gemstone in the Staff twinkled and Myth abruptly peered upward with eyes that had turned pale orange. Hermes frowned. He reached up to touch the earring with the pressed flower, silently requesting for the magic to give him some insight and reassure him that the Staff wasn’t simply manipulating Myth just because he had knowledge of this place.

Maybe it was only a coincidence but Myth’s shoulders seemed to relax. “This one, I think,” he said thoughtfully in response to Hermes’ question from a few minutes ago. Myth looked at the young man with eyes that had returned to fully saturated orange. “I’m going to check for another clue. Could you gather the others over here?”

“Of course,” Hermes replied. He held the phoenix’s gaze for a moment longer – searching those eyes, noting the weary lines under them, lingering on the details of the four additional, horizontal scars across his right cheek. With a nod, Hermes turned to jog back to the group. “This way, everyone. El triste pájaro de fuego found the wall we need to get on top of.”

Scott glanced from the young man to the older Sausage. “Can I ask what you two are calling him? He said his name was ‘Myth’.”

Hermes and Sausage traded glances. “Welllll,” Sausage replied, stretching out the word, “I shared memories with a version of me who met Myth before, in this very place – although I’ve, eh, lost some of the details of most of them at this point. As I recall, the story behind why he goes by ‘Myth’ and not Sausage like the rest of us doesn’t have a good association. I just, uh, decided on the spot to call him triste pájaro de fuego.”

“Sorry,” Scott said, “I’m asking what does that mean? I’m not familiar with that language.”

“Judging by his attitude,” Hermes explained in a benign tone as he shifted his knapsack so he could secure the trident to it, “It seems he’s had a rough time. And he’s trying to hide it. So, he kind of strikes us as a… sorrowful firebird.” He grabbed up Rusty on his way as he turned to where Myth was standing. “Let’s not keep him waiting. I’m getting antsy to be under open skies again – if that’s alright?”

Scott accepted the explanation and nodded, although he would need to think more on this assessment of Myth’s demeanor after having only noticed the coarse edges. He lent the Ghast Mage a supportive arm as the latter pushed off the piece of statue he had been leaning on while everyone was talking. “I don’t blame you,” Scott replied. “I prefer to know where I’m teleporting to. This place messes with my sense of spatial awareness.”

As planned, Hermes flew Scott up to the top of the wall Myth had indicated, then Scott began teleporting one person at a time up with him and returning for the next, starting with the Ghast Mage. Before it was Sausage’s turn, Myth gave the Staff back to him. “I need both hands free for a minute,” was all he said to explain.

Sausage merely nodded. He could feel the Staff vibrating against his hand. It wasn’t ready to leave its new wielder yet; he knew he would have to part with it again.

When Scott returned, however, Myth shook his head. “Not comfortable with that.” He bit back an explanation of the last time a Scott had teleported him around. “I’ll use my own power. Tell them I’m on my way.”

Scott hesitated, only to hop backward a second later when Myth pointed both hands at the ground and released a doubly explosive fireball, propelling himself upward. His wings flared out and with a hearty flap, he ascended farther.

Scott went ahead and teleported to the top of the wall. The others looked at him in alarm due to arriving alone – they also hadn’t missed the sound of the explosion below. “He wanted to come up on his own,” Scott explained. “Either he’s not fond of teleporting, or Ghast-sage made him nervous about it.” He tried to smile at his own joke. The anxious looks from the two Sausages made it clear the joke hadn’t landed.

They heard a sound like a hawk screech, which drew their attention over the side of the wall. A bright orange blur was quickly approaching, first appearing in the shape of a bird then resolving more clearly into Myth’s particular features. Flames streamed from his wings, hair, and eyes. The unspoken thought passed among them of how Myth could have taken off at any time to get out of the labyrinth, leaving them behind. In collective relief, the group parted to either side of where it seemed he might land.

Myth gave one last flap of his wings. In that moment all of the flames dispersed away from his body and feathers. His eyes went wide in surprise. He couldn’t make it all the way to the top on his own. He threw his hands upward out of reflex – maybe he could grab the edge—

Hermes darted to the spot everyone had vacated and dropped to his knees, reaching down to grasp hold of one of Myth’s hands just before the phoenix lost momentum. With a grunt Hermes heaved Myth upward. Through the magic granted by his sandals the young man avoided falling off the other side of the wall as he fully pulled Myth onto the top edge. He then clasped his other hand over the one he held. “Good try, mate. I had to stop myself falling the first time I flew up, too.”

“Thanks,” Myth muttered. When Hermes released his hand, Myth looked out over the tangle of walls spread out around them, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Without a word Sausage handed the Staff of Sanctuary back to Myth and the group set off, with Hermes carrying Rusty to help speed things along and Scott keeping an eye on the Ghast Mage in case he needed a rest. Occasionally Myth would take off for a short flight to confirm the correct direction to go, explaining how last time he had been guided from above by two flight-capable people. The others could follow the bright orange light as he swooped back and forth – as well as see the twinkle of the gemstone when it coincided with a change in Myth’s direction.

On the latest check and return, Myth announced that they would need to cross over five walls to the east, which was the largest change they’d had to make up to that point. This time Hermes pushed Rusty into Myth’s arms for the phoenix to carry across; previously, Sausage had merely piggybacked while Hermes carried them both, but now Hermes picked his father up in his arms for such a long distance.

Myth held Rusty gingerly in the crook of one arm, wanting to hand him off to the Ghast Mage, but when he looked to where the other had been standing he only saw a flicker of orange particles. Scott had already teleported him over to the new wall.

Rusty said quietly, “What’s wrong with you?”

Caught off guard by the tone of the question, Myth stopped short just as he was about to glide off the wall. “I’m… fine. Just focused on getting out of here.”

“No. What’s wrong with you?” Rusty asked insistently.

Myth glanced at the others, then back down at Rusty. He kept his voice low even if the distance was enough that they were unlikely to hear. “This is going to be goodbye for me. I won’t… I won’t be able to spend time with you anymore.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“No, it isn’t,” Myth replied, slightly frustrated. “We found your creator. You go back to your world with him, and I go… somewhere. I don’t really belong in your world. I can’t just stay there. My body doesn’t follow the rules of your universe. And I don’t think the multi-verse will allow more than one of me to be in the same reality for the long term. It wouldn’t be… natural.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Rusty.” Myth let the exasperation slip into his voice. “You lo— care about him more. It’s obvious. There’s no sharing. I don’t belong.” He ended the conversation by launching off the wall, producing an unintended fiery streak that vented his feelings.

The others once again backed off to give him room to land. Myth immediately pushed Rusty back onto Hermes without even looking at the young man – but Hermes saw the scowl and clenched, bared teeth in time before Myth turned away to lead them in a new direction.

The group traveled in silence for about ten minutes before coming across something Myth hadn’t noticed during his scouting: a small patch of sculk near the top of the wall that ran parallel to the one they were on. Since it seemed dormant, he chose to ignore it and walked past.

Scott, bringing up the rear, couldn’t take his eyes off the sculk patch. He suddenly clutched his companion’s arm.

“Ow! Careful, Scott! I’m still sore all over!” the Ghast Mage exclaimed.

“It’s bubbling!” Scott hissed in a panic.

“What? That only happens if something dies on it! That’s a vertical surface!” Ghast-sage argued.

“Everyone—!” Scott called out. “Be careful! Something weird is happening with that—”

There was a loud pop as a giant bubble formed in the middle of the sculk patch and burst. A wet splat sounded out as a cluster of sculk vein hit the side of the wall that the group was on. It was followed by a spray of purplish-turquoise spores, which struck the surface around the sculk vein. The stone then began to bubble just like the patch and soon sculk was rapidly spreading outward from where the vein had landed. It didn’t touch the very top edge of the wall, but the group watched in horror anyway. Sausage, his mouth going dry, whispered, “That’s not normal.”

Scott wanted to say that he had been trying to tell everyone this all along, but he was prevented from even uttering a single syllable by the sound of cracking and crumbling stone. Horror turned to terror as the torso of a Warden with grayish-purple moss hanging off its antennae and cushioning its exposed heart emerged from the sculk patch right below their feet.

The Warden reared upward, more of its body emerging from the sculk. It grabbed Sausage by one ankle and swung him outward, off of the wall, to send him plummeting before it began to pull the rest of itself out of the wall.

Hermes immediately dived after his father, taking Rusty with him. The copper golem was aware enough to maneuver himself around Hermes’ shoulder, ending up clinging to the young man’s knapsack so Hermes’ arms would be free to catch his father.

The Ghast Mage let out an involuntary, alarmed squeak. The Warden growled, its head whipping in his direction. As it lunged fully out of the wall to reach for him and Scott, two things happened at once: Myth threw a fireball at it, knocking it toward the opposite side of where it had emerged from and Scott, with the Ghast Mage clinging to him, chose to teleport blindly down where Sausage had fallen.

They reappeared a few blocks above the actual ground, causing them to land in a heap as Hermes was gently setting his father down on his feet. He then let Rusty down off his back. They heard the Warden roar followed by a pained cry that rang out loud enough for them to hear even at that distance. Hermes scowled in determination and launched upward, intent on aiding Myth. There was an even bigger and brighter explosion next. The sound of the Warden’s howling took on a distressed quality. It then ended in a thud that reverberated from the other side of the wall.

When Hermes reached the top, he saw Myth laying on his stomach facing the opposite side. His wings were giving off steam and he was panting. The tips of his feathers were glowing yellow. As Hermes watched, they dulled to the same orange as the rest. “Are you alright?!” he asked, leaning to offer the phoenix a hand up.

“Y-Yeah.” Myth continued to pant. “It… got me good. And… I… only knocked it off… It might still—”

They heard a roar from below, then the wall they stood on began to tremble. “Oh, no.” Myth scrambled up without Hermes’ help, then took off gliding downward. Hermes followed. His sandals could allow him to drop straight down but he stayed level with Myth’s glide, keeping watch for the Warden’s exact location.

It wasn’t trying to climb back up; instead, it was gouging at the wall as if trying to break through. Hermes could guess at the exact spot where the others were standing on the other side. “Why is it still focused on them? Surely they’re being quiet, or at least sneaking away?”

“Scott said there was something strange about the one he was chased by. I have a suspicion I know why,” Myth replied.

“We need to distract it.” Hermes pulled the trident free from his back then reached up to touch his gold lightning bolt earring for luck. He concentrated for a moment, closing his eyes. When he opened them again they were completely white and glowing brightly. Sparks danced from his hand onto the length of the trident, which he held up over his head. He halted his descent and focused on a spot next to the Warden’s feet. A blinding flash stemming from the tines of the trident zigzagged downward, striking the ground. It was accompanied by a resounding boom of thunder.

While the flash obviously wouldn’t have an effect on the Warden, the thunder certainly did. It groaned and reeled away from the wall, its paws shooting up to clutch at the base of its antennae. Myth landed and immediately started throwing fireballs at it. Each impact made it stagger and roar in pain.

Hermes drifted down, taking time to recover from what had turned out to be a strain on his energy despite having the trident…Or maybe because of it. He studied it again, trying to ascertain what quality its existing energy held that his father had hinted at. Then he remembered what he had discussed with the Ghast Mage about differences in physics depending on the reality. This trident had been imbued with powers from someone who was thunder god adjacent. All he needed to do was attune himself to its particular atmospheric frequency.

Well, as soon as there was time to try doing that. The Warden would have to be dealt with first. He watched Myth assault the creature with a barrage of fireballs until Myth himself was roaring in fury. The fireballs went from bright yellow to orange, and then to red. Apprehension prickled at Hermes; fire darkened like that when it was about to go out.

Myth’s roar dropped down to mere heavy breaths. He threw one last projectile that was more akin to a lump of charcoal than anything else. It hit the Warden on the side of its chest. The Warden responded with a sonic shriek that knocked Myth back a few steps. He steadied himself, although he now sounded desperate for air.

This made it easy for the Warden to lunge directly at him and grab at him. Myth ducked but the creature’s claws caught hold of his wings. Myth yelped. He was out of power. He could do nothing to stop the Warden from swinging him bodily into the wall not far from the hole it had been trying to create.

The Staff of Sanctuary clattered to the ground.

Cracks spread from those earlier gouges, reaching out to where Myth had impacted the wall. Myth smiled grimly. “Go ahead. See if you can finish me off, you stupid—!"

Hermes made a desperate mental pull on the trident’s energy hoping that just by coincidence he might align with its frequency. Unfortunately, for the moment there was no response beyond a tingling in his fingertips.

And then he had to cover his eyes as the Warden delivered a crushing blow to the center of Myth’s chest which was immediately followed by a brilliant explosion of fire that lit the entire passageway.

Hermes lowered his arms to see Myth in full undamaged form again, all of his feathers glowing yellow this time before darkening to orange like before. The phoenix’s eyes glowed brightly, too, and he paid the Warden back with a large fireball aimed straight into its exposed ribcage. The force of the resulting explosion’s shockwave affected the Warden, Myth, and the wall. The Warden howled as it expired. Myth was shoved right back against his initial impact spot. The wall cracked from both the pressure and the heat, with long vertical fissures racing upwards.

On both sides of the now-compromised wall, chunks of stone began to rain down. It included a piece with the patch of sculk.

Hermes grabbed onto that tingling feeling and used it to amplify his voice like a boom of thunder. “Everyone, get away from the wall!” He ran over to yank the dazed Myth out of the way as debris came tumbling down.

The havoc wasn’t enough to bring the entire wall down, thankfully. After everything stopped shaking and the sound of cracking stone stopped, the dust started to clear, revealing a gap just big enough for Myth and Hermes to squeeze through sideways. Hermes was greeted with a crushing hug from his father, who had a small trickle of blood running down the side of his face, likely caused by flying debris.

Peering around at the mess, Myth frowned at the chunk of wall that had sculk on it. It wasn’t bubbling nor was there any sculk vein spreading from it, but he now knew to be suspicious of any of it. He then glanced at his right hand, realizing he was missing something. He slipped back through the gap in the wall.

His fingers started to itch.

Myth found the end of the Staff sticking out from under the rubble that would have landed on him had Hermes not reacted so quickly. He knelt down to grasp the Staff and wiggled it a little to see if it was pinned by the fallen stone. It seemed to scrape slightly, but he was able to slide it out. When he lifted it and examined the crook for damage he saw that the gemstone had fractures running through it. It wasn’t broken yet, but he wondered what would happen to the Staff’s power if it did. He held the base of the crook tightly in one hand while tentatively reaching the other to touch the gemstone.

A jolt went through his brain upon contact. He heard what resembled the reversed sound of shattering glass. His breath appeared visible in front of his face as if he had exhaled steam or if the temperature had abruptly dropped to the cold of the grave. The lines of the fractures within the gemstones flashed blue-white for a split second, then, when he lowered his hand, the gemstone was whole again.

Myth blinked a few times and shook his head to clear it. “I should really give this thing back to the Protector,” he muttered. “It’s getting weird.”

However, as he started to squeeze through the gap to the other side while holding the Staff ahead of him, it was Hermes who took it from his grasp. “We’ve got another problem, mate.”

Myth emerged to see sculk patches forming in multiple spots along the walls around them like a stain soaking into cloth. The patch on the fallen chunk was trembling. The sound of stone crumbling grew louder. A second later, a new Warden emerged from the fallen chunk.

Myth gritted his teeth. They needed to go past it so they could find a stable part of the wall to get back on top. He clapped his hands together before approaching the Warden. Flames flickered from the corners of his eyes and along the tips of his wings as he fearlessly strode toward it. Despite being on a horizontal surface now, the Warden still needed to lever its way out of the sculk.

Just like the other one it had grayish-purple moss on its antennae and in its chest.

“Hey, mycelium monster!” Myth bellowed. “I think I know how you got like that! But I’m sure you don’t want to discuss it! So, come on! I’ve got plenty of fire where this comes from!” So saying, he began to throw fireballs aimed at the sculk that still enclosed the Warden’s legs, burning the blue-black substance.

Hermes passed the Staff to his father. In the half-second that both of them were touching it, Hermes felt a jolt that ran from that hand, up his arm, along his chest, then down his other arm to the trident. He was stunned speechless for the next breath as the jolt seemed to run down the length of the trident then bounce back the way it had come. He could feel that the weapon was vibrating in his grasp now. The tingling in his fingertips returned, buzzing in time with the trident.

Sausage seemed to be unaffected, merely gripping the Staff out of reflex as he took it from Hermes, murmuring, “He really just throws himself right at everything, huh?”

Hoping his father didn’t notice the waver in his voice from what he had just experienced, Hermes commented, “You know him better than us.”

“Well, I only met him once,” Sausage said. “But he did act the same back then, now that I think of it…”

Multiple rumblings rang out at once. The group went on alert, eyes being drawn to the various new patches of sculk that had appeared. Some were bubbling; some had bits of stone being flung out of them.

“Scott,” the Ghast Mage rasped, “Get them out of range, then be ready to skip us around.” He pointed to Rusty and Sausage, then stepped forward with smoke rising from the palms of his hands and from out of his mouth.

“Wait,” Sausage protested, “I can—”

Scott didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking. He grabbed the man and the golem by one arm each and disappeared in a burst of orange particles. They reappeared several meters down the passageway opposite the way they needed to go – which was, thankfully, free of the sculk infestation that had cropped up.

“—Help!” Sausage completed his proclamation. He glanced around, then squinted into the distance trying to glimpse the battle. He uttered a disappointed noise. “Why is everyone treating me like a helpless old man? I’m still the Guardian of Realities! Come on, now!”

“Instinct, I guess,” Scott replied. “And I think that title means we should keep you safe. Can you fight from a distance? Also, um, do you have any more food you can spare? I’m going to run out of energy fast if I follow Ghast-sage’s plan.”

As if on cue, they heard the cry of a ghast followed by explosions. A fiery glow blossomed at the other end of the passageway.

“Oh, of course! Food is still helpful, right? Eh-heheh…” Sausage chuckled meekly, then set his knapsack down to rummage through it. “I can cast spells from a distance – maybe not this distance, need to see the target, you know – but I guess I’ll use this chance to come up with something really good to use! Here you go!”

He handed Scott a bundle full of cookies. The transporter immediately shoved one into his mouth then spoke while chewing. “If you need to get closer, go slowly and watch out for new sculk appearing.” He swallowed then patted Rusty on the head. “You stay over here, okay? You need to keep safe, too.”

Another ghast shriek reached them. Scott disappeared, leaving Sausage to watch the particles flicker out as they fell to the ground. He let out a breath. “You know, Rusty, I’ve been meaning to retire. I can never resist an adventure, but maybe I should admit to myself that I really am too old for it.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“Well, I kinda doubt I’m going to be given another chance to start over and the way I ended up coming into this life was probably not how it’s supposed to go plus I had a good run this time around, getting to spend time raising my adopted children, even if my soul missed out on the first twenty-something years of it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It – It’s kind of a long story,” Sausage stuttered. “I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s get to some sneakin’, and I’ll do what I can to help out those scary fire-wielding versions of me!”

~*~*~

Translations:

Mijo – son

Triste pájaro de fuego – sorrowful firebird

To be Continued in [ Chapter Five ]

#nlsmp #nlsmp fanfic #empires smp s2 #empires smp fanfic #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #new life smp #mythical sausage #empires hermes #alsmp #alsmp fanfic #soul liminality #lunar yarns

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asterssunzephyr · 1 year

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This part of the post is only about the characters, nothing more & nothing less, this is about c!Roseblings(c!illagerblings??)

So this part of the post only really applies if youve watched Gem or Fwhip s1 empires/afterlife because it will focus on their characters as twins and Pillager!Fwhip & Villager!Gem.

So first and foremost I want to start off with the fact of how vastly different Gem and Fwhip approached Villagers/Pillagers in season one.(this will be in red & purple for the respective colour combinations of Fwhip & Gem in the season) So, first of all, season one Gem didnt seem really interested in having any kind of Villagers at the Crystal Cliffs, however didnt reject the idea of Pillagers being students at the academy. She seemed to not care much about any of villagers at the crystal cliff and that could be due to the fact that Villagers dont use magic in canon minecraft lore or Gem's empires lore for season one. Pillagers, however, do have magic users, such as Evokers, Vindicators, and whatever else is there falling under the Illagers; Fwhip, on the contrary, spent almost all of his time with villagers and avoiding raids/villagers all he can with having to deal with a Demon and Sausage. He didnt try to be around Pillagers and was a bit (seemingly) concerned about how his sister was teaching Pillagers how to use magic with the academy. He seemed confused and worried about what she was doing but overall seemed unbothered with the overall idea about her teaching them as long as she was safe. He just didnt seem to care much about any of the Illagers types while also surrounding himself with villagers and making sure they were safe.

Now, moving onto their afterlife(first lives, Blue - Fwhip, Green - Gem)

Very different to their empires selves, Gem was surrounded by Villagers and Iron Golems. It got to the point she had to warn others that her golems will kill them. She tried to warm Fwhip and he didnt listen, she tried to warn so many people to the point of wanting to isolate people in fear for them and not herself. She wanted to protect herself and then changed gears into wanting to protect others from her. She worries about their safety rather than her own for a very long time(until Scott kills her..)

Fwhip doesnt seem to care about what others do in their lives, he focuses on being a good(no, great) Illusioner yet also doesnt try to embrace his origin until after Gem kicks him out of her villager(not realizing its for his safety and not her own). Only then does he care about embracing what he is, an illusioner. He starts jumping on crops, and genuinely not being the calm guy he previously was when he hadnt been to Gem's village. He begins not caring about villagers and even more, destroying their crops, and he potentially could have been a villain with Scott & Lauren(and at one point, with Shelby & Sausage).

It could count as rejection from his sister, someone he thought would accept him with open arms, even if he has been accepted by everyone else. He wanted to be accepted by her, like how he accepted her pillagers. He seems upset by how Gem has Iron Golems, and how he almost has nothing until he starts building up his pillager friends. He only starts fully pillaging places when Gem kicks him out of her villager because hes an illusioner(she doesnt even call him this). Hes been rejected by his twin sister, the family hes known forever.

(Yellow Text is about the siblings in s1, afterlife first lives & potentially my take of the characters as 'in character')

If you look at s1 and afterlife, one of them is always doing magic and the other isnt. Theres so many hcs that Fwhip ran away from his home village(Gems Village) in afterlife, and that Gem left for Crystal Cliffs Academy in s1. Gem leaves home to study magic and Fwhip accepts her; Fwhip leaves home to study magic and Gem rejects him.

Its not the same unconditional love he gave her, its the exact different. Its not fair, is it? Why isnt he loved like she was? He only becomes 'evil' when a golem hits him and Gem tells him to leave. He goes back to get that same golem and then hes immediately killed by one! In Gems village, nonetheless.

When we look at Gems pov, we see her being distraught that Fwhip is a pillager Illusioner, and that shes genuinely upset by it but not in a 'youre not my brother!' way, rather a 'You betrayed me, immediately after leaving me behind.' way. Shes a villager, would you be happy if your twin brother ran away from home and decided to become the one thing that is known to be the sworn enemy of Villagers? Lets also not forget when Fwhip(and later, Shulk) died in her village her panic was because people were getting hurt and dying due to her golems. She started to place warning signs everywhere she can because she doesnt want them to get hurt, to die. Then she gets kidnapped! TWICE! IN TWO EPISODES? In one episode, Oli kidnaps her and immediately after, Scott kills her. Fwhip becomes a little inchling when he dies, vastly different from being an -illager like Gem(also, both of them become something else than an -illager). He moved from the outpost he made, and Gem stayed in the village.

Gem wasnt ready to move on from the village, Fwhip was prepared to move on from it a long time ago. c!roseblings are twins, but theyre so different in how they surround them self in both s1 & their episode 1(1-3 for Fwhip)

I think this is the longest Ive talked about them in one go so far but it will happen again & probably be more talks about them. Roseblings supremacy.

Ive had this post waiting to be posted for months now. time to leave.

#Icarus talks #empires smp #afterlife smp #rosetwins #roseblings #got the twins on the brain again #afterlife roseblings #afterlife fwhip #alsmp #alsmp fwhip #alsmp geminitay #afterlife gem

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a-smol-storm-gt-nomfs-blog · 2 years

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A not so secret, secret santa

@onthefreighttrain hehe >:D Jimmy and Joel had been, to put it lightly, at each other's throats, although most of the antagonizing was coming from Joel’s behalf. The so-called ‘God’ had started to push his boundaries though. Before you ask, no, it’s not the pranks. In fact, Jimmy has a good laugh at those. He even has to admit that the wall around his empire was actually neat looking. The small man blinked a couple times and opened his eyes. He stretched out his arms and his eyes glossed over at the patchwork. Yeah, exactly what he meant. Whatever Joel had done was changing him. Jimmy slid his sleeve down; his eyes traced the work gloves scar had given him. He had become more and more interested in trying them, but he hated how they felt. They were used to help reduce calluses on builders, but they always made his hands super sweaty. It made sense. The material was thick to protect the builders hands, and well, he lived in a desert. Thinking about it, Scar seemed to use them for his building all the time. He didn’t seem to have a problem with the heat. Though, most of the time he used the shadows of the stuff he had built to hide from the sun. It made sense. Scar had built twice, well once really, in deserts. Back in hermitcraft season 5, Scar had done a similar thing to what Jimmy was doing now. And well, 3rd life was pretty much all Grian. Jimmy started towards the door before sighing, stepping back, and picking up the gloves. He should probably go resource gathering anyways. He slid them on and tested finger movements. It was smooth. He kneeled down and picked up his axe from where it laid against the wall. “Wow,” Jimmy said quietly to himself. He expected the axe to slip, but he held it perfectly as if he weren't wearing the gloves at all. “These are well made. Scar was right!”It also explains how the hermits built their tower so quickly. Honestly, the building gloves weren’t used as much on empires before this. Sausage, Joel, and Scott were the only ones with a couple pairs before. That made sense though. They make the most, building wise, and it would have just been easier on them. It’s honestly when Jimmy first used them. It felt fine out in the open plains, but back at the desert it was just too hot. Jimmy headed up the stairs towards his portal. He ran his hand over the obsidian. He couldn’t feel the heat that normally would come with it. Soon he stepped in, the nauseating feeling hit. It wasn’t really all bad, you got used to it. His feet slid onto the ground, and he started towards the portal closest to spawn: Joel’s. The chance of getting face to face with the god was little to none, though. Oh boy was he wrong. The second he stepped through the portal, the man stood there talking to Grian. Of course, the two people he didn’t want to see. Grian’s head snapped towards him with a smirk on his face. “Well hello Tim,” Grian cooed teasingly. “What nowwww…” Jimmy groaned. “Aww what? I’m not even doing anything.” “Oh please, Grian, it’s you, you can’t not do anything.” “You think so little of me,” Grian says, turning his head playfully upset. Joel let out a laugh as Jimmy stepped out of the portal and into the snow. “Wait, you guys got snow?” He asked confusedly, snapping the others out of their giggle fits. “Oh yeah, I suppose you don’t get that down in the badlands, do you?” Joel said. “Well, that's why Grian was here. I was talking about ideas on how to stop it from covering all the paths while also making it look good. I didn’t think about it when making plans.” Jimmy let out a little laughing huff through his nose. “Well I was going to get wood, not sure if I could- er, well, should do that now.” Jimmy lowered his axe. Grian’s eyes traced his movements. “You started wearing the gloves?” The avian remarked. “Oh yeah,” Jimmy said, showing his free hand. “I’m kinda glad I did, again because of the snow.”“Wait, why are you wearing the gloves?” Grian asked, Jimmy paused for a second. “I was starting to get calluses. Might need to fix my axe as well. It has a couple splinters in the handle.” Grian shrugged, seeing no reason to disagree, but Joel smiled. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?” Joel asked, placing a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. It took a couple seconds but Jimmy yanked himself away with his right hand grabbing at his far shoulder. The sheriff turned his head, teeth biting his lip in pain. Joel had that same smirk, but Grian’s was faltering. Jimmy’s vision blurred, and as it did, he started to fall. The sheriff could barely make out the parrot running at him, worried and calling out his name. He felt something soft and warm catch him. His head felt awful and there was loud calling surrounding him. Something soft touched his back and he pulled into it letting out a pained groan due to the headache. After what felt like a couple munities his headache began to clear. His eyes opened and he saw they were holding a familiar red fabric. He looked around slowly. He was cradled in what seemed to be Grian’s arms. The avian was fluffed up and seemed to be shouting- wait, he was shouting at Joel. Jimmy let out a pained moan and Grian’s arguing stopped. The avian looked down at the tiny in his hand. “You okay?” the larger asked, voice shaking a little. “Headache,” Jimmy said. There was some shuffling, and the tiny saw the avian stand. His eyes slid over to Joel, whose head hung in defeat. Jimmy’s head flipped between the two. He knew Grian was defensive, but he rarely yelled at anyone. “Where are you taking me?” Jimmy asked, starting to get scared. Grian looked down at him with a saddened expression. “To Tango. I’m not sure what Joel did to you, and it’s best you’re with someone who won’t hurt you more.” Jimmy blinked a couple times, confused, but nuzzled into Grian’s sweater more. “Mmkay,” he murmured before looking down. Wait, why wasn’t he cold? There was snow, but he didn’t feel cold, in fact he couldn’t feel the heat from Grian’s body like he had before. Jimmy pulls up his sleeve and sees his whole arm full of stitches. Same with his legs when he rolled up his pant’s sleeve. “What?” Jimmy asked aloud. Grian looked at him and saw what the smaller one was looking at. Jimmy heard the growl and looked up to Grian whose teeth bared as he gave one last angry look to Joel before spreading his wings. Although Grian wasn’t really built for the snow, he shot through the air, aiming for the cave. “Grian, I- I’m scared. I don’t want him to see me like this.” “He’ll take care of you though. He wont judge you for this. In fact, I think he’d murder Joel.”Jimmy relaxed at that. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he jokes, making Grian laugh a little. The avian’s flying slowed as the cave showed up. Soon the parrot was on the tracks and making his way in on the rails. Grian’s wings opened again as he slowly descended. A familiar blue light showed and Grian headed towards it, landing nearby. Tango turned to greet Grian, pulling the goggles off his eyes. “Hiya buddy? What’s up?” Grian smiled and moved the stiff Jimmy into his hands. “I have something for you.” Tango looks down at Grian’s hands and lets out a happy squeak. “Just be careful with ‘em, ‘mkay?” Tango nodded, pulling the small toy into his chest. Jimmy’s face flushed and he looked at Grian slowly, who just smiled widely. “Well, I’ve got some stuff to get. Have fun with that!” Tango nodded and walked back into the bamboo farm. He made a comfy chair and placed Jimmy in it. “I’ll be back for you. I’ve got some redstone to take care of first.” Jimmy watched out of the corner of his eyes and Tango jumped down into a hole. The clicking and jittering of redstone machinery was on and off. The doll figured he was fixing something that broke. Soon Tango re-emerged, redstone staining his clothes and sweat dripping down his face. Jimmy sat there in stunned silence, a good stunned silence. Jimmy knew Tango was built already. The man carried deep slate everywhere, and it was heavy stuff! Tango looked over to his small friend and smiled. Jimmy could barely not smile as Tango took off his larger coat, leaving him in a black tank top. It didn’t help when Timmy was picked up by the hot man and held close to the large hermit’s heart. The sound of it beating was relaxing, but he was being pushed gently into the large abs. Though now, he could see all those muscles at work as well. Oh wow, it was hot. Well, Tango was a fire demon, but that’s not exactly what he was trying to point out. The demon gently slid his fingers down the tiny’s face, who leaned into it a little. Tango smiled and headed back to his hut. “Man, I really wish I could talk to you.” Tango says to the plushy. “I miss you.”Jimmy went to respond, but was surprised when nothing came out. ‘W-what?’ Jimmy thought to himself. He was just speaking with Grian hours ago, was he choking on something? Again, he tried to speak, but nothing came out of his mouth. His throat felt fine, his breathing felt normal, so why?Jimmy’s spiraling thoughts stopped as he was placed on a large red bed. It was a really nice bed, too. It was thick but super soft. It made sense though, as the cave would be pretty cold and damp. All Jimmy could really do was watch as Tango disappeared behind a corner towards what the smaller assumed to be his bathroom. The tiny let out a sigh. At least he got to spend time with Tango. And well, Jimmy wouldn’t trade that for the world.

#storm stories #sorry its short #but mmm horney men #/j #it's not that bad #mmmm #g/t #hermitcraft g/t #hc g/t #mcyt g/t #Team rancher

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lunaryarn · 2 months

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Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate's Fairest To Us All - Ch 2

Multi-SMP Fanfic: Which Fate’s Fairest To Us All

Afterlife SMP, New Life SMP and Empires SMP S2 crossover combo!!! I'm back with more MythicalSausage meets MythicalSausage shenanigans!

WARNINGS: Character death (but they get better because Afterlife/New Life rules are in play), body horror

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Hermes enter the strange portal in the Ancient City. Meanwhile, Myth needs to be convinced to use the one Smajor leads him to. Later, Hermes finds himself alone, but not for long; he picks up a new friend, and soon after meets another version of his father, who in turn has found a relic left in the labyrinth from an entirely different universe…

Sequel to Mirror Tenfold, Beyond the Wall and follows sometime after the events of Thou, O Kings, Fair Be You All (“sometime” being relative to how much time passes in each universe)

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ]

Chapter Two

Regardless of having tamed Dolores, Sausage hadn’t found a way to establish a rapport with Wardens in the wild despite a few attempts, so he and Hermes stuck to careful movements and whispers when they reached their destination.

Hermes absently squeezed the straps of his backpack as he stared up at the portal. “This thing is always so intimidating up close. I’ve always wondered why it’s so big. It’s like something made to accommodate Ghasts if they flew in and out of portals regularly. Or maybe the Deep Dark equivalent of a Ghast. Can you imagine what a sculk-infested Ghast would look like? …Uh-oh… That just made me think of Ghasts that produce a sonic shriek like a Warden. They could level cities doing that. Maybe that’s what happened to the people who used to live here…”

Sausage hummed in agreement, amused by how his son had apparently picked up his penchant for rambling off a stream of conscience, although at the moment Sausage was more focused on comparing the gemstone in the Staff with the ones in the portal frame – yet avoiding holding the Staff too close. He had begun to wonder what other powers Sanctuary’s magic had imbued the Staff with. He murmured out loud, “They’re definitely the same. But these are… pulsing with energy. I never paid that much attention to them before to notice that, but I was kinda busy watching out for Wardens most of the time, eh-heh.”

Hermes glanced over at him. “Maybe because they’re part of what activates the portal, while that one was only meant to point us in the right direction?”

“Maybe… But this portal itself isn’t active right now. I don’t feel any trans-dimensional energy coming from it. Only from the gemstones.” Sausage continued to scrutinize the gems as well as the stone they were embedded into.

Hermes curiously studied his father instead of joining the portal examination. “I don’t often see you being this serious.”

“All the times I’ve been called on for Guardian of Reality duties have always been dire. I have to keep track of any detail that might be important for stabilizing whatever is wrong in the multiverse. Make note of that for your training, by the way.”

Hermes mimed writing on paper. “Got it, Dad.”

Sausage took a deep breath then let it out in a pensive exhale. “All right. Time to test my first theory.” He slowly lowered the crook of the Staff toward the empty air above the bottom frame of the portal. A bright turquoise spark leapt from the Staff to the surrounding gemstones, creating a chain of sparks along the sides that continued across the top until halting at a spot near the middle.

Sausage squinted up at it. Hermes quietly scraped the heel of his right sandal against the floor, triggering the godly-blessed wings on the sides of both sandals, and took flight to make a closer inspection. “There’s one missing,” Hermes reported.

“Right,” Sausage muttered. He glanced at the crook of the Staff, then drew it away from the portal and gingerly touched the gemstone in it. “I get the sense we’ll be needing this, so I don’t think we’re meant to remove it and place it into the frame.”

Hermes studied the indentation where a gemstone would have been, then hovered just above Sausage and held out his hand. “Let me try something.”

Sausage considered for a moment, trying to discern Hermes’ plan without asking, but handed him the Staff anyway. Hermes returned to the top of the portal and very precisely angled the crook so that the gemstone could be pressed into the matching indentation.

There was no audible sound like a Nether or End portal would make, but they both felt a pulse ripple through the air. Small, pale blue particles began to waft from the portal. Hermes cautiously drew the Staff away from the frame. The portal remained active. The gemstone remained in the Staff.

“Good work,” Sausage complimented with a smile. “The official father-son team sets off to protect all of reality! Stay close to me once we’re on the other side. Oh, and let’s get that wool ready, just in case there’s more sculk sensors wherever this takes us!”

~*~

Myth saw right away what could potentially be a trap for him in the Ancient City that Smajor had led him to. The only thing stopping him from releasing a fireball or growling any louder was the risk of Wardens. “If you think I’m setting one foot closer to that portal—!”

“It’s to hold back the sculk vein!” Smajor hissed in response. They had a glaring contest as Myth pointed to the mycelium that lined the area around the base of the portal. “It’s been spreading like crazy every time I come down here to try to think of an approach to this rescue mission! That isn’t normal! Something is wrong with the sculk in this world. It’s a type of fungus, but one I can’t commune with.”

Myth peered around at both the sculk and sculk vein that was on the other side of the supposed barrier of mycelium. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it, he realized Smajor wasn’t lying. “So, how do you want to approach this? Do we enter at the same time and try to find each other first, or do we use that as an automatic ‘split up to cover more ground’ tactic and look for them?”

“The second one. I mean, if we find each other on the way, great, but…” Smajor trailed off as a thought occurred to him. He then sighed in resignation. “I’m putting my trust in you to not leave me in there if you find both of them before you run into me.”

The corners of Myth’s mouth curled upward. “I don’t think I can make that promise.”

Smajor stared blankly at him. “I guess that’s fair. Just keep in mind that when I do find the exit, I might just go through the first portal I find.”

The mirth evaporated from Myth’s face. “No, all four of us get out, because after that we need to sort out what happens to us extras.”

“Good. Yes. Exactly. Now, one idea I had was—” Smajor abruptly went still, only his eyes moving as he looked at something over Myth’s left shoulder. Then he pointed and hissed, “There! See! The sculk vein!”

Myth frowned with mistrust again, but turned his head a little to try to glimpse it from the corner of his eye. But he quickly – and accusingly – darted his gaze back to Smajor. The fungal mage continued to point. Myth reluctantly turned further around to get a real look.

He then saw several strands of sculk vein actively flailing around the side of the portal frame as if intending to get purchase on the front of it and reach in.

Smajor stepped past Myth and swiped his hand upward through the air. The mycelium at the base of the portal surged up over the deepslate beside the frame, converting it fully within seconds. The sculk vein shriveled away and collapsed into dried up clumps of blue-black, the spots of glowing turquoise extinguished.

Smajor stifled a gasp, swaying, but kept his feet firmly on the line of mycelium. “S-See… Th-That’s… Oh, going that fast really eats up my mana…” He took a moment to catch his breath. “I noticed it creeping toward the portal more and more each time, and thought it was merely some random zombies falling victim to the Warden, but then I realized it was definitely moving toward the portal on its own. You saw it… That’s not how sculk vein spreads.”

He paused to allow Myth to affirm the observation, but the phoenix only stared back stone-faced. Smajor continued, “So, I did what I could to slow it down. I can’t convert whatever the frame is made of, but by backing up the natural spread of mycelium with a boost of my own power, I can convert types of stone with it.”

“And am I to believe that you aren’t actually controlling the sculk vein because it doesn’t spread on its own, and it is a type of fungus?”

Smajor sighed. “I know you’re never going to fully trust me ever again, but can you at least see the bigger picture – that there’s a bigger threat? Maybe we were sent here, specifically, to bring an outside perspective and save this world from what others don’t see happening right underneath them. Since, you know, we spent so much quality time around sculk, right underneath everything in our world.”

“Don’t tell me you’re homesick.” Myth rolled his eyes, then gave a half-hearted smirk. “Do you miss your cell? You were safe in there from the sculk, oddly enough.”

Smajor scowled at him. “I think you let yourself get infected with it. You seemed hell-bent on accepting some kind of punishment for becoming a cursed angel—”

Spits of flame flared off of Myth’s body. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the—”

“Shhh!!” Smajor tried to hush the phoenix before looking around in a panic. “Enough!” he then whispered in a harsh tone. “Too much talking. It knows we’re here. I can feel some new vibrations.”

Myth doubted this claim, yet he did go silent to listen for himself. He then noticed for the first time that there weren’t even any sensors or shriekers in the immediate area. He did, however, pick up on an approaching sound that was quite familiar to him, but likely not to Smajor, so he uttered a quiet laugh and turned toward the staircase that led up to where they stood.

The trundling footsteps were a far cry from the stomping of a Warden, or even of the taller, iron cousins of the copper construct that crested the edge of the platform. Myth shook his head with a mild scowl before whispering, “Rusty, you shouldn’t have followed me down here. You would be safer at home with your buttons to keep you busy.”

Intuitively enough, Rusty also kept his voice down. “Are you sure about this?”

Myth’s expression became puzzled; he was unable to discern the meaning behind the word choice this time. He decided to ask. “Are you saying that because you were worried about me, or do you think it’s not safe at home?”

Rusty didn’t get a chance to reply. A sudden surge of sculk vein appeared over Smajor’s layers of mycelium, strands of it even grabbing at Myth’s feathers and trying to tangle around his legs – as well as around Rusty. Myth grabbed the little copper golem and held him aloft while directing flames from the bottom of his wings to try to burn it off – or at least discourage it from trying to grasp at more of his feathers.

Smajor planted his stance wide on the mycelium at his own feet, now the only section remaining free of sculk vein. He made a motion with both hands like if he was pulling on a rope. The sculk vein was yanked from Myth’s wings and legs. “Go!! I’ll hold it back! Find them! I can’t do this alone! I’ll go back in the cell when we get back to our world, if that’s what you want!”

Myth glanced at the portal. Yet then he narrowed his eyes at Smajor once again. “You were able to use power over that sculk vein. If I go without you, that leaves you to run free in this world. You were quick to take on vampire powers again – maybe that renewed your thirst for world conquest, and with this fungal power you could also reshape the world any way you want! And I’m the only one who knows how much of a threat you are!”

Smajor glared back at Myth bitterly. “So smart, thinking you figured it out. I wish you remembered the time when I was a vampire and you were a wither, and we worked together. Even if it didn’t last long. Even if everything went to hell for us after that. Even if I still hate you and want nothing to do with you ever again. But we keep getting pulled back to each other.” He was beginning to look visibly haggard from the effort of fighting the sculk vein with his magic.

Smajor continued, “Gods, but I would have loved nothing more than to go to the opposite side of this planet and never see you again. But I couldn’t. The question of my double was eating at me. Something kept burrowing into my brain, like the fungus itself, like spores infecting my thoughts to turn them toward wondering why. Why did I end up here? Why this world? Why did I become this?”

He tried to gesture to himself, but the drain on his mana made it too painful to do more than spread his fingers. He winced. “…And why, when I died, did I come right back to life the same? If you want to witness that, then go ahead. I’m about to die from overexerting my mana. But for those precious seconds that I’m unconscious until I revive, the sculk will overrun you and your little friend. You can make a choice, Myth – or I can make it for you!”

Smajor’s face twisted in agony as he forced his left hand to move upward. Myth felt the ground shift under his feet. First it turned into mycelium, then a small red mushroom grew – and then it abruptly sprang up into a full grown, tree-sized mushroom, flinging Myth upward and at just enough of an angle to throw him and Rusty into the portal.

The last thing Myth saw before the portal’s magic swept him away was Smajor collapsing to the ground. The phoenix’s thoughts on the matter clung to the question of whether it was all an act or not, but then the world turned into swirls of blue-black and he resigned himself to merely hoping that Rusty didn’t count as a flesh-and-blood entity so they wouldn’t get separated.

~*~

“Dad? Dad??” Hermes called out in confusion. He knew he should keep his voice down in this strange, dimly-lit place, but having landed on the other side of the portal only to find himself alone made him worry.

In fact, he didn’t even see the portal he would have exited from. The solid wall at his back was devoid of any markings or indication that it even was where he had exited from. Hermes gazed upward, wondering if he had fallen; the wall was certainly tall enough for him to be unable to see if a matching portal was on top of it. His connection to the skies could have been what saved him from a splattery fate on the floor, but his human father wasn’t going to be as fortunate.

Hermes listened, but didn’t hear Sausage calling from elsewhere. He scuffed his heel against the ground and began an attempt to fly high enough to get a glimpse of what might be above.

He saw no colors except for dim blue-black. He spotted a few drifting particles, but they were everywhere, rather than concentrated near a portal. And the top of the wall still kept stretching upward… Hermes set his face in determination and let some demi-god power flow, his eyes glowing slightly as he summoned a boost to get higher. He couldn’t maintain it in a place like this, with apparently no atmospheric currents to grab hold of – only an oppressive, unseeable ceiling somewhere even higher up above – but he did clear the top of the wall before the boost ran out.

Hermes’ eyes widened in shock. Dismay flooded his stomach.

A gigantic labyrinth surrounded him on all sides with uninterrupted lines of the same towering, taupe walls disappearing into the distance. A split-second reflex had him lunging forward to grab the edge of the wall just as he began to lose altitude. He pulled himself onto it and huffed for breath, bent over from the brief adrenaline rush caused by what appeared to be an insurmountable task.

This was no time to feel overwhelmed. It was time to plan.

He already had the advantage of being able to view the place from on top of it. He would have no trouble jumping over the gaps between walls. He could leave a trail of markers to keep track of where he had been. Even though the ground was far away, his eyesight was godly; he was confident he would be able to spot his father below as he searched.

What did worry him was how Sausage might hold up in the meantime. Would he be worried about his son despite Hermes’ experience visiting other realities? Would being in a place like this raise concerns about Hermes’ ability to navigate, or would Sausage be struggling to fathom the size of the walls while worrying about tracking his supplies, or…

Hermes’ consolation was that his father would at least still have the Staff of Sanctuary to aid him if necessary.

He hastily built a marker using the wool he had brought along, choosing four different colors for each cardinal direction and placing a torch in the middle. He hopped across the nearest surrounding walls to extend the directional indicators, then gently clasped the earring with a pressed flower inside before murmuring, “Magic of Sanctuary, if you can hear me in this place, please guide me to the magic of the Staff.”

He would have chosen the words my father, but it might be better to invoke the prime source in a dimension that felt so closed-off.

Hermes shut his eyes and waited to feel any kind of tug or general whisper of magic. It came across fuzzy, so he wasn’t completely certain, but he turned to his left and opened his eyes to survey the layout of the walls ahead. He then set off, leaping from one top edge to the next, occasionally setting down a correspondingly colored marker while constantly observing the ground below for any sign of his father.

After what could have been half an hour, he began to consider making a tall marker to denote where he had stopped so he could turn back and try a different direction. He happened to take one last glance downward and saw something moving below – the first time he had seen anything at all besides the occasional crumbling statue or dried-up fountain.

Figuring that he could fly back up if it turned out to only be one of this dimension’s inhabitants – whether sapient or not – Hermes leapt from the wall. His sandals slowed his descent as he neared the ground, allowing him to land without a sound.

Hermes pondered the small creature he was now looking at. He was reminded of his robotic sibling, Sunny. But this smaller metallic creation was made completely out of copper and reminded him of an iron golem. “Hello there, coppery little fellah. Are you native to this dimension?”

The little construct didn’t immediately respond. The antenna on top of its head bobbed up and down.

Maybe it was trying to process his words?

Of course, there was no way of telling if it had any of the same capabilities as Sunny. Which would actually put it closer in relation to an iron golem, after all.

Hermes decided to keep talking. Maybe some key word would register. “Did someone happen to send you out to guide me around? I’m trying to find my dad at the moment. We got separated when we entered the portal and I haven’t seen any trace of him in this massive maze yet.”

The copper golem abruptly looked up at him. “What did you say?”

Hermes smiled in delight. “Oh, you can talk! That’s helpful. Do you know the name of this place? I’ve traveled to a few different dimensions, but I’ve never seen this one before. It makes you wonder why or even how someone built a place like this! Maybe it was originally for the Wardens, before they ended up in the Overworld. Reminds me of another legend from ancient history… Huh! Well, they are called Ancient Cities, after all!”

“Are you sure about this?” asked the copper golem.

“Well, they aren’t called Modern Cities, now are they? At least where I’m from. Or did you mean the theory about the Wardens?”

“No.”

Hermes thought back on everything he had just said. “Are you here to guide me?”

“No.”

“Are you native to this dimension?”

“No.”

“Did… you come from the Overworld?” Hermes now realized this might have been one of those times where he should be careful about which details he revealed about himself.

“Yes.”

The young man did a little more thinking. While he was busy with that, the copper golem started to walk off, continuing in the direction it had been heading. Hermes followed for the moment, trying to figure out which standing empire might have the technology to build a sentient construct. His first thought would have been that it was sent by his godly parent for the exact purpose of being a guide – for who else but a deity could have sight over a gigantic labyrinth? – however, copper was an odd choice for a god who favored gold the most.

The goblins were inventive creatures and would certainly have a steady supply of copper that they had mined up, and this fellow was around their height. On the other hand, Cogsmeade was known for technological advancements…

Hermes glanced ahead to see their path was about to take them into an intersection. “Hey, so—” He dashed in front of the copper golem to stop a possible random turn. “—Can you tell me where you’re going? Or if there’s someone you’re looking for? I can scout around a bit.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I have a few useful powers to help with that. What about you? Any tools or sensors in there telling you where to go?” Hermes was hoping to find out something about this golem.

He was caught off guard by the sadness within the reply. “…No…”

“Oh. I see… I’m getting the feeling that you’re as lost as I am.”

“Yes.”

“Poor little fellah. Here, you know what?” Hermes leaned over to grasp the copper golem under the arms and picked it up. “I’ll carry you for a while, and we can cover ground faster! In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights—”

“What’s wrong with you?!” The golem began to wave its arms around, forcing Hermes to adjust his grip.

“Hey, hey— easy now! I’m just trying to say that I can fly. I can get us on top of the walls to get a better look around! We might spot your person and my dad more quickly!”

The golem immediately stopped struggling. “Okay.”

Hermes gave a relieved smile. He wasn’t in the habit of lugging robots along on flights, and having one flail around at the same time didn’t make the job convenient. He waited, however, until they had passed through the intersection, sparing a glance through the other passageways before sticking to the direction that the golem had been heading, then performed his trick to reach the top of the wall again. This time he aimed to land on top rather than grabbing it like last time.

He almost fell short despite his plan; he felt slightly light-headed afterward, so he made sure to wait a moment before he started walking. After that, he remained on the same wall for several minutes rather than jump across right away. He wanted to ensure he would still be steady on his feet, plus it might help the little golem get used to being carried around.

Hermes couldn’t contain his curiosity for very long, though. “Can you tell me if you have a name?”

“No.”

“Do you even have one?”

“Yes.”

“But you can’t tell me?”

“No.”

Hermes ruminated out loud, “Hmm. Might be one of those things where I need to guess the correct phrase.”

“No,” the golem replied with insistence.

Hermes chuckled. “Mate, you’re an odd one.” He paused to glance toward the ground. He was feeling better now, so he hopped across the tops of the next two walls then glanced down again.

Onward they went, not seeing anything much of interest, until they came across a wall that had partially collapsed in one spot. Hermes leapt down to check out the rubble below – if just to distract himself from his mounting worry about how long it was taking to find his father.

There was the initial pile of rubble but also larger chunks of the wall that looked like they had been flung in both directions down the passageway. Hermes set the copper golem down to scrutinize the scene. “Seems something knocked it down, and either the same thing – or something else – threw parts of it… off? Did someone try to bury something? No way of telling how long it’s been like this. If someone was trying to stop a hostile creature, they might have succeeded, and it freed itself later. I’ll stick with that theory. It sounds more positive. Right, my coppery friend?”

Hermes looked around and saw the golem seemed to be making an investigation of its own by staring at the ground just past one of the larger pieces of the wall. Hermes went over, not seeing anything right away, but it was as good a direction to head as any.

Then he saw the scorch marks on the floor, which was apparently what had caught the copper golem’s attention. “You worried about fire, little fellah?”

“Yes.”

“I could understand why, since you’re made of metal.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Hermes laughed quietly. “As far as I know copper is still considered to be a metal.”

“That’s an odd thing to say.”

“Is it really?” Hermes wondered if the construct considered itself to be made of flesh.

“Yes.”

Hermes was suddenly struck by a realization. “You’ve got limited speech programming!”

“Yes.”

“Well, that will do it, then! I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner. Is that why you can’t tell me your name?”

“Yes.”

“I see, I see. I’ll keep it in mind. Should we have a gander at where this trail leads? I have some experience with the aftermath of an environment being burned, so I would say this didn’t happen recently, which means we’re probably safe from whatever caused this. No promises about anything currently around that might be shooting out flames, so we’ll be careful.”

The antenna on the golem’s head bobbed almost in an excited manner, although its reply was a calm, “Okay.”

The line of scorch marks varied as they followed it, as if it had been created by uneven blasts. The largest singe mark marring the ground was at the end of the passageway, which led out into an open area with a fountain in the middle.

There was also plenty of evidence that a massive battle had taken place here at some point in the past.

There were smashed pieces of a giant statue scattered around and some of the surrounding walls had holes in them. Some looked like more partial collapses, but also appearing as if something had been thrown right through them to dent the next wall behind them.

Hermes recognized another type of scorch mark that danced over the vertical surface of a wall that was just past the fountain. He walked over to touch it, murmuring, “Lightning… and a… trident impact…”

A strained cough rent the air, then a quiet yet hoarse voice rasped, “Who… Who’s there?”

Hermes let out a soft gasp and spun toward the fountain. A figure wearing a dark red cloak was seated against it. He hadn’t noticed them among the unmoving debris. The person coughed again. It sounded like… “Dad?” Hermes whispered.

The thing stopping him from hurrying over was the question of where his father would have gotten the red cloak from. Neither of them had packed one, and Sausage had been wearing his dark blue one when they entered the portal.

The golem then proclaimed, “Yes!” and ran over to the figure. It waved its arms in the air while dashing back and forth in a semi-circle, shouting, “What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?”

“R-Rusty?” the person said, the voice now definitely sounding like Hermes’ father. “Shh. Rusty, I’m happy to see you, too – well, ehhh, sort of but not really, I’ll explain in a minute – but keep your voice down!” They coughed again. “There’s something living in this labyrinth and it’s not pleasant!”

Rusty went still, then stepped up close and seemed to gently place a hand on the person’s knee before whispering, “What’s wrong with you?”

The figure pulled down their hood. From where he stood, Hermes saw a full head of hair and a beard that matched the color and style of his father’s when he was younger.

Well, that changed everything. This man must be one of his father’s alternates from another reality. Hermes swiftly made his presence known, coming over to stand three steps behind Rusty. “Um, hello, sir. I found this little guy as I was searching around this place for my dad. I figured I could help – Rusty, was it? – find you, it seems. Are you all right, by the way? Did you get hurt, or… do you just happen to have a cough? I’m Hermes, by the way.”

Blue eyes with black sclera and what appeared to be runny mascara lifted to meet Hermes’ gaze. That was the face of his father alright. Hermes smiled, albeit awkwardly.

It was always a little weird running into doubles of his parents in other realities.

“Well, hello there, Hermes! I’m Mythical J. Sausage. The ‘J’ is silent.” The answering smile looked weary as the man tried to push himself up using the fountain to brace against. Hermes grasped the other’s arm and helped him stand. “Whoa! Strong grip there! Well, you do look the part of a strapping young god. What type of hybrid are you? I’m a Ghast Mage.” He held out his hand, palm facing upward. Small wisps of smoke rose up from his skin. His smile faltered when it was all that appeared.

Hermes was too busy puzzling over the word ‘hybrid’ to comment on the lack of example, although the context clues of smoke and Ghast made him guess there was supposed to be some kind of fiery explosion involved. “Um, I guess you could say I’m a storm hybrid. I can summon lightning among other atmospheric-related things.”

“Oh, that sounds awesome!” The Ghast Mage’s eyes lit up, taking on an orange hue, but then they squeezed shut as he coughed. “Sorry. Yes, I am kind of hurt, actually. I, uhm, got a dose of my own fireball medicine.” He leaned on the fountain again while Rusty rushed to his side, waving his little arms in the air again.

Hermes watched with a faint smile. The little golem’s concern was endearing. “Sorry to hear that. You said there was something living in this place? I haven’t seen a trace of anything yet except a wall back there that came down in one spot, which is what got our attention to come over this way.” He paused to glance around. “It sure looks like a fight went down here, but I can tell those lightning strikes are old.”

“Oh, speaking of lightning!” The Ghast Mage leaned to his right and picked up something that scrapped the floor with a metallic sound. “I found this while searching for the best place to hide! It was really dusty and I can’t tell if it has any enchantments, but maybe you can use it! I just kinda used it as a walking stick to make it over to here.” He smiled as he held out an ordinary-looking trident.

“Thanks! Actually, that’s very helpful.” Hermes took the trident while trying not to seem overexcited; a trident was just what he needed to augment his power. He held it underneath the tines while running his other hand over the haft. “Hmm. It feels like there’s… something imbued in it. But, like… in its core, not cast upon it… It’s like… someone very powerful once touched it.”

“I’ll trust your stormy senses on that. And I’m just as surprised as you to see a spot like this! I stumbled on it while running away. This is one of the few places I’ve seen so far that isn’t half-covered in sculk. Or what might be sculk? It’s the wrong color – like someone combined sculk and mycelium!”

Hermes’ brows lowered in consideration as he thought back to all the areas of the labyrinth that he had seen on the way. “I haven’t noticed anything like that in the direction I came from, but I was checking for a person, not the color of the floor.”

“You would notice it, believe me! Sculk makes sense, because the portal was in the Deep Dark, but mycelium is only on Mooshroom Islands!"

“Tell me more. I was beginning to wonder how this place could be so empty. Sounds like I just happened to be in the most boring part of it.” Hermes sat down on the side of the fountain to listen to the Ghast Mage tell of his time in the labyrinth. It could give him an idea of what to expect out there when he resumed the search for his father.

To Be Continued in [ Chapter Three ]

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #nlsmp #nlsmp fanfic #empires smp s2 #empires smp fanfic #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #empires hermes #rusty the copper golem #soul liminality #the past unmasked saga #lunar yarns

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thedo0zyslider · 8 months

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Since we've gotten a few chapters into the arranged marriage fic, I thought I should post some information about the characters i jotted down a few months ago :]

(This'll be a pretty long post haha. I've had so many thought about these sillies)

Since the story starts when they're young, I had to pit in some thoughts towards their family structures. And I didn't wanna give everyone a nuclear family, so I made sure they all had their own unique experiences

Jimmy and Lizzie's family has already been shown. It's just the two of them and their mom, and their father passed away when Jimmy was a baby. The royal family has very mixed heritage (since Jimmy’s a cod and Lizzie is a more axolotol like merfolk) much to their mothers dislike. Because she sucks. Their father was probably from the codlands or atleast their grandparents on one side were. Lizzie is more scared of their mother (a fear hardwired into her since she was little by constant pressure to be perfect or else) than Jimmy is (who feels like he has to stand up for himself because no one else will/to be recognized for who he is) and it ends up casuing some rifts between them, especially in regards to Jimmy transitioning

Sausage wasn't actually born into royal life, the current queen adopted him. If someone asks about it he says it's a long story, but basically his side of the family was disgraced for some reason a long time ago, and his parents (and maybe siblings) passed in an accident one night. And the queen wasn't just going to let her own blood be orphaned. They're not very such on how exactly theyre related, but Sausage calls the Queen his tía. They're relationship is pretty positive and he's usually following her around when he's bored.

Joel's family consists of just him and his parents. They all get along pretty well, his mother sharing his love of architecture and his father enjoyed the little pranks he pulls. Its overall a very healthy dynamic, and his parents also view Jimmy specifically as a second son (along with being very accepting of him). They serve as a contrast to the shitshow that is the Ocean Queen and her children.

I've always imagined Pix as being the oldest of the group (by a good bit too) in everything I've written, so I don't really seem him with parents? Though am!Pix des have his uncle, the current/soon to be retired king of Pixandria (I can't remember if he's retired or not by the end of chapter one lol.) His uncle is more extroverted than he is, but Pix gets along well with him. They also share the weird Vigil related powers/visions, though Pix has stronger ones than his uncle does.

Scott and Xornorth seem to also contrast Jimmy’s family, but the inner workings are a little more complicated. They actually share more things in common (so do fWhip and Gem, but we'll talk about them in a minute.) Rivendell royal family cosnistnts of a King, Queen, and the two princes. Both eleves get along with one parent more than the other. Xornoth likes their mother more and Scott likes their father. But there is a lot of pressure on both children to be proper and perfect, even if Xornoth is inheriting most of the power and influence since they're the eldest. For now anyways.

Pearl's family just consists of her and her father, and whatever wayward aunt or cousins drops by from time to time. Pearl was also adopted, like Sausage. But unlike him she wasn't already royal before that. Her family was the one chosen to lead when Gilded Hilenthia became a empire, since its still a pretty young one. Pearl loves her adopted father very much, and tries not to fret over her biological parents a lot. She hopes they gave her up for a good reason. And if they didn't, she wouldn't want to know. She's pretty content with how her life has gone, so she doesn't see much need to dig up a possibly upsetting past and risk losing it. Though sometimes she does wonder...

Joey has both of his birth parents, and no siblings. The lost empire is also pretty easygoing, so there aren't many standards he has to follow. He thinks his parents are laid back and amazing, and just doesn't get all the stress his peers go through. And then he express that in the rudest way possible, because he's Joey and a little spoiled brat sometimes.

fWhip and Gem's parents have recently gone through a divorce. And by recently I mean like, a few months before chapter one recently. Everything still pretty fresh, and they're seemingly "perfect" family has been overturned. Though looking back, both twins can definitely see the cracks showing. Their mother and father agrue a lot, with tends to sour any family visits. Which sucks, because it's the only time the twins really get to see each other, after almost being inseparable for about fifteen years. And neither of their parengs have very healthy coping mechnisms. I don't think they waht to hurt their children, it just happens. And was probably always going to happen with a relationship this strained. Gem is trying to fit into a peacemaker role, while fWhip just wants them to do the much healthier avoid each other if they agrue everytime. Safe to say it's causing some cracks in the twins dynamic.

Katheirne lives with both her parents, and the House Blossom royal family is said to be very fun and welcoming. And also big on parties. They give her some stress over her future duties as queen, but nothing to the extent of what her peers get. Her mother and father also aren't against housing any poor soul that needs it within the castle walsl, which had rubbed off on Kathrine.

Shrub lives with both her parents and her grandmother, who actually adopted her father when he was little. The four gnomes are very close to each other, and its normally to see two or more of them together. The only time their separate is when they need personal alone time, or something important had come up. Shrub loves her parents, but she really loves spending time with and learning a lot for her grandmother.

The next thing I had written down pre-fic was their ages, but only as of chapter one. By chapter four it's been about a year and a half, so just add that to these ages below if you must. (We'll get an age recount once I get the timeline more in order + once empires s1 plotting officially starts)

In order from oldest to youngest:

Pix - 21

Xornoth - 19

Lizzie - 17

Pearl - 16

Joey - 16

Sausage - 16

Scott - 15

fWhip - 15

Gem - 15

Joel - 15

Katherine - 14

Shrub - 14

Jimmy - 14

(And yes, Jimmy is the baby of the group. Shrub is a few months older than him, and Katherine is older than both of them by a handful of months as well. That orderinv goes for all 16 and 15 year Olds as well. [Pearl is the oldest of her year, while Scott is the oldest of his])

Adding 1 1/2 years onto those ages, chapter four tales place when Jimmy is 15 turning 16 and Fwhip will turn 17 by like..... chapter 12-14, looking ag my outline

Thats all! Hope you enoted the read :] it was fun getting all these thoughts out haha

#ron.txt #empires smp #Not gonna maintag it much #for later #<- I'll probably need to reference it again at some point #tw child abuse #tw transphobia #<- either mentioned/referenced #ily (im not supossed too)

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siriannatan · 2 years

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How to Make An Unlikely Friendship - Witch!Scott and Empires!Shelby

Just a funny little Idea that suddenly hit me :}

AO3

Evil Sausage turned out to not be as nice as Shelby thought. And she couldn't stop him herself. And no one could find Sausage. He would know what to do. Shelby was a witch and not a mage or a sorcerer or a wizard. Evil Wizards were a bit beyond her capabilities. She would have to find Sausage. The normal, good one who could contact his goddess.

She did have a plan for how to find him. She could not ask witches at the academy or her grandma or even other emperors for advice so... she found a spell to communicate with great witches of other dimensions and even times. Someone considered great by magic itself would without doubt be more than capable of helping her. There was no way it could go wrong.

The ritual was relatively simple. Some ingredients for the chalk she needed were a bit troublesome to get but she managed. And other than that it was just the correct phase of the moon. Prepare the circle and candles and the herbal effigy to burn and she was good to go to invite a Great Witch for a chat. She wasn't sure how exactly that would work, the book she was using did not explain that part, but that probably meant it was not a big deal. The Greatest Storm Witch, as the author was signed, must have known what they were doing. They were the Greatest after all.

And so Shelby went through the ritual. For a second, after she cast the spell, nothing has happened but then there was a whole bunch of smoke. And coughing. "What in the sake of all hells?" Shelby heard a somewhat familiar voice. Scott? She thought. did she end up summoning a Scott from some different dimension? A Great Witch Scott? "Are you playing with magic you should not again, Pris?" the 'Scott' asked.

"I'm not a 'Pris', I'm Shelby, A Great Witch of this area," Shelby introduced herself and cast a small gust to get the smoke away faster. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything, I can't really control who this spell summons," she added.

This was certainly not the Scott she knew. Not with all the black and dark green and spooky vibes. And was he not breathing or was it her imagination?

"No, no, some rest will not hurt me, others are no challenge anyway. I'm Scott, the necromantic witch, a candidate for the Supreme Witch," Scott introduced himself with a bow and the sass Shelby very much connected to the Scott she knew. "What was that spell even supposed to do? I have a bit of expertise with summoning. And why did you summon me?" he grinned as he dusted off his robes. They were rather nice, nicer than any set of robes Shelby ever had herself. But it made sense he was a candidate for a Supreme Witch. Whatever that was sounded impressive.

So Shelby explained her predicament. And Scott listened, nodding along and not saying anything until she was done.

"Yeah, your friend sounds like the best solution, we have no idea what would happen if I dabbled too much in that. And while I can't get him back, I know someone who can. A demon, friendly one, don't worry, he helped me a lot," Scott finally said and pulled out a thick, bound with dark leather and metal. An impressive book. "Well, he's harmless as long as we're staying safe," he added with a grin.

Scott was not a 'good' kind of witch. Not in the academy's way. He was more of a 'whatever solves the problem without causing too many other problems' kind of witch. Curses. Demons. Necromancy. And one of the participants in a competition for the title of Supreme Witch. Not something that happened in this dimension, sadly. Shelby was sure she'd do great in that.

Summoning Leonard - as the demon was called apparently, took them only a few hours. Scott really knew what he was doing. And it was more than eager to help when Scott offered to 'let him meet Pris again' whatever or whoever this Pris was must have been an impressive person if a demon was interested in them. The demon easily brought Sausage who, without paying any mind to a demon or a necromancer just rushed off to Sanctuary to fight his evil alternate self.

"He could not see us, I can vanish and Leonard went home," Scott explained before Shelby could even ask. "I suppose I still have a few hours here, the spell, I believe, keeps me here for 24 hours at best," he hummed looking around the foggy swamp. "This place looks... fun." "The fog's dangerous if you get lost in it, I'm working on getting rid of it," Shelby explained and invited him for tea and cookies. She might as well since she was the one who dragged him to this dimension.

Scott was more than eager for tea and cookies. "I don't remember when someone else booked or baked for me last time... Zombies are rubbish at it," he snickered, offering Shelby an arm.

They spend the rest of Scott's summoning time talking about magic and how limiting the idea of 'good' was. And Shelby learned about Pris. Apparently, she was Scott's self-proclaimed rival and 'fighter of good'.

"She accused me of wanting to take over the world even, like... Do I look like I want that responsibility?" Scott laughed, he was telling a story of a duel he had with Pris. A duel she requested, lost, and denied Scott's win, demanding an instant rematch like four times in a row. "If she kept away from my magic and apologised for being rude I'd leave her alone, I did it when Joey did," Scott sighed shaking his head.

Another familiar name. And that Joey sounded just as annoying as the local Pirate so Shelby told Scott about her problems with him. And how cool Katherine is. And Scott told her about his best friends Eloise and Cleo, and some other witches he knew. Like the Storm Witch, his dimension's Shelby. Shelby was honestly a bit jealous this Scott had so many witch friends. She never had many friends back in the Academy. She did stay off the topic of local Scott since just mentioning him had her guest looking down.

It was a bit sad when he vanished in a puff of greenish smoke.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #witchcraft smp #witchcraft scott #empires shelby

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tenoart · 9 months

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I'm rambling about this and no one will care but WHATEVER

Smp The Odyssey (more so epic the musical) au (Scott centric)

Basically it all starts with esmp s1 with Scott, and all canon events there happen all pretty much the same EXCEPT jimmy gets killed in front of Scott, and that after life doesn't last. All ESMP S1 leaders become the Greek pantheon

(Scott is Athena, Pix is Zeus, Joel is Ares, Lizzie is Aphrodite u get the picture)

The reincarnation of Aeor and all that doesn't stop , cut to ESMP 2 Scott hundreds of years later lives in the small empire of Rivendell (it's rulers died and hasn't been stable sense) and adapts to a life of crime to survive and gets his baby llama, Owen. before quickly realizing Owen was a shape shifter disguised as a llama to get free food.

He has Esmp s1 Scott who for simplicity sake I'm gonna call Tundra following him around throughout his childhood, and gives him the test in his teen years to steal the skull without dying, Tundra takes his eye and trains him from there on out. Pressuring him into becoming an king of his own nation and constantly eluding to Xornoth without outright stating it.

Scott however, hates this role. It's not him. He's a free spirit who can't be bothered to rule a kingdom. So he leaves with Owen and doesn't look back, only for months later to be confronted by Tundra (cue my goodbye from epic)

He takes back Scott's new magic eye, and tells Scott he basically ruined everything, and Scott doesn't understand, insulting Tundra for stringing him along and implies that Tundra only does this for his pride. Meanwhile tundra was trying to make sure Scott didn't repeat his mistakes

He shows Scott that all the other empires were attacked in his disappearance, that Jimmy, sausage, everyone had died to Xornoth while he was absent. Then, Tundra with the blade I can't remember the name of from ESMP 1 kills Scott, sending him to an after life with Owen, and stepping over him and sheriff Jimmy's corpses and through a portal

Hundreds

Years later there's a old abandoned museum of the ESMP 2 empires, that's built on top of a similar one of the ESMP 1 empires. Witch Smp Scott (who will be called Witch for simplicity) finds it and is exploring it with his lover pre deathification. Tundra now starts following him around. His test being the witch competition itself. He sees Joey summon Xornoth and rushes to introduce himself to witch. Witch knows of him and finds him super cool and looks up to him as a friend.

He follows in Tundra's orders. Making his own empire with his lover, having a kid (who I haven't. Made many decisions about yet I just know I want him to interact with Esmp 2 Scott's ghost at some point tho)

Witch trains under Tundra for awhile, before finding red vines creeping out of the ocean and Tundra deciding it's time.

Other scenes / stuff is I want A LOT of the other Scott's present.

Teleporter Scott as Hermes, Life serise Scott teamed up with Xornoth, Id love to include vampire Scott cause he's a favorite but I have 0 clue where. Cleo from witch Smp is Witch's BFF, (gets killed)

I LOVE THE IDEA OF GOD GAMES W Tundra Lizzie and Joel all ESMP 1 it BANGS.

Also imagine witch slowly as it goes own growing antlers from his little horns as he becomes more ruthless. During god games I like the idea of Jimmy being one of the easier ones Tundra has to convince, I like the idea of witch getting trained outside of time in a completely fixed Rivendell only when Tundra leaves him to be left in the real ruins of Rivendell.

IF YOU DRAW THIS @ ME IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME FEEL FREE TO ASK QUESTIONS

#empire smp #empires s1 #empires s2 #witchcraft smp #scott smajor #empires smp au

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blocksruinedme · 1 year

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Extended flower husbands wip clip cause ao3's down

Final fic - Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

This is 2k and rated T, i think? It's the beginning of the fic, though i'm adding a cute bit about Jimmy's hair, so just know that he has a red streak in his hair he feels silly about. The fic will be rated E and something like 18k-20k long. It was going to be for the final round of Driving After Dark, the 18+ traffic life event, but it just kept getting longer. I won't quote the prompt here, but it's transmasc (but mostly labelless) jimmy at a rave full of LARPers. Here's a link to part of my author's note, explaining LARP and the concept of bleed (player/character emotions bleeding over). Credit to @toasted-cricket for describing outfits and a countertop. <3

(also, smallidarity (and bad boys) post-limited life wip on empires s2 and a silly smallidarity emp s2 one. and a modern SmallEtho fic that is "joel fretting cause he doesn't have a label for his relationship with Etho")

"Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" by BlocksRuinedMe

Jimmy had complicated feelings about clubs, raves, anywhere with heavy drinking and strangers dancing or being boisterous. Jimmy loved to party, he wanted to party, and tonight, like every time, he told himself that this time he’d have a single drink and get out and have fun. He’d take up Joel or Grian or Lizzie or Martyn on their gentle but persistent offers to stay with him, to make sure everything was okay. Or maybe he’d work up the courage to go dance sober.

And as always, Jimmy had gotten to the party, looked at the length of the line at the bar, and sent his friends away to have fun. (Though he didn’t know where Grian was tonight - he’d promised to show up. Must be late again.) Years ago it had been harder to convince people to leave him alone at these kinds of parties, that he wouldn’t rather be dragged out onto the floor by a group, or be at home, alone, when everyone else was having fun. Sometimes he was in a mood to just chat with anyone who wasn’t too close to the busiest parts of the crowd - and sometimes he really did want to hang out on the edge of things, drinking soda and possibly bar snacks. He knew it didn't match his personality at other events, but giant parties were hard.

Tonight he had a lot on his mind, and kept to himself. He was pleased to be eating a lot of candy and snacks; he had eventually realized this party, or rave, or whatever this was, was in a warehouse people actually lived in (as unlikely and probably unsafe as that seemed). The kitchen – which only had two real walls and was to Jimmy less a ‘kitchen’ and more a ‘weird area with kitchen things’ -- seemed like a reasonable place to hide out. He knew people did that, they hung out in kitchens at parties, and it was full of candy, in bowls that were very… trippy? A lot of things here, especially the walls in the tiny bathroom next to the kitchen, looked “trippy” to him. Jimmy had no plans to ever do trippy drugs, but he couldn’t imagine looking at such intense images while tripping being any kind of fun.

While he ate a handful of chocolate pretzels, Jimmy considered he must be wrong, given they were literally called “trippy”; that was probably the point, somehow. He was wondering if he could find Sausage later to get him to explain how it worked when he heard a very familiar, and welcome, voice close to his ear - closer than he’d let most people get.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing at a rave like this?”

Scott.

In real world time, on phones and watches and calendars, in every thing that the outside world could count, it had been barely any time at all since Jimmy had last seen Scott, but in LARP time it felt like years had passed, years since he’d heard the voice of his husband. Jimmy was still switching from one to the other, trying to get through all his lingering feelings (both positive and negative) and make the “default world” feel normal, like it was his only home. He’d never had a husband here, that was a game… but not one he’d be forgetting anytime soon.

Jimmy spun around, grinning and chuckling.

Scott was… before he could see anything else, Jimmy saw Scott was wearing his flower crown, his red poppy flower crown that looks so perfect resting on his ice blue hair. He was stunned, but tried to not show it, to not stare at the crown, to take in all of Scott. (Everyone knew Scott loved being appreciated.)

Everything about Scott looked perfect, as always - he had a sense of style Jimmy couldn’t even dream of posessessing. Tonight Scott was dressed in a flowing light pink shirt that sparkled faintly in the flashing lights, the waist cinched and showing off his figure. His pants were, of course, too tight, and left little to the imagination. He was gorgeous and far sexier than was fair to Jimmy, and probably many other people.

But the crown.

When they’d talked during debrief, after all the dead characters reunited as players, Jimmy had said he was happy with the idea of Scott taking the flower crown Jimmy had given him back into the rest of his life, integrating it into his normal wardrobe and life, not keeping it on a shelf like Jimmy had planned to do with his. He loved that it was something special, something he wanted to hold onto, though it was a surprise. When Scott asked about his own, Jimmy had said he wasn’t sure, that he wanted to get back home and decide. Scott had seemed fine with that.

It was good, it was sweet, but Jimmy hadn’t expected him to wear it so soon , to wear it when they… well, maybe Scott had already put it all aside. Maybe he wasn’t having any emotional bleed from their days of being husbands 24/7, maybe it was just a random fun costume piece and not a costume piece that meant something, the way it did to Jimmy.

Why should it be anything else to Scott? It was just a larp love plot, after all. They happened all the time, they both liked playing them. Bleed happened all the time as well, even when people didn’t see it, roleplay emotions bleeding over into whatever was “normal”. Jimmy had never thought too hard about it, just tried to get back to “normal” as soon as he could. What if he didn’t want to put those feelings aside, not fully?

“--Jimmy? You with me?”

yes of course, always

“Oh jeez, Scott, I’m really sorry, I’m just so tired still, what did you say?”

Scott didn’t seem upset - he simply leaned in and kissed Jimmy on the cheek, which was not something they’d done before they played 3rd Life - though Jimmy was certainly not objecting.

“The handsome prince needs his beauty sleep!”

Jimmy chuckled - even since they’d started LARPing together, Scott never had any trouble making Jimmy laugh. Not that it was hard, and he wasn’t (yet?) as good at it as Martyn, but Martyn had known Jimmy much longer than Scott, and Martyn was the funniest person Jimmy had ever known.

“I said.. well, the moment’s gone.” Scott was mock pouting, wanting to be begged, or something like that to keep going. Jimmy was happy to play his part - it was always easy playing with Scott.

“No, Scott, please? I’m really sorry, I genuinely promise I really want to hear. ”

Scott sighed in a put upon manner that Jimmy didn’t take at all seriously.

“I said, ‘what’s my handsome husband doing out at a rave like this?’”

Husband?

Jimmy tried not to sound awkward around the very handsome man he had just spent days roleplaying being in love with. (Those romantic feelings that of course were not bleeding through now, and definitely hadn’t been a bad idea to play given how he’d already felt about Scott. Right.)

“Oh, heh, what’s, um, my husband doing in a place like this? In a rave like this, basically at a rave, I mean. Um, you know?”

Scott laughed, and Jimmy laughed, and Jimmy forgot about trying not to be awkward, forgot about LARPs, forgot about everything except enjoying Scott’s company.

—--

“Do you like the crown? Does it make me look cute?”

“What? Oh, yeah, of course! It’s lovely, you honestly look amazing, Scott, I would never give you something to wear that I thought would make you – I mean, actually nothing could make you look, not good, right? It looks great, especially with your… Did you touch up your hair?”

Scott beamed at Jimmy’s somewhat awkward compliments, and his very awkward attempt to change the conversation away from the fact that Scott had caught Jimmy staring at his flower crown, probably many times, over the last ten minutes.

“You noticed!” Scott gave Jimmy another kiss on the cheek, and Jimmy resisted the urge to turn his face, to try and catch Scott’s lips with his own.

They’d probably just bump noses or something.

“I thought it looked wonderful, barely any roots!” Jimmy was being honest. You couldn’t even see them in the pictures they’d gotten at Martyn’s little post-game photoshoot setup. Jimmy knew, because he’d looked at them an embarrassing number of times, starting on the drive home.

“Weeeellllll, I wanted to look pretty tonight, who knows who you might find in a place like this? And dressed so… appropriately.”

Scott looked up and down Jimmy appraisingly, apparently approvingly. Jimmy had been perfectly happy to wear a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, like he always did, but his tendency to go along with plans without thinking too hard had left him in... raver clothes. His black tank top was 50% mesh, and his black raver pants… there was just so much pants. They jutted out and flared at the bottom, giving the silhouette of an oversized, slouched triangle, while the black denim was decorated by crossing straps, buckles, rivets, and chains. This pair had allegedly been worn by several people Jimmy had met – in one case, two at once, by a pair of “terribly tiny twinks” drunk at a party.

They weren’t uncomfortable, and Jimmy didn’t feel like he was out-of-place… but they didn’t make him feel in-place either.

Scott, however, had instantly made Jimmy feel very at home. The problem was that Jimmy knew Scott was flirting, but Scott was always flirting. Was there any chance this flirting was different? Jimmy had no idea how to even guess, and he was unwilling to try the (unprecedented) “don’t let Scott flirt with you” option.

To his own surprise, Jimmy decided to go with “try to flirt back for real”. He didn’t have a clear goal; he just… missed his husband.

“You might even run into your own husband, how awkward!”

Jimmy didn’t know if his words were any good, but he tried to pitch his voice and hold himself in a way that other people did when flirting. (The majority of flirting in Jimmy’s life had not been Jimmy trying to flirt; it had generally been directed at him, and usually not noticed by Jimmy until someone told him, or in the most important case, just kissed him.)

Scott stepped in closer, absently putting his cocktail down on sticky vinyl paper that was doing its best to turn some plywood into a countertop. It was covered in gunk and rings from drinks; Jimmy would be surprised if the whole thing wasn’t actually made up of at least 60% spilled beer.

“Hmm, was my husband sneaking out to have fun without me? Looking so hot, off to find some pretty new boy? Honeymoon over, bored so soon?”

Jimmy had no idea what was going on, but he’d do anything to keep it from stopping. Scott was looking Jimmy in the eyes - so intensely, but always with that air of plausible deniability. Jimmy didn’t want Scott to deny himself anything.

He couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so he reached out, adjusted Scott’s only barely askew flower crown, gently pulled his hands back and told the truth.

“Never.”

[End Note: the rest is hopefully coming this month!]

#me #my writing #wip wednesday #on an ao3-less monday #trafficshipping #flower husbands fic #flower husbands #trafficblr #shipping #ao3 is down

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