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xxswagcorexx · 4 months

Note

Hey do you maybe have any lifesteal fic recs? There’s not a lot of rec lists in this fandom and I’m not sure where to start!

okay so um. i am perhaps the Worst person to go to when it comes to this stuff because. You See,

if you want a more. comprehensible list, my two swagdoons fic recommendations is probably the best place to start (1, 2). i am also going to shout out the nevada series and no bills in the mail since i've seen a few people talk about them on tumblr and i love both of them!

but i have gone through my bookmarks and have complied some fics! all of these fics are complete :)

Sweet Berry Pie by beaningeneraldenial

Clown is a busy assassin with too much experience on him to not attract a lot of potential clients and employers. One contract has him going away on the week of his and Branzy's 2nd anniversary, which Branzy doesn't appreciate much. He knows, however, how to make their anniversary celebration good! He makes a pie… he only adds a bit of gunpowder in it. or: Clown should've left a post-it note on the fridge saying "Do NOT touch, Branzy!" before he left for the week. He regrets it only a little.

Repent, Harlequin by trafficpose

The problem with knowing Clown: suddenly, chaos was an option.

Tunnel Vision by jukeboxtea

Mid is far from a quiet person. But when she’s in battle, she’s deadly silent. (or, a short character study on Midmysticx.)

Wire snare by dogdomesticated

Getting a read on intent. What will kill you first: the toxin or the detonation? A short abstract exploration of Rekrap's character and themes in Lifesteal season 3.

Rollercoaster by Thrills (IWantToRemainASecret)

Branzy compares Clownpierce to a rollercoaster and other shenanigans.

i wouldn't blame you if you turned around by Anonymous

sometimes things don't go the way you want them to. it's a story clown has heard time and time again.

What do you see when you look at the stars? by lovecore_jpg

“..What do you see?” “..What?” Planet paused, a little confused by the question. “Like– when you look out at the stars. What do you.. see? ..Besides stars?” ---------------------- Planet likes to stargaze when everyone else is asleep. This time, somebody joins him.

Olethros by arospecitzsubz (Octaveice)

"Theoretically, the ruin goes before the grace. He'd named his sword for a reason."

Brown Eyes by PacificSeaOtter

Nobody knows what color Clownpierce's eyes are- not until Vitalasy, Subz, and Rek start a bet trying to figure it out. Thus ensues the saga of failed, but hilarious attempts to get Clown's mask off.

and I swear I could slit my throat with your dull knife by Scared_Rodent

Like a frozen lake, Branzy noticed how Ashswag's expressions hardly changed, how nothing he saw surprised him at all. Branzy remembered falling in love, remembering dates by the beach with nothing but his smile. On the deadliest server in the world, Branzy remembered him.

winter in prague; 1618 by whichlights

winter in prague; 1618. tensions are high after the defenestration of multiple catholic officials, and a war will break out not quite two years later. in this time of tensions, a vampire by the name of clownpierce is injured. his friend is there to care for him, at least.

drinks in new york; 1926 by whichlights

drinks in new york; 1926. prohibition has swept across the country, but that doesn't mean the party stops. world class performers, drinks, and more- all at greenwich village, a historical hub of gay activity. clown and redd have holed up in a townhouse in the village, and have been having a wonderful time in new york.

games to play on work break by Felix_J

"A boring place is what it is. Hell." Jaron says, and it might sound a little bitter. Ash gives him a blurry look. "No, why do you look at me like that." They've stopped asking questions, (Jaron knows asking questions is not a good thing, and generally, he doesn't care). "You think, that was such a hot resort, and Satan is the greatest of 'em, you're curious, right."

A man, a squid and a clown walk into an elevator… by Thrills (IWantToRemainASecret)

Branzy is crushing hard on the dutch man he and Chief share their elevator rides with, and he seeks to learn Dutch in order to form a connection with him. Too bad he can speak English. Too bad Chief isn't going to stop Branzy.

Now as the curtains rise up by softnoblade

Maybe next it’ll snow. Maybe the remains of this server will be preserved, frozen under layers and layers of snow and ice. Perhaps, decades from now, some unlucky archaeologist will stumble across the remains of this server, and simultaneously uncover both the preserved remains of war and the immortal beings that had slaughtered them.

def function (singularity): by Anonymous/np13

it's always why did you mess with your player data and you're missing half your data structures and never ‘how was playing with your data. messing with code looked fun was it fun’ (it is, right up until it's not.)

sunsets on powerlines by w_nter

It starts with a broken lightbulb in his hands, or maybe in a forest, or maybe in a cabin tucked deep in the woods. (or: a purpleduo + the darkest minds au)

bona fortuna by sinoptics

The god of chance enjoys a visit to the human realm.

throw a punch by vanivanilla

there’s not much to do in prison, or: planet and jaron have a brief conversation as they reset their hunger

In Moments Alone (In His Office, With Pillows And Tissues) by Clownsplin

Although his outward appearances suggest otherwise, Clownpierce's moments alone are filled with stiff joints, aching muscles, and tear-stained cheeks. He gets small moments throughout the day when his pain lessens, even if by an infinitely small amount.

atlantis by Anonymous

Planet is stuck in a space between life and death, waiting. (A million miles away, Jaron is in the same position. A couple of feet away, Bacon had tried to run. Turns out there's not a lot to do when you can't respawn without being immediately killed)

farewell to the port by Anonymous

The day Branzy becomes a pirate he wakes up on a small island somewhere in the Caribbean, drunk out of his mind and distinctly lacking shoes. He thinks, somewhat despairingly, that he really should not be gambling again anytime soon. or, The Golden Age of Piracy, and the situations and decisions that drive people to become outlaws.

lose the battles by Felix_J

"you lost." it states. unless there are any more tricks up planet's sleeve, which there shouldn't be. but planet... is a strange one. "thanks." they say, and that's right, that is a full blown smile. krow still can't figure out exactly how planet's expression works, but this piece shines out, same as his eyes shine. "thank you." planet repeats, like they're not sure krow heard, or do know it can't exactly believe its ears.

Phantom in Your Foyer by arospecitzsubz (Octaveice)

Half the damn crowd had been cheering.

Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye (You say that you're no good for me) by Mx_Artemis

Ash is no stranger to evil, nor is he a stranger to ClownPierce. Honestly, is it such a crime that he wants to catch up with him?

The immortal and his assassin by Thrills (IWantToRemainASecret)

He opened the door without any theatrics, no slow creak open or dramatic swing wide, he simply opened it like he was an old friend visiting a familiar face. And- Hold up, that is a familiar face. The soon-to-be-dead man was sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes shut as he slowly sipped at his cup of tea. He opened his eyes lazily, half-lidded gaze settling on Clown’s face in a way that made him feel as if he had been drenched in freezing cold water. Because he had killed his man before.

no hard feelings by sinoptics

“Hey, Redd,” Clown starts as he reaches Redd, voice ever so slightly out of breath, and then he pauses awkwardly. “So.” “So?” Redd repeats, confused as to where this is going to go. “Our arrangement is off. From now on.” Clown states. What the fuck.

or; the fic in which Clownpierce fumbles not one but two bad bitches

anything you say can and will be held against you by Felix_J

It's funny to see how Red tries to process the little things and guess if they belong to Ash, or Ash's persona that doesn't differ from him as much as he thinks, or maybe much more so, or just things Ash makes up. Ash likes to add a lot to the last pile. Poke around, like a little challenge, reminder he's not all that easy. Currently, with the fucking fish. roses and smoke week, day 6: aquarium | fantasy

For that star trapped in your chest by dogdomesticated

Thunderclouds. Stuck waiting around for Vitalasy to show up, Subz goes down a line of thinking he's been avoiding, and by then it's too late. Something about trust, something about defining what you can't see. Light, and where to find it.

The Boy and The Forest by BearAndHoney

As the tale goes there is a boy who wants to be king adn loved. And as the tale goes there is a forest full of mysteries that one else has been brave enough to explore.

the fox's young master by Felix_J

He finds a fox in the forest, dark fur-broken leg, and it reminds him, as it always does. He takes it home to fix it up, and it doesn't matter if it's just a mindless creature, if. To pass its time, he tells it a story. roses and smoke week, day 3: myths | gods

foreguess by Felix_J

I'd never go on dates just like that, after being married so long, you know that, Ash? Red'd move his head on the seat, and he wouldn't be able to see his eyes through the sunglasses. What's even the point of that kinda date? He would continue, not really ask, because of course he has to poke and argue, it always goes in a loop. Even though he knows, and he agrees with Ash. Thanks, Red, Ash'd answer and break it, because there'd be something in his stomach that's so soft, there is. roses and smoke week, day 2: swap | horror

predictable shows by Felix_J

"I'm rewatching the footage for the auditions, yeah." Red nods, slack. He considers picking the remote from his hands to push unpause, but doesn't think Ash won't find it a serious offence and make it end up on the floor in a corner at all. or, "one of them is lying" boosfer + swagdoons swap. roses and smoke week, day 2: swap | horror

The Mourner by Anonymous

The mourner stands in the open, partially hidden in the smoke. Holding out a bouquet of roses as they wait for their loved on to return.

Case #091413 - Always Bet On Red by orphan_account

Case #091413 Statement of… Branzy? No last name given apparently, about a relationship of unclear nature with someone only known as “Clown”. Dated September 13th 2014, recorded by Zachery Prince at the Institute Cordum.

little comforts by sinoptics

He turns to Vitalasy then, who’s tending a pot on the stove. “Hey, uh,” He starts, and Vitalasy makes a hum of acknowledgement. “Zam could probably use some affection.”

Mutual Hell by Kappuccinokat

Mapicc exhaled, frustrated, and stood up, walking over to the empty window. Zam tried not to relax too much. “I’m assuming this is hell, then.” He drummed his fingers on the window sill. “That’s what I gathered, yeah.” — Or; Zam had lost it all, and now as he awaits his fate in hell, a familiar face threatens to break his resolve.

Homemade Headache Cures by ros_is_writing

“Vitalasy,” Subz announced. “I can’t fucking see, and it fucking hurts.” He emphasized his point by knocking his head against Vitalasy’s shoulder, the metal of his armor hurt slightly. Vitalasy made another sympathetic noise in the back of his throat and bumped his chin to Subz’s head. Normally their head bumps were comforting to Subz, but now they just made his head hurt worse. Damn these fucking glasses.

Siren's Song by KingdomKey

The Phantoms are a renowned pirate crew who sail the seven seas. Their ship comes across a rocky island, and as they carefully traverse it, they come upon a strange creature. It certainly isn't friendly.

sweet dreams i'll always share with you by Anonymous/cutthesky

Red can transform into a plush version of himself (a big Minidoons). Shenanigans ensue one day as Ash and Red wait to fall asleep.

Cut it Out by Anonymous

He always had Ro and his knife, didn't he?

Lifesteal > Eastside > Create a Posting by bloodynocturne (avoxutopia)

Craigslist has always been an odd place, a collection of people in the same place; selling, buying, searching, looking to give or take something. And sometimes, there's small connections. People searching for each other in a circle, narrowly missing one another every time.

Southbound by ros_is_writing

“We could always use the above ground station,” Planet said in the same tone of voice that they used before. Nonchalant, bored even. Like they hadn’t just suggested an actual crime. “No.” Bacon said immediately. “That’s illegal.” “What’s illegal?” Jaron asked.

Poopies' Fun Day in the Hypixel Pit by rainy_writez

With the end of Lifesteal season 4, Poopies the endermite (who is still here somehow because it defies the mere concept of law) has become restless. So Spoke takes it to the Hypixel Pit for a fun day of incomprehensible violence. Surprisingly, Poopies ends up leaving with a new friend… or maybe more?

losing by B0LTZ

take a breath, spit out the blood in your mouth, and get back up on your feet. you still got a couple of motherfuckers to prove wrong

see with your two eyes by Felix_J

He's not a god, because the flag Red sails under doesn't believe in gods. And then he's wrong. In the reasoning, not the other thing.

carry me to tomorrow by Anonymous

Ash chooses to trust himself to the unwavering night.

mixed media: flesh, electricity, bone by Anonymous

“Do you think we’re friends in other universes too?”

(hello) my old heart by Anonymous

What he doesn’t ask is why Ash chooses, over and over, to step through that door, through Lifesteal and Earthbound and the wastelands of an apocalypse. The void knows how many other worlds they’ve followed each other through without a second thought.

fun activities to do with the person you're stuck under house arrest with by oneirogen

Open heart surgery doesn’t even rank up high in the number of weird shit he’s done on this server. Maybe approaching the top tens, if he's being generous.

smile for the camera (repeat and do it over) by gin (tabanthas)

You’re an ally and an enigma at the best of times. At the worst, you are a challenge. You are never, never a friend. OR: rek and his trust issues <3

divine intervention by Anonymous

"If we went through this all again," he says, and it sounds so far away. "Would we still find each other?" (Less than a metre away, Jaron stares at the sky. To his side, Bacon looks at the rubble by their feet. Even when you know it's coming, the end still feels like a loss you can't prepare for)

a parting of clouds by genesis_frog

What do you say, after all of that? Subz and Zam's first conversation after the sign room.

there will be darkness again by genesis_frog

Zam has been in the Eclipse Federation nearly a month now. Subz is getting more and more obvious by the day. Vitalasy steps in.

let me hold it lightly by genesis_frog

It’s a quiet life, outside the world border, but it’s one Zam and Subz have made for themselves.

to the previous respondee: by orioncataclysmic

IMAGE: more bolded comic sans. This time, it’s held up by washi tape, patterned with dicks. It reads: i like war and death and asthma attacks and if you don’t you’re a bitch and your moms a hoe OR: a battle of wits, told through an apartment corkboard, messages between Zam and Mapicc, and glimpses into Mapicc and Bacon's lives

Steam Heart by enderpearlnecklace

After sneaking onto an airship full of pirates, Branzy tries to find a way to escape.

Dear Diary: Today, I killed someone by Fey_wilde

Squiddo prides herself on her excellent memory. It’s one of her only positive attributes, one she can count on in nearly every situation. In just a blink of the eye, she can recall a story, an adventure. Every single bit of data crams itself into her head, sorting into neat piles, ones she can sift through with speed and efficiency. Mobs, history, abandoned places, extinct worlds, glitches, she knows them all. Her memory never fails. Yet, no matter how hard she tries, no matter how many hours she spends lying awake, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling of her makeshift base, she just can’t remember why. Why did I join Lifesteal?

New Years Eve by Nox_aMillion

Going to the roof was a tradition the two of them had for New Years because apparently they liked extreme parkour off a roof while fireworks actively went off. Or the privacy was nice. Something like that.

Halloween Night by Nox_aMillion

Honestly they had done everything else there was to do on Halloween at this point. They were even dressed in repeat costumes, Red as a demon and Ash as a vampire. (Yes they could be more creative but any costume was a costume.) The two had been coming back from a fear farm when Red mentioned that there was a party at this house tonight. It was nearly two in the morning by the time they got here but the party was still going strong. Parties in houses like this didn’t end until the police got there.

#mcyt #lifesteal smp #tw swearing #media.warning.swearing #anyways i am tired so.#top 10 worst things to ask core swagcore: do you have fic recs #because Oh Boy do i #anyways hope u enjoy ^_^#mailbox.core

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korereapers · 7 months

Text

Title: Tainted

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Ship/Pairing: Astarion Ancunín/Gale Dekarios, bloodweave

Warnings: smut, Netherese orb shenanigans. LOTS OF FLUFF

AO3

Join the bloodweave server if you want to!

It has been a mistake on his part, and Gale can't help but blame himself for it. Who would be to blame, if not him and his foolishness? For how much he prides himself in his intelligence, evidence suggests that he has been, yet again, way too impulsive.

"It's more than fine, darling," Astarion says after a deep sigh, and Gale knows that he must be lying. It's not fine, nothing is fine, and Astarion's thumb on the corner of his own lips, licking it absentmindedly, tells him that he has, indeed, ruined the night.

"I swear to you, Astarion. In Mystra's name, I swear I had no idea-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Astarion exclaims, clearly irritated, baring his fangs dangerously, but Gale has learned to discern real danger from just a very visible frustration. "I know you had no idea! I know you wouldn't! Can you please keep that goddess of yours out of this?"

Gale bites his own tongue, because everything he can say would make the situation worse. He knows that Astarion blames Mystra for his situation, but Gale knows well enough that he has nobody to blame but himself. His foolishness, his impulsiveness. It wasn't hubris, not really, not as he understands it. He wanted her to like him, to admire him like he does, to-

"Honey," Astarion says, a hand with long fingers on Gale's cheek, a tentative touch that desperately makes him want to go back to reality, far from these thoughts. Can he allow himself that, though? Doesn't he owe him, them all, himself, and Mystra the guilt he is feeling? Isn't it better to do something useful with it, to use what he has inside of his chest for something good, instead of corrupting everything good that has ever happened to him? "Gale. Stop thinking. Look at me."

Gale smiles weakly at that.

"I am afraid, my vampiric companion, that ceasing all thought is kind of an impossible task-"

Astarion groans exasperatedly.

"Wizards… Fucking wizards."

"I mean. At this moment. I am brimming with thoughts. And not the good kind, I assure you."

Astarion's touch is cold, almost grounding. Red eyes look at him with worry, as if Gale was the one hurt, and not the other way around. It makes the hole inside of his chest feel bigger, the orb thrumming softly.

"Don't try and deflect again. That’s supposed to be my job."

Deep down, Astarion cares. He cares, because he reacts, sometimes viscerally, to the choices the group makes, to what Gale does to him, or to himself. Blood might not flow naturally inside of his body, but anger can make it boil just the same. Sadness does make his eyes sink, his movements slower. Happiness making his features shine, too young to what he had to endure, too full of life.

Gale doesn’t really want to think about when Astarion’s expression shows fear.

“I am aware of the… reservations you had towards us getting intimate. I of course intended to give you space. I tried my best at it,” Gale starts, his voice a little high, panic still fresh in his body. “I wanted to give you a special night. A night you would never forget.”

As if in cue, the starry sky becomes even more beautiful, its colors more intense. It’s a miracle that Gale hasn’t lost his concentration, given the circumstances, his magic still a wonder to Astarion, who looks up for a brief moment, only for his eyes to be back on Gale’s a second later.

It might be dark, but Gale works his magic for human eyes, and Astarion is an elf, and a vampire. He can see his warm eyes, rightfully worried, even if his worry is misplaced, this time. He sees how he gulps, he can almost feel every breath, even more because Astarion himself doesn’t have to, his lungs useless long ago. His blood, warm inside of him, the most tempting current, its flow a temptation he has learned to ignore most of the time.

He is aware, both of them are. Gale’s blood is corrupted, the orb inside of his chest making his body slowly rot from the inside, its magic taking Gale’s, and everything he touches with a purpose. Astarion hasn’t tried it again, Gale being adamant about it, about how dangerous it might be for him.

Gale is sure it is, at least. Not an acquired taste, as Astarion had tried to put it. As it turns out, it was not just his blood that got tainted by the Netherese orb, but many, many other parts of his body. Which is why, when Astarion had made the exact same face he did back when he first tried his blood while trying another completely different fluid of his, Gale had panicked.

Blood is one thing. It’s different when your vampire companion tries to bite you against your will, and he bites more than he can chew. Quite literally. Enjoying the… attentions Astarion’s mouth gives to him, after weeks of dancing around each other? After a well needed conversation about how Gale hasn’t had a partner after Mystra, while Astarion very much prefers not to be touched sexually until he feels ready? That’s a completely different thing.

Gale has ruined it all. Again.

It’s surprising, because he feels their illithids close, together, connecting. Astarion might not be able to understand, but wants to. His expression relaxes as Gale lets him connect, lets him see. There is no point in hiding anything anymore.

“You wanted to make it special. For me.”

Gale nods, closing his eyes when Astarion closes the gap between them, not to kiss him, but to touch his forehead with his own. Astarion, who doesn’t like physical touch, initiates it with someone like Gale, who caresses his cold face as if it was easy.

“You are afraid of this eternal feeling of yours. You feel that you are not good enough, that you have to impress me to make me think that you’re… worthwhile. That you have failed me and you have failed yourself.”

Gale doesn’t even try to hide, a sigh escaping his lips, his heart sinking when Astarion imitates the gesture a second later. He can feel his irritation through the tadpole, but Astarion keeps his cards close, he always does. The connection gets interrupted when Astarion moves, and Gale is, indeed, afraid. Afraid that he has ruined it even more.

Mystra didn’t deem him worthy. Maybe Astarion thinks the same.

The vampire shakes his head, graciously, and Gale finds himself looking, red eyes shining in what he recognizes as anger. Anger at him, maybe. That would be understandable, as Gale Dekarios seems to have a talent to make people angry at him.

“That’s… oddly self centered, don’t you think?”

Like that, Gale’s mind goes blank. He registers the words, but they don’t make sense to him. A part of him makes his blood burn with rage at the audacity, but the sad, heavy feeling that reminds him that he deserves it is too overwhelming for the rage to take place. It drowns its embers without effort, and Gale is left weak, his shoulders slumped.

Here it comes. The punishment.

“You don’t get to decide what to think and what to feel. Only I get to decide that.”

Gale wants to speak, really, he does. He has practiced speeches for situations like this, so usual with Mystra, having to use his silver tongue to get in her good graces again, until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until no words would appease her.

He can’t talk, though, because his lips are sealed with Astarion’s, whose anger seems to translate into a particularly rough kiss. A kiss that hurts, a kiss that heals. A kiss that makes him bleed.

He wants to warn him, he really does, but his brain feels foggy, almost as if it wasn’t his own. Gale kisses him back, selfishly, and he feels Astarion tense when he drinks, the taste probably hellish. Everything in him surely tastes like Hell.

But Astarion doesn’t relent, and damn, Gale knows that neither of them are particularly strong, but Astarion manages to push him into the floor, letting him breathe just before he kisses him again. A different type of hunger, he guesses. His red eyes burn like a predator’s, and Gale wonders, even if for a brief moment, what color they used to be.

“Stupid fucking wizard. When are you going to stop being lost in your own mind? I care about you, everyone cares about you. You feed and take care of this group of weirdos, you talk and talk, and Hells, talk so much and so eloquently it makes me angry at how much it makes me want you.”

Gale shudders at his words, not moving an inch when Astarion starts unbuttoning his robes, slowly, dexterous fingers tracing his skin. He is beautiful, the lines on his skin as he frowns, his eyebags of not sleeping properly in who knows how long.

A hint of fangs shine behind his lips as he admires Gale's body, his chest hairy, rising and falling, the rhythm increasingly quickly because of how excited he feels, his breathing so intense he is afraid of passing out. A slender finger plays around the orb on his chest, and Astarion finally smiles a little, Gale's body reacting to his touch, the weave reacting to his touch.

"I'm afraid I am not sure of what will happen if you toy too much with it, Astarion."

Red eyes glint when the vampire's smile becomes more visible, playful, almost cheeky.

"We'll be careful, won't we, darling?"

He feels exposed in front of him, all of his fake pride gone, not flaunting anything anymore. He feels insecure, even if he knows how good his skills are, maybe because he does, and doesn't consider them nearly enough. Blame the tadpole, Astarion seems to notice.

"I like the Gale Dekarios I see. Not Gale of Waterdeep, not Mystra's chosen. Just you. She doesn’t get to define you, and neither does anyone but yourself."

Gale does smile a little at that.

"You are sweeter than you claim to be, Astarion."

The vampire scoffs at his words, as if they were the funniest joke in the world. Gale doesn't need an illithid to feel the bitterness coming out of him.

"I speak the truth, my star. You know I do. And your words, your feelings, are more than welcome. They may hurt, but I can discern good intentions when I see them."

Astarion does groan this time, no energy to sugarcoat it.

"Can you please shut-"

"I want to kiss you again, Astarion. And do whatever you are comfortable with. The only thing that worries me is that I will burden you with a rotten body, and a rotten purpose."

He feels that the words lose their original meaning, his pants still unceremoniously unbuttoned, his robes half open, long hair disheveled, a clear blush almost everywhere. It’s Astarion’s time to shudder, though, his expression intense when he gets closer again, Gale’s breath on his face, and he feels it in Astarion’s features, he thinks it’s nice, that it feels nice. Astarion’s breath is, of course, absent, an intense red color filtering through beautiful, white eyelashes. Knowing. Waiting.

“Come and get it, then. Show me how much you want it.”

Gale feels a tug from inside. Something in his chest that’s not his orb. Something down his abdomen that’s definitely his cock, still hard, against all odds. Still, he has to ask. He would never forgive himself otherwise. A small gesture towards Astarion’s comfort.

“Do you want it? Do you want everything my body, mind, and soul can offer you? Even after having briefly tasted me and felt how far gone my body is?”

Astarion doesn’t move, almost not blinking, so clearly undead that it should make Gale’s skin crawl, but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t, not when Astarion’s hand is nervously on his own, his lips still a treat to Gale’s eyes. He feels the word before it abandons Astarion’s lips, a half casted spell that Gale feels against his lips.

“Yes.”

He is sincere, the word engraved into Gale’s brain, making him tremble in anticipation. Gale’s warm hand is on the cold cheek, just keeping him in place as he moves, closing the distance between them with a shaky breath.

The Nine Hells be damned, Gale knows what he is doing, but Astarion almost has it engraved in his muscle memory. He gets lost in the sensation, something that makes Gale’s heart flutter, because Astarion may be used to sex, but he is not used to this. He is not used to the way Gale’s hands shake, slowly and desperately trying to get rid of the vampire's clothes, until Astarion helps, his hands more skilled at the matter.

With a decent amount of collaboration they manage to show themselves, unclad, under the myriad of stars.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re about to collapse…”

Gale nods, desperately, his lips letting out a soft moan when Astarion’s hands explore his body, every curve, the soft patches of hair. He shudders when a slender, cold hand is on his cock again stroking him softly, his mouth carefully biting Gale’s lower lip, dry blood on it that only seems to make Astarion even more eager.

“You won’t like whatever I can offer you, Astarion. Especially not you.”

Astarion huffs in frustration, a word in elvish that he doesn’t quite identify, but he doesn’t move when he is on the ground again, Astarion’s beautiful body shining under the artificial aurora Gale has created. Lots of small, little stars joining one of their kind, whose fangs slightly glint in a grin when Gale looks up at him, hands on his waist when Astarion straddles him with his legs.

“I wanna ride you. That’s what I would like to do.”

Gale’s throat is dry, eyes big and focused on Astarion’s face. There is no warmth on his skin, but that’s just another reason to keep him close. To try and remind him of when he was alive, before Cazador, before all of this madness. Warm hands move from Astarion’s waist to his chest, aware of the lack of heartbeat, still feeling in the tension of his muscles that he is, indeed, nervous. He caresses the scars on his back, and dexterous hands guide him downwards quickly, way too quickly. As if he didn’t want Gale to touch the words engraved into his back. He respects that, of course, his cock surely interested when Astarion’s hands guide his own towards his butt, and Gale blushes when the elf smiles knowingly.

“I assure you, my dear. Whatever your body and mind can offer me is more than welcome."

Gale isn't so sure about that, to be honest. Not about Astarion's… predisposition, but about his own body. Maybe if he manages to talk to Mystra one day… maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd forgive him, and grant him a body he doesn't deserve. Maybe.

Astarion brings him back to the present, far from possibilities, making him focus on what they are doing. A bottle of something Gale bought as soon as they got into the outskirts of Baldur's Gate floats in the air, courtesy of Astarion's invisible mage hand. He smirks at him, fangs showing slightly.

"Do you want to get me ready, or would you rather watch?"

Both choices seem impossible to Gale's own fragile mental health, to be completely honest. Still, the choice is obvious to him at the moment.

"If you do not mind… I would rather touch you myself. You might find that I have some… untapped skills."

He doesn't know how he manages to say that with a straight face, but Astarion's smile only gets wider. He believes him. He really does. He takes the small bottle from the mage hand, handing it to Gale carefully.

"I'm sure of that."

There is this thing about Astarion. About sexual matters, he always seems to be confident, experienced. Not a hair out of place, clearly a performance that has been honed for centuries. His façade breaks slightly when Gale's coated fingers caress his entrance, red eyes bigger, like a nervous animal. Prey, for once, and not a predator.

Gale is, still, very much not a predator, thank you very much.

"You know you can relax around me, Astarion. We can stop whenever you want."

Astarion's groan is supposed to convey frustration, but to Gale's ears is just yet another expression of fondness.

He feels tight and cold around his finger, eager and fed, having drunk from one of their enemies mere hours ago. He feels warmer when he is sated, Gale has noticed. More alive, also more sensitive. His soft sigh when Gale slowly fingers him is not performative, for it's not perfect, not calculated, not so beautiful for it to be irreal. He is sure that Astarion would blush if he could.

Gale likes it even more this way.

The way his red eyes shine when Gale looks up to kiss him are more than enough, though.

"Hurry up. I can take it, wizard."

Gale knows he can. He still doesn't rush it, arching his finger a little, his caress a little quicker, but not much. He kisses his lips, his chin, his sharp cheeks. Sadness fills him when he thinks about being unable to feed him, not in a way that matters. Meat and stew taste good, but do nothing to placate Astarion's hunger. He still eats, though, not saying a word about the taste, so Gale assumes he enjoys it. Astarion would never take anything less than what he deserves, after all. In that aspect, at least.

Gale is the living proof of the exception, after all. Why would he choose a human, with a rotten body, a damned future caused by the most damaging part of his ego?

"Wizard. Stop overthinking, or the gods help me…"

He doesn't even have to ask. Astarion rolls his eyes, as if it were obvious.

"You get a little frown when you think hard about something. It's not usually something happy, for what I know."

Gale sighs, teasing his entrance with another finger.

"I get lost in my mind way too often. For that, I apologize."

Astarion gasps as he enters him, slender legs shaking on Gale's lap.

What a sight…

"You're lucky you're kind of cute, Gale Dekarios. If you weren't, I might have stabbed you long, long ago."

Gale knows that he is joking. He also knows that it's not a coincidence that Astarion is saying that when he is feeling vulnerable, or that he is using his family name, and not the epithet Gale uses for himself. He has been since they met Tara, since Gale mentioned his mother.

"I am cute? You are gorgeous, my star."

Astarion's muscles tense around his fingers in response. He surely likes the praise, especially when it is sincere, when Gale is not just speaking about Astarion's good looks. For a second, Gale wonders about it, about those muscles tensing around him, tight and delicious, taking him eagerly. He blushes at the thought, and Astarion smiles, dashing and knowing.

"A copper piece for your thoughts?"

Gale mumbles something incoherent, burying his burning face in Astarion's shoulder, making him giggle.

"Nothing? That's a first… having rendered Gale Dekarios speechless…"

He doesn't get to tease him for long, because Gale actually gets to work, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which is both preparing and pleasuring Astarion until he feels ready to take him and… experience whatever doom is awaiting them when Gale fills him with his rotten seed and-

Astarion kisses his temple, and it does make Gale think, about how comfortable he seems to be with his new role, in which his lips are not a tool to prey on others, to lie and lie and keep lying until someone finally falls for his tricks. This, this soft caress, honest and without worry, suits him perfectly. Maybe, Gale himself suits him perfectly.

Maybe.

"I said no overthinking."

Gale smiles at him, brown eyes like melted chocolate, his motions slow but purposeful. Astarion trembles on his lap, his cock twitching in interest, and Gale tries his hardest not to just take him in his hand, no matter how much Astarion's eyes, drowning him in crimson intensity, are almost ordering him to.

"I would like for you to enjoy this longer, my star."

The petname seems to work, because Astarion begrudgingly, sighs, almost as if trying to relax. He frowns when Gale curls his fingers, carefully massaging his insides, fingers that were made for reading and handling powerful spells finding a sensitive spot, and Astarion does indeed make a sound. It's not dignified, or elegant, but it's natural, raw.

He guides him through the whole process. How he likes it, the intensity, the pressure, the pace. He murmurs it all, sweet instructions against Gale's lips, who follows them in between soft kisses, shuddering each time Astarion seems to especially enjoy something.

"You are a quick learner, wizard. Such a beautiful brain you have…"

Astarion is riling him up. He doesn't have to be smart to know. He is successfully doing it, and Gale hates himself for falling for it, weak and pathetic, panting against his smile, feeling his thighs tensing around him.

"Inside, Gale," he says in a low tone, demanding, almost a growl. "I want you inside."

Gale Dekarios is, well, currently untouched. He still trembles when Astarion speaks, a desperate sound leaving his lips. He feels pathetic, but Astarion's expression is unchanging. Honest, wanting.

"Shit," Gale enunciates eloquently when Astarion moves, making Gale miss him dearly when his fingers are no longer inside of him. Astarion takes the bottle of lubricant, manually, slowly coating Gale's cock with it, keeping eye contact. Which would be hell for Gale if not for the fact that he is currently mesmerized.

His orb pulses, the sound of electricity filling the air. Maybe this is the way he goes. Unable to keep himself under control, way too excited and reckless to think about the obvious. To have enough strength to care about the danger.

"You are not going to get hurt," Astarion assures him. "You are not going to hurt me either. Or anyone in camp."

"But-"

"You might be a self centered asshole sometimes, but you care about us. About yourself. About… about me."

Astarion may be unable to blush, but the way his tongue seems to twist and make him ponder about his words is maybe the closest thing he has.

"Deep down, you never wanted to off yourself. You just thought it was the only thing you could do. The right thing to do. Bullshit…"

Gale smiles at him, his hands on both sides of Astarion's face.

"Is that an insight… from self centered asshole to self centered asshole?"

Astarion chuckles at that, enamored.

"Oh he has some edge… I love that."

It's Astarion who guides Gale's cock towards his entrance, his experience still unmatched… which leaves Gale with a sour feeling. He shouldn't have had to deal with something like that. He deserved better. That's why he is trying to make everything beautiful, perfect for him.

"I can… I can do it all myself, if that helps you…"

Astarion gently rolls his eyes.

"Darling, I am indeed deeply grateful. But I want to do this. I want you to feel good, and I want to feel good with you. I do appreciate the pampering but… I'm fine, I swear."

Gale’s smile is nervous. Knowing what’s to come, knowing what to expect. His throat bobs slightly, gulping a little bit too loudly.

“If I understand correctly… that means that you want to pamper me, I am assuming?”

Astarion’s smile is devilishly sexy after he answers with a single word, but it’s not rehearsed, not so pretty it has to be unreal. It’s pretty, his fangs showing slightly, but it’s not too wide, not too flashy. There is a hint of nervousness in trembling lips, and Gale can only kiss them softly, feeling their cool touch that is starting to warm up to him.

His insides are not cold, but not warm either. Something is at work there, maybe that Astarion has fed recently, so his body is especially vigorous. He takes him slowly, almost like torture, and Gale has his hands on his hips, making sure that he doesn’t rush it. Astarion seems proud of himself when Gale lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding, a little fanged smile that Gale makes sure to kiss yet again.

“Are you sure…” he tries to ask, nervous about his obvious problem, but Astarion is having none of it.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“Darling, you might be an incredible wizard. A wonderful man. But I’m pretty sure your cock lacks the skill to kill me, no matter how good of a cock it is.”

Gale’s face is flushed, both mortified and incredibly pleased. Trying not to let the compliment go too deep inside of his psyche. He can feel himself getting harder at it, and Astarion’s smile is amused, sinking himself more into him, making a sweet sound when the friction seems to be a little bit too good.

“Fuck… finally.”

Gale cannot say much in return, too overwhelmed by the sensation, not just the physical one. Astarion makes him lie down, the beautiful night sky above them. Pale skin reflects the light slightly, making Gale gasp in awe. The stars may be beautiful, but Astarion is the most gorgeous of them all.

“My star…” Gale manages to say, his voice strangled, before the vampire moves, hungry for him in a way that Gale hasn’t felt in decades. Before Mystra, before his own foolishness, before all this mess. Red eyes shine in recognition, in fondness, rocking his hips slowly.

He’s beautiful. That’s what he thinks as Astarion moves, his movements elegant. He thinks about him moving in the shadows, slicing an enemy without effort, his eyes hungry in a completely different way. He looks up at him, because he knows, he knows he might be doing this for him, and not for both of them, but his expression is not vacant. Astarion is there with him, moaning softly when Gale’s warm hands caress his thighs, tenderly, digging his fingers into his skin with both sweetness and lust.

“May I… may I touch you?”

Gale has to ask, wants to ask. Astarion confided in him, about his worries, his past, his relationship with sex. He won’t do anything Astarion is uncomfortable with, but it’s still refreshing to hear him chuckle, the gesture making his whole body tremble.

“Of course, my dear,” he murmurs, just a second after moving again, Gale’s hold on him tighter, moaning softly, a hand slowly moving towards Astarion’s erection. He takes him with no hesitation, sensing him tense, the eye contact making Gale’s insides burn. Astarion looks intense as he moves, as Gale pumps him, tight around each other, an exhalation escaping an undead mouth with effort. It is rewarding when he finally moans, and Gale just frowns, nodding slightly.

It’s funny, almost, how words elude him in that moment. He feels himself babbling at times, about Astarion, about how pretty he is, about how nice and sweet he is to him. It makes Astarion’s expression change, and Gale doesn’t feel any kind of disgust coming from him, if the tension around his cock is to be trusted. He has never been good at reading expressions, even less in this state of near climax.

That’s why it takes him by surprise, the way Astarion keeps moving, but gets closer to him, looking for his lips briefly before the kisses go down his chin, his throat. Gale is pretty sure the vampire is not going to bite him, given how revolting his blood is, but his lips are dangerously close to the Netherese orb.

Gale wants to warn him, to tell him he doesn’t know how volatile the orb might be, but he isn’t sure if Astarion would have listened nevertheless. His voice breaks when Astarion kisses it, tenderly, his face buried on Gale’s chest as he keeps rocking his lips.

If there was something to say, Gale isn’t sure he can find the words, his face so red he fears he might faint. He just moans, feeling the orb thrumming, Astarion’s own whimper making his sight blurry. His movements are erratic. He must be close, too.

“You wanted to keep this from me, wizard? You feel like electricity… Powerful and vigorous and…”

Gale wants to say something, anything.

“Astarion…”

“I love everything you have to offer. I love… I love everything…”

That’s a little bit too much for Gale’s heart to handle. He feels himself coming messily, with the strength of a sledgehammer, the orb dangerously close to losing its stability. He is, too, so he wouldn’t really blame it. The stars seem to flicker above them, and Gale doesn’t know how his concentration hasn’t broken or faded, after all. Astarion keeps moving, almost desperately, reaching his own orgasm shortly after, Gale’s hand erratic on him, but apparently still enough to make him figuratively or not, see the stars. He feels a smile against his chest, a small kiss on it afterwards, and Gale realizes, embarrassed, that there are tears on his face. He still kisses Astarion’s temple, both in relief and in gratitude.

“I stand… I stand corrected,” Astarion mutters, still kissing his skin. “That cock almost killed me, albeit not in the way you feared.”

Gale lets out a small chuckle, trying not to sniff too loudly. Still, he knows that there is something in the air. The orb seems to react to Astarion’s touch, even if weakly, as if drawing itself to him.

“Do you… do you feel the weave, like back when we practiced?”

Astarion nods, looking up at him, magic oozing from him, a faint purple glint in his eyes.

“If I compliment you too much, it’ll go over your head, so I’ll just say this. You may taste like hell, but this…”

Gale knows the feeling well. Completion, understanding. Fulfillness. He caresses Astarion’s face, feeling the magic under his fingertips.

“You are lovely. I know I might have said that already, but if you are not averse to-”

Astarion’s lips are on his own, trapping him between the vampire’s body and the ground. Drinking from him without draining him, just… sharing an experience. Connected in a way that makes sense to both of them.

“It feels good, to be like this with you.”

The netherese orb is like a curse, a punishment for his own hubris, but Astarion’s fingers circling it, his small kisses, almost make it all bearable. They both wear their marks, the weight of their past. Gale’s fingers ghost over Astarion’s scars as they kiss, not daring to touch them too much, not until it’s Astarion who guides him towards them, as if trying to repay his trust.

If Astarion realises that Gale is crying again, he says nothing about it. They just lie side by side, looking at stars that aren’t real, but that are proof of everything Gale wants to convey. Closer than they should be, even if the moment is technically over. Gale would love to cuddle a little more, but he doesn’t really want to push it and make him uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” he says instead, his warm eyes looking at him, at the beautiful start shining among hundreds of his kind. “For everything.”

Astarion doesn’t meet his gaze, still looking at the sky. At everything that Gale has created for him.

“You have been kind to me. That’s more than most people can say,” he offers as an explanation, but says nothing else.

Gale still notices how he gets closer to him, his head casually resting on Gale’s shoulder as he admires the sky. Gale, though? Bless the weave and its wonders, but in that moment, Gale can only keep looking at Astarion.

#my stuff #bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #these hoziers kind of ship motherfuckers

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cubitodragon-moved · 6 months

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What if

And bear with me on this one (this is slightly crack, but that’s half the fun about theorising)

What if, Badboyhalo is already dead.

And the only reason he’s alive now, is because Dapper put all of that necromancy research and his grim reaper training into practice, and raised his father back from the dead.

It’s why his memory kept resetting in short term bursts for the first few days - Dapper was sleeping as much to recover from resurrecting his dad as it was exhaustion from the events of Purgatory. Having Pomme wake up gave someone else to share a little of the burden, and why Bad is (mostly) stable now. But, Dapper’s still been sleeping quite a bit, including requests for an extra 5 minutes in the mornings.. and that’s not likely to be due to a sugar rush crash from the cookies.

The soul vulture blue ‘blood’/‘energy’ may be part of the requirements for keeping his Dad anchored in the land of the living - but his old colours are returning. A sign not of recovery, but that this is draining fast? Add to that the wound (hole) on Bad’s head has been a concern since the Eggs first disappeared, but as of last night, we know it’s really large in spite of all the other signs of recovery. We know he took the brunt of the blast while protecting Dapper, and its likely he took damage there that isn’t healing - Dapper doesn’t have a grasp on knitting flesh back together yet. This might be the real reason Dapper doesn’t want either of them going to the doctor.. (and, perhaps, it’s why the “radiation” is contained, but leaking out.)

They had that talk about death a few nights past, and there’s been a turn into truthfulness that has ghosties side-eyeing the pair hard. Dapper was really put out when Richarlyson interrupted adventure time, long overdue one on one time between father and egg since their return; and Bad has been extra paranoid that everyone be prepared to take care of the eggs and keeping the cookies safe. Been more hands off with the other residents and item requests that he would have happily contributed to in the past if asked; maybe getting them used to his not being there to ask in future..

A lot has been said about Badboyhalo’s connection with the kids being his reason to keep living. But no one’s really talked about how he is all Dapper has in the world.

Baghera is his mother, but his mother is (still) gone…And he loves his sister Pomme, but she still has her French family to fall back on. Dapper has no one else. They would be alone, without the one person who loves them unconditionally, who refused to let Dapper sacrifice themselves with their experiments. Dapper shares Bad’s lack/skewed interpretation of (human) morality, so it would be unsurprising that they won’t even let him go in death - but both egg and parent might not have any choice in the matter soon.

There’s a lot of shenanigans involving death on this server, so OOCly I don’t expect any long term permanence if even a fraction of this proves true. But a lot of the above speculation feels closer to home than I’d like.

#qsmp #qsmp speculation #qsmp theorycrafting #Qsmp what if #qsmp badboyhalo #Qsmp dapper #Qsmp death and taxes #Dapper can’t keep the IRS off Bad’s back much longer you feel me?

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sporksaber · 2 years

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A fic outline for an idea I had awhile ago:

I probably wont be writing this though I am considering it, so if anyone else wants to it's fair game just send me the link. If this has been done before then p l e a s e send me the link because I tried to find somthing similar and couldnt.

So internet friends to lovers with danny phantom batman cross over.

I'm using tim because I feel he makes most sense with the trope.

Some timeline things: danny becomes phantom at 15 instead of fourteen. Tim becomes robin at 14, 11 months after jason dies. I want jason to be in the main part of this fic, but the timeline would be messy with that, so here is what I'm going off of: He was dead for six months, resurrected by reality shifting shenanigans, thrown in the pit immidiently after, and then was red hood for a year before the full identity reveal to the batfam.

So danny was a very tech savvy kid with no supervision. As was tim. They meet on some server discussing the home solar system of a popular hero or a heroes published expierience on black holes or somthing like that where their interests intersect. They end up on a specific message board and then a group chat about that topic and later they eventually start talking privately.

Let's say they're 13 at the start with tim a few months older than danny. They grow very close over their shared interests, enjoying the other talk about their personal interests, and commiseration on their parents being neglectful. By the time (insert whatever event happens with his parents that leads to him becoming robin in this au) happens they are very close. They at this point are talking everyday, calling fairly often, and have video chatted. Tim was a bit hesitant talking about his new family but danny couldn't be happier for him.

Jason's reveal and danny becoming phantom line up one after the other (roughly 7 months after tim becomes robin, which is a number I totally didnt have to do physical math for). So tim starts messaging less, and then so does danny with the initial distraction of ghosts and becoming a ghost and a hero and then the existential crisis brought on by the giw and his parents wanting to kill him. By the time things with Jason die down and become more normal six months have past. Tim tries to get back into messaging him consistently after having not messaged at all in a month, but Danny is acting a bit different.

Tim couldn't place exactly why he felt that way and tried to write it off as the result of the time they spent not talking, but he could just feel somthing was wrong. Danny was always easily distracted, but he'd never dropped in and out of conversations like he was doing now, at least not without reasons. And then there was the fact that he was more closed off about his parents than he used to be. Danny eventually mentions giving up on his dream of being an astronaught and his plummeting grades and tim is distraught with the fact that he can't help him.

It was their final video (several months after getting back into messaging) call that solidified Tim's idea of what was happening. It was suggested several times before it actually happened as danny always avoided the idea or came up with an excuse why he couldn't. Tim didnt want to push but he desperately needed more clues and wouldnt cross the line into hacking the information.

Danny was much paler than before and he had deep dark circles under his eyes. The camera was kind of blurry, almost like he had messed with the focus or gotten one that was a lower quality than last time. Overall the call went the same as the ones prior, though danny was a bit jumpy. And then danny shivered violently. He looked scared as he made an excuse about having somthing he forgot to do and hung up.

Tim was feeling lost afterwards. To the point that bruce noticed and asked what was wrong. "I think my best friend is dying."

Danny meanwhile is also having a very not good time. In the nearly year since he became phantom so much had changed. At first it was fine, it seemed fun even. Then it became annoying as he realised school and ghost crime fighting while avoiding capture by your parents didnt mix. And then there was everything with vlad and the giw that made him realize he was screwed if any government entity ever found out his identity. And then the giw worked with his parents and he realized, "oh, haha, my parents could really kill me one of these days."

And then there was clockwork and the ancients and dan. Feeling really off anytime he leaves amity. Plasmius. The fact that he really had died. That even if he managed to fix his grades among all the ghost fighting he'd never pass the physical exam to achieve his dream. That he wasnt considered human anymore by either his parents or the government. The increased number of ghosts coming through the portal.

He hadn't realized how much he really missed tim until they started talking again, but it was hard to leave so much out when they used to share everything. When he finally gave in to the video call he was kind of terrified. Both in the "what if it's different now," and the "what if he notices," way. The first part wasnt needed, the call was great. He forgot how nice his voice was. He could've talked to him for hours, but then his ghost sense was set off. And it was somthing big.

For the first few weeks following the call danny tries. He doesn't want to lose touch with tim, but it becomes too much. Something is wrong and he's the only one who can fix it.

There's a huge issue with the giw still working with his parents for a stronger portal and vlad being vlad and occasionally popping by to shove his entire fist into everyone's pie and then leave again. Danny could believe that was his real obsession. Fisting pies.

Then danny learns that it's not just the portals strength causing everything, its him too. Apparently the ghost king's crown was passed through combat. And the core of the king draws other ectoplasmic entities towards them.

This ends with danny ghosting (haha) tim for several more months until he eventually destroyes both his parents and vlad's portals and all their research. And he couldnt stay in amity at that point, especially since vlad and his parents arent the only ones who know what he did. So he leaves. And with the new title of ghost king he's not core bound to amity anymore.

Danny eventually calls tim. Tim is both relieved and terrified. The call is kind of awkward at first, since they hadn't in awhile. But then danny says he's traveling a bit. "I was thinking of going through Gotham, I heard they have a wicked observatory."

Tim says he cant wait.

*****

That's it on my original fic idea. I wanted to tell it mostly through chatlogs and their calls. I have a lot of other ideas on Danny's time in Gotham though.

I havent gone back over this and theres probably be some small timeline shifting. I want danny to be 17 when he leaves.

But that's all for now.

#fanfiction #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #brain dead

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nocaffeineforlevi · 2 months

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I missed College AU hours in the Hole so I'm finally posting screenshots of stuff that has happened, starting of course with the conversation I missed. Enjoy people of Tumblr

#Hole server shenanigans #Thoschei server shenanigans #I tag both in hopes of keeping my blog organized like that isn't already a lost cause #We make this holehouse a holehome

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thatcoyperson · 1 year

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Alright were saying F it we ball and I'm posting writing for the Overthrown AU cause I feel like it [yes it has a name now, yes I'm insane]

Honestly if I put any more thought into this au this'll probably become outdated but whatever it's fine I'm proud of it either way

[@stiffyck enyoj]

• -------- • -------- • -------- •

“Scar,” BDubs toyed with a Royal Emerald, moving it around with one hand with his other resting across his stomach, “Can I be honest with you for a second?”

Scar looked at where BDubs was slouched in his mini throne through the side of his sunglasses, Hotguy bow loaded and pulled back, pointing towards the stone brick wall of the throne room. “Of course you can, my mossy friend!” His smile was evident in his voice, and he let go of the arrow after he spoke. A piece of flint on the arrow rest scraped along a bit of iron near the arrow nock, setting the arrow ablaze before it cut its way through a banner, leaving a jagged hole which was charred around the edges.

He pushed himself to sit upright more, staring at the green gem in his hand, “Look, I know I’m the one who made Ren king and all, but he’s not-” BDubs laughed as he spoke, “He’s not doing a very good job at it, I have to say.”

BDubs looked up from the emerald and watched Scar walk over towards the main throne Ren used, taking a seat and setting the bow beside it, “Oh no I agree,” Scar said, resting his elbow on the armrest and propping his chin on his hand, “Like I don’t mean to doubt your wisdom BDubs, but he used magenta glazed terracotta to mark out road plans, and use of that block is an unforgivable sin! It's a crime against minecraft that it even exists!” he said, hitting the armrest with the fist of his free hand for dramatic effect, “Plus the whole economy thing I guess.”

BDubs laughed at Scars drama about the whole situation. “No you’re right! I thought that he’d be a good fit! He was planning things out around the shopping district and the server was a mess, so I thought that he might be able to… I dunno, take some action to start cleaning it up!” he explained, putting the emerald down and moving his hands around as he spoke to emphasize his words. “And I mean to give him some credit, he did do that, but- just between you and me Scar” he leant over the arm of his smaller throne and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, Scar mirroring his actions, “I think- I think the diamonds went to his head.”

Scar gave a small nod. “Good!” BDubs sat back properly in his chair, “Good I’m glad we’re on the same page with that-”

“Y’know we could do something about it,” Scar suggested casually, returning to his former position on the throne, head resting on his hand, “Since neither of us like having him as king. And I know other hermits don’t exactly like him either.”

“I suppose so, yes,” BDubs said slowly.

Shifting in the throne to look forwards down the throne room, “I mean we already know about the soup gang and their shenanigans, plus Grian’s complained to me so many times about it. Though, that's mostly been about royal emeralds lately, and the general diamond loss.” leaning to the side, he rested his cheek on his hand, tapping his temple with his finger which was covered by the archers glove he still wore. “Which I mean I can agree with. I was in charge of a shopping district in season 7 and it wasn’t that hard to keep track of the diamonds.”

BDubs nodded along as Scar spoke, turning his head to look over at the man sat on the king's throne.

“Like I understand that those diamonds belonged solely to the shopping district, but so should these! Sure, it can be a little bit tempting to spend those diamonds on personal stuff, but an important part of a good leader is being able to have people trust you to do the right thing, y’know, like not use the server diamonds only for personal decoration,” Scar glared over at one of the many piles of diamond ore that littered the castle.

“I know that sounds hypocritical cause of the diamond trees and diamond throne, but the thing is that was decided by me, you and Grian- well the throne was, and the diamond trees were for the shopping district. I mean they were already sittin’ there doing nothing! Plus I used them to pay back to people who helped fix the shopping district up and make roads. These diamonds were meant to be redistributed back to the hermits to try and balance the economy. But here they sit, doing nothing! They probably have dust on them by now!”

Scar let out a long sigh and slid down the throne, then laughed to himself. “The more I talk about it the more frus- fr- fru- frust- hang on,” BDubs chuckled along with Scar as he stumbled over the word. “Frus- frustrated- there! The more I talk about it the more frustr- gosh dang it. You know what I mean!”

“I do, I do. And I really- I can’t help but agree with you,” a quiet laugh came through as BDubs spoke, sounding far more exasperated than a typical BDubs laugh. His forehead was rested on his hand, facing forwards down the throne room as he spoke. “He started off doing so well too! Like I know I already said this but he did! He had the whole quest system to give the diamonds back in a more evenly-distributed way so that we didn’t have a few hermits with hundreds of diamonds while everyone else has so much less, and I mean it was a pretty good system! It worked!”

“I mean personally,” Scar pushed himself to sit upright in the throne, looking over and putting his hand to his chest, “I would have preferred to keep the diamonds, but I guess the quest system worked.”

“I- You’re biased! You had a good chunk of the diamonds! You don't get a say here.” Being just as expressive as he normally is, BDubs shot up in the chair to lean over the arm towards Scar, pointing towards his friend and giving him a well-meaning, though very angry looking glare.

The overzealous reaction caused Scar to lean back in the chair, his legs pulling up towards his chest a little bit as he gave a full laugh. He sighed, “I guess you’re right, yeah yeah. But I worked hard for those diamonds. My hands were calloused for weeks I say, weeks! …I sound like Grian right now,” he laughed to himself at the small observation, and BDubs once again joined in.

“You do, yeah. But clearly we’re both on the same page here,” he got up from his small throne, mossy cloak dragging across the seat before falling and hovering just above his ankles. Scar watched from behind his sunglasses as he walked to stand directly in front of the throne, facing the man sat in it. “Neither of us like Ren being king, so, why don’t we do something about it like you said? You do look good sitting on the throne, after all.”

It took a long moment for Scar to clock what BDubs was implying, his expression visibly changing and lighting up once he did. “Wait, are you… saying that we should dethrone him?” His tone was almost hopeful. BDubs did nothing more than smile in response. “Because that's what I’m picking up here.”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. Like come on, what’s Ren gonna do if his advisor and knight both turn on him? I’m almost certain no one else in his court would oppose us,” he opened up his arms, holding his hands to the side as though he were holding something in each. “We team up to overthrow the king - maybe get the Soup Group or Resistance Assistance involved as a distraction - and then once Ren’s out of the way you take the throne for yourself. Then we can start making changes to get the server back to some sort of normalcy.”

“You don’t want the throne?” BDubs seemed shocked at Scars question. “I mean you’re probably just as qualified as I am, seeing since we seem to be having the same thoughts about it.”

“Oh no no no! I’m not one to take the throne myself, more of a king-maker than a king, you feel me?”

Scar silently stared at BDubs for a moment, then signed and sunk down in the throne slightly, “I guess…”

“Yeah. Out of the two of us, you’re definitely more the leader type. Plus, you did a great job in Season 7 as mayor,” BDubs stretches his hand out towards Scar, who's still slouched in the throne, “So, whaddya say Scar? It must be nice being on the throne again.”

A long moment passed where Scar stared at BDubs’ outstretched hand in silent thought, before he pushed himself off the throne and walked over to meet his friend. Grabbing onto his hand, Scar smiled. “Let’s do it.”

#forgot to tag this oops #anyways yeah im insane #calling this the overthrown AU for the sillies #...yeah #gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #king ren #rendog #overthrown au #coy writes

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dmwrites · 2 years

Text

The first few days back after finishing the life series was always a bit jarring. Impulse had been through this three times now, but this last time had been especially… odd. He didn’t like feeling odd. So he went back to old habits, and threw himself into his work. Spent two full days digging at his diggy diggy hole, reinstalled the entire storage system three blocks to the left, polished the sea lanterns until they shined.

“Impulse…”

It took Gem literally waving a hand in front of his face for him to notice her presence.

“Oh! Hi Gem! What’s up bud?” Impulse smiled at her, moving and realizing just how sore he was- how long had he been leaning against his shovel and staring at the opposite wall?

“When is the last time you slept?” Gem crossed her arms.

Impulse frowned, trying to remember the number of times he’d seen the moon come up. “Dunno… a couple of days?”

“It’s been a week, Impulse.”

“Oh.” Impulse put a hand to his chest. “Well, you know how server travel goes.”

“yoU KnOw hOW serVEr TRaVeL gOeS.” Gem mimicked him, rolling her eyes. “I can excuse a couple days of confusion, I mean you just got back from dying in the Life series, and that’s what I told myself, but you and Pearl have both been handling it badly! Maybe if you two talked to each other you could, like, get over the fact that she killed you or whatever.”

Impulse’s fingers wandered absentmindedly across his chest, just kind of playing with the fabric of his shirt. “It wasn’t Pearl who killed me.”

“Well then go talk to whoever did.” Gem retorted. “Get your closure and then go to sleep. I miss soup group shenanigans.” Without another word she took off, maybe to avoid Impulse’s story of his death, which he had just been about to tell. Ah well.

Impulse went back to digging, hacking away at a gold ore, fully intending on ignoring Gem’s suggestion, but, just as annoying as she was, he kept thinking about the axe buried in his chest, the shock of who had put it there, and the darkness.

It was approaching another night, and Impulse put down his pickaxe and flew out of the hole. He flew past Pearl’s alien landscape, saw a huddled figure in blankets sitting under a mushroom. He’d talk to her too, after this perhaps. He held nothing against Pearl, never had and never would. So proud of the champion.

Impulse landed on the stairs of Bdubs’ diorite tower, which was alive with activity. He could hear someone, Etho he was sure, hitting something with a hammer in the basement. Far above was Ren’s doghouse castle thing- Impulse could see lights on.

“Impulse?”

Impulse turned to find the very man he’d been looking for standing on the staircase right inside, dressed in literal striped pajamas and a nightcap.

“Hey Bdubs.” Impulse felt for his chest on instinct.

“What on earth are you doing here so late?” Bdubs’ eyes flicked to Impulse’s hand and then up to his eyes. “I was about to go to sleep.”

“Can we talk?” Impulse asked.

“For a bit, but I really gotta get to sleep.” Bdubs gestured for Impulse to follow him up the stairs. Impulse climbed in silence, just kind of looking at the back of Bdubs’ head and that stupid nightcap. He’d been putting off seeing Bdubs ever since he got back, and it was almost odd to see him like this, all normal and whole again.

“So, whatcha wanna talk about?” Bdubs gestured to a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

Impulse sat. “Well, about double life, honestly. It’s kinda weird to be back, isn’t it?”

“Kind of.” Bdubs sat on top of his bed. “I just got so much to do here, it’s more been a matter of oh yeah that happened anyways. You probably feel the same way, you little dwarf guy.”

“So you’re adjusting well then?” Impulse asked, wondering why he was talking like this, like Bdubs was a simple causal acquaintance.

“Oh yeah, it’s been the easiest adjustment yet.” Bdubs said. “Just keep thinking I’m gonna get phantom damage every once in a while, which is weird to get un-used to. What about you?”

Impulse played with his shirt. “Oh yeah, well, it’s been-”

“Why do you keep doing that?” Bdubs interrupted, mimicking Impulse’s hand on his chest. “What’s that about?”

“I- I don’t know. I guess its kind of involuntary, in a way. It’s where the axe was buried into me.” Impulse let out a long breath.

Bdubs frowned, kind of looking up towards the ceiling in deep thought. “What do you mean? Pearl killed me, she never touched you.”

Impulse’s hand rubbed quicker against his chest. “It was a weird and confusing fight, but, uh, you accidentally hit me with your axe instead of Pearl. My death message said you killed me.” Impulse pointed at his chest.

“Oh.” Bdubs frowned. “Dang. Really?”

“Yeah.” Impulse leaned forward slightly.

“Well, sounds about on brand for me, jeez lewis.” Bdubs laughed. “Impulse, we really were a couple of dunces, weren’t we? I can’t believe I killed you! Whoops! Lol.”

Impulse smiled, and it felt like paper folding into unpleasant shapes. “Yeah. Whoops.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me.” Bdubs shifted, getting under his blankets. “That sure is something huh? Now, Impulse, love ya to death and all that, but a beauty needs his beauty sleep. Do you mind blowing out the candles as you’re leaving?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sure.” Impulse stood up, kind of thrown by the abrupt end of the conversation. He moved to the door as he’d been asked, blew out the candle, then stopped dead, turning back around. His mouth worked out several different phrases, none of which ended up leaving his throat. “It’s nice to see you again, Bdubs.”

“You too Impulse. We’ll have to go out for a horse ride sometime soon.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Impulse closed the door behind him and started down the stairs. He felt heavier then when he’d came in, somehow. He grasped as his chest as if he could stop the gaping hole from swallowing him whole.

It didn’t register with Impulse until he was at the ground floor of the monolith, perhaps too distracted before, but the racket Etho had been making had ceased at some point. And there was the man himself, leaning against the door leading down to the basement.

“Hi Etho.” Impulse tried to smile at him.

“Hey there, lover boy. Still got double life on the mind?” Etho’s voice almost held a chuckle in it, and something else Impulse couldn’t put a finger on.

“You called me that name in the games, Etho. I’m back to regular old Impulse again. The games are over.” Impulse told him.

“You sure about that? They don’t seem to quite be over for you just yet, lover boy.” Etho walked forward and gently, more gentle then Impulse had ever seen him, pulled Impulse’s hand away from his chest. It hurt. It all hurt.

#July 24 2022 #fic #hc9 #dlsmp #impulsesv #bdubs #not rly shippy but could be perceived as such idk #long post

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dead-man-in-the-grave · 1 year

Text

Season Switch (Really Just Means Floating In The Void For Months On End)

(Cross-posted on AO3)

part one | part two | part three | part four (you are here)

It's the end of the world.

All the Hermits' builds, their animals, their farms… the bases and shops and everything that's been done, all the impossibilities that had become possible with some redstone and spite…

Grian's Midnight Alley that he never got to finish the back of…

Scar's Swaggon that would certainly have even more wagons if he'd had the time to build them…

Mumbo's redstone machines that he'd spent hours upon hours tinkering with…

Impulse's factory that was almost completely empty on the inside…

Pearl's own tower, and her upside-down animals, and Padllama Co….

The Boatem Pole.

It was all gone, and it was all her fault.

She couldn't even reign in her powers for one whole season.

Could she get any more useless?

And even though she ruined their world, their hard work, their home… no one is mad at her.

No one has yelled. No one has glared. No one has disconnected her tethering cable and allowed her to drift off into the Void.

No one is mad, and Pearl doesn't understand.

She is the daughter of the Moon. She is a demigod. She's supposed to be better than this.

And yet, the Moon still fell from the sky.

She still failed.

…

Pearl wishes they would untether her; let her drift away, never to be seen again.

It'd be better that way.

Scar belts out the lyrics to Wellerman as loud as he can, clapping to the beat as he does. Mumbo and Impulse have joined in on his shenanigans, Mumbo hesitantly – almost shyly – and Impulse with reckless abandon. Grian rolls his eyes, but fails to hide his fond grin.

Pearl, though… hm.

Pearl seems bothered. Her knees are tucked up to her face, arms wrapped around her legs, and wings obscuring as much of her as they can. She's been like that ever since they jumped into the Void.

Scar knows the others have noticed, based on the worried looks they keep sending her, and they've also tried to snap her out of it. Nothing has worked so far, though.

The last lines of the song fade out, echoing out into the empty expanse around them.

It's quiet for a moment. A ringing makes itself known in Scar's ears.

"Are you actually done this time, or are you gonna start singing Drunken Sailor again?" Grian asks, arms folded over his chest, still smiling fondly. Scar laughs in turn.

"I could sing A Whole New World instead?"

"The last time you sung A Whole New World you dropped us both in the Boatem Hole."

"And what a fun time it was," Scar sighs wistfully.

He doesn't miss that, just on the edge of his vision, Pearl curls up tighter, tensing up.

But why?

She doesn't have reason to be tense at the mention of the Boatem Hole, at least, Scar didn't think so. Maybe something had happened near the end of the season relating to it…?

…

Wait.

The moon crashing into the server! That's why she's upset! She's a moon demigod, isn't she? She must think that the moon crashed because of her powers!

…Well, Scar has no evidence that it didn't. But in the event that it was her powers that had done it, he was sure it wasn't intentional, let alone malicious. It was obvious how guilty she felt from her disposition alone.

Scar decided he wouldn't let her feel guilty all on her own.

He just needed to figure out how to help…

Grian is worried about Pearl.

She's been… distant, lately.

Not physically distant, not at all - their tethering cables keep them connected even as they float through the endless darkness that is the Void - but emotionally distant.

Even when Scar went through what must've been his hundredth time singing one of the two sea shanties he knows, she didn't smile, or grimace, or emote at all. It was as though she turned into a brick wall.

Something is wrong.

Grian had tried talking to her. A few times, actually. The only result was her closing off more.

Does she still think that she's at fault? He thought they'd drilled it into her head that none of them blamed her for the whole moon thing. Maybe she's worried about what the other Hermits would think?

Grian shifts his wings, inadvertently pulling the sleeping forms of Scar and Mumbo closer, as they're using the feathery appendages as makeshift blankets. Impulse is also asleep on Scar's other side. And on the other side of Mumbo…

Pearl is curled into the same ball she has been for the past two weeks. Grian thinks she might also be asleep, but then again, the tense, coiled position her body is in would indicate otherwise.

Grian wants nothing more than to pull her out of the shell she's encased herself in, but she's been putting up one hell of a fight.

A sigh escapes Grian, and he wishes – not for the first time – that he could sleep while out in the Void. Something about his Watcher side absorbing energy from the endless expanse of nothing dashes any chance of him getting any shut-eye.

In contrast, the others are rarely fully conscious. Mumbo and Impulse have been asleep practically the whole time they've been out here, and Scar has been awake only about half the time.

And Pearl… well, she's barely interacted with anyone aside from a few nods and the occasional murmur, so Grian's not entirely sure how often she's slept.

Grian licks his dry, chapped lips, and swallows down the painful lump that had grown in his throat.

"Hey, Pearl?"

At the sound of his voice, she only ducks her head down impossibly farther. Every muscle he can see is tense. She says nothing back.

"...Nevermind."

Grian closes his eyes, and lets his mind wander.

Pearl lifts her head from her knees, stretching her sore muscles for what must have been the first time in days. Grian's eyes are closed, his head is tipped back in a facsimile of sleep. She knows he can't sleep out here, the Watcher in his blood wouldn't allow it.

He looks peaceful, she can't help but think, with (his friends? partners?) Mumbo and Scar wrapped in his multi-colour wings, drifting in the endless nothing.

She wonders, passingly, why he'd called out to her. What had he been going to say?

Was he finally going to get mad at her? Finally, was she going to be untethered from Mumbo and Impulse, allowed to float away like the garbage she's sure she is? Or would he have tried to lie, say that no one blamed her for her own mistake? Left her to wonder when the other shoe would drop?

Well, it's not like it matters, anyway.

She resolutely ignores the stinging behind her eyes. It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

She repeats it like a mantra.

It doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter.

She doesn't matter.

Pearl closes her eyes and feigns sleep, hoping that it would claim her soon.

She knew it wouldn't.

The Void is pretty boring, if Impulse is honest.

There's nothing to do but talk to the others and sleep, and sleeping all the time was getting dull.

There wasn't even any redstone for him to tinker with! How's he supposed to keep his hands occupied?

Mumbo seems to be feeling the lack of redstone just as much as himself, based on the way he's always wringing his hands together and looking stressed. Impulse has to catch himself from doing the same thing absentmindedly.

The only real source of entertainment is watching Mumbo and Grian blush and stutter whenever Scar decides to tell them they're cute completely unprompted. And even then, that's only when everyone is awake at the same time.

Impulse can't help feeling like a fourth wheel whenever that happens, though. The three of them are very cute together, of course, but when they all get caught up in their own little world together, Impulse ends up on his own.

Well, not completely on his own. There is Pearl.

He glances over at her, and like usual, she's got her head tucked against her knees, face hidden from view.

So, in other words, he's basically completely on his own.

He turns his attention to the three lovebirds and finds them, predictably, curled up together.

Grian's wings are wrapped around the other two, and he has one hand in Mumbo's hair. Mumbo himself is out cold, drooling a bit on the inside of his helmet where it rests on Grian's shoulder, and Scar is resting his folded arms on Grian's stomach as he blathers on about something inconsequential. He's kicking his legs back and forth in the air the way those high school girls in movies do.

They're good for each other.

Impulse shuts his eyes, and hopes that they'll be out of the Void soon.

"Um, guys?" Mumbo speaks up, staring off into the distance with furrowed brows. "I think I see something…"

There's a speck of… something, way off in the Void. Barely noticeable, but it was strange to see much of anything out here, so Mumbo had latched onto it, squinting and turning his head in an attempt to make sense of… whatever it was.

"What? Where?" Grian asks head swivelling around to try and spot it.

Mumbo points a finger between Scar and Impulse, who both turn and look in that direction as well. He even sees Pearl look up from the corner of his vision.

All five of them stare into the Void, searching for the thing – that looks somewhat like a star, now that Mumbo thinks about it.

It's green, or maybe blue? It's hard to tell, with how small it is, but it glitters and sparkles in the blackness like a lone star in the night sky.

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Scar pipes up. His wings sprout from his back, and he flaps them a few times. "We'll never know what it is if we don't get closer!" He flips around and starts flying toward the sparkle, pulling the rest of them along with him.

Mumbo catches Grian rolling his eyes before flying up next to Scar and pulling some of their weight himself.

As they fly closer, the sparkle gets bigger, and bigger, and bigger until Mumbo can clearly see green grass and trees, grey stone, and blue water and skies inside of it. Because it's not just a random sparkle…

It's a portal.

It's a portal back to the overworld!

The others also seem to realise what it is, because Impulse is grinning from ear to ear and Grian and Scar are flying them all at a breakneck pace directly at the portal.

Pearl, when he looks, has finally uncurled from her ball. She looks to be in shock, eyes not quite seeing.

At least she's not curled up like she was before.

Scar and Grian shoot through the portal, the rest of them careening through after them.

Gravity takes hold the moment they're out of the Void, the combined weight of Mumbo, Impulse, and Pearl weighing down the two fliers too much to stay airborne.

Boatem falls into a heap of bodies and wings and tethering cords onto the stone ground.

Mumbo ends up landing on top of Grian and Impulse, Pearl having landed on top of him, and Scar laying face down a short distance away. The space suits seemed to save them from most of the fall damage, but the now-unfamiliar weight of gravity made it hard to move.

"M-Mumbo…! I c- I can't breathe!" Grian wheezes somewhere beneath him. Mumbo gathers all the strength he can and rolls off Grian, making Pearl topple off him in the process.

They all lay there for a moment, reacclimating to the force of gravity.

Scar, still face-down, starts to giggle, and it doesn't take long for the rest of them to join in.

Even Pearl, who's been out of it since they entered the Void, lets out a wet chuckle or two.

Mumbo can't help but think they'll all be okay.

Grian is the first to stand. He disconnects the cords tethering him to Scar and himself, and then removes his helmet.

Impulse is next, cracking his back as he stands, and Mumbo follows suit.

"Uhm, guys? I don't think I can stand on my own," Scar says from where he's managed to roll onto his back and get his helmet off. His wings have disappeared and he's sprawled out on the stone in a way that just can't be comfortable.

Impulse, his helmet now removed as well, pulls Scar to his feet and allows himself to be used as support.

Mumbo detaches his own helmet from the rest of his spacesuit, and is instantly hit with what must be the freshest air he's breathed in forever. The way the spacesuits recycled air made it livable long-term, but it got stale fast.

He vows to never take fresh air for granted again.

"Wonderful of you guys to join us," a new, but familiar voice butts in.

Mumbo turns, and just a little ways up the stone hill is Xisuma. He's got his admin control panel open in front of him and is typing almost frantically. There are seven different portals open around him, just like the one he and the rest of Boatem had come through.

There are also several other hermits wandering about. Zedaph is pacing around and writing things on a clipboard (where he got that, Mumbo doesn't know), Ren, Doc, Keralis, and Iskall have begun deforesting the nearby birch forest, and Beef, Stress, and False are mining the exposed coal and copper from the stone hillside.

"You're the first ones to come through a portal," Xisuma says, "So at least I know that will work for everyone else as well."

As though on cue, Gem steps through one of the open portals, stumbling slightly, most likely unused to the much more powerful gravity here than on Season Eight.

"It's taking quite a bit out of me to generate the server, keep it stable, and keep all these portals open, though," X says, condensation fogging up his visor. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up."

"I can help," Grian, who had at some point made his way to Mumbo's side, pipes up. He makes his way over to X and his admin panel. "I've been an admin for three servers before, I know what I'm doing." Xisuma nods in thanks.

And that is the moment when Mumbo completely loses track of what's happening.

X slides the panel over to Grian, who, instead of typing like X had, he sticks his hands directly into it. The panel changes from glowing Xisuma's signature green to a purple similar to that of a nether portal.

X immediately slumps like the weight of the world was just lifted off his back – which is basically exactly what just happened, actually – and Grian's eyes start glowing the same purple as the panel.

"Who are we missing?" Grian eyes flitting back and forth, but looking at nothing.

Weird.

"Tango, Cleo, Joe, Wels, Cub, and Jevin. Everyone else is here already."

"Alright then, here we go…" The panel glows brighter than before. It hurts Mumbo's eyes, but he can't seem to look away.

And then, there's code on the panel, moving so fast Mumbo couldn't ever hope to read any of it, let alone understand it.

"Holy moly," Scar says, and Mumbo can't help but agree. Holy moly, indeed.

All at once, there are figures falling out of the portals. Every missing hermit Xisuma had mentioned were now there, in heaps on the ground.

"That's everyone, right?" Grian asks, sweat building on his brow. X, who'd been staring wide-eyed, snapped out of his stupor and nodded.

"That's everyone."

Grian rips his hands out of the admin panel, and it turns back to it's normal green and closes. His eyes stop glowing as well.

It's quiet.

"I think I'm gonna pass out now."

Xisuma manages to catch Grian before he hits the stone ground.

Grian knocks on the door of Pearl's starter base, wringing his hands together nervously.

It had been three days since they'd arrived in Season 9, or so he was told. He'd been unconscious the whole time, recovering from the huge amount of energy he spent pulling hermits through portals and helping Xisuma keep the server stable.

Y'know, the typical stuff that happens at the beginning of a season.

The door opens to reveal Pearl, bags under her eyes and hair clearly unbrushed under her jacket's hood.

"Oh," she says, clearly not expecting to see him, "hi, Grian."

"Hey, Pearl. Can we talk?"

"I-" Her eyes flit back and forth, never landing anywhere for more than a tick, and never meeting his gaze.

She's looking for an excuse, he realises.

"Pearl," Grian says, desperate, "please."

She huffs, and continues to not meet his eye, but she opens the door wide enough for him to enter.

He follows her inside, and she leads him to an oak table set under an azalea plant with two oak chairs to match. Grian's head is on a swivel taking in every little detail of her base. The floors are spruce and stone bricks topped off with a moss carpet, the walls are sandstone, terracotta, and jungle and birch wood, and the ceiling is made of oak and warped wood.

It's made of so many different woods and stones that it should clash, but Pearl somehow found a way to make it work.

Pearl sits down at the table, and Grian takes the remaining chair.

Neither of them speak.

"So…" Grian says after a while.

"So," Pearl repeats, "what did you… want to talk about?"

"I think you know."

She pulls her legs up onto her chair, pulling her knees close to her chest and obscuring half her face. It's reminiscent of how she was while they were in the Void.

She's closing off.

"And if I do…?"

Grian ponders his next words carefully.

"Well," he licks his lips. His mouth is dry. He fixes his eyes onto the table as he begins to speak. "If you did know… I'd say that it wasn't your fault, even if you think it is. And- and no one blames you, because the season would've ended eventually anyway. And yeah, maybe it was your powers that did it, but you can't be sure! There are a load of other factors that you had no part in! And… nobody could have stopped it."

He hears a small sniffle and a shaky exhale, and Grian looks up at Pearl to find her on the verge of tears.

His heart tightens in his chest.

"Oh, Pearl…" Grian stands from his chair and wraps his arms around her neck. Pearl leans her full weight into him without hesitation. He feels her arms wrap around his back and clutch at his sweater, and she buries her face in his shoulder.

She lets out a broken wail, muffled by the sweater. Grian gently pulls off her hood and runs his fingers through her hair. There's a wet patch forming on his shoulder.

Grian's not sure how long they stay like that. He eventually devolves into braiding Pearl's hair while she sniffles and cries out the last of her tears.

"...I got snot on your sweater…" She pulls away from the hug, seemingly to inspect the damage, but Grian waves her off.

"It'll wash out."

Pearl looks like she wants to protest, but lets it go. She doesn't say anything more, but seems to have something on her mind still. Grian stays quiet, letting her sort out her thoughts.

Finally, she speaks.

"You're sure no one's mad?"

"Positive."

"You promise?" She says. She leans forward. Grian can see the desperation in her eyes.

He takes her hands in his own, and gives a light squeeze. She squeezes back, and Grian knocks their foreheads together.

"I promise."

#hermitcraft s9 #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #gtws #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #xisumavoid #rain writes #rain speaks

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