#mumbo has REALLY been popping off lately Tumblr posts

[ashironie]

i was on youtube checking my notifications and i saw on my subscriptions feed that mumbo had the little red dot so i gasped very loudly and very excited, because that meant mumbo posted and i just hadn’t noticed, since i always find out mumbo posted by my subscriptions feed

last video i found out via notification.

the subscriptions feed only updates when you look at it, not when you have looked at the video in question.

the disappointment was immense.

[spideronthesun]

Siblings and Questions Tag!

Thanks for the tag @cain-e-brookman! (x) Oh, the fun I had answering those!

1. Who looks the most like Dad?

Nikolas. When he first started going to school, lots of teachers would not stop looking at him, because he reminded them of someone else. He thinks he and his father share a lot in common, even some of the drinking problems. Although he would never treat his brothers the way he had treated him or Edvardas. And since they only share the same mother, the other one would be Danielius. He's a carbon copy of his own father.

2. Who looks the most like mom?

Edvardas. He's got her eyes and nose. But Adamas is the one who is most similar to their mother in personality.

3. Who eats the most?

Danielius. There's a good chance that you might bump into him in the kitchen late at night, when he is trying to find something to snack on in the fridge. However, Robertas love to sneak bites off his brother's foods as well. He lives by the motto that sharing is caring.

4. Who has been in the weirdest situations?

Definitely Edvardas. Let's just say that he's always been a bit difficult. He used to storm out of the house and disappear for over a week sometimes. Causing his brothers to worry about his whereabouts because he would not bother contacting them. And ever since he was young, he would always find himself in trouble without even looking for it. He has some stories to tell.

5. Who sleeps the most?

Danielius. He goes to bed around three am and can sleep till noon.

6. Most stable romantic life?

I'd say probably Nikolas, since he was so close to getting married once, but he had ended it abruptly. He doesn't date around unless he's certain about a connection. Edvardas is a serial dater. He has had far too many partners over the years. Robertas had been in two serious relationships before, one of them being long-distance. Adamas never dated. And Danielius, well, he's still young. He's got his eyes currently on someone. But he's not sure about how she feels about him.

7. Worst habit of each one?

Nikolas has substance issues, so that makes him unreliable. Edvardas is hot headed, and tends to act before thinking. Robertas takes other people's stuff without asking. Adamas can be a bit far too independent sometimes, and he tends to go behind people's backs. And Danielius procrastinates.

8. Who's the most dramatic?

Edvardas. Come on, we are literally talking about the man, who had run away from his family the moment he had found out that he's got some mumbo jumbo super powers.

9. Who had a weird phase?

No one, really. Well, I don't consider most of the things weird. I do think that Adamas likes listening k-pop, and even today, you'd see him making new playlists with the songs that he had discovered recently. Robertas went through a goth phase.

10. Best cook of the family?

Edvardas. He works as a chef, and I can tell you that he is so good at it, that he would throw me out of the kitchen. And would ask me to stop using so many spoons because he doesn't understand what I am trying to make. His love language is cooking for people he loves.

11. Best memory together?

You know, there's too many of those. So many of the best memories stem from childhood where they were practically inseparable. They would always be playing together outside. They would go camping every summer. And after their father had gone to sleep, they would stay up all night around the bonfire, and tell each other scary stories. Probably with Danielius slowly drifting off to sleep and falling asleep on Rob's shoulder.

12. Worst memory together?

My dear friends, this is a spoiler.

13. Dream trip together

They don't really have anything in mind. But someone like Edvardas would probably want to go to hitch a ride and go somewhere. At least to take a temporary break from magic and just feel normal again. Remember what it is like to be a human without many responsibilities.

14. Would you rather not be able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?

Nikolas would be most straightforward with his answer. Have the same clothes for a month. Edvardas and Robertas would be so baffled, they would end up getting into an argument. Adamas would be busy laughing at those two. Danielius would end up scratching his nose and think about it for hours. And would forget what you even initially asked him because his mind wandered off somewhere else.

15. Who's the older one?

Nikolas.

16. Role model?

Without hesitation, Adamas would always pick Nikolas. He admires his eldest brother far too much, and is thankful for how he kept the family together despite many struggles that they had run into.

17. Who usually has the worst ideas?

You know, it would be far too obvious if I answered Edvardas, right? So, let's go with Danielius for this one. He also has a tendency to think with his heart before using his brain. And while it is too much of a spoiler to give out why I am saying so, he almost got himself in trouble in order to save Medeina.

18. A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?

If it's a spider, Danielius is screaming and running out of the room, only to never be seen again. Or hiding behind Robertas or Nikolas. If it is a beetle, Robertas would pick it up and bring it outside, without much disgust. Usually the insects love him.

Tagging: @alintalzin @mrbexwrites @satohqbanana @addomfarm-ogf-updates @darkangel319 & anyone else who wants to do it!

[bluiex]

For the demon au, it would be funny if Grian already had a little baby crush on Mumbo and with demon Scar poking around in his mind, he just has this voice telling him to stop being a wimp and just fuck his friend already.

Like, Mumbo catches wind of what Grian's been doing (or what Scar has been making Gri do) and just comes to Gri one time being like 'Hey mate, are you feeling okay lately? You have a problem, we can talk' and Scar is in Grian's head saying all these things about how cute it is Mumbo cares and how many positions Mumbo could put Grian in and how many Grian can put Mumbo in.

And then when Grian gets turned into a demon, maybe he doesn't really care to keep his crush a secret anymore. He starts thinking about how nice it would be for Mumbo to be a demon with him and Scar, with Scar encouraging these thoughts as well (because it would make Grian happy and Scar kinda likes Mumbo a bit too) and it all spirals from there.

So that all ends up with the two of them popping into Mumbo's place, with Grian disguised as his human self and Scar just hiding in the shadows, with them looking for Mumbo. Mumbo is in the kitchen in the middle of making himself some dinner, when Grian comes up behind him nd wraps their arms around his torso, making the man jump almost sky-high because he didn't hear his door open or close (let's just assume he gave Grian a key to his place because friends ;p).

And now Mumbo has to deal with his friend flirting with him while also feeling some other presence in his home.

Grian just refusing to keep his hands off Mumbo while he's cooking, Grian purring in his ear sweet things making Mumbo fluster why Grian is suddenly acting like this

While Scar is just encouraging it

[pomodoko]

Hermits and what they eat before starting their day

Bdubs: The sleep king has an amazing sleeping schedule and wakes up nice and early. However as you’ve seen, this man eats chicken nuggets with ranch and BBQ sauce. Probably puts a couple pop tarts into a toaster and calls it breakfast.

Cubfan: He’s one of the rise-and-grind sort of people, but I think he eats healthy enough. At least a bowl of oatmeal with a handful of blueberries. On busy days he brings fruit bars with him to work. Has quite a sweet tooth.

DocM: What do creepers even eat? I assume that he’s at least omnivorous based on previously shown diets, though he prefers a healthy portion of fruit salad to start the day off. When he’s really low on energy he can eat a whole chicken.

Etho: Seems like the type to forget to eat in the morning and Iskall has to force feed him. Snacks on dried chorus fruit throughout the day. A light eater.

False: She’s lazy about making her own meals in the morning, especially if she had a busy late night beforehand. A bowl of cereal and a fruit is her go-to, but when she has more energy she would probably make a sandwich or two to bring with her to work.

Gem: Takes her morning slow and prepares a good, balanced breakfast/brunch for herself before heading out to work. A good breakfast of fruits, eggs, and a cup of milk always make her happy. Indulges in learning new, fancy recipes.

Grian: Prefers a quick energy boost before heading out. A hastily made slice of buttered toast can be seen dangling from his mouth as he leaves for work. Sometimes when he takes thing slow, he spends the night before prepping for breakfast the next day. A rather rare occurrence.

Hypno: He can’t leave his house without a proper breakfast, but since he likes to sleep in, he usually prepares brunch instead. He’s getting worried about the amount of carbs he’s been consuming, so nowadays he goes for eggs and bacon and sliced fruits.

Impulse: He runs on coffee more than he runs on nutrients, which is extremely worrying. Especially with his recently developed taste for amethyst crystals, who knows how this man can function. Sometimes he eat normal food, like bread and jam.

Iskall: A big eater who enjoys snacking throughout the day as well, usually with a bag of jerky or a box of juice in his pocket whenever he’s taking a break from work. For breakfast, he prepares egg/potato salad the night before to go with his sandwiches the next day.

Jevin: You can see his breakfast being digested inside him when he leaves for work. Not a picky eater at all since he’s a slime. Just eat whatever that’s in his fridge at the moment, sometimes even without heating up the food.

Joe Hills: He starts the day with a hot cup of tea, a good book, and a bowl of porridge/oatmeal. Sometimes if he’s feeling fancy, he makes pancakes and shares them with Cleo. He’s a decent enough cook if he wasn’t in the mood to experiment with his spice cabinet.

Keralis: Imagine the fanciest breakfast one can get. No, imagine the fanciest brunch you can get. This man lives in a fancy house and eats from his fancy charcuterie board. Grapes, cheese, smoked meat and crackers. Of course, not everyday, but still he likes to indulge whenever possible.

Mumbo: His diet is entirely potato and other root vegetables. Of course, eating just baked potato all the time is a bore, so recently he’s been learning how to fry them. His poor mini kitchen is not handling the heat very well.

Pearl: She shares recipes with Gem from time to time, but often she gets a little lazy and make up short cut recipes instead. Once a week she puts whatever she can find in her fridge on the pan with some beaten eggs and has it for breakfast. She calls it her “anything-goes omelet.”

Rendog: While Doc leans towards veggies, Ren can get rather carnivorous. He likes sausages, ham, and sunny-side up eggs on his platter if he could have them everyday. Freshly picked fruits are a bonus, especially with a cup of coffee in the morning. Surprisingly, he doesn’t like steaks in the morning.

Scar: He likes to start the day off sweet, so his favorite breakfasts are always french toast with powdered sugar and syrup, or fruits and yogurt, or a tall glass of berries smoothie. Since he dies rather often, he carries energy bars with him to replenish his health when needed.

Stress: She’s really careful about having a nutritious and balanced breakfast as well and her brunches usually have roasted vegetables, chicken or fish, and a slice of toast. Water is her best friend, though sometimes she also gets a glass of juice to go with her meal.

Tango: He’s the type to eat whatever he can find in the fridge. Sometimes he would get a quick snack for breakfast like pop tarts or toast. Sometimes he heats up whatever that’s leftover from dinner and eat that instead. He always pair his breakfast with coffee.

TFC: He’s just as methodical with his meals as he is with his work. He doesn’t use the stove often, opting for campfire cooking with sausages or freshly caught fish to go with his oatmeal. Sometimes he makes a large pot of soup or stew and eats from that throughout the day.

VintageBeef: He likes to take time with his breakfast as well and shares his recipe with Pearl and Gem whenever he can. Doesn’t like greasy food very much. Loves freshly made bread with honey or jam, and when he’s up for it, stir fry veggies with eggs.

Wels: He’s an early bird like Bdubs, but he prefers taking his time to start the day. Enjoys blasting music in the kitchen while he cooks. His breakfasts are simple but homely. Sometimes it’s just cereal, sometimes it’s grilled cheese with tomatoes on the side. He’s not picky.

xB: He’s a little lazy with his breakfast, so he opts for ready-made frozen meals or instant noodles. He can cook, he just prefers not to. He doesn’t like to eat sweet things or snack food for breakfast, though. The type to work better on a full stomach.

Xisuma: This man’s tongue is absolutely broken. He likes unseasoned chicken breast with boiled vegetable. At least the tea he drinks has some taste. He probably doesn’t salt his eggs either. Absolutely abhorrent.

Zedaph: Does he even eat in the morning? Before season 8 at least he had Tango and Impulse to check on him if he had eaten, but now there’s barely anyone around to keep this man in check. Functions entirely on coffee and protein bars. His fridge is crammed with store-bought golden carrots.

Cleo: She eats, sometimes. Her nature as a zombie makes her more carnivorous than a normal human, but she doesn’t mind. She can eat mostly any sort of meat, from spider eyes to rotten flesh. She advertises for Hive-Dr8, but doesn’t drink too much of the product because the sugar makes her queasy.

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 1

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Summary: Grian’s getting tired of Scar’s shit and Mumbo thinks he’s a responsible adult.

Word Count: 1392

TW: None

Note: TEGG doesn’t exist in this fic

Enjoy!

———————

This was the third time this week that Scar managed to find Grian’s hiding spot for the dragon egg. Grian was sure that he couldn’t have possibly found it behind one of the sheep in his farm and yet, here the two builders were, one with a proud smirk on his face and the other glaring with a somewhat playful disdain. They stood in the center of Grian’s base interior, the avian cradling the egg in his arms.

“Someday I’m going to hide this egg a thousand blocks away in the ocean,” he said. “I bet you’ll waste your time then.” This was only met with a snort.

“Hey, I might. You never know,” Scar shrugged. “You never let anyone near it, it only makes it more fun!”

Grian rolled his eyes, biting back a smile at the other’s blatant ignorance. “I never let you near it. Besides, it's a fruitless attempt for me at this point.” He turned and rested the egg on a nearby anvil. “If I don’t let anyone near it, it’s because you told them to touch it in the first place.”

Scar raised a finger to say something but clamped his mouth shut with a reddening face. “Mumbo wanted to touch it,” he opted to retort.

The other didn’t reply, only facing his friend with a raised brow and crossed arms.

“Okay maybe I talked him into it but that’s not the point.”

Only now did Grian break into a grin. “Well, I hope you look forward to never seeing this egg again.” He tapped at the top of the shell. “It’s too special to lose.”

“Yeah I bet it is after it took five minutes to kill the dragon,” Scar laughed. “You’ve never told anyone why it’s so special, though. I’m curious.”

“That’s for me to know,” he jabbed a finger at Scar ,”and for you to never find out.”

“Ah, but I will.” Scar pulled his sleeve to check his watch. “But, my time here is done. I’ve got wagons to build.” With a tip of his hat, he exited the base.

Grian watched as the door shut behind him. “Talk about time management,” he mused.

With that, he sighed and swiveled his gaze to the egg. Under the later afternoon beams, it was a beautiful thing. Its contents, however...The avian shook his head. For now, it was a peaceful souvenir from his battle. Although, it wouldn’t be his to keep. Not for hundreds and thousands of years. It belonged to a much more powerful family of beings.

And so Scar needed to keep his hands off of it.

Despite this, however, Grian hardly minded the shenanigans. He wasn’t exactly praised by the egg’s owners; really, he lacked a more...optimistic relationship with them. Having his rank and abilities revoked by the Watchers was almost as bad as being disregarded by them as a Player entirely. He shuddered at the thought but followed Scar’s choice to leave the building; he wondered what his neighbors were up to. Although, he probably shouldn’t have left the egg so exposed should Scar try to touch it again.

He rolled his eyes to himself, then looked around. Scar, like he mentioned, was stringing together small wagons. Grian cringed at how much copper the man used in his builds- not because of distaste but that he could hardly imagine himself spending so much time grinding for the stuff. He glanced at his roof.

Well, maybe he could.

His gaze then rested on Pearl’s and Impulse’s bases, then Mumbo’s. It was strangely quiet this afternoon. He’d hardly seen any of the three since the day before. Mumbo moreso, but the other two not so much. Curious, he made his way across the field. Only then did Mumbo’s head pop out of a hole by his surface farm did Grian notice that anyone except Scar was out there at all.

Grian stopped and watched as his mustached friend pulled himself out of the hole. Unsurprisingly, he was covered in patches of mud and dust starting at the tips of his fingers. As he noticed that Grian was there, he waved.

“Hey!” Mumbo greeted happily. He stood and dusted himself off in a useless effort to look somewhat presentable. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been fixing some things in the potato farm.”

“I thought that usually didn’t involve rolling in the dirt,” the avian chuckled. “I’m trying to keep Scar off of the egg.” Mumbo raised a brow. “No, it didn’t work.”

“Huh, I thought he’d never find it in the sheep pen.”

Grian scoffed. “You’d think.”

“You could hide it in someone else’s base. Or better yet, in his own base,” Mumbo suggested.

The avian contemplated the idea, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t really let it go anywhere else.”

“You can’t or you won’t? I can babysit the egg.”

At that, Grian laughed a single ‘HA’ at the proposal. “I’d rather have Scar just take it,” he replied. “No offense. It’s a magical egg, you couldn’t handle it.”

The redstoner gaped with offense despite Grian’s comment. “I think I’d be great at it!”

“Right, right,” the other sneered, but couldn’t help but to giggle at the thought. Eventually, he calmed himself. “Anyways, I’ve got work to do. I suggest a bath for you as well.” Grian looked Mumbo up and down. “You need it.” With that, he rocketed himself away with a salute.

Mumbo stared in disbelief, then turned to Grian’s house. He’d be a great babysitter for the egg! Grian was only just trying to insult his obvious responsibility. Seeing as Grian couldn’t keep the egg away from anyone, it wasn’t like he was much better at the task. Besides, he couldn’t kill the dragon, so what better way to obtain a dragon egg than through showing Grian just how responsible he was with it.

With that thought, the redstoner looked around. Nobody other than Scar, who was busy building, was around. So, he more or less stealthily creeped his way into Grian’s base. If anything he probably looked like a long legged spider. Mumbo expected the dragon egg to be hidden once more but much to his surprise, it was blatantly out in the open. He almost face palmed for Grian’s sake. It was too easy. He hastily plucked the egg from its place and shoved it into his inventory. Hopefully, Scar wouldn’t find it odd for Mumbo to have been there should he notice anything weird.

Mumbo left quickly and already began conjuring plans for a vault. Knowing Grian, it hardly needed to be in any way complex. Where to put it, however, was the question plaguing his mind. He really didn’t have a lot of space to work with. But, the underground potato farm should work just fine. Behind the backdrop was a perfect area. So, he did just that. Within hours, the vault was done and dusted. In it, a quartz interior with a pillar topped with a purple pillow. Mumbo looked around, admiring his work. He then turned to the pillar and pulled the egg from his inventory. He placed it on the pillow carefully, almost as if he wanted the egg itself to be comfortable. With a pat to the top of the egg, he left the vault.

It’s been a while since he last saw Grian. The builder should’ve returned to his base by now and saw that the egg was missing. Mumbo supposed that Grian was simply hanging out with their neighbors. He ascended the ladder, still covered in layers of soil that fell from the wrinkles in his now stained white undershirt. The redstoner peeked his head out of the hole. The sky was dark and littered with stars. Zombies groaned and skeletons' bones clacked blocks away.

Ah, Grian might’ve been sleeping.

He sat on the edge of the hole, legs still dangling inside, and checked his watch. It was late and tremendously so. How long had he been under the ground for? He raked his fingers through his hair. Well, time to sleep then. He made his way to the van and after he did, he looked out once more before sliding the door shut. Tucking himself into bed, he drifted into a peaceful slumber. The thought of the stolen egg hardly left any thoughts on his mind.

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Chapter 2

Grian yanked his comm out of his pocket and pulled up the player list. He needed to know if he was the only yellow life. He glanced over it and saw a mix of colors. Him, Jimmy, Scott, Ren, and Cleo were all on their yellow lives. He saw a smattering of light green names in the list (Impulse, Skizz, and Bigb). The rest were all a dark green.

“Why do we all have a different number of lives?” Ren asked in chat. Martyn’s response popped in. “I think it’s random this round. Probably a way to make it more interesting.” “You don’t all have four lives?” Lizzie asked.

Grian froze, hand hovering over the communicator screen. Lizzie had four lives. How did Lizzie have four lives? That shouldn’t have been possible. You got three lives, and then you permadied. Or at least, you were a ghost until everyone on the server bit the dust. Lizzie shouldn’t have gotten more. It wasn’t fair.

Bitterly, Grian forced a laugh out. Of course it wasn’t fair. Nothing about this curse of a server was fair. He should’ve been on Hermitcraft, pulling pranks and building an alleyway filled with magic. He wasn’t supposed to be here, shoved back into a horrific trial of life and death. It wasn’t fair.

A new message on his comm drew his attention back to the situation at hand. “Wait, do the different colors mean a different number of lives?” Mumbo asked “Yeah,” Tango said. “But the maximum number should be three.” “Lime green names mean that person has three lives,” Joel explained. “Yellow means two lives. Red means one life. Trust me, Mumbo. You don’t want to be on your red life.”

A chill ran through Grian, and quickly, he shut off the chat. He didn’t need to be reminded of crimes past. He needed to shift through his admin panels anyways, figure out what was different this time around.

He slumped against a tree, sliding to the ground as he entered command after command. Screen after screen of code appeared, most of it the same player code as always. But about twenty screens in, he noticed something strange in the list of crafting recipes. In the TNT recipe, where there should have been gunpowder, there was instead sugarcane. Grian whistled softly under his breath. That was a game changer. Explosives would be so much easier to get his hands on his own. He chose to ignore the idea that the new recipe would also make it easier for others to make the weapons.

He dug further into the code, and found a list of commands, most of which were disabled for all players, even the admin. But one jumped out at him. “Give life.” His eyes widened. Could they transfer lives between themselves? Was that why some players had more lives? He swore under his breath. With a mechanic like this, lives were the most valuable currency imaginable. Suddenly his eyes lit up as he realized that meant he could push himself back up to his green life. Maybe he could even gain more.

His mind began racing, sorting through and dismissing people he could scam out of lives. He couldn’t do anyone who was on their yellow life like him. They needed to avoid red lives at all costs. He should probably also avoid anyone on their green life, just in case. But given that everyone with a dark green life seemed to have four lives. Finally, he settled on Scar.

A knot of guilt nestled up in his chest, but he shoved it down. Scar would understand. He would probably be happy to five it in fact. Besides, Grian had already owed Scar a life. Scar could return the favor. Surely he’d understand. They were surviving. Putting Scar down to three lives wouldn’t really hurt him. Scar had survived into the late game with only one life. It would be fine. Before Grian could second guess himself further, he stood up and set off.

Scott dug into the ground, pickaxe breaking through the stone and leaving a small hole. He swung again, hair hanging down into his face. He brushed it away, but froze when he felt cold metal around his temples. Slowly, he reached up, hands curling around a thin circlet, fingers wrapping around thin spires of gold. He removed it and held it in front of his face. It was a thin gold crown, lightly tarnished. It was in near perfect condition, except for a small trace of dark red along the bottom of some of the spires.

Scott’s face fell, eyes clouding over, as memories filled his head. The sight of a small, broken body, an arrow pierced through the chest, a grave adorned with flowers and a small garden of poppies planted around it. Anger welled up in his chest. He reeled back and chucked the crown away from him. It clattered to the ground loudly, and Scott’s shoulders slumped in relief. Then, slowly, the crown began to dissolve into bunches of light. Then, they began to float off the ground and swirled around Scott. They settled into his hair, and hardened into metal once again. “No, no, no,” Scott muttered, yanking the crown off his head, and smashing it into the ground. He couldn’t do this again. The crown simply appeared on his head yet again, heedless of his wishes.

Suddenly, a soft voice drifted through the air, startling him. “Hello?” it called out. “Is everything alright?” “It’s fine!” Scott called, a bit more harshly than he meant to. “Are you sure?” the voice said. Then, Pearl appeared from behind a rock. “I heard something fall.” “Oh, yeah,” Scott said, forcing himself to sound fine. “Just dropped my pick. Nothing to worry about. Say...” he muttered, eyeing her wrist and the small dark green hearts embedded there. “Mind showing me your wrist? Wanna know how many lives you ended up with.” “Oh, sure,” Pearl said, cheerfully pulling up her jacket sleeve and proffering her wrist. Scott’s jaw dropped slightly when he saw the six hearts there. “You have six lives,” he muttered. “Yeah,” Pearl said sheepishly, pulling her sleeve back down. “I figured from everyone’s reaction to Lizzie and Mumbo having four lives, this much was unusual.” “Yeah,” Scott said. “Last time, we only had a maximum of three lives. You know...a deal might be in our best interest.”

Bdubs and Etho blocked up the entrance to their little cave. “Kind of glad I ended up with you,” Bdubs said. “If there’s anyone on the server I’d want as an ally, it’s you, Etho. And maybe Grian. I mean, he did win the game last time.” “I’m honored,” Etho said, pulling a small furnace from his pocket and tossing it to the ground. It expanded to a full size block, and Etho began to load it with fuel. “But you know I’m not actually all that powerful, right? I only survived last time because I got lucky. And even then, I died to something as pathetic as a fire. Don’t overestimate my abilities.” “Well, don’t sell yourself short,” Bdubs said. “You’re ancient. You know things about this universe that I’m pretty sure even some of the gods don’t.”

Etho opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, floating text appeared in front of his and Bdubs’ eyes. “1...” “What is the server doing now?” Bdubs asked. “I don’t know,” Etho said, the slightest hint creeping into his voice. “2...” “It’s counting down,” Bdubs said. “I noticed,” Etho deadpanned, loading the salmon he had caught into the furnace. “3...”

Across the server, the text read: “You are not the boogeyman.” But for Bdubs, bright red letters screamed, “You are the boogeyman.” What did that mean?

[riacte]

Happy Birthday to HC7!

Wow man, I can’t believe it’s an actual year... so I’mma go off the tangent for a bit.

I’ve been following HC since May 2019, but I only watched Grian (and eventually Ren) in HC6, so when HC7 started, I was excited to branch out. Unfortunately I couldn’t watch as many episodes as I like but still, I feel like I’ve known a lot more about the hermits and their projects this season!

The beginnings of HC7 always gives me good vibes. It’s just so... humble. Magical. Exciting. The hermits are stripped off their elytras and rockets and gear and shulker boxes and they have to start from the beginning, in the old-school way. And you get to see them do all their crazy grinds and builds from the very start, when they had nothing but determination and motivation.

I was also really proud of how the hermits grew MASSIVELY in the beginnings of HC7, especially Scar and Iskall. I was ecstatic to see more hermits reach 1mil subscribers, because they deserve that and so much more. HC fandom was also growing exponentially, with many fancontent made of wizard Scar and Pesky Bird and Bumbo Baggins and the infamous Doc-Bdubs divide (I mean, they’re the popular creators, but it still makes me super happy and gives out the GoodVibes). I remember staying up till 3am, totally engrossed in HC fanfic.

I know for y’all in the Western world, HC7 starts with quarantine and Covid, but since I’m in Asia, Covid has already been going on for like two months when HC7 began. The hermits provided a lot of comfort for me when I was sad or just bored. Like... the world is changing, but Hermitcraft is still there, as cheesy as it sounds.

I remember the night the HC7 E1 episodes were uploaded, I was vibrating with excitement. I was telling my friends to watch them. I had no idea who to watch first but I remember I clicked Impulse. I stayed up past 12am and I think I watched most of Doc’s episode and wondered why tf did I stick to Grian when there’s so much more out there.

Gradually more episodes came out, including those of my faves Grian, Scar, and Ren. And I was super mega happy to see Grian and Scar be neighbours because that’s all I wanted in S6, actually. A proper collab between those two crazy builders and cat lovers with chest monsters. And I was beyond excited to see that practically everyone I watched at that time (Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Stress, Iskall) lived in the same jungle. (Ren was the exception but he later moved in and I kinda lost it).

Early HC7 Jungle Gang and their builds have a very special place in my heart just because it’s so hopeful and funny and full of possibilities. I loved watching Grian annoy Mumbo, I loved every bit of Scar’s magical village, I loved Iskall bringing a brown panda to Stress’ place as a gift. Bdubs VS Doc was also extremely entertaining, and I still laugh over how cute BeeDoubleO is. And Ren! Ren’s Loser Island was so quaint and charming and cute and I’m so sad he blew it up lol. Something about his starter base just gets me. I even modified my survival starter base after his.

And the streams! The stream weekends! I was never into watching streams but HC7 convinced me. The hermits saw that we liked them, and kept on making them. I don’t remember a lot about the streams, but I do remember popping into Ren’s late at night, and he talked about living alone and the pandemic and how this Minecraft stream united people from all over the world, and he started listing out the countries people wrote down in chat, and I just started crying. It sounds stupid and parasocial, but fuck man, I really love the hermits.

I remember when there was a time Ren uploaded at 12am Saturday for me, so when I had a rough week, I would tuck myself into bed and refresh my feed until I saw Ren’s new weekly episode. (Ren’s my comfort YouTuber.) It was like... a habit of me, like when I felt bad I would be like “at least there’s gonna be a new Rendog episode by the end of this horrible week :D”. And that made me happy.

And then it sort of became a habit... I watched different hermits according to my moods. Whenever I felt more attentive, I watched Grian. Tired and bored? Stress. Wanted to calm down? Xisuma. Wanted to laugh? Bdubs. And when I just wanted some comfort? Ren.

Hermitcraft and its community has given me a lot of joy. I would go longer about how I met friends etc etc but I started being active because of Blue Bats lmao, and that’s a different story.

Just wanna send the hermits and the community some love <33 sorry this got so long lol, I really am very nostalgic haha.

To me, there really is something magical about Hermitcraft, and I don’t fully understand it, but maybe that’s the beauty of it.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Mommie Dearest (Ethan x MC)

Summary: After 26 long years, Ethan finally comes face to face with his mother

Author’s Note: I wanted this to be out in time for Mother’s Day, but my writer’s block was like “lmao”, but better late than never, right?

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @adrex04 @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman @ruinedbypixels

~v~

Ethan Ramsey has never been so nervous in his life. Not when he did interviews for medical school. Not when he met Dr. Banerji. Not even when he finally asked out Naomi for a date.

Walking into an Italian restaurant to meet his mother has him at his peak.

She’s been trying to reach out for months now and he’s been able to rebuff her at every turn, but she’s really kicked it up these past few weeks. It all culminated in her showing up at Edenbrook, in front of his office, telling everyone within a few feet of her that she’s Ethan Ramsey’s mother.

Alan wanted him to reach out at least once, to see if the mother and son could actually make amends. Naveen thought so as well. An hour or so of his time could answer a lot of questions, and maybe help him seek closure.

It wasn’t until Naomi spoke up did he actually agree to give it a shot. She said he deserved answers, he deserved to be heard, and his mother owed it to him more than anything to sit down and face him.

So now he’s here. Coming face to face with Margaret Ramsey for the first time in over two decades. He wants to turn around and run. He wants to hide somewhere. He wants to call Naomi and tell her to come to the restaurant and help him muddle through this dinner. But Ethan doesn’t do any of that, instead he powers through.

She’s sitting at a table right in the middle of the restaurant, casually glancing at a wine menu. A gasp catches in his throat at the sight of her. She’s so much different than he remembers her, his memory only ever able to produce a hazy figure, but she’s still so similar, just older. She’s skinnier than he can recall, more frail. She’s wearing a simple green sweater and jeans, her hair in a bun, with a pair of cubic zirconia earrings, but Ethan can tell this is her version of getting “dolled up”.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing, gaping at her like she’s some sort of museum exhibit, but Margaret breaks the trance, staring up at him. A wide grin breaks out on her face and she instantly stands up. “Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you came!”

She reaches out to hug him, but Ethan bristles and takes a step back, recoiling from his mother’s touch as if it’d burn him. Margaret flinches, but she doesn’t make a fuss over it. “Sit, sit!”

Ethan slides into his seat as Margaret does the same. For a long while, they just stare at each other.

Again, Margaret is the first one to break the tension. “I know you said you’d come, but I’m still shocked to see you. I really thought you’d change your mind.”

He did change his mind. Multiple times throughout the day, Ethan went back and forth on this decision, unsure if it was the right one. “Well, I’m here.”

“I’m glad.” Margaret looks him up and down. Gone is the lanky 11 year old she remembered, and there’s a grown man in his place. It feels surreal, the amount of time that’s passed. “You look so good. Parents often wonder what their kids are going to look like but wow, seeing you so grown up is...mind boggling.”

She isn’t some distant aunt or third cousin twice removed he’s seeing at a family reunion, but his mother. His growth wouldn’t be such a shock if she actually stuck around. “A lot changes in 26 years.”

“Touche.”

Tense silence hangs above them like a dark cloud. The only reprieve they get is when a waiter comes to the table to take their drink order. Ethan springs for a bottle of wine, needing alcohol to get through this.

“Your father tells me you’re some sort of hot shot doctor,” Margaret starts. “And you have a whole team of people under you.”

“I do,” Ethan confirms. “It’s a diagnostics team.”

“A what now?”

“Diagnostics. We treat the untreatable. When no one else knows what’s wrong, we step in and get things figured out.”

Margaret oohs at the explanation, smiling. “You sound so fancy. Like Dr. House!”

“Sort of. I’m not addicted to opioids though.”

“My son, the doctor. I always knew you were destined for greatness. You came out of the womb smart and wise beyond your years.”

The anecdote might’ve been nice coming from his dad, but hearing his mom say it makes him shift uncomfortably. She’s a stranger, for Christ’s sake. She doesn’t know a damn thing about him, about his potential for greatness.

Quickly, Ethan lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip. He exhales slowly, carefully measuring his next thoughts and words. “What are we doing, Margaret?”

The question catches the older woman off guard. “What do you mean? We’re having dinner.”

“Okay, but why? Why are we here? Why now? I’m 37 years old, why did you pop back into my life at this point in time? What do you want?”

“It would’ve been a lot sooner, but you weren’t too receptive to a reconciliation,” Margaret points out.

“So it’s my fault? Is that the angle you really want to go for?”

“No! No, of course not.” Margaret’s eyes shift around the dining room, casually observing her surroundings. She feels anxious now, jittery.

Eventually her gaze reruns to Ethan and she gives him her full attention. “I guess I’m just tired of running. I know I’ve missed out on so much, more than I can ever make up for but, I’m here now. I’m here and I’d love to be in your life again. You asked me what I want, I just want you, in whatever capacity you’ll have me.”

“Why’d you leave in the first place?” Ethan asks. “I thought we were a family, I thought we were happy.”

“Ethan…” she doesn’t want to go down this road. “Can’t we leave that in the past?”

“No.”

“I don’t have an answer.”

Ethan shakes his head. “That’s not good enough. There had to be some reason you left your job, your home, your husband, your child. You left and you never looked back. I deserve an answer, any answer. Witness Protection, alien abduction, anything.”

“I was young,” Margaret says. “I was 19 when I had you, I was still a baby. And we just settled into...monotony and routine, and I felt antsy. I didn’t think I could be a good wife and mother, my heart wasn’t in it. I thought no mother or wife would be better than a crappy one, and you guys would be better off without me in the picture.”

“You have some extremely flawed logic, Margaret.”

She only shrugs in response. “I know, but you weren’t anticipating a perfect answer. So...can we please just try to enjoy this dinner?”

Ethan ponders the question. He is starving, and this is a restaurant he’s been meaning to try. While the company isn’t what he’d usually want, Ethan is sure he can make do.

“We can enjoy dinner.”

Margaret smiles, her eyes crinkling slightly as she does so. “Yay! I hope they have a good chicken marsala because I am starving.”

~v~

By the time they’re finishing appetizers, Ethan has relaxed considerably. Maybe it’s the glass of wine, maybe he’s finally ready to ease up around his mother, but whatever it is, Ethan is grateful.

“Tell me more about your job,” Margaret probes. “I may not know all the medical mumbo jumbo, but I’ve seen E.R. I can kind of follow along. How long have you been in Boston?”

“Since I graduated medical school, 11 years now. I did my internship at Edenbrook, and I never left.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“You don’t ever want to be somewhere else? Like Stanford? Or Johns Hopkins?

“They’re great, but no. And I went to Hopkins for medical school, I’ve had my fill of them.” Ethan’s phone vibrates in his pocket. “Excuse me.”

He slips his phone out and looks at the screen. It’s a text message from Naomi.

How are things going?

He quickly sends her a reply.

I think they’re going...ok.

And you know I hate texting.

It takes her less than 10 seconds to respond, his phone beeping multiple times.

Yay!! I’m so glad things are going well!

And you love me, so you’ll deal

Ok, I’ll leave you alone now.

That makes Ethan roll his eyes, but he smiles at the message.

“Talking to someone special?” Margaret asks, gaining his attention.

Ethan’s head snaps up and he looks at his mom. “Huh?”

Margaret points to the phone. “Your face just lit up when you read your messages. Your dad told me that you’re seeing someone. Is that her?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?”

Ethan doesn’t know if he’s willing to talk to Margaret about something as precious to him as Naomi. Does she deserve to be privy to his personal life?

He decides to take the leap. “Naomi.”

“Ooh, like the supermodel,” Margaret coos. She raises an eyebrow. “Are...you dating the supermodel?”

“No, I’m not dating Naomi Campbell. Naomi—my Naomi—is a doctor at Edenbrook.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“Seven months now.”

“Do you love her?”

“Very much so,” Ethan confesses, not a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Well what are you doing still being boyfriend and girlfriend? Sounds to me like you should lock things down and marry her.”

Margaret Ramsey is the last person Ethan will ever take relationship advice from. “Naomi and I are perfectly fine with the pace of our relationship. I’m not going to rush anything.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Margaret sighs wistfully. “”I just...I've wasted so much time, and I’ve missed so many moments. And now that I’m back, I’m projecting. It’s misplaced, and I overstepped.”

Ethan softens slightly. “It’s fine, no need to apologize.”

“Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for me to one day see you gg walk down the aisle. I don’t know if your father told you, but I’ve been looking for a place of my own.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I got a job at a local grocery store, and I’ve been trying to find something close by, ideally in Boston or close by.”

“Good for you.”

Margaret looks around, unable to meet Ethan’s gaze and she rings her hands together. After staring at the passing waiters and patrons for a while, she turns back to the table, though her eyes remain fixed on the tablecloth. “I’ve been trying my hardest recently to get my life back in order after spending so much time aimlessly flitting around New England. But no one tells you how challenging it is to do that.” 

Finally she meets Ethan’s eyes. “In my hunt for a place of my own, I’ve come to realize that it won’t be smooth sailing. My savings is abysmal, and my credit is shot, so passing credit checks is hard and banks want such high down payments on houses and even higher interest rates.”

“I know you’ll probably think I’m ridiculous for bringing this up, and I hate to even mention it, but I just thought if in order for you and I to get on the right track, you’d maybe want to help. I guess it’s safe to assume you’re doing well…”

Ethan sees his mother’s mouth moving, but the rest of her spiel fades out like white noise. This is what she really wanted to meet with him for? Money?

A chill runs through his body, starting at the base of his skull, traveling down the length of his spine, and moving outwards. He feels frozen in place, like he’s being forced to sit in this chair.

Everything is jumbled and he can’t form a coherent thought to save his life.

Whatever it is, he wills it to pass. He doesn’t want to cause a scene in the restaurant, and he doesn’t want to be emotional in front of this woman.

It takes a long time for him to regain control of his person, but when he does, he releases a breath. Margaret is still going on, talking about a loan manager, but he holds up a hand to stop her in her tracks.

“You’re good,” he says. “Like...really good.”

She feigns confusion. “Good at what?”

“Acting. You’re so good at being a grifter, the lies and tall tales come so easily to you. You begged me to meet you, forced my dad to beg, and for what? Because you’re flat broke.” Ethan chuckles humorlessly. “What, did you Google me and dig for my net worth? Find out what type of car I drive? Research how much condos in my neighborhood cost?”

“Ethan, I–”

“Save it!” His tone is so sharp, it makes her flinch. The couple at the table next to them stop talking in order to stare. “I can’t believe I let my guard down around you, even slightly. You’re still the same piece of garbage you were 26 years ago.”

“You know Margaret, I would’ve respected you more if you would’ve been upfront and said you wanted money. Sure, I would’ve still said no, but there was no need for the disingenuous long con. You didn’t have to pull my dad into this, you didn’t need to show up to my job, you didn’t have to pretend to care about making amends, about being a part of my future, any of it.” Ethan hastily stands, pulling out his wallet. Hands trembling and clammy, he pulls out a crisp hundred dollar bill and throws it on the table. “Don’t ever, in your pathetic excuse for a life, reach out to me again.”

Ethan doesn’t bother grabbing his jacket. Instead he just turns around and walks away, ignoring Margaret’s pleas and shouts.

~v~

The drive home is long, silent, and tense, but Ethan makes it without snapping his steering wheel in half or causing a rage induced accident. He’s trying his hardest to remain calm, because who the fuck is Margaret and why does she have the right to get under Ethan fucking Ramsey’s skin? But it’s not working. He can feel all of the emotions simmering under the surface, crackling with a sharp intensity.

He opens the door to his apartment and crosses the threshold. His eyes fall on Naomi, sitting on his couch, curled up in a thick blanket, watching some silly reality show. Jenner’s on her lap, happily watching the show with her as she scratches his ears.

His entrance garners their attention and they look up. Naomi’s eyes widen and she cranes her neck, hoping to get a look at the time on the microwave from her spot on the couch. “Ethan! What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Rookie,” he quips. Ethan kicks off his shoes, leaving them at the door

Naomi rolls her eyes. “Obviously, smartass. I thought you’d still be having dinner with your mom.”

“I don’t have a mom,” Ethan says, his voice taking on an edge she’s not used to. “I had a surrogate who stayed 11 years too long.”

Naomi stands up and walks towards Ethan, who’s heading into the kitchen. She watches as he rinses out a glass and pours himself some scotch. “What happened? I thought things were going well.”

“I thought so too.” Ethan downs the drink in one gulp. “We were doing okay, she asked about my work, she asked about you, about us. And then it all culminated in her asking me for money.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she claims she wants a down payment for a house close by, but who knows if that was the truth. I could cut her a check and she’d be out of the state within an hour.”

Naomi frowns. “Baby, I am so sorry.”

“What is there to be sorry for?” Ethan asks. “Seriously, what? This isn’t your fault. Margaret showed me the type of person she was 26 years ago when she said she was going to the grocery store and she never came back. She showed me who she was when she never once tried to see me. I didn’t hear from her on my birthdays. I didn’t hear from her when I graduated high school, college, medical school, nothing. She wasn’t there when I got my tonsils removed, or when I won the science fair.  She disappeared like a thief in the night without a backwards glance and without a shred of remorse. And even tonight, not once did she apologize, she just gave me a shitty excuse about how she thought I was better off without her, and you know what? She was goddamn right. Margaret Ramsey showed her true colors a long time ago, hell, even all those months ago when she stole out of the convenience store.”

“Birthdays, Christmases, 26 Mother’s Days came and went without her. You know what was really fun? Seeing my friends in school have moms that participated in bake sales, and ‘Back to School Nights’ and field trips. It was great having the other parents and classmates take pity on me because I was the motherless child.”

“And she just waltzes back into town thinking, ‘Oh wow the kid I abandoned actually made something of himself. I researched doctor’s salaries in Boston, Google tells me he lives in a multi-million dollar apartment complex, he drives a Mercedes. Maybe I can swoop in and upend his life once more.’” Ethan takes the tumbler in his hand and throws it against the wall. Naomi jumps back, startled by the loud crash. “Fuck her! She’s dead to me.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath and takes a step closer to Ethan. “You don’t mean that.”

“I absolutely do mean it,” Ethan argues.

“No you don’t. Because if you were truly done with the situation, if you were truly healed, you wouldn’t be so worked up over it.”

Ethan glances at the shards of glass littering his kitchen floor. “No, I think that did it. I think I got it out of my system.”

“I think you should–”

“You know what I think?” Ethan interjects, not giving Naomi the chance to speak. “I think we should move on.” He turns to his girlfriend and takes a step closer, eyes raking over her. “Moving on, hello. I don’t think I greeted you properly.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I’m sorry I even let thoughts of that woman follow me home.” Ethan surges forward, his hand curling around Naomi’s waist, pulling her closer. He bends slightly, inhaling her scent. Her skin is soft and she smells like coconut. “You smell good.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I even went to that dinner,” Ethan murmurs. “I could’ve been here and showered with you.”

Naomi can see right through him. He’s deflecting, trying to push his feelings aside. He’s so good at it, bottling everything up, but she doesn’t want that to happen. “Ethan–”

He cuts Naomi off again, this time slanting his mouth over hers, enveloping her in a kiss that threatens to steal the breath straight from her lungs. She scrambles, arms flailing as she tries to hold onto something that will keep her upright. Thankfully Ethan walks them backwards until her back is pressed against the fridge.

His tongue sweeps across her bottom lip before invading her mouth, deepening the kiss. Desperate to touch her, Ethan grips her hip in his hand, reveling in her warmth. Naomi is here. She’s here. She’s real. And she’s not going anywhere.

She breaks the kiss, the urge to inhale too strong to ignore. Her palms rest against his chest, and she can feel just how erratic his heartbeat is. Sparing a glance upward, Naomi’s breath catches in her throat as she sees Ethan looking down at her, tears in his eyes.

“Ethan, talk to me,” Naomi pleads, taking his face in both of her hands. “Don’t shut me out, don’t try to deflect.” Ethan shakes his head, unable to find the words, unable to say them out loud. Naomi sighs. If he won’t start the conversation, she will. “I love you. I love you so much, and I am so sorry. I’m so sorry about your mom. You deserve so much more than she’s ever given you.”

That seems to help push things in the right direction, as Ethan slumps forward and rests all of his weight on her, his false bravado gone

“Why does it s-still matter?” Ethan asks, his voice breaking as the sobs settle in, wracking his body. “Why do I still care so much?”

“Because you’re not the robot you pretend to be.”

“I’m so stupid. I should’ve never agreed to do this.”

“You’re the furthest thing from stupid. You needed to see her for yourself. She owed you answers and closure.”

“I didn’t get it.”

“You did, it just wasn’t pretty. Now you know for certain the type of woman she is.”

But why did he have to throw himself back into the lion’s den in order to find out what he already knew? Now all of the old wounds have come back to surface, open and raw, ripe for picking. He feels like he’s been turned inside out and left for the taking.

“All these y-years later, and she still doesn’t...love m-me,” Ethan cries, fat tears rolling down the apples of his cheeks. “She st-still doesn’t want me. What did I do?”

Standing in front of her isn’t her 37 year old doctor boyfriend, but a heartbroken 11 year old who desperately wants his mom to come home from the “grocery store”. His pain is palpable, and Naomi’s heart aches for him. Ethan was dealt a shitty hand, and he didn’t deserve it at all.

His weight becomes too much for her to bear, and they sink down on the kitchen floor. Ethan buries his head in Naomi’s lap and she just cradles him. She’s never seen Ethan this upset and out of sorts, not when Delores died, and not when Naveen was on the brink of death, so she feels like a fish out of water.

“You didn’t do anything. You’re the child, you can’t carry this burden. Your mother is at fault, and it’s all her doing.”

She doesn’t know what else to say to him. She can tell him that he’s smart, and successful. She can tell him that he’s a wonderful guy, and that he deserves the world, and his mother is a selfish idiot for not seeing what she sees, but she doesn’t know if it will help. All the compliments and platitudes in the world can’t make up for your own mother not wanting anything to do with you.

So she doesn’t say anything. Silence falls between them, the only sound to be heard coming from the television and Jenner occasionally whining from his spot on the couch. Naomi simply strokes his hair and other places she can touch on his body.

They stay in that position for a long time, but the cold tiles of the kitchen floor become too uncomfortable to ignore after a while. Naomi stands up and drags Ethan along with her as they make their way to his bedroom.

Ethan is dead weight and doesn’t offer much help, so Naomi rids him of his clothes by herself, until he’s left in nothing but his boxers. His last bout of energy is used to collapse into bed, where he curls into Naomi’s side, holding her close.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Naomi says, breaking their silence. “I think you should take a personal day. You deserve to get some rest.”

She expects him to argue. He’s Ethan Ramsey, a workaholic, and if anything, he’ll use this as a reason to bury himself further in his work.

But he doesn’t argue. He nods and says, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry if I was too aggressive earlier,” Ethan continues, his voice still soft and quiet. “Yelling, throwing that glass, kissing you like that, it wasn’t appropriate.”

“Apology not needed. But thank you anyway.”

Ethan rolls over and stares at Naomi, analyzing her features. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Naomi kisses his bicep, too lazy to stretch up and kiss his lips. She rolls over and turns off the lamp at his bedside.

It doesn’t take long and she can feel herself getting sleepy, the events of the past hour taking their toll, a heaviness settling in her bones. As she starts to doze off, Ethan calls out for her. “Hey, Naomi?”

“Hmmm?”

“You’re the most important family I have.”

And with that, he falls asleep.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 40: A Home in Hell

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

A lotta lore coming your way! Thank you X for being the only one with a braincell in this group to explain world mechanics in a way that even I- the author- hardly understands. 

And sorry for yet another cliffhanger! I just love them too much! (wonder how many people caught the foreshadowing a few chapters back)

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block 

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Red picks up his head as he hears the sound of fireworks. The late afternoon sun blocks Red’s vision, whiting out the sky and making it impossible to see who is flying by. He feels like a castaway, trapped on this mound of sand with only an ominous nether portal and an unlit campfire. He doesn’t even have the ability to start a fire. 

Glimmers of white rain from the sky, forms slowly descending from the heavens. Well, most of them are. One dives straight for Red, wings tucked in like an arrow shot from a bow. The grey elytran wings only open at the last second, just enough to slow the descent and save the flyer from experiencing kinetic energy. Not enough to keep Ecto from barreling into Red, sending them both skidding across the sand. 

Red squeaks, gasping for air as Ecto hugs the breath out of her. Red feels something wet on his shoulder, and realizes that Ecto’s crying. She isn’t sure she’s ever seen Ecto cry, even when she was iced out of her own home. “We thought you were gone.” 

Red’s lips thin out. She should be gone. Out of everyone’s way. But even death didn’t want something as useless as her. Avon’s wings eclipse the sun a moment later, oscillating to lower her to the sand. She crosses the sandy island in a few strides, lifting off the ground to reach Red as fast as possible. Avon wraps her arms and wings tight around the other two wanderers, cocooning all three in the embrace. A weak chuckle escapes Avon’s lips.“We have got to stop losing each other in this world.” 

They only break up when Red has to push them apart. She needs to breathe, and Ecto’s vice grip is definitely not letting her do that. The hermits take slow circles to lower in altitude before landing on the short spit of land. Grian does the best landing, sliding across the sand and using the grains to skid to a stop. Stress’s landing is more of a stumble, coming in too hot for her liking. 

Ecto lets go, but stays close to Red. “I...I can’t believe you’re alive. How...how does…” 

“Our world has a few different rules than yours appears to have. Differences in the laws of nature, and all that.” Xisuma states, sitting down next to the wanderers. The other hermits crowd close. Even Mumbo, despite nearly being killed by sixty six percent of the trio. “Most deaths here aren’t permanent. You die, but you can come back.” 

“Is that what world magic can do?” Red questions. “How does that even work?” 

Iskall pulls out a pair of flint and steel, striking it to start the campfire. Keralis and Stress pull up logs for them all to sit on. And Grian reveals pockets full of food. He can’t help but notice Avon’s gaze never faltering from the potatoes in his hand. He starts cooking while Xisuma fills them in. “I don’t know how all it works, but I know my spells work and it eases the tension on all of us.” 

“You don’t want to know how many times I’ve died. I’ve kinda gotten used to the tingly feeling of reviving.” Scar chuckles, leaning back and watching as the sun sets on the world. That reminds Scar of something. He picks up a bag from behind the log, tossing it across the fire to Red. “Here you go, little fish. Keep that little guy close in your world, you hear?” 

Red looks down, seeing the gilded statue glinting in the sunset colors and fire flames. He notices that it has little wings on it’s back, like an angel with wings outspread. Cute little wings, smaller than his wide nose. He can’t tell if the nose was a mistake or intentional. It’s endearing, but Red isn’t sure why Fred is so important for Scar. Did he make it? 

As the cooked meals are being passed around, Avon looks across the fire to Tango. He reminds her so much of Blu, especially the way that the flames frame his face, his blonde hair and eyes the color of heated netherrack. Xisuma said something about Tango spending lots of time in the nether. She bites into her baked potato, swallowing it before she speaks. “You worked in the nether?” 

Tango perks up, noticing the quietest camper suddenly speak. He takes a bite of his steak, and leans back. “Yeah, a few worlds back I made this massive nether style base and humongous big farm-ificators in the dimension.” 

“Were there other people in the nether? What was it like working there so long?” Red adds, scooting closer to Tango. 

“I mean, it was a pretty long time ago. My mind starts to wander and mix things all up into a bunch of gobblty goop. It was really hot, for one. And yeah, there were other people. They didn’t really talk to me much, but they liked to watch my work. They were pretty chill people, the ones I met. Gave me lots of books and told me all sorts of things, like how they would just- pop!- appear in hell. Called themselves hellspawns because of that.” 

Xisuma hums, looking at the wanderers and Tango. “I think there’s a reason why hellspawns exist. Every world is a bit different. Different rules of nature, and different ways of keeping those rules. But as every world mage knows, each universe needs to keep its balance. I may have a theory as to why the person who attacked you may exist.” 

“Ohhh, if it’s an Xisuma idea it’s got to be all sorts of cool wizardy spells and potion things.” Tango is on the edge of his seat. He doesn’t exactly know why these people appeared and lived in the nether, but his time spent with them made him want to make the best of his own life. Live on his own terms. And he feels he has, here among the hermits. 

“There’s three dimensions. All in balance with one another. Too much of one thing can be bad, and too much of another isn’t good either. The nether and the Overworld are equals and opposites. Mirrors, counterweights. Keeping the universe in balance.” Xisuma picks up a handful of sand, watching the grains fall through his fingertips and return to the millions of others among the beach.

“But what about the End? Where is it in all this?” Avon questions, leaning against a propped up knee.

“If the overworld and the nether are the weights, then the End is the scale. Measuring, taking, adding. The liminal space between both, but just as integral as either side.” Xisuma looks around. Most of the people listening seem to be lost, but still listening

“So hellspawns….” Tango whispers.

“Probably appear to give the world balance. To be the counter to the universe. A hellspawn can’t exist without it’s overworld counter being born. And the overworld needs the nether to ease the weight of creation. Both are needed to keep balance.” 

“Why would Blu attack us then?” Ecto seems to understand the gist, tossing out all the weird theoretical stuff. “If both need to be balanced, why attack us? Why kill the ender dragon and freeze an entire desert?” 

“That...I can’t understand.” Xisuma shrugs, pulling off his helmet to finally dig into the mushroom stew he’s been preparing. Long, fluffy brown hair falls from his helmet, curling around his face. 

The wanderers look to Tango, but he shakes his head. “I don’t think any of my books or conversations can help, friends. It’s been ages since my nether base and those massive farms, leaving to join the other hermits in the new world. I really wish I could help more, but this is way out of my league man.” 

The wanderers look at each other, before looking back at the fire. It’s not the answer they were looking for, but it’s information they needed. Now they know, hellspawns are from the nether. Some way of their world balancing itself. Stress changes the subject to something lighter, and Scar adds on his own quirky stories until the air is filled with laughter. Calm respite after so long the wanderers struggled. Retreating into the hermit world, wounded and defeated. Quickly becoming lost in the jungle, only to find new friends willing to help them. In more ways than just getting back on course. And now, they can return to their world. Healed and with a new understanding of what they’re facing. 

With the dawn light, Scar guides the wanderers back to Larry. The giant snail still eeks over the infinity portal, guarding it with a fierce, lopsided gaze. Scar presses a crystal into each of the wanderer’s hands. “ The heart of the warrior for Avon, Luck for Ecto, and water breathing for Red.” 

Red looks at his crystal, then up to Scar. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can already breathe underwater. He just clutches the crystal close, nodding as the rift warps and shifts between them. As much as Red loves being with the hermits, he’s ready to go home. Ready to face whatever is waiting for him. 

The wanderers step back through the portal, falling between worlds and back to their own. It’s dazing, and they can’t help but stumble back into their world. The portal disappears, leaving them in the forest. Ecto winces, rubbing her head after nearly cracking it against a tree. “Ugh, what’s that awful scent? It smells like dead fish.” 

Red looks around, breath catching in his throat. He recognizes where he is. He remembers the river, flowing through the forest towards the sea. The giant boulders tossed aside and trees growing from the fractures within them. And he smells the horrible scent, making him gag, his nose burning and eyes watering. The tide is turning.

Red scrabbles to his feet, leaving Ecto and Avon behind. Stumbling through the sand of the beach, only to collapse at the interface of the water. The water swirls with a rusted red color, waves brushing dead fish and seaweed against the pristine beaches. It’s already too late. 

Red was too late. The tide has turned.

[voidedentity]

Space may be the final frontier..

...but it's made in a Hollywood basement

Grian loved the stars. The way they twinkled over his base at night, reflecting in the water and giving off that soft glow. The way that they reflected off his elytra as he flew. It seemed as if he could touch them, maybe if he got just a bit closer. It was during that moment that he made up his mind. He was going to touch a star.

"I'm going to touch a star" Grian was currently hanging out with Mumbo and Iskall, both who looked very confused and concerned after his sudden statement. They shared a glance before Mumbo nervously chuckled. "Grian, you can't touch a star. They're giant balls of flaming gas." Iskall nodded, "He's right. Besides, they're in the void and you don't even own the equipment to actually survive out there."

Grian just grinned, holding up his rockets and making his elytra flutter. "Guys, I can fly! I'll rocket power my way up there. As for air, I'm sure I could borrow Xisumas helmet for a bit. It'll be great!" Iskall just shook his head, giving Mumbo a look of 'You deal with him' before leaving the room. The redstoner sighed, not looking forward to this conversation.

"For the last time Grian, youcannottouchastar. You just can't! It's not possible!" Mumbo was truly frustrated at this point. This conversation had been happening for what felt like hours as they argued back and forth. "You know what? I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to go touch a star" Before he could say anything the builder fled from the area, fireworks going off in rapid succession. "Oh for heaven's sake" He mumbled, quickly sending a message to Xisuma to watch out for a certain someone.

It was no sooner that Xisuma got the message that Grian appeared. "Ohh X-ey-ummmaa! Can I borrow something of yours?" The prankster grinned at him, and briefly he wondered if he was in danger. "What do you want? I can't imagine anything I have that would be of interest to you." X crossed his arms over his chest, hoping what Mumbo said hadn't been true. "Just your helmet" came the reply and instantly he was was backing away, his pose going into a more defensive one. "NO, absolutely not! I use this to actually breathe you know!" He tapped the helmet as if to drive the point home.

"Oh come on, you don't have an extra one? Or like, something else that you could use?" Grian pleaded, really wanting the helmet. X sighed, "I could say the same to you, but I might have an idea." He quickly pulled up admin chat and typed in a few commands.

Xisumavoid unbanned EvilXisuma.

EvilXisuma joined the server!

Tped EvilXisuma to Xisumavoid.

"Finally! You call me evil and yet you've left me there for how long?" EvilX stretched, enjoying the feel of actually being outside. "What do you want anyways? I assume I haven't been unbanned for the fun of it" X hummed, stepping closer to the other one. "You'd be right about that. I just need to borrow this for a bit!" He quickly lunged forwards, grabbing the helmet and taking it off with a click. "Hey! Sto-" The sound of coughing overtook the room, both EvilX and Grian looking at X in horror. "Thanks! I'll give it back later, don't worry. Now off to the ban room with you."

EvilXisuma was banned by Xisumavoid.

Grian continued to just stare at Xisuma. Had he just killed EvilX? Who the heck was EvilX anyways? X must have noticed his look, because next thing he knew he had a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine. The ban rooms adjusts to your needs so he'll be able to breathe there. Besides, you've got your helmet now." He blinked at the admin before accepting the helmet. Then the truth set in and he grinned, holding the helmet up. "I can touch a star!"

After a quick thank you Grian was off. He headed to his base to grab 2 extra elytras, mend his current one, and fill the rest of his inventory with fireworks. A quick check over everything confirmed he was ready. He put the helmet on and waited for it to calibrate, immediately noticing the difference. It felt easier to breathe now. He did one more check then headed up to the very top of his base, where it sat at build height.

One last look at the world around him and then he jumped. The sound of the fireworks was ringing in his ears as he flew, the air wooshing through his clothes from the speed he was going. It was no secret that Grian was a great flyer. He absolutely loved the freedom in it, and now he was going even further. The world seemed to be getting darker around him. He felt the helmet recalibrate, a glance down telling him he was indeed very, very high up. The world below was almost out of view now, just a faint outline of a square remaining.

Then, he looked up. The stars looked closer than they ever had, their light brighter now that he was here. Feeling determined now, he switched out elytras as his first one broke and pressed on. Soon the atmosphere changed again, the helmet recalibrates again, rinse and repeat. This was definitely taking longer than he thought it was going to, but his want to touch the stars burned brighter than any doubt. After many minutes of flying, the world actually went dark.

Grian has made the advancement: Final Frontier

The notification was barely noticeable in this place, all sound seemingly muffled. Grian grinned, knowing he was close now. Millions of messages were flooding into the chat.

MumboJumbo: Grian you mad man

Iskall85: He actually did it! I thought he was joking.

Xisumavoid: Well no wonder he wanted my helmet. Wish I would have thought of that

Falsesymmetry: Uh, what's going on? Why does it say Grians in the void!?

MumboJumbo: Long story False.

At this point said mad man turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had switched to his last elytra awhile ago and now even the helmet was starting to struggle. He needed to find a star and fast if he still wanted to make it back. His fears would be quelled. He first noticed a pinprick of light that was slowly getting bigger, heat rising as he got closer to it. He checked his inventory, alarmed to see only a few stacks of rockets left. Time to be quick then.

He reached out as he got closer, but what he didn't anticipate was how hot or just how big a star was. His hand made contact much sooner than he thought he would and a message popped up in the chat.

Grian has made the advancement: Starlight

Then the pain finally kicked in as the adrenaline wore off, but it was much too late. He was going too fast at this point, his path going right into the star.

Grian flew too close to the sun

[artificialqueens]

oh, my sunlight, chapter two (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 5060

AN: Chapter two! I love this verse so, so much. Thank you for all the sweet words on the first chapter, I appreciate it endlessly. Thank you writ for betaing and being wonderful <3

“Stupid blazer, so much for being a maternity fit-”

“You good, baby?” Vanessa pops her head out from their en suite bathroom, half dressed in the pantsuit that she’s going to be wearing for the German Chancellor’s state visit.

Brooke huffs. “Can’t get these buttons to close. How am I supposed to look professional if I can’t even button my damn blazer over my belly?”

Vanessa walks over, a soft grin taking over her face before she leans down to kiss Brooke’s stomach, grabbing both sides of her blazer. She fiddles with it, tongue poking out and lets out a whoop when she gets the blazer closed. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on keeping up the pantsuits. There’s gotta be other clothes that are more-”

“Nope. Still gotta match the rest of the agents.” Brooke doesn’t even see it as an option. She can still keep up with everyone, she’s still the agent in command and she’s not going to be sitting back unless she fully has to.

“You’re seven and a half months pregnant, B. Don’t think that I didn’t hear you grumbling about your back aching earlier.” Vanessa comes up behind her to massage out the knots in her shoulders and Brooke can’t help but sigh into the touch.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, Ness.” Brooke’s good at handling herself. She’s been trying her best throughout the pregnancy to keep up, to not let things change, despite Vanessa’s tutting about it.

Brooke knows that she’s going to have to cut down on the work soon, for Vanessa’s sake more than anything else. Her wife’s been more worried than she has, always willing to let engagements and presidential business slide for any prenatal appointments, or any moments when Brooke hasn’t been feeling the best. Not that Brooke wants Vanessa to worry too much about her.

As little as she wants to admit it, Brooke’s been enjoying the doting. It had irritated her slightly at first, Vanessa being overly worried and willing to push anything aside for her needs. It had reminded Brooke of when she had been recovering from being shot years and years ago - her natural tendency of wanting to fold in on herself and silently carry on not being possible with Vanessa at her side. But she’s learned, over time. To accept help from those who want to give it. Especially her wife.

“I’m gonna give you a full back massage tonight, regardless.” Vanessa places a kiss to Brooke’s shoulder before coming around to face her.

Brooke grins. “A massage, huh?”

“Get your dirty ass mind out of the gutter. Though that can be arranged, too.” Vanessa winks at her. “Do you need help with your pants?”

Brooke huffs. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated-”

“-Your belly is also starting to block your view of your feet, baby.” Vanessa ignores Brooke’s protests and grabs her pants, holding them out for Brooke to step into.

Brooke scoffs when Vanessa buttons her pants for her (’There, was that so hard?’), but has to admit to herself that Vanessa’s help speeds up her changing process by quite a bit.

Vanessa tugs on her own blazer as Silky barges into their bedroom. “You got approximately twenty minutes before we gotta go down to the first floor and debrief.”

“Ever heard of knocking, Silk?” Vanessa grumbles underneath her breath when Silky is followed by two baby faced interns, jotting down notes as they look around the room. “These ain’t open quarters.”

Brooke forgets, sometimes, that they’re living in the White House. That the high ceilings and ominous portraits that line the walls hold a long, detailed history. That the low hum of noise that’s always present is because their residence holds not only their living quarters, but also government offices and tours for the public.

“But I’m your best friend and also part of your staff, and the one who has to tell you that your ass is going to be late to meet the Chancellor of Germany, and that ain’t a good look for anyone.” Silky turns towards the interns, whispering something to them before they run off.

Vanessa waves a hand airily. “Angela won’t even be mad. Hell, she gave me a hug the last time that we met. We’re cool.”

Silky shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got the nerve to call her ‘Angela’.”

Vanessa shrugs. “That’s her name, ain’t it?”

Brooke has to hold back a smile. She never gets tired of watching Vanessa. It’s refreshing, really, the way her natural charisma tends to lend itself to politics. The way she’s been able to actually accomplish things during her time in office because she can use her likeability to her advantage. It’s an art, one that Vanessa’s truly perfected.

Silky leans back against the bedframe, turning towards Brooke. “Wilson’s looking for you. Something about perimeter mumbo jumbo. Hell if I know.”

Brooke snorts. “So helpful. Thanks though, I’ll contact him.” She pulls out her work phone to call the other agent, talking through the security measures for the Chancellor’s visit.

It bothers Brooke more than she wants to admit, the fact that she can’t physically do the work anymore. Being the one on the front lines, protecting Vanessa. Brooke feels like she should be the one doing it, because how can she trust other people not to make stupid mistakes and put Vanessa in danger?

But she’s been trying. To let go, to relax. To delegate.

To prioritize the fact that she’s growing a small human. Their small human.

She still can’t believe it sometimes, that it’s actually happening.

The one line on the pregnancy test is staring back at her, taunting her, because-

It didn’t work.

Maybe she should take another one. Maybe this first one is lying. Maybe it did work this time. This is their third round of IVF, after all, shouldn’t it have worked by now?  

What are they doing wrong?

What is Brooke doing wrong?

“Open up, B. What does it say?”

Vanessa’s fist banging on the door makes Brooke squeeze her eyes shut tight, because no, no, no, Vanessa’s going to be heartbroken because it’s happened again-

“Brooke.” Vanessa’s voice, again. Softer this time. “Can I come in?”

Brooke sniffles (she’s not crying, she’s not crying, when did she start crying?), reaching over from her cross legged position on the ground to unlock the door.

It didn’t work.

Again.

She’s not pregnant.

Again.

“Oh, baby.” Vanessa’s looking at Brooke and scooting onto the floor beside her and her arms are wrapping around her shoulders, squeezing her so tight and for a second the deep pressure is grounding, making everything okay, before their ugly reality rears its head again because the test is still in her hand. Staring up at her. Mocking her. Leering at her.

Brooke’s a failure.

Again.

“I’m sorry, Ness.” The words feel like lead in her mouth, because saying them makes it true - that this cycle of IVF failed. Like the last one, and the one before that. Because the injections, the supplements, the doctor’s visits were all in vain. They made no difference, in the end.

It didn’t work.

“Shhh.” Vanessa’s hand is gentle on her cheek, wiping the tear that’s threatening to fall. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Let’s make that clear.”

“But-”

“We’re doing everything right, baby, okay? It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault. It’s not either of our faults.” Vanessa’s other hand is running through her hair and a small part of Brooke wonders if she even deserves the comfort.

“But it should have happened by now, what if I’m doing something wrong, what if-”

“Brooke-”

“I can’t, I-”

“Shh.” Vanessa’s arms are around Brooke again, squeezing her tight and somehow it cuts through the fog of her thoughts, the beating of her heart that’s getting faster and faster along with the spiralling in her mind. Vanessa’s bringing Brooke back down, keeping the various pieces of her all together that are so prone to shattering from her thoughts and memories.

“We’ll try again. If you want. Or we don’t have to. But we don’t have to talk about it right now.” Vanessa’s whispers are warm in her ear, soft and reassuring and Brooke almost hates it. That Vanessa has to do this. Be the one to keep them from breaking.

Because that’s Brooke’s job.

“…And then the Secretary of Commerce’s office wants to set up a meeting about the tariffs on the lumber exports, we’ll need to do that before the bill goes in front of the legislature.” Blair’s voice squeaks as she speaks, her eyes flitting between Vanessa and the rest of her team.

“Thank you, St. Clair. Call them and set it up for late next week, maybe Friday in the a.m?” A’keria’s voice is all business as she rifles through her agenda. Vanessa’s glad that she’s got A’keria on as her Chief of Staff. Being in charge of overseeing the office’s day to day flow, she’s adept at keeping everyone in line, from the interns like Blair to Vanessa herself.

Vanessa has to admit, she’s more of a headache to A’keria than any of the interns.

A’keria dismisses the rest of the team, letting them leave the Oval Office before closing the door. “Question, while I work on your schedule. You still serious about this whole parental leave thing?”

Vanessa looks at A’keria as if she’s grown two heads. “Obviously. We’re about to have a baby. Do I look like I can focus on running a country?”

“You’re the President, Vanj. That’s your damn job description.”

“Hey, if the New Zealand Prime Minister took maternity leave when she had her kid way back when, so can I.” Vanessa shrugs, leaning back in her desk chair. “Break the glass ceiling here and all that.”

A’keria rubs at her temples. “Okay, so we’ll get the VP to step in as deputy, fine. You’ll still have to consult here and there during the leave, though, or this whole place will fall to shit.”

Vanessa waves a hand. “Everyone will survive. I’m gonna have more important things to focus on.

The thought makes her stomach do flips every single time.

A baby.

Her and Brooke are going to have a baby.

It’s now been eight months since they found out, since their world had flipped on its axis because it finally became real and now it’s happening, really happening.

Vanessa looks up at the clock. 7:35 p.m. She knows about Brooke’s tendencies to overwork herself, which normally she doesn’t want to interfere with. But the pregnancy has turned Vanessa into a mother hen, one that wants to hover around Brooke and make sure she’s safe and okay, even though she knows it’s probably annoying.

She dials Brooke’s number, waiting for it to ring.

“Hey, V.” Brooke’s voice is soft and Vanessa can almost hear the grin in it.

“Hey yourself.” Vanessa’s brow furrows at the rustling noises in the background of the call. “You still working?”

“Finishing up a meeting.”

Vanessa sighs. “Brooke-”

“I know, I know. We’re done, now.”

“Good.” Vanessa’s can hear how soft her own voice is, in relief more than anything else. “Wanna grab dinner together?”

“Just us?” Brooke’s question makes sense - they’re both used to working through meals a lot of the time, having lunchtime meetings or dinnertime conference calls with those in other timezones or others that they haven’t been able to reach during the day.

“Just us. I don’t have anything until nine, a conference call with the U.S Embassy in Japan.” Vanessa smiles. “Well, the three of us.”

“Yeah. The three of us.” Brooke’s voice is full of marvel. The fact that they’re going to have a baby is becoming more and more real as the months pass. As Brooke begins to show more and more, as every prenatal appointment passes and while confirming that their baby is healthy. But the fact that they’ll get to meet their child in a month and a half, the fact that they’ll go from being a duo to a trio-

It feels unbelievable.

Vanessa’s been through so much with Brooke. Experienced so many highs, so many lows. Experienced so much of what life has to offer, and experienced brushes with death, too.

Soon, they’re going to have a chance to add to their team.

Vanessa heads from the Oval Office over to their private wing of the White House, getting stopped along the way approximately four times to sign various papers and answer questions from harried members of staff. The answers roll off of her tongue like second nature, like she was born to do this.

At the beginning of her first term, Vanessa had felt way, way, over her head, as if she had jumped from a small pond to deep into the Atlantic ocean with no life jacket to keep her afloat. It had been a learning curve despite her many years in politics - learning how to stay on top of things, how to manage not only a bigger staff, but an entire country. The voices of her opponents on the campaign trail had begun to sink into her inner monologue, droning on about how she was too young, too inexperienced, too incapable of the job. They’d made her feel like she was faking it, like she wouldn’t be able to get through.

But Vanessa’s learned, over the years. And now, into her second term, she’s gotten more comfortable with using her natural confidence and abilities, because she knows what she’s doing.

There’s no way she could have gotten this job if she didn’t.

Brooke’s already taking out plates for the two of them when Vanessa reaches the dining room, and Vanessa has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss her, leaning over her belly.

“Baby was extra antsy during the meeting today.” Brooke grabs Vanessa’s hand and places it on her stomach, where a small bulge is protruding.

“His little feetsies!” Vanessa practically squeals when she feels it sticking out.

“Or her.” Brooke grins. “We don’t know that yet.”

“And we’re not finding out until they’re born, so may as well use any and all pronouns.” Vanessa presses a kiss to Brooke’s stomach. “Hi, baby. Been good for your mama all day?”

“Pressing on my bladder like mad.” Brooke huffs. “I had to pee practically every five minutes.”

Vanessa tries to hold back a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I’m glad that it’s you who’s carrying first.”

“Oh, just you wait.” Brooke tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to have a great time basking it when you have to go through all the pregnancy stuff.”

They grab their food from the trolley that’s been brought up from the White House kitchen. The fact that they don’t have to cook if they don’t want to would be a lot more enjoyable to Vanessa were the two of them not so incredibly busy with work. Though it’s moments like these that Vanessa appreciates not having to grocery shop or wash dishes or work away in the kitchen. She just gets to spend her downtime with Brooke.

“Wanna eat in the den?” Vanessa nudges Brooke’s side. “More comfy.”

“Yeah. My back has been killing me all day, I want to veg out a bit.” Brooke holds up a hand before Vanessa can even open her mouth in concern and say a word. “And yes, you can give me a back massage, and no, I won’t take an easy day tomorrow.”

“Brooke.” Vanessa huffs as they walk over to the den. “You shouldn’t push yourself if you’re-”

“I’m not, V.” Brooke falls down onto the couch with a sigh as she tries to get comfy, shuffling the cushions by her back. “I just want to be active for as long as possible, that’s all.”

Vanessa sticks another cushion behind Brooke for good measure. “Just take care of yourself, okay? You know yourself better than I do, but you also once accidentally cut your finger on a jar and said it was just like a papercut, and then it wouldn’t wouldn’t stop bleeding and then you needed stitches. Stitches!”

Brooke snorts at the memory. “Good times. That was funny. Still got the scar from that. The stitches didn’t even hurt.”

Vanessa’s about to huff, go off again because Brooke is too blasé about her own health sometimes and it worries her, it really does, when Brooke grabs her hand and kisses it. It’s a flimsy tactic, but never fails at making Vanessa absolutely melt.

“I know my limits, Nessa, ‘kay? I’ll be careful, you know that.”

Vanessa sighs. “I do.” It’s just that it makes her nervous, she wants Brooke to be okay, and wants the baby to be okay, and doesn’t want anything to go wrong.

She’s gotten too close to losing Brooke in the past. The sleepless nights Vanessa’s spent in a chair beside a hospital bed, fears that Brooke would never wake up.

Vanessa never wants to experience that ever again.

“Here, watch this.” Brooke puts her now empty plate on the table beside the couch, moving a hand to rub her belly. “I’ve learned exactly how to make him all mad. Discovered it today, during the meeting.”

“Mad?” Vanessa scoots closer, resting a hand on Brooke’s stomach. “And what happened to ‘we don’t know yet?’”

“I know, I know.” Brooke shrugs. “It’s fun to guess, though. Now, watch this. He reacts when I rub the side of my stomach, right here.”

Brooke presses her hand to her side, and Vanessa watches with wonder as her belly moves, their baby active and shifting around. She can’t help but reach out and put her hand beside Brooke’s, letting out a little whoop when she feels their baby kick.

“She’s so active! Or he. Or they. I love them so much already.” Vanessa can’t help the way that she’s already tearing up.

“And here I thought that I was the pregnant, hormonal one.” Brooke’s sniffling too, and Vanessa burrows herself into her side, her heart full and all of the possibilities of the world laid out in front of them.

She’d never thought in her wildest dreams that she would ever get so lucky.

Brooke’s therapist had told her not to bottle things up, stick them in the pretty boxes in her heart, never to be opened again because everything would eventually crumble. The pile of boxes. From all the bad thoughts and thorn laced memories that she didn’t want to think about.

“It’s okay to lean on your wife sometimes,” he had said, “Just like she leans on you.”

They’re in a fancy suite in Boston, because Vanessa is meeting with the state’s senator tomorrow and then has a media blitz day. But Brooke can’t sleep, even though they’re going to have to wake up at 6 a.m. so that Vanessa can look ‘media ready,’ as A’keria puts it.

Brooke tries to distract herself with the plan for tomorrow - how many cars they’re going to take, the way she’s going to distribute the agents for the myriad of events and locations. It normally calms her, soothes her; being a creature of preparedness and having the need for everything being under control. But tonight her stomach is cramping, the pain hollow in her abdomen a reminder of what they’re going through.

The cramping is normal, the doctor had told her. After implantation of the embryos.

But will a pregnancy take?

Will it work?

Or will it be like the last three cycles?

Brooke can’t help but think that maybe it has something to do with her.

She has half a mind to poke Vanessa, wake her from her slumber. Spill all the worries that are building up in her head and threatening to escape at any moment, unless they drive her insane first.

But Vanessa’s fast asleep, her mouth slightly parted as her waves frame her face and for a second she doesn’t even look like the President of the United States. She’s the woman that Brooke fell in love with in a cabin in the woods and nearly died for.

It baffles Brooke every day, the fact that Vanessa loves her. Is married to her. Despite everything, all that’s happened.

Everything that Brooke’s done in her life.

It’s not her, not anymore. But it used to be.

Brooke had murdered people in cold blood, murdered people for money. She had her own fucked up moral code that she used to guide herself in the direction of what was least societally reprehensible, but still.

Doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s extinguished lives. Ended bloodlines, shattered families. No matter if they belonged to douchebags or criminals or whomever. Brooke had still done it. Willingly.

Who is she now to even want to bring a life into this world?

The universe is probably laughing in her face right now, at her absolute audacity to even try again. They’re probably going to find out the same thing a fourth time.

Not pregnant.

It’s not like Brooke deserves to be, anyway, not after what she’s done.

In the past, Brooke had never been one to believe in karma. But the way that her and Vanessa keep trying and trying, the way that they keep seeing friends and coworkers and even people on fucking television announce that they’re pregnant feels like a huge cosmic joke. Like the universe wants to rub it in her face.

Fucked up real bad in the past? Well, she’s going to pay for it now, while bringing Vanessa down with her. Sweet, amazing Vanessa, who deserves better than this. Better than Brooke and all her karmic baggage.

Brooke doesn’t want to wake her. Maybe she’ll talk to her in the morning instead.

Brooke really, really needs watermelon.

Really needs it.

Desperately needs it.

She’d had insane cravings during her second trimester, constantly on the hunt in the White House kitchens for a certain type of ice cream, or her favourite dill pickles. The cravings had died down during the recent weeks, but now they’re back with a vengeance. At nearly nine months pregnant.

Brooke has to get work done for the diplomat visits to the White House over the next few weeks, review the security plans submitted by her agents that are waiting in her email before she officially has to go on leave, but all she can think about is watermelon.

A nice slice of watermelon. The kind that’s super sweet, super juicy, the kind that’s the best in the summer months when it’s hot outside.

She needs some watermelon.

BLH: I need your help.

VVM: What??? Ok coming to your office in 5.

BLH: No wait, just-

Vanessa’s flinging open the door before Brooke can even send her text. It’s convenient, really, that Brooke’s office is so close to the Oval Office. But Vanessa’s looking around the room wildly, looking at her for any signs of distress or pain, and Brooke suddenly feels guilty.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt? In pain? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Vanessa’s hand is brushing the hair away from her face, her eyes looking her up and down.

“No.” Brooke mumbles because now she’s almost embarrassed. Almost. “I just…”

“You just what?” Vanessa’s crouching beside her desk chair, eyebrows raised. “Spit it out, baby.”

“I want watermelon. I really really want some.” Brooke squeaks out the words, because one of her agents is standing in the doorway, and she’s truly never going to hear the end of the teasing if they catch any of their conversation.

“Watermelon?!” Vanessa’s voice echoes around the room and really, so much for keeping it on the down low. Brooke nearly facepalms. “I ran here in these high ass heels for watermelon?”

“Well, technically I didn’t make you run-”

“Watermelon. Watermelon?”

“In my defense, I really, really need some?” Brooke gives the most angelic smile that she can down to her wife, who’s crouched down on the floor and having a crisis.

“Watermelon.”

“Please?” Brooke pouts and she can see Vanessa’s resolve break, her features immediately melting as she stands back up to press a kiss to her lips.

“Okay, baby. I’ll head down to the kitchen and get you some watermelon.”

Brooke beams, because she really does love her wife. “Thank you.”

Sure, Brooke finds it hard to accept help sometimes. But her pregnancy brain is quite adept at overruling her rational side, something her therapist would be quite impressed with.

Brooke’s happy with the watermelon when Vanessa brings her some, using her stomach like a shelf and resting her bowl on top of it as she types. Her abdomen has been bothering her all day, cramping off and on, though she’s not too worried after their last prenatal visit. Her doctor had said that such cramps were normal towards the end of pregnancy.

Brooke knows to expect it. She’s not going to be a wuss that shows up at the hospital way too early, thinking that she’s having contractions.

Nah, Brooke’s fine. She’s going to keep working. She needs to finish sending these emails, anyway.

Brooke pushes against the armrests of her desk chair to stand up once she hits send on the last email, letting out a grunt as she does. The bathroom’s been calling her name all throughout the work, the baby once again pushing on her bladder with no signs of letting up. She’s ready to waddle over, go to the bathroom for the fourth time today when she feels a slight whoosh.

Her pants are wet.

Brooke lets out a groan, because has she really peed her pants? Does being nearly nine months pregnant make women incontinent?

How embarrassing.

Brooke looks down to assess the state of her clothes, and she’s definitely got a wet spot on her pants, along with one on her chair.

She’s about to grumble and attempt to deal with the mess, except she realizes that she still feels like she needs to pee. So maybe, she hasn’t just peed her pants?

But then…

It doesn’t make sense to Brooke. Her water can’t be broken. She’s still two weeks ahead of her actual due date.

But she’s definitely feeling some sort of leakage, and she still has to pee, and her abdomen is really, really starting to hurt.

“Brooke, baby, I can’t bring you more watermelon, the Chief of Security is in my office right now-”

“Ness, I think my water broke.” Brooke whispers into the phone at her desk, because there are still agents on the other side of her door, and she doesn’t want to cause a stir, really, because maybe it’s not that big of a deal if it’s happened so early-

“WHAT?” Vanessa’s voice blares through the phone and Brooke has to pull the receiver away from her ear, because Vanessa is loud.

“I think so, at least-”

“Forget this meeting, fuck it - whoops, sorry sir - my wife is in labour, I need to go, we can reschedule this, right? A’keria! Reschedule it! Brooke’s in labour!”

Brooke can practically hear Vanessa yelling as she gets closer and closer to her own office, heaving the door open and it’s a good thing Vanessa’s here now, because fuck.

The pains are definitely contractions now.

“Do we need to go? Should I tell one of the interns to call a car? Who should drive? Should I drive?” Vanessa’s pacing in front of her desk and Brooke wants to laugh, really, except she’s having to breathe a little bit harder through the pain.

Not that the pain is that bad. She’s okay, really.

“You’re not going to drive, babe. We’re-” Brooke takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as she can feel another contraction start. “We’ll get someone to drive us.”

“Should I ask Kiki? No wait, I can’t ask Kiki, she said once that she’d failed her driving test in the past. What if she crashes now with us in the car? What if-”

“Ness. We have drivers. We have people employed here who are quite literally drivers.” Breathe, she’s going to breathe. The contraction’s ending.

Vanessa pauses. “Oh. Right. Wait, your baby bag, we haven’t packed one!” She spins on her heel, starting to pace again. “What do we do?”

“Get one of the interns to do it.” Brooke grimaces because damn, her abdomen hurts, and it’s still so early, and are they really about to have a baby?

Vanessa barks an order into her phone and comes around Brooke’s desk, pulling her close. Brooke leans her head against Vanessa’s stomach, who’s still standing and running her fingers through Brooke’s hair.

“Okay. Okay. We can do this. Stay calm.” Vanessa’s muttering under her breath and Brooke looks up at her with an amused smile.

“I am calm.” Brooke is. She’s trying to be, at least, because panicking isn’t going to help and she doesn’t want to start to spiral too early. Maybe she’s not even in labour yet and this is a false alarm.

“I was talking to myself.” Vanessa’s voice is sheepish and Brooke lets out a snort, because of course she was.

Brooke feels another wave of pain hit, stronger this time and lets out a whimper because it hurts, more so than before. Vanessa’s suddenly on the floor beside her, and Brooke can hear her talking (‘It’s okay, baby, you’re okay, you’re okay’) and tries her best to focus on her. Though the way she’s gripping the armrests of her chair is certainly going to make them break.

It feels like an eternity before the contraction passes, even though Brooke’s clock tells her that it’s only been forty five seconds.

“Hey. Hey. Kiki brought the driver. You ready?” Vanessa’s looking up at Brooke expectantly, as if she’s asked the easiest question in the world.

Ready? Are they ready for a baby? Will they be able to be parents? Will they be good parents?

Is Brooke ready to push out an entire baby?

“I am, with you.” It’s true. They can do this. Brooke’s been through so much with Vanessa, survived deadly past careers, wayward gunshots, federal campaigns. Protected her physically from the world while Vanessa kept her together on the inside.

Who’s to say they can’t do this too?

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

[zallano]

The HereAfter, Chapter 7

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, read on AO3!

The entire chapter under the cut

---

The ticking was unbearable.

Grian heard it the second he landed at the shopping district. He could hardly hear himself think. The ticking overwhelmed his mind and seemed to cut off all his senses apart from hearing. He was desperate to find out where it was coming from- though, the ticking seemed to be inside his head at all times. He stumbled slightly, struggling to keep balance as he made his way toward spawn. The ticking never stopped.

Grian immediately saw what Xisuma was talking about when he arrived at spawn. Xisuma stood in front of a massive crater in the sand. It appeared to be a large Creeper hole- possibly a charged Creeper did it. Grian couldn’t see what was inside the hole from where he stood.

Xisuma noticed Grian and gestured for him to walk over. Grian obliged and walked over. “Oh, you’re here. I thought you may have gotten lost,” Xisuma commented. Grian raised a confused eyebrow. He thought he was quite quick at arriving here. It only took him minutes. One quick glance at the sky, however, told him otherwise. It was no longer dawn, but in fact, midday, getting closer to the evening. “Right-“ he began. Where had his time gone? “Sorry about that.” He looked down into the crater.

“What is that?” He asked. In the center of the hole, there was a small item. It was an odd blue and yellow clock. It looked exactly like the clock around Grian’s neck, though the colors were switched around, it had no strings attached to it and was a bit larger than the necklace Grian had. “I’m not sure. I’m assuming it’s like the others that we found,” Xisuma told him.

Grian tilted his head slightly as if looking at it from another angle would help. “It looks so different. You sure this wasn’t always here?” Grian asked though he knew the answer. He had spawned here many times before and not once did he see a massive hole in the ground.

“Positive. It wasn’t here when Mumbo arrived… Only that other one near the border.” Xisuma shook his head. It started when the two had found a crater like this one, though much smaller, a few weeks prior when they took down the border to move on into the next world. Since then, many more small craters started popping up all around Hermitville and around where the old border used to be. They would always stay in the new area though. A few days ago Xisuma went to find the new border, trying to see how big the world was now, and found another crater at the first wall he found.

“That’s strange…” Grain shook his head, not understanding what caused this phenomenon.

“This hole is new as well- and I’m sure if the hermits ran into a Creeper they would patch the hole up quickly.” Xisuma went on.

“This must be what’s making that loud sound,” Grian stared down at the hole. Xisuma looked at him strangely. “What sound? The clock?” He looked back and Grian nodded. “It doesn’t seem to be making any noise- or working at all really. The sun won’t move from the spot it’s in now.” Xisuma told him. Grian frowned, now he was thoroughly confused. Xisuma had to hear the loud ticking- he had to. The ticking still didn’t stop. Though Grian was a lot more used it now- possibly Xisuma was tuning it out.

X hopped down into the hole to get a better look at the clock. Grain tried to grab his shoulder to stop him but was too late. X stared at the clock, focusing at the sun. “Nope, not cycling through the day at all. Yours moves- the other clocks moved as well.” He said and reached out to touch it.

“Don’t!” Grian shouted.

Xisuma pulled his hand away immediately and looked up at the other. “Don’t touch it- we don’t know what it does,” he glanced down at his own clock. “These clocks we’re finding are different. They aren’t- they aren’t like the ones that can be crafted.” His fingers subconsciously gripped onto the string around his neck. He wanted to rip his clock off. Though, he knew that it was impossible. No matter what he did, the clock wouldn’t leave him- and for that reason, he didn’t want Xisuma to end up in a situation similar to his.

Xisuma nodded and backed up. Grian jumped down into the hole next to him. The moment he got close to the clock his own clock began to freak out- much like how it did when he and Mumbo got close the first time. Though, Xisuma didn’t seem to notice that his close was feeding the noise.

“We found most clocks in the new area though- and all of them looked like mine. This one is right at spawn and looks different.” Grian pointed out, he tried desperately to ignore the sounds of the clocks like Xisuma did. “It’s rather odd, isn’t it?”

Grain nodded. “I’ll grab it. I already have a clock of my own so I should be fine.” He told Xisuma. X hesitated before nodding. “Alright. Though- we shouldn’t tell the other hermits about this clock- or the other clocks for that matter. I don’t want anyone worried.” Xisuma looked down at the clock on the floor. Grian replied with a quiet “Okay,” and reached for the clock.

The second his fingers touched the strange clock, the already intense sound somehow got louder. No longer was it an inconvenience that caused Grian to get a headache. It now made everything a major hassle- just holding the clock in his hands felt like he was carrying the weight of the entire world. He felt the energy of the clock and the sound wavelengths course through him. He felt his entire body vibrating and his eardrums pounding with each tick of the clock. The sound was louder than anything Grian had ever heard before.

Xisuma said something though Grian couldn’t hear him. He had to have been hearing this- he should have been affected by this. The sound could have probably been heard thousands of blocks away.

His body hurt now. His arms were tired, though he couldn’t let go of the clock in his hands. His clock seemed like it was a pole and the other clock was the opposite pole and his arms and body was what was keeping the two from snapping together with insane power.

White text appeared on his right. His vision shook with his body, although he was still able to make out words that appeared.

Iskall85: Guys, Mumbo is acting weird

Xisumavoid: So is Grian. I’m not sure what’s going on here. He won’t respond to me

The next message was extremely odd. It wasn’t like one he had ever seen before. The text was yellow, not white like he was used to, and it wasn’t sent by anyone. It just appeared there.

TangoTek has left the world.

[laserdog10]

Basically Cinder in my headcanon: part 50

Citrus: Thanks so much for letting me spend the night, Mrs. Fall!

Cinder: If by "spend the night" you mean sneak you out of your house, with the help of your mother, so your idiot of a dad won't bury my son six feet under, just so you two could be together with no worry, then you owe me.

Ash: She means thank you, as much as it would kill her to say it outright.

*In context, the youngest child of the Arc-Rose family has a crush on Kain, the eldest child of Cinder and Vlad. This would be a great thing, if her father Jaune Arc, didn't exactly...approve of the relationship. Neither did Ruby, but she was at least making an effort to believe Cinder has changed for the better, viewing the pyromancer's family as proof of such. So when Ruby heard her littlest daughter ask (moreso beg) to get to know the family better from the inside, Ruby and Vlad, Cinder's vampire bat Faunus husband, devised a plan to sneak Citrus out of the house without Jaune's knowledge, and have her stay at the Fall-Caliban's for one night*

Vlad: Please be nice, Cindy, it wasn't easy sneaking her out of there.

Citrus: Thank you Mr-wait, "Cindy?"

Ash: Dad's pet name for mom. *Citrus snickers at the information, earning a look of annoyance from Cinder* Your folks have any nicknames for each other?

Citrus: My mom calls dad "Vomit Boy," while he calls her Crater Face.

Vlad: Awwww!

Cinder: Ew.....

Kain: *coming downstairs in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants* Alright, enough of the lovey-dovey talk, is dinner done dad?

Vlad: *gasp* The meatloaf!!! *speeds off to the kitchen*

Citrus: Wow, and I thought mom and Aunt Blake had fast Semblances...

Ash: No Semblance, just magic and weird physical prowess.

Citrus: Well alright then! *they two girls walk to the kitchen, but Citrus stops as she gets to Kain, just for a brief hug* It's good to be near you.

Kain: You too, Half-pint. *pecks her on the cheek, making her gasp in surprise*

*Dinner went wonderfully. Everyone made small chit-chat, jokes, or told stories of times past. Citrus went into detail about how she could communicate with animals, how it was a surprise for her, and how it was probably the greatest of her life, being able to speak to the family corgi, Zwei, and the five wolves Ruby adopted, Null, Drei, Vier, Funf, and Sechs. The table was a little speechless about the wolf part but laughed it off as it was just Ruby being Ruby. Kain and Ash told how they discovered their Semblances too, what they're weapons were, and that Ash was an unplanned baby, but a happy unplanned baby for her family. All in all, Citrus could tell that the family before wasn't as bad as her dad said it would be. As dinner ended, Kain had an idea before they all turned in for the night*

Kain: Hey Citrus, mind if I show you something?

Citrus, Uhhh, yeah, what is it?

Kain: Well, hang on. *gets up and pushes his chair in* I'll be right back, we're gonna have to go outside for this, lemme get some socks first. *he said as he jogged upstairs*

Ash: Oh geez, he can't be serious?

Cinder: This late at night?

Vlad: ...

Citrus: What, what's going on?

*The three family members looked amongst each other, very unsure of what to say*

Vlad: Citrus, sweetie, uh...a long time ago, when Kain was maybe eleven and Ash was 6, they...made a little friend, out in the woods.

Cinder: *irritated* It's an abomination is what it is.

Ash: Hey, Scarr only scratched me once, and it barely hurt or left a mark!

Citrus: *"Scarr??? Who-er, what is he and why did hurt Ash?!" Before her inner worries could go further, Kain returned in black socks and proceeded to the back door to put on his tennis shoes with a red flame decal*

Kain: Ready! Wanna come along? It's about time we fed Scarr something, poor guy must be starving by now. Mind grabbing the steak from the fridge, I'll be waiting outside!

Citrus: ...

-Later in the woods-

*The short huntress walked alongside her half-Faunus boyfriend, holding a cold steak in a tupperware container, the moonlight cascading in a wave of silver beams through the trees*

Citrus: Kain, if you don't mind me asking, and sorry if this comes off as rude, but who the heck is Scarr?!?!?!

Kain: You'll see. *he said calmly, hiding his childly excitement*

*They made it to a small clearing, moonlight illuminating the area, to the opposite of them was a gnarly looking hut, comprised of dead twigs, branches, dried leaves, and old stones holding the thing together. What stuck out to the young redhead, was the series of gashes and claw marks around the entrance and trees near the edge of the clearing, hundreds of red flags going off in Citrus' head*

Citrus: *gulps, "Okay okay, big scary ominous hut in the middle of clearing in the dense forest, but it could be fine?! Maybe it's just a homeless person living off the land and Kain and his family are taking care of him, yeah!"*

Kain: C'mere Scarr, here boy! *claps hands* Got some food for tonight, you want some buddy, c'mown out and get it!

... ... ...

Citrus: Kain, who. Is. Sc-

*Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*

*Citrus froze, a deer in headlights, her entire body running cold as the blood-curdling growl broke the silence in the forest. She slowly and fearfully turned to face the hut...the world around her shattered, she stared face to face with the eyes, well, eye of a Grimm Creep, its right eye marred over by a hideous scar, two prominent canines on its lower jaw. It's nightmarish appearance didn't stop there, as it put forward one of its brutish claws the other following soon after, Citrus' heart ready to explode out of her chest as the..."Creep" was now in the light of the moon. It's back was practically a hunch, in its right shoulder was a dagger and broken arrow, the front-left of the creature's back was massive gash, presumably left by a massive blade form a previous Hunter encounter. It's legs were more put to the back, thought still on the sides and appearing like hands, in front of the larger hands were two smaller and forked claws, the outer claw longer than the inner one. Could she even call this...thing a Creep at all? She snapped out of her thoughts when the beast looked at her, maw drooling and lips forming into a snarl. With a lunge, it bounded towards her, Citrus responding by shielding herself with the tupperware, however...*

Kain: *leaps in front of the Creep, holding his hand out to stop it* Easy there, Scarr, she's not gonna hurt you...

Scarr: *growls but backs down*

Kain: There ya' go.

Citrus: ...h-huh...?

*As she opened her eyes, she saw Kain slowly and gingerly lowering himself to his knees, Scarr doing the same onto his belly, occasionally letting a short growl as he breathed*

Citrus: K-Kain...???

Kain: This, is Scarr. He's an...Alpha Creep? At least that's what my mom thinks. Ash and I met him when we were kids, er-I say "met" when we actually stumbled into his pack's territory, and mom and dad killed all but him, poor guy was so out of it and barely had any fight left in him. You can only do so much with a wounded eye and back, y'know? Go ahead an pet him, his face is really smooth!

Citrus: Okay...*she carefully walked towards Scarr, holding the steak in front of her in case her leapt at her again, but found he was staying on the ground,, calm as can be. Raising her free hand to pet his boney plated face, she found it similar to bone, but had a granite like smoothness to it* Wow, there's barely any friction...!

Kain: Weird ain't it?! Oh you can give him the steak now, almost forgot about that. We don't you want starvwing now would we, no we don't! *he said in a playful cooing voice, scratching the bottom of his beastly friends' chin.*

Citrus: Ah, right! *she pops the lid off, pulling out the frozen steak. Doing so, Scarr almost immediately broke out his comfortable trance, snapping at the delicious, meaty morsel and scarfing it down whole*

Kain: Damn, someone's been hungry!

Citrus: *giggles* And I thought Garnet was a fast eater.

Kain: *laughs heartily, but his smile fades a little* Hey, Citrus, I'm sorry if this scared you tonight. I was just really excited to show you this tonight. If I would've shown my friends at school Scarr, they would've almost immediately called some Hunter to come kill him. He may be on his last legs, but I at least want Scarr to pass knowing what kindness feels like, what with the "Grimm feed on negativity" mumbo jumbo.

Citrus: *goes quiet for a moment, but smiles* No, it's alright Kain. I had a wonderful night. I got to sneak out of my house, I got to meet your amazing family, and I got to pet a Grimm, name one person on Remnant that could do that! Well, besides you, heh.

Kain: Really? That's awesome. *pulls arm around her, causing her to blush* The best part tonight though? I get to look at you under the stars~.

Citrus: *red as a tomato* C-cool. *She stammered out. As they began to sit there, Citrus looked back to Scarr, still laying down, breathing more laxly. She then focused her sight on him, eyes glowing their lime green color as she used her Semblance to talk to Scarr...maybe. Right out the gate, she was bombarded with a million thoughts, all in a gravely voice, saying word after word, no sentence structure or pause to break*

"Master. Happy. Comfortable. Fed. Peaceful. Quiet. New person. Kind. No danger. Caring. Harmless. Loving."

*Citrus stopped, taken aback by the sudden rush of words, but smiled when she thought on it more. Scarr actually liked her and Kain's presence, and found no threat to them being there. Sure he could easily slaughter them right now, as could they, but...he didn't want to, he found no need to. That alone was enough for her to feel safe.*

[autumnalsaffron]

This is a rambley post about how I found Grian/Hermitcraft and my first impressions. This is mostly because I want to just sit and type this out - I know that this is too long for anyone to actually bother reading :^)

So I only found Hermitcraft like a month ago. I had been watching Jack and Felix play Minecraft on their single player worlds and so Minecraft was in my reccomended.

I was reccomend Grian's video called 'I made a Mumbo Proof House in Minecraft' and I didn't know who he or Mumbo was, I ignored it. It kept popping up in my reccomended but I thought it seemed clickbaity and assumed he was one of those Minecraft channels that press F5 too much and are just too over the top for my taste. Anyway, I succumbed to the YouTube algorithm and watched it. It was confusing but I enjoyed it.

I remember I wasn't weirded out by the moustache-less Mumbo paintings in the house because I didn't know what he was supposed to look like! There were so so so many inside jokes in the video and it was very confusing but I just kind of went with it and enjoyed the wacky house. Anyway long story short, I watched Mumbo's reaction to his house next and again it had many inside jokes I couldn't follow but they seemed nice. I remembered Grian at one point when talking about his lack of a storage system saying "...if you know me from Hermitcraft... " and that's what prompted me to check it out to see if I could get some context for all the inside jokes I couldn't understand.

I remember I watched one of the more recent episodes that had come out and Mumbo was being killed by his own Zombie to promote Sahara Now (not that I knew what what was lol). When Grian went to rename the Zombie he said "It feels like the beginning of the season!" and I after watching him hide from Mumbo and almost being caught, I decided to check out the beginning of the "season" (not that I knew what that meant or that there had been 5 other seasons.) I remember being really surprised that there were 90+ videos in the Hermitcraft playlist but I decided to give it a go anyway.

The first episode was really really fun to watch. I was very impressed that his starter base was so creative and well executed that I immediately watched the next episode. Equally great. I'm sure I watched like 2 hours of Hermitcraft that day because every episode was just a joy to watch.

I think Hermitcraft Recap got reccomended to me pretty soon after that and I loved it too. The Recap is a fantastic way to keep up with everything happening on the island without watching 20+ different people's episodes (especially when you're a year and a half late to a series like I was lol).

As I watched more and more of Grian's episodes I would go back to that original Mumbo Proof House video that sparked my interest in Hermitcraft and I would understand more and more of the references and inside jokes that had previously gone over my head.

Around this time I had checked out a few other Hermit's channels, and had seen that their subscriber counts were in the hundreds of thousands. Because of this, when I looked at how many subs Grian had, I read the 4.22M as 422k. I thought Grian had 400k lmao. I was a bit surprised when I realised that I had misread that number by a few million.

At this point I was spending any moment I had available to watch Grian's Hermitcraft episodes, and I was determined to get up to date as fast as I could. I worked it out and the most I watched in one day was episodes 35-56 which came to about 8.8 hours!

I would often watch episodes in split screen mode while working on my iPad and so pages in my note taking app, Notability, have little doodles of things they said that I wrote cause I was bored. Just little phrases like "no one wants to be tagged", "don't clog your mail system with chickens", "INFINITE EGGS", "Punching obsidian takes 36 minutes" "they touched Ren and Doc's bush" and "sweed in shorts"! Also little doodles of things like moustaches, Phantoms, the Jangler's hat and Iskall in golf shorts!

I love looking through the Hermitcraft related hashtags and seeing all the fan art and posts about it - you can really feel the sense of community here.

I've made a few pieces of fan art only one of which I actually finished enough to post (it didn't get much traction so feel free to check if out here).

I really enjoyed watching/listening to Mumbo and Iskall's old End Busting livestreams while drawing - they have such a wonderful friendship and their voices are so calming 💕

Also the Salmon Pickle Ghost?? Is the most infuriating and confusing but also hilarious thing I've ever seen?! What??

Sometimes when I find a moment in someone's episode especially entertaining or funny and it doesn't need too much context, I screen record it and send it to my irl friend who barely knows what I'm talking about but it's nice to share it with someone :^)

I think that might actually be the end of my story. I doubt anyone has read this but it was such an amazing time taking a trip down Memory Lane (not that it was that long ago, I started on about the 14th and finished watching all 38 hours of Grian's Hermitcraft on the 25th of September.)

I missed out on being part of the fandom during the big events like the Civil War, the Great Build Off of 1.14, or Sahara opening, but I'm here now and I got to witness the tail end of the Area 77/Hippie scenario, Hot Potato mini game, and now Demise (which somehow found its way onto Tumblr too which was fun)!

I'm not such a huge fan of Grian as I was a month ago - In fact I am catching up on Iskall's videos from a few months ago because I quite like the way he does his episodes too.

I find Hermitcraft.com really helpful for keeping up to date with what's going on and who's live without having to be subscribed to every Hermit on the sever which would be a bit chaotic.

In conclusion, I really like Hermitcraft! I'm very glad I found it and the community surrounding it (it's the only reason I'm actually active on Tumblr at all). I'm excited for the Demise game Sahara and 1.15 and all future developments and events!

Please tell me if you actually read this, I'm really curious although I doubt anyone will because like 2 real people follow me lol.

Thank you!!

[amnesiacgrian]

Chapter 2 - Abyss

Part 1

I hardly slept that night, for obvious reasons. The only thing running through my head was the note I had found. Trust no one… what an ominous message. I wonder who would’ve left that with me.

With the rising sun came Mumbo’s awakening, slowly but surely. I pretended I had been sleeping as well, slowly forcing myself to stand from my cramped position and stretch. The note crumpled in my hand, reminding me to store it away. Keep suspicions away for now.

But why was that note so… terrifying? It was words on paper, basically nothing, yet somehow it felt so much more sinister than just that. I dunno, I guess it bothered me. It felt like it should be a secret, something closely guarded.

I could feel Mumbo’s eyes on me, watching my thought process go down quickly, so in response I blinked up at him tiredly. “Hello Mumbo. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged, not speaking right now. He looked about half-awake as he wandered to a chest, pulling out some eggs and pork. Those went into a furnace, laid overtop coals and left to cook up.

I glanced out the window at the sun rising over this small island, reflecting off the vast ocean right outside. It was blinding, the waves reflecting crystals of light into my eyes. I could see a boat in the distance, half-built and partially shrouded by early morning mist.

“Here,” Mumbo held out some of the eggs in my direction, a small smile on his face. “Breakfast.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back, taking the tray and devouring the food. I was much more hungry than first imagined… but then again, I can’t remember the last time I actually ate anything. Like, I could remember eating food obviously, but no actual meals.

As the last bites were taken care of, a small knock came from the floor entrance of the treehouse. Mumbo popped open the trapdoor with a foot, his plate still in his hands, and in came a new person.

She was honestly adorable. Dark brown hair with pure white ends, bright eyes the same shade as the oak bark to my left. Her pink and white cardigan went well with her white blouse and blue skirt, and her smile made me blush.

“Oh, hello!” She saw me, grinning. “Glad Iskall warned me you were awake. I’m StressMonster, but call me Stress.”

“Oh, uh… I’m Grian.” I waved a small bit, trying not to fumble too much. I turned down to the floor, kicking at it a small bit.

“And I’m chopped liver,” Mumbo helped Stress up the ladder and into the treehouse. Her wings were pure white, larger than you’d expect for a person her size, folded tightly to her back. She giggled, running a hand through her hair mindlessly.

“So it’s obvious that the few hours I took to actually sleep were when everything exciting happened. Glad to be of use.” I enjoyed her thick accent, the teasing lilt making us all smile.

“Stress-” Mumbo sighed, shaking his head. Stress giggled, winking his direction. “Whatever, is there any progress?”

“Sadly no. No exit Portals can be opened.” Stress shifted from left to right, seeming unable to stay still. Her smile became a little more forced, voice turning serious. “I have a daughter that I need to go see, I need to get out of here-”

“We know, Stress. Everyone has family out of Hermitcraft.” Mumbo pulled her into a hug, making me feel suddenly like I was… intruding, on a situation I knew nothing about. “I’m sure we’ll get out of here soon.”

“So from what I’m understanding,” I butted into the conversation, “The only way out of this place is blocked, and… no one can fix this?”

Stress and Mumbo shared a look, knowing something I didn’t. I pretended not to notice right away, letting Stress say something.

“For now, it’s… better that we let the Admins suss this one out. Speaking of which, X asked me to bring Grian over to his base for an Admin Scan.”

The slight brow crease of worry in Mumbo’s brow making me wonder what an Admin Scan exactly meant. “I thought X was going to come here and do that.”

“He was. Initially.” Stress shrugged a bit. “But now he’s needing Grian to be in his base to actually do the Scan. Something about closer to the Data Center?”

“Where is he holed up these days?”

“Some farms near the coast. He showed me around before I came here.”

Mumbo huffed, turning to dig in a chest. “I’ll take you there then. If something happens to Grian on the way there it’s on my head.”

“I’m right here,” I quietly protested, slightly cross at the way these two talked like I wasn’t here. Stress giggled, flashing me a grin.

“We know,” She opened the trapdoor to the ground, “That’s the problem.”

Before I could ask anything else, she had dropped. She launched into the air, wings spreading around herself gracefully. I watched in awe, before getting a nudge from behind me.

Mumbo was there, holding two pairs of wings. “Everyone gets an elytra this season. You wanted to fly?”

~~

Flying was so much easier than I could ever imagine.

We had started out at the very top of Mumbo’s treehouse, where I learned how to strap the wings to my body. As I connected the final strap, the wings morphed into a dark brown, reddish streaks at the very tips giving the impression of feathers.

Mumbo’s wings were black, specked with white like flecks of paint. They were long and wide, while mine were short and angled.

“Ready?” He smiled, holding a rocket in his hand. I glanced to the sky where Stress was lazily doing loops, blending in with the clouds in the infinite blue.

“Yeah. Just… jump and light, right?” I held the rocket in my hand as well, the pull-tab ready for release.

“Right,” Mumbo looked forward, determined, “One… two… three!”

We leapt off the tree at the same time, fumbling in nearly the same manner to unfold the wings. I pulled on the tab a bit before Mumbo, letting the rocket shoot me up into the sky.

Like it was natural, I pressed a button near my chest, and the elytra expanded behind me. I felt my ascent slow, angling forward into a glide easily. The breeze blowing on my face, the way the land below was so far yet steadily rising up… this all felt so…

Familiar.

I was laughing, doing loops carelessly. The air felt fresh, untouched, unchanged. I glanced down, gliding upside down, to see ^V^80 shaking 4!$ head at my antics.

“Grian!”

I gasped, realizing my fall had picked up, I was heading down headfirst to the ground. I fumbled for another rocket, but it was too late. I crashed into the ground hard, dust flying around -

- And I shot up in the middle of some small island. I sat in the middle of a beach, warm sand below my legs. The elytra that had been pinned to my back was gone, along with the note that had been in my pocket.

I panicked, checking everywhere on me for the note. Nothing. The note was gone, gone, gone-

“I knew you didn’t sleep last night!”

I jumped a solid meter in the air, turning rapidly to see the moustached man named Mumbo coming in for a landing. In one hand was the rocket he was using to fly, the other holding the back-to-grey elytra I had worn a moment ago.

“Uh… wh-what do you mean?” I grinned sheepishly, walking towards where he touched down in the sand. The elytra was thrust in my arms, and I was quick to strap it back on.

“You would have respawned in the treehouse if you had slept last night. It’s just how this works. Instead you popped up here.”

I shrugged, finishing attaching the elytra. “So what if I didn’t sleep? Does it matter?”

“Not currently, but give it a few nights.”

“What does that-” Before I could finish my question he had taken off, leaving me to fumble with another rocket and launch into the air.

I followed Mumbo’s lead back to his base, where Stress was pacing on top of the tree anxiously. Her eyes locked onto us as we came in for a landing, a relieved smile taking over her face when I stumbled forward.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Stress walked forward, fussing with my sweater. “One moment you were fine - better than any newbie has the right to be - the next you’re falling to the ground headfirst!”

“I…” I shrugged, pulling back from Stress quickly. “I don’t know. It was weird, I saw…”

What exactly did I see? It was like I was looking down at someone, but they weren’t there. Not really, at least.

“It was like… someone was there, but not.” I looked back up at the duo before me. “The ground was different, and I wasn’t flying down. I… I dunno.”

“Weird,” Mumbo glanced to the sky, where the sun was rising higher and higher. “I would love to chat more about that, but we should get to Xisuma’s base before he has a cow.”

“Right.” Stress flexed her wings, looking to the sky as well. “Follow me.”

~

...Xisuma’s ‘base’ was a bunch of farms with a mineshaft heading downwards. Xisuma himself was interesting. His bright green armor, clashing with a grey and purple helmet gave off the aura of mystery.

“It’s not much, just to get me started,” The man in question smiled sheepishly, leading us to a makeshift dirt-hut with a bed, “But it’s something.”

“I like it,” Stress grinned, “Quite quaint.”

“Thank you Stress for pretending.” He ruffled her hair as she puffed her cheeks out in a pout. I smiled as well, adoring their interaction. Mumbo had taken up a spot sitting nearby on a pile of logs, tinkering with some redstone to keep himself busy.

“Anyways, we should start now.” X gestured to his bed in the hut. “Lie down there before I black you out on your feet.”

Well that didn’t sound bad at all.

“How… exactly does this work?” I questioned, settling onto the bed. I stayed sitting up in the bed as he pulled a holographic panel out of nowhere.

X glanced at me curiously. “Well… everyone has Data. You know what Data is, right?”

“Mate, I know jack about jack.” The snap had me a bit surprised, worried that Xisuma was gonna take it as an insult, but he just laughed a bit.

“Right. Mumbo warned me about the memory stuff…” He sighed. “Well essentially everyone is made of their own Data, which Servers use to identify each person. It’s kind of complicated, but really important to our very existence.”

I nodded a bit. “So… how does that fit into the Scanny-thingy?”

“Well when I perform an Admin Scan, I can have access to your Data. Your Data contains everything about you. Memories, most importantly. By seeing your memories, I’ll maybe be able to figure out how you got here. So lie down, and we can get started.”

With a sigh, I flopped back onto the comfortable sheets. I couldn’t see what X was doing over me, but Stress squeezed my hand from nearby.

“I hope it all works out. I have some base stuff to get back to, but give me a ring if you need me.” She pulled her hand away, before leaving the small hut. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving X and myself alone in the darkness. I knew Mumbo was just outside, but that wasn’t quite as reassuring as I had hoped it would be.

His tablet thingy glowed a faint blue as he paced the small area. “Alright, we’re about ready to go. Close your eyes, and try not to resist this.”

“Resist?” I closed my eyes as requested. “What do you mean, resist?”

He didn’t answer. Well, he might have, if I didn’t suddenly fall through the ground. My eyes shot up as I fell, arms and legs flailing for any kind of purchase. I tried to spread my elytra, but found it missing, along with anything else I had been carrying on my person.

“Try not to resist this.”

Oh. He probably meant this. I took a shaky breath, doing my best to still my body. I was still falling, but I knew I wouldn’t crash. I took another deep breath.

Images appeared around me. I had my eyes closed, and within the blackness I could see movement, color coming to life. Somehow I knew this was all me, or parts of me.

Yet every time I tried to focus on one of the scenes floating around my body, it vanished. It was like grasping at straws, coming up with nothing.

A dull pain came from my back. It was like something was shifting, pushing, breaking free of my skin from underneath. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream as the pain grew more and more.

The moment the pain grew too much, I jerked forward and out of the bed. My eyes were open, and breathing was still an issue through the pain. The stabbing, slicing ache slowly faded into nothing as I became more aware of the fact that I was awake.

“Grian.” X had been kneeling in front of me, hadn’t he? “What happened?”

“Back,” I managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain making me jerk, “Hurts.”

“Can I see?” Such a gentleman, asking for my consent amidst the agony. I could only nod a bit, wincing as his cool hands slid the back of my sweater up.

Or, tried to.

Something was trapped there, yanking on my back. I cried out, jerking away from X’s hands.

“Grian, I need to be able to see your back. I need to make sure it’s not a glitch or… something worse.”

A glitch? I had no idea what that meant, but if X was mentioning it it was probably bad. He slowly slid my sweater off, making sure it didn’t get caught on my back again.

Whatever had been there before was gone. Supposedly, I had faint scars right next to each of my shoulder blades, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest pain other than the phantom memories I had.

“And the Scan? Complete failure. I couldn’t glean anything from your Data before you started screaming… and I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“So… there’s no other way for you to figure out who I am, or why I’m here?” I could hear the disappointment in my voice, and I hated it.

“Sadly no. I wish I could do more.” He seemed frustrated, but also… somewhat excited. “I’ll figure it out soon enough, but for now I should get you back to Mumbo’s.”

I nodded, standing and following him out of the dirt hut. The pain was but a faint echo in my mind now, but it felt like foreshadowing. Something big was going on here… and I had no idea who was responsible.

[eerythingisshaka]

Will the Bell Ring? Pt. 3

(Erik Killmonger x Black!OC)

Part 1 Part 2

Kimara pays the barista for her green tea and goes across the street to the studio.  This week has been a hectic one for her since she’s been working with Peter Gafflin, an alternative rock artist who is on the come up since his EP dropped last year.  Kimara was owed a favor from the owner of the studio, Rick, after Erik helped get him some new equipment from a group that trashed the place after a drug fueled mosh pit they formed to add ambiance to their album.  Suffice to say, they would not be returning to record any time soon.

When she enters the studio, Rick is there playing in his grey locs nervously.

“Kimmy!  Good to see you 15 minutes past showtime, I really appreciate it.”  He smiles, dimples still displaying powerfully under is grey beard.

She shrugs.  “You know I have a process, Ricky Kanicky!  It all works out in the end, thanks for the hookup on this gig.  Are they waiting on me?”

Rick holds out his arm to escort her to the back.  “Nah, I stalled them with some mic check mumbo jumbo, so at least their warmed up properly.  You need some time in the booth before we start?”

She shakes her head as he opens the door.  A gust of patchouli hits her senses.  Peter Gafflin and his gang were warming up in a way much different than how Rick described.

“Rick!  Thank God, I was ready to call the police, you were gone for like three hours man!”  Peter’s rough Carolinian accent boomed as he walked wistfully over to you two in his holely jeans and cowboy boots with his fringed black leather jacket and matching wide brimmed hat.

“No, I just had to go get some extra talent to guide our recording session along.  This is Kimara, she’s the third part to our banging backup we keep on hand for artists.”

Peter towers over her at 6’7, but humbly bends to kiss your hand like a prince.  “To God be the glory for creating women and music.  Put them together and I’m a happy Papa, you know what I’m saying?!”  He ribs Rick before clapping thunderously to liven his group.  “Aight y’all!  Look alive.   Dave get your Fender, Bill get your wide ass behind them drums, everybody take your places!”

Kimara goes over to the mics with her other singers.  “Wassup Brenda?  Tara?”

They roll their eyes at you before mumbling their hellos.  You put your headphones on to get ready for the track to play, not studdin them today.  They were the fourth pair this year to work for Rick and the studio.  They all get inspired to be solo artists or get too wrapped up in the artist of the day and think they can keep up with a touring schedule to only come out of it broke with no plan B, and pregnant.  

Singing has always been her dream to do, and any capacity in which Kimara can fulfill that, is one she is willing to go for.  It’s her escape, her home away from home, it’s her church, especially when the artist has some good stuff to work with.  Kimara hadn’t gotten as in depth with Peter’s discography as she usually does with artist’s before a recording session because her mind could not focus lately.  Trying to have a baby has been on her mind 24/7 and Erik filling her mind with hope and then trying to tell her to chill made her crazy.  Did he want a baby as bad as she did?  Kimara didn’t think so anymore.

She shakes her head and takes a few deep breaths before looking over the music with the girls.  Brenda catches her up on the tempo of the song and little points in which Peter wanted them to blow.  Southern singers couldn’t deny the power of a good Black gospel when they needed it.

Peter certainly is no exception.  He places his hands in front of his mouth in prayer before raising them up to the sky, bringing them down with shaky fists.

“Now THAT is a climax if I ever heard one.  What did I tell you Rick?  Music and women, the best sounds on this Earth come from both.”  Peter smiles pointing victoriously at the three of them before taking his place at his mic.  “I’m ready ladies, let’s record this thing!”

After a few dry rehearsals, time came to record.  Kimara gives a thumbs up to Rick as he queues up the track to play in your ears.   The song isn’t bad, kind of bluesy and it’s about a love misunderstood.   Peter plays a man who is trying to convince his lover out of depression, using the analogy of being in shark infested waters.  His lover finds the water and waves so beautiful she jumps from the boat and dives in after he protests over and over.  He is subjected to watch as the sharks circle around her, he reaches out to her the whole time reminding her that he is there and to take his hand.  He can’t tell if her face is wet from the ocean or from tears but she is smiling all the same and it frustrates him to see the danger looming but she isn’t phased.  

The song ends ambiguously but Kimara can’t stop her emotions from spilling over and affecting her vocals a little bit.  Rick notices immediately and cuts the session short, popping into the booth.  

“Hey Kimara, you alright?”  He asks in a fatherly manner.  

All she can do is nod and wipe her eyes as she wishes she was anywhere but there.  Being late is unprofessional enough, but costing an artist studio time, she might as well hang it up now.  Peter comes over to Kimara, waving at Rick.  “We’re fine, just give us a minute.”  He dips his height down to look her in her eyes.  “You alright there, ma’am?”

Kimara nods shrugging.  “The song is just that good I guess.”

Peter shakes his head.  “No, it isn’t.  My buddy Ralph helped me to write it, I’ve been wondering about the composition of it since, but when he died in a car crash a couple months ago, I haven’t been able to nail this thing down.  He’d know exactly what it needs, but he ain’t here to tell it.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Peter.”  Kimara says apologetically.

Peter smiles.  “I didn’t kill him, so all’s good!  I want you to sing a little something on the track for me, just you, to kind of hear how it sounds.  Don’t worry about my notes, just do what feels good to you.”

Peter motions to Rick as he walks Kimara over to his mic, setting the headphones over her ears.  Kimara feels nervous instantly, not knowing what to do with the spotlight being on her, this has never happened to her before.  

But as the track plays, she sings the lyrics from her heart.  They were pretty simple and easy to memorize so when she closed her eyes and flowed with the track, she began to feel that familiar emotion again, accept this time she honed it as best as she could.  She knew where her inspiration came from, it was undeniable, but why did he bring the sadness out so easily?  Before she knew, the song was done and when she opened her eyes, Peter was on one knee with his hands out.

“You see me right now?  This is what you just did to me, an old bachelor crooner ready to lay down it all for your hand.  Are you betrothed my dear?”

Kimara laughs as she takes off her headphones, stepping back.  “None of your business, because you are too wild for me anyway!”  

Peter gets up pointing at Rick.  “You hiding treasures from me, you greedy bastard!  This girl ain’t a back up, she’s a star in the making!”

Kimara felt hot, trying her best to appear humble, but this man has a way with words that made her completely big headed.  “It’s nothing.  I don’t have the time for that right now.  I’m focusing on my personal life.”

Peter smiles but appears disappointed.  “Girl the places you can go.  I hope you have someone in your life to remind you of your-your QUEENLY-ness!  I wouldn’t leave the house without you by my side.”

Kimara shakes her head.  “Well luckily I do have someone.   He’s….pretty great I think.”

Peter pulls his glasses down the bridge of his nose.  “Well until that ‘think’ turns into a ‘know’ keep me in mind.”

Kimara cackles pushing him away.  “You have some nerve.  Get back to your spot so we can make this album and go home!”  

They share a laugh but before Kimara goes back to her mark she turns to him.  “Peter, I did wonder though, with the song:  Does the lady ever take your hand?  Gets out?”

Peter smiles weakly shaking his head.  “Nah, never does.  Cuz I pushed her in.”

Nine Years Ago

Kimara sits on the couch with a movie playing in the background but she isn’t really looking at it.  Her eyes have glazed over the moving images on her screen and the sounds are similar to being underwater.  There is too much happening in her mind at the moment to even be bothered with the world around her.  

Kimara hangs her head clutching her knees as she thinks back to a couple months ago, when Erik was there.  She had left her part time job at the music college and cautiously pulled up to her house when an ominous figure sat on her front doorstep.  Her keys tucked between her knuckles and 911 ready to just hit dial, she steps out the car.  

“Whatchu want?!”  She bellows, bringing the bass out her voice as much as possible.  His head hung low enough that the front door light couldn’t catch his features, face masked in the darkness.  

She hears him chuckle.  “The hell you barkin at?”  He lifts his head up to look at her.

Kimara’s heart dropped in her stomach at the sound of his voice.  Covering her mouth, she drops her keys to the concrete, overcome with emotion.  He wasn’t supposed to be there, practically considered him dead.  Erik gets up, hugging her tightly.  “I told you I was gonna be aight.  I told you.”

Kimara gasps for breath.  “No!  You ain’t told me though!”  She punches his chest for emphasis.  

Erik pulls her away to lift her face toward his, wiping her eyes.  “I like a surprise, what can I say.”

Kimara sniffles her snot bubbles, stepping back.  “This is so damn embarrassing.  How can you act so cool right now.  I’m a mess, and you put on so much damn weight, like, the fuck!”

Erik opens his jack to look down at himself.  “Well damn!  You still know how to talk crazy to somebody.”

She laughs.  “No, like, look at you!  You got so damn….BIG, like….”  Kimara holds his jacket apart a bit to run her hands down his chest.  

Erik bites his lip nodding.  “Now that’s more like it.”

“Shut up!  I’m just in awe!  You weren’t scrawny for real but not nearly this buff!  What kind of undershirt you got on, you feel bumpy.”  Kimara puls at the collar of his shirt, but Erik swipes her hand away.  

“Uh uh, you gotta earn the show.  Cash upfront.”  Erik jokes, putting his hands in his pockets.  “You look good too, real….real good.  Gettin them squats in huh?”  Erik stands on his toes to look around her backside but Kimara steps sideways.  

“Here you go!  Go on!  I don’t see you for two years and you drop yourself here for what?  Are you back for good?”  Kimara picks her keys up, going to her front door to open it.

“I’m just here to talk, hang out.  I needed a place to lay my head, so I figured I could get two birds with one stone.”  Erik walks in behind her, closing the door.  

Kimara takes off her jacket and sets her bag down.  “That’s fine.  You welcome here.  You gotta tell me how things went!  I know you went to Japan at first, but I didn’t get a letter from you after that, I got kind of worried…”

Erik told Kimara about his time in Japan; he was only there a few weeks before he was selected for Special Ops training, which gave him the physique.  Most of the rest of his missions were confidential, but the orders he was given were implied.  

When he showed his scars and the meaning behind them, Kimara just about lost it.

“How can you mark yourself up like that?!  The memories aren’t enough to live with?  You have to see them on yourself everyday you look in the mirror?”

“Might as well!  I see it when I wake up, when I sleep!  In a way, this is therapy for me, makes me feel like what I did wasn’t for nothing!”

Kimara paces the floor agitated beyond compare.  “Why would you hurt yourself like that?  Haven’t you been through enough to make these permanent changes to yourself?  I still can’t believe the day you signed up for that damn program.  The details were shaky at best.  But the Navy was more important to you than what I thought.”

Erik scoffs.  “This wasn’t about you to begin with.  We didn’t have anything to fight for.  You’re my friend, I had plenty of those.  You think you’re the only one that told me to fall back from it?  Huh?  This gave me purpose, it gave me a vision for my future, something I ain’t had EVER.”

Kimara looked at Erik with disgust.  “You’re a damn dumbass.”

Erik cocked an eyebrow.  “You better be glad I know you like that, I don't let anybody talk to me like that no more.”

Kimara stands her ground with him.  He really forgot who she was.  “I ain't scared of you Erik! You forget that I've known you for years now, I'm not just somebody off the street! I've seen you stressed out for exams, I've seen you dealing with people giving you a hard time for being on scholarship, hell US cuz we Black and they didn't believe us! I get that every year on your father's death date, you get extra distant but you let me in to your little rituals to honor him.  That Wakandan chant you'd do? I still know it by heart, hell I said it for you!”

Erik looked at Kimara angrily but not because she was wrong.  “Stop talkin bout that shit.”

Kimara steps to him.  “What you think you hard now?  You think you got everyone figured out, you so damn smart??  But you won’t even let yourself FEEL shit no more, is that what your big plan is?  Shooting people up and taking their things, like that’s ever worked for anybody.”

Erik snarls.  “Except it has, and I have no problem sending it right back to people.”

Kimara points to the door.  “Get the fuck outta my house Erik.  I didn’t ask for this bullshit in my face.”

Erik turns his chin up at her. “So you done with me now?  Now is when you wanna throw me out?  I knew you wasn’t worried about me anyway.”  As Erik turned away, Kimara pushes his back to get him to the door quicker.

“You fucking bastard!  I wasted my fucking time thinking about you!  You can’t get outta your own damn head to realize who cares about you!”

Erik reaches for the doorknob, standing there a moment listening to her wail.  

“You could’ve been great here with me!  I don’t give a damn how tough you think you are, you aren’t this.”

Kimara grows weak from yelling, crumpling to the floor sobbing.  Erik crouches down to her quicker than he meant to.  It was instinctual more than anything.  “Come on now…”

She holds her hands up.  “No!  You don’t get it.  Whatever those people told you over there isn’t true.  You aren’t more of a man for doing this shit, for scarring yourself up, for not caring.  You’re not human!  You’re not yourself!”

Erik freezes when she says this, something finally clicked in him with what she said.  Erik apologizes softly, but Kimara was tired.  Tired of crying, tired of fighting, she just wanted her friend, she wanted to be happy and for him to be safe and happy too.  Erik just held her in his arms, allowing himself to feel like she kept reminding him to.  It hurt worse than getting the scars did and when he broke, Kimara was glad.  Looking into his face she finally saw the Erik she always knew, the one that she wanted so much from.  The world didn’t trample his soul that day, or any day for the next few weeks following.

Kimara allowed Erik in her heart, something she always fought with herself over because they were such good friends and Erik wasn’t the first person she would assume wanting to settle down.  But when he looked at her it seemed so genuine, so pure she couldn’t help but fall into him.  And that's what she was kicking herself over on that couch a month later, sore and opening a bottle of pills.

Present Day

When Kimara left the studio, she tried calling Erik but didn’t get an answer.   Instead she got a generic text saying he would call her later, in a meeting.

She rolls her eyes and decides to go check on his cousin at the community center.  He’s helped Erik through a whole helluva lot of bullshit before so maybe he could listen to hers.

The state of the art facility was amazing to see given what it used to be.  Old apartments where crime and drugs ran rampant, now it looked like something you would see downtown in the upscale neighborhoods.  

When she got inside, it didn’t take long for her to find T’Challa, crouched and talking to a small child standing next to their mother.  The child gives him a hug, which he took genuinely and that’s when he sees Kimara.

“Janae, I will see you next week to work on your long division, ok?”  He points to her, thanking her mother at the same time before heading over to Kimara.

“Hello!  How are you?”  He says to Kimara warmly.

Kimara bounces on her toes.  “I’m good T’Challa, you?”  They share a church hug.  Kimara is so happy she can call T’Challa family, without him, Erik wouldn’t even be there.

T’Challa sighs heavily, putting his hands behind his back.  “I’ve been better.  I’ve been drowning in chamomile tea and crackers to settle my stomach.  American alcohol is horrendous.”

Kimara laughs.  “Oh yeah, Erik took you out on the town.  Did you have fun at least?”

T’Challa half shrugs, smirking.  “It was successful for what the goal was.  I met with a young lady there and we may have hit it off.  I haven’t contacted her about it yet.”

Kimara’s jaw drops.  “Whaaat?  You playin with women’s heart now T?  I never thought of you as the type.”

T’Challa stutters a bit to find his words.  “It wasn’t really….well, Erik just wanted to cheer me up for me and Nakia not being on the best of terms, so-”

“Yeah, that’s how he was in college.  One girl doesn’t stop his show.”  Kimara rests her hand on the back of her neck, playing with her curls knotting at the nape.

T’Challa looks away, visibly uncomfortable.  “But I do intend to call her back, I just don’t want to appear too eager and things.”

Kimara pokes her bottom lip out, bucking her round brown eyes at him.  “Aww, now don’t go soft on account of me.  I know how guys are, so lemme stop asking about your love life.  However, if it ever becomes official, feel free to invite her to hang with us.  We can make a double date of it.”

T’Challa nods, smiling humbly.  “Of course, that would be delightful.  I am glad you stopped by actually, I imagine you’re looking for this anyway.”  T’Challa turns on his heels, the tails of his jacket picking up with a flourishing wave as he clicks down the hallway.

Kimara follows behind him confused.  “What are you talking about?”

Walking down the halls decorated with projects and works tagged with an ‘A+’ or 100% mark whizzed past them as they approached his office.  Opening the doors to his office, his footsteps muffle against the lush carpet to retrieve something out of his desk.

He pulls out a burlap pouch to hand to Kimara proudly.  “There.  Erik is pretty eager to get started on that regimen so you guys can….have at it!”  T’Challa gestures awkwardly shaking his hands about in front of him.

Kimara screws her face up looking from T’Challa to the bag.  “But I still don’t….OH!  He actually asked you about some erectile, baby juice making bull from you?”

T’Challa’s eyes widen.  “You and him never stray much from details, eh?”

Kimara opens the drawstring of the bag.  “I’m sorry, I just don’t….what is the shit, T?”  Kimara pulls out dried leaves and herbs from the pouch.

T’Challa tuts at her.  “Aye aye, put it back!  He is supposed to boil some water and put that in a cup and drink it.  It’s just a mix of common teas and spices, more of a placebo than a real cure.”

Kimara sighs, closing the bag up and placing a hand on her hip.  “So I guess Erik really does wanna have this baby.”  She murmur to herself.

T’Challa comes around the front of the desk, leaning against it.  “Were you having second thoughts?”

She shakes her head fervently.  “No, I want to be a mother more than anything right now which….may be part of our problem.  I’m forgetting how to be his partner.  We got into a bit of a thing when he had his appointment today.  He keeps saying I should slow down with the baby making regimen, and I thought for a second he wasn’t taking things seriously.”

T’Challa gives an empathetic glance, crossing his arms thoughtfully.  “Excuse me in advance if I’m getting too personal but Erik has told me only a few things, so I’m not unaware.  But I know that Erik has your interests in his heart.  He knows this is important to you and it is equally important to him.  However, he doesn’t do well with rules and regulation.  He likes to make things happen and if it works great, if not, move on to something new.  And maybe this is his way of moving on to a new method.  But it sounds like he wants to take pressure off of you,  like with this herbal method.”

Kimara looks at the bag in her hand, feeling herself relax as she held onto it tightly.  “I think you’re right.  He’s been getting on my nerves with it but I think he’s just trying to show he cares.”

T’Challa nods.  “He does, I’m certain of it.”

Kimara gives T’Challa a grateful hug.  “Thank you so much!  I’m gonna take this to him.  Thanks for your help, I knew I would get what I needed coming to you.”

T’Challa gives her a soft pat on the back before breaking the embrace.  “Anytime.  You guys are a great pair, he’s lucky to have you.”

“You too.  He’s come so far because of...because of you.  So even though these are dud teas, it may make things a little more hopeful, who knows.”

T’Challa clutches his chest, looking hurt.  “Dud teas?  I will tell you those are delicious and very relaxing, if nothing else!  Fresh import from Wakandan gardens of the royal palace-”

Kimara yawns.  “Yeah yeah, I gotta go home now.  Tell Shuri I said hello, and if Nakia give you any trouble…”  Kimara boxes the air with weak punches.

T’Challa walks her out giving final goodbyes before making her way home to the man of her life.  

Walking into their place, Kimara finds Erik sitting on the couch playing 2K.  

“I’m home!”  Kimara calls out, kicking off her shoes and jacket.  Erik presses a combination of buttons on his controller, grunting as he misses his shot at the basket over and over, losing to the computer.

Kimara climbs over the back of the couch, laying her calves over his chest, warming his neck with her serried thighs.  “Erik…”  she whines.

Erik remains unconcerned with her presence.  “Come on, I’m almost done with this quarter, don’t fuck it up.”

Kimara plays with his head, pushing it side to side before resting her breasts on top of him.  “Are you still mad at me?”  

“When did I say I was mad at you?  I thought you were mad at me?”  Erik says, still focused on the game until a loud buzzer makes Kimara jump and Erik tosses the controller on the table in defeat.  

“I’m not mad, I was just...upset and assuming shit.”  Kimara says softly, massaging his scalp.  She feels his shoulders relax under her legs as he strokes them.

“So what problems you tryna work through still?”  Erik says deadpan.

“None!  We don’t have any.”  Kimara says sweetly, feeling hands along his face to scratch his beard.  “T’Challa gave me his little love potion stuff…”  She dangles the bag in front of his face.

Erik takes it, staring at it in his hands.  “Aight, just let me know what time you want me to take this and I’ll be on the way to the bedroom.”

Kimara swings her leg around to slide beside him holding on to his arm.  “Erik, you ain’t gotta worry about that!”

Erik looks so tired, looking at Kimara wearily.  “I don’t wanna be a reason you feel like you can’t get pregnant.  I know you think I’m being childish sometimes but I want a kid just like you.  This ain’t been good for us though, how we doin it.”

“I know,”  Kimara says, resting her chin on his shoulder.  

“And soon as those results from the lab come back, we can talk about other shit, but right now, I got you and I’m good with that.”

Kimara’s heart pounds in her chest, what a lovely man he can be.  “You’re the fucking sweetest.”

“So don’t be looking at your phone in bed with that tracker, don’t just fuck me without tryna be sexy about it, and don’t down my manhood in the heat of your anger.”

Kimara rubs his chest.  “That was bad of me.”

“Damn right it was.  Cuz that ain’t no fucking problem.”

Kimara shakes her head.  “Never.”

“I know faking, and THAT ain’t it.”

“It’s impossible for me to fake THAT.”  Kimara says, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.

“So as a man and as your man, lemme take care of what I gotta do on my own terms.  You just keep being cute and fine and smart as you always acting.”

Kimara lays her head across his lap looking up at him.  “Never an act babe, I’m all those things and more.  Including hungry.”

Erik plays in her wild fro with one hand, the other resting at the base of her throat.  “What am I supposed to do about that?  You ain’t got hands to dial delivery?”

“Erik!  I know you got something in that kitchen, I smelt in soon as I walked in.”

“Yeah, for ME.  This a every man for himself house, Ma, you know that.”

“Pleeeease.”  Kimara widens her eyes a bit for good measure.

Erik smirks.  “You better quit all that for I poke your eye out.”

Kimara scoffs, smacking his stomach as she gets up to look in the oven and pull out a brown paper bag with two containers of penne pasta slathered in marinara meat sauce and melty cheese with the crispy crunchy bread she loves so much.

“You were gonna eat two by yourself, huh?”  Kimara quips.

“I can eat a lot more than that, so don’t try me.”  Erik calls across the room.

Kimara gets her serving out and practically skips back to the couch to enjoy and watch Erik play his game.  Except he still had it on pause.  

“So you couldn’t bring mine back witchu?”  He asks, voice raising an octave.

Kimara slurps up a stray string of cheese off her fork.  “Erik, seriously?  I just got in!”

Erik kisses his teeth.  “Ok, lemme have a bite of yours.”

“Uh uh!  Get your lazy self up and get your own!”  Kimara kicks her feet up at him, scarfing another bite.

Erik doesn’t take no for an answer, pushing her legs to one side pinning her.  “Gimme some!”

“No!  You’re gonna make me drop it!”  Kimara squeals, barely holding onto the aluminum container.

Erik just opens his mouth open coming closer and closer to her face.  “You gonna spit on me, close your mouth!”  

Erik guides his mouth to her fork and she hesitantly puts it in his mouth.  He dramatically pauses to savor the flavor, chewing slowly.  “Mm!  Damn that’s good.”

Kimara rolls her eyes.  “Can you get off me now?”

Erik nods, swallowing.  “Yeah, just lemme have some bread and-”

“NIGGA IF YOU DON’T GO!”  Kimara squirming under him.  

Erik takes the container from her hand setting it on the table.  “Chill I gotta digest now.”  Erik proceeds to open her legs up laying his head against her chest, snuggling in her womanly comforts.  Kimara is lowkey seething when all she wants is some damn dinner, but in reality it had been a while since they had been this playful with each other.  Putting her needs aside, she takes the time to enjoy his weight on her, his heartbeat on her stomach, the warmth in between her.  

“Sing me somethin.”  He mumbles in her titties.  

That night and every night following for the next two weeks were grand.  Kimara hadn’t felt that kind of love for Erik in a length of time she would be embarrassed to admit.  It felt like they were dating all over again and she would’ve loved for that to have stayed that way, but then his results came back and her worries erupted all over again.

Part 4

Masterlist

Ragtag

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