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cielcreations · 4 months

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Hazbin Hermits - Prologue

AN: Hermitcraft/Empires/3rd Life Series X Hazbin Hotel AU.

Meaning lots of cursing, fighting, blood, violence, flirting, shipping, sexual innuendos/implied sexual content, and pretty much everyone is a bad person to some degree.

If you don't like your favorite characters made to be not so great people, then do not read.

"Good afternoon! I'm Katherine Killjoy!"

"And I'm Joey JaxHammer! Chaos outside pentagram city today, as a turf war is raging on the west side between notable kingpins Lord Fwhip and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse Mythical Sausage!"

"That's right Joey! After the recent extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!"

"Those two seem to be really going at it, huh?"

"Looks like they're fighting tooth and nail for that hotspot!"

"And I'd like to nail their hotspots, am I right, fellas~?"

"Haha, you are a limp dick jackass, Joey! Or should I say-" Katherine poured her hot coffee on his lap, the man hissing and moving before she could actually spill it on his dick, "-no dick?"

"Bitch." The man hissed.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the younger son of Hell's own head honcho, who's here to discuss his brand-new passion project!"

"All that, after the break!" Joey exclaimed, taking his mug and pouring his coffee on Katherine's head.

"YOU LITTLE SH-"

The two looked away from the TV. The blue haired demon tugged the tie a bit tighter, just to make the prince look more presentable.

"Okay." He finished, stepping back, "Are you ready? You remember what to say?"

The blonde took a deep breath, his purple eyes widening in excitement as he exclaimed, "Yes! Let's do this!"

"Just, look at me, and I'll mouth it to you, Zed." The man grabbed the prince's shoulders.

Zed had light blonde hair with brown ram horns, pale skin, wearing a black suit with a red tie, no shoes so his hooves could breath.

"Ugh, come ooooon, Tango, I know what to say!" Zed reassured, smiling, "But, I do think we should make it a bit more interesting! I-I mean, I don't want to go up there and sound robotic, you know?"

Tango, normally, had yellow hair, that could change into different colors depending on how hot he got. Since he could control fire and such, his hair would change colors to match the fire type and, sometimes, it could even turn on fire. His skin was pale with a bit of a blue tint, his nails sharpened into claws. He wore a black crop top and black shorts, long black heeled boots. He also had black belts wrapped around his waist with golden buckles, black cloth to create an overskirt. (Art of Tango by @/lunarcrown)

"I get that, babe, but this is serious." Tango reminded him, "You can't go up there and squeal and giggle the whole time. It's adorable, yes, but not all sinners are going to trust and believe in your project unless you look serious and you know what you're doing."

"I told you through a fit of excited squeals."

"Yeah, and I listened because I know and believe in you." The demon motioned to the others, "These sinners don't. They don't know you, they barely know your older brother, and they certainly won't believe in you at first. It's why you gotta go up there, show them who's in charge, and act like this plan is full-proof!"

"But we don't know if it is..." Zed reminded.

"Your right, and neither do they." Tango booped his nose, "Which is our advantage. No one knows if this works, but if we act like we're the experts, people believe."

"Prince Zedaph? Five minutes before we're live." A demon called.

Tango smiled at the blonde, kissing his forehead, "You got this! I'll be right behind the camera, so if you need me?"

Zed nodded, smiling, "Don't worry, I got this!"

He turned around, walking to the desk and smiling, offering his hand, "Hi, I'm Zed-"

"Katherine Killjoy." The female anchor hissed, "You can put that away. I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie." She then sneered, "Look, my time is money, so I'll keep this short. You're not here because we wanted you here. You're here because Jeffery couldn't make it to his cannibal cooking segment! You may be some royal bigshot, but that doesn't mean shit to me! I'm too rich and influential to giving a flying fuck about some tux wearing demon 'prince'-" (she put "prince" in quotations, as if Zed wasn't one) "-wants to advertise."

Zed narrowed his eyes, "Listen-"

Katherine leaned forward, glaring, "So don't get cute with me, or I'll fucking break you!"

"And we're live!"

Katherine zoomed to her seat, tilting her head so much, it sounded like she broke it, "Welcome back!" Once Zed was sat down, she spoke again, "So, Zedaph!"

The blonde's eyes twitched as he smiled awkwardly, "It's Zed-"

"Whatever! Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!"

"Welllllll..." Zed looked around at the demons, Tango standing by the camera man with a smile and thumbs up. He smiled and took a deep breath as he spoke, "As most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I tried to see the good in everything around me. Hell is my home and you are my people. We just went through another extermination and we lost so many souls! It breaks my heart seeing my people being slaughtered every year!" He slammed his fist on the table, sighing, "No one is even given a chance and I can no longer stand idly by when the place I call home, the place I love, is constantly being destroyed!"

He stood up, smiling, "So, I've been thinking, isn't there a more humane way to hinder Hell's overpopulation? Perhaps we can find a new alternative way to save souls through redemption? I think yes, and that's what this project aims to achieve! Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!"

Everyone was silent, staring at the man.

Everyone outside stared at the TV.

One in particular tilted his head in curiosity.

Everyone in the news station... started laughing.

Zed shrunk in on himself as Tango moved to stand beside him, his blue hair turning into flames as he glared at everyone.

"What in the nine circles makes you think a single person in hell would give two shits about becoming a 'better person?!'" Katherine cackled, "You have no proof that this actually works and you want people to be good just because?!"

"You have no proof it doesn't work!" Tango hissed, flames surrounding his body, "Besides, we already have a patron who's showing incredible improvement!"

"Ooooooh, and who might that be~?" Katherine sneered.

Tango leaned forward, intentionally burning her wooden table with a smirk, "Oh, just someone named, SmallishBeans."

"The pornstar?" Joey asked.

"You fucking would, Joey." Katherine glared before snickering, "In any case, that's hardly an accomplishment! I'm sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough lube and sugar!"

Tango continued to burn her table, the woman looking ready to scratch his eyes out as he drew little doodles, "I beg to differ."

Zed also perked up, smirking, "He's been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now!"

"Breaking news!"

Katherine perked up before she smirked, pushing the men away, "We just received word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let's go to the live feed!"

They turned to the TV and Tango pinched his temples as he tried to control himself, Zed muttering out, "Oh shit."

"Oh shit, indeed!" Katherine exclaimed, "It appears the one to join is none other than porn actor Joel, aka, SmallishBeans!" She looked at the two, "What a juicy coincidence! I bet you feel real stupid right now! How does it feel to be a total and utter failure?!"

She began laughing, everyone did, once more.

Tango tried to control himself as Zed clenched his fists.

The prince looked at Tango with glowing red eyes, "Fucking, show them who's boss."

Tango smirked, his teeth sharpening to points, "Gladly."

He jumped across the table, lighting everything on fire as he began to beat Katherine and Joey.

***

The prince and his boyfriend sat in a limo, across from the other sinner. The sinner had brown hair with a green streak in the middle of his hair, matching his green eyes and green antenna. He wore a long white and light green suit blazer, the top unbuttoned and showing off his muscular chest. He had black shorts and long, knee length black heeled boots. To top it off, he had green transparent fairy wings on his back.

They watched as he rolled the window up and down, clearly in his own little world. Eventually, he seemed to notice the two were staring at him.

The brunette stopped, leaned back, and shrugged, "What?"

"'What?' 'WHAT?!'" Tango screamed, his hair turning to blue, almost purple flames, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, JOEL?!"

"Ugh, I had too, I owed Sausage a solid!" Joel huffed, "Isn't that one of those 'redeeming qualities'? Helping friends and all that?!"

Zed leaned into the window with a groan as Tango reprimanded him, "Not in turf wars that result in genocide?!"

"Meh, you win some, you loose a few hundred!"

"Joel, that was really not cool." Zed groaned, "You just... You made us look like jokes!"

"Nah, chill out, jokes are funny! I made you all look sad and pathetic!"

"Oh, cause that's any better?!" Tango growled.

"Look, I had to!" Joel argued, "My reputation was on the line! You know what people would say if they found out I was trying to go clean?! Not to mention, people would know where I am and try to break into the hotel to get some of me! Do you want a whole mob down there?"

"Listen, if you want to stay here, you need to take this shit seriously!" Tango demanded, walking towards the brunette, "We're not going to give you a free room, free food, free whatever else if all you do is fuck around! So, you either sit down, buckle the fuck up, and try to redeem yourself and help the hotel's reputation, that you burned to cinder!" He glared, flames coming out of his mouth, "Got it?"

Joel groaned, "Okay, fine, whatever."

"C-Calm down, Tango." Zed offered his hand, Tango moving to sit beside him again, "I-It's not over yet, we can still try! It'll be okay!"

The limo stopped at the hotel and the three went inside. Tango flopped on the couch with a groan, Joel grabbing a popsicle and sitting in a chair. Zed groaned and went to go upstairs, only to stop.

Someone knocked on the door.

He walked towards it and opened the door.

In front of him stood a tall dirty blonde man with his eyes closed, wearing a blue striped coat with dark blue sleeves, the coat falling to his knees. Underneath the coat, he wore a white dress shirt with a black upside down cross on the chest, as if to resemble a tie, long black dress pants with bright blue cuffs. Over his feet, he wore black heeled boots that rested under his pants. Behind his back, he held a long thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to it.

The whole time, he smiled.

Zed shrunk a little as the man opened his eyes. He had black sclera with blue eyes, staring down at the prince.

"HELLO!" He spoke, his voice altered to sound like that of a broadcast.

Zed shut the door on instinct, "Uh, Tango?"

"Whaaaaat?" The flame demon groaned.

"The Radio Demon is at the door!"

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #empires smp #empireshipping #third life series #third life smp #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel au #hermitcraft au #empires smp au #empires au #third life smp au #zedaph #tangotek #solidaritygaming #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans

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djpurple3 · 3 months

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Wordcount: 6.9k

Summary: Now that peace has finally, finally come to pass, Codfather Solidarity and Count fWhip have decided for forge an official alliance, treaty and all. Signing it during the Grimlandic Festival of Progress only makes sense.

And on the other hand, fWhip gets to show his partner around one of the Grimlands' biggest annual festivals, and they're practically vibrating with excitement. Everything from the community, to the food, to the races, to the fireworks - fWhip is anxious to share, and Jimmy is eager to discover.

It also makes for a pretty cute date.

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Written as part of the @mcyt-valentines exchange on tumblr, and written for @welcome-back-to-hoimycraf!! I really hope you enjoy the fic <3 and happy... yesterdalentines day

Full fic under the cut!

==== ==== ====

fWhip wipes their palms dry on their pants, trying to ignore how nervous he is right now as he strides down the main street of Eastvale.

The preparations are ready. Everything’s in order. The streets of the Grimlands are flooded with colour and light – multichromatic arrays of redstone lanterns, bunting and streamers and balloons and banners, candles of every colour, plentiful and bountiful flower arrangements graciously provided by Lady Katherine of House Blossom, musicians organised and already playing.

And, for when the moon rises, a bombastic fireworks display is ready.

fWhip planned the display himself. It should be bigger and better than last year. It should be the best damn fireworks display in the Twelve Empires, maybe the whole world. After all, the Grimlandic Festival of Progress starts today.

When fWhip was a kid, they used to take part in the annual gizmo-cart competitions, and he won more than a few. Now he’s the Count, he’s not allowed to compete anymore. fWhip also assumes it’s because someone wanted to break their winning streak of eight years. A shame, really.

But either way, it’s probably one of fWhip’s favourite parts of the entire festival. He loves to watch the races. He loves seeing what gizmos people make, especially the kids.

That’s not the only reason they’re nervous, though. fWhip’s been to so many of these festivals now that they look forward to it – they don’t even find organising a three-day-long festival to be that harrowing anymore. No, the big reason he’s nervous is for what else is happening today.

Codfather Solidarity is coming to attend the festival, and, more importantly, to come sign the official paperwork with him to declare the Cod Empire and the Grimlands as official allies.

And!Jimmy’s coming to see the Festival of Progress. For the first time ever. fWhip is almost giddy with excitement, though his stomach is also twisting with nerves.

All of the Grimlands’ allies are invited. Gem’s already here, though she’s been to plenty of these before, too. Pearl unfortunately has a major harvest to oversee. Sausage said he couldn’t come on the first day, but would try to make it later in the week. Katherine was also busy, but had still agreed to send flowers.

And… and he can finally, officially, add Jimmy to that list.

fWhip finds himself smiling, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. Their hands are clammy, but they can’t help but be elated.

Jimmy said he’d be here for the festival. Teasingly agreed that the Festival of Progress was going to be the best time for them to sign anything. And then he had kissed fWhip and told them he was looking forward to it.

fWhip checks his wristwatch again. Jimmy said he’d be here by mid-morning, ready to sign the paperwork at noon.

He looks up, checking down the main road. Jimmy said he wouldn’t fly this time, but rather bring an entourage – seeing how historic an event this would be. And he had told fWhip that by bringing people with him, he’d be freer to stay longer. He’d also given fWhip a wink.

So, um, fWhip’s very much looking forward to this! For… multiple reasons.

“Count fWhip!” someone calls, and fWhip looks up, turns on his heels, searching for the voice, and heads over when he sees a small group of his people gathered around one of the strings of redstone lamps which has been taken down.

“What’s up?” fWhip asks, and he’s already pulling his trustiest screwdriver out of his toolbelt. They’re pleased they had the forethought to throw it on as they headed out the door.

“One of the lamps shorted out, and it made the entire string stop working,” a young woman tells them, as the older man standing beside her helplessly gestures with the lamp in question. “And none of us are sure how to fix it.”

“Alright,” fWhip says with a laugh, gently ushering people out of their way, and holding out their hands until the man gives him the lamp. “Get me something to perch on, and I’ll see what I can do.”

--- --- ---

fWhip misses Jimmy’s big entrance, absorbed as he is in fixing the wiring in the lamps. The fact they have one wing up, shielding the sun out of their eyes so fWhip can still see his work doesn’t help for his sightlines.

fWhip hears the clattering of hooves, though, the telltale sound of carriage wheels and horses on cobblestones – though he’s so engrossed in his work it takes a few moments for the sound to really filter in. As he blinks and raises his head, he hears a familiar laugh, and sees a familiar pair of feet step into his sightlines, below his wing-based sun umbrella.

And fWhip lowers his wing sheepishly to see Codfather Jimmy Solidarity standing there, resplendent in the Grimlandic summer sun, hands on his hips, and smiling fondly at fWhip.

“Even today?” Jimmy asks them playfully, nodding at the tools in his lap.

“I was asked to fix it!” fWhip says defensively, before he connects the last wire and closes the lantern back up, and grins as it finally lights up. “And fix it I have!”

The entire string of lights flickers back to life, and fWhip hands it off to someone else to hang back up, before he flushes and glances at Jimmy.

“Um,” he says, turning to face Jimmy properly, and he spreads his hands, gesturing wide. “Welcome. Welcome all of you to the Festival of Progress! It’s an honour to have you here for it. It, uh, starts soon.”

Jimmy smiles, big and broad and beautiful, though the Codfather Head hides how his eyes must sparkle. and finally lets his hands fall to his sides. “Thank you,” he says graciously, and Jimmy’s council-people nod and bow too, before Jimmy’s posture softens, and he steps in close, lowers his voice. “I missed you, fWhip.”

“I missed you too.” fWhip closes the distance, wrapping Jimmy up in a hug, and Jimmy hugs them back with a contented sigh. fWhip smiles as he feels Jimmy rest his chin on their head for a moment. “I’m really excited for you to be here, Jim. It should be a really good celebration this year.”

“Especially because of the history we’re making, huh?” Jimmy asks, and he takes fWhip’s hand, squeezes it softly, and it makes fWhip’s heart flutter.

“Yeah,” they say, smitten. Before they remember, and check their watch. “Oh gods, what’s the time!? Are we late?”

“Not yet,” Jimmy teases, but he glances at the sky, checking the position of the sun the old-fashioned way. “But we should probably start to head over now, so we can set up.”

--- --- ---

The walk back to fWhip’s manor feels… important. It feels ground-breaking. Historical, even. fWhip could almost vibrate out of his own skin as they mount the stairs, automatically keeping pace with each other.

It was decided the signing should take place outside, outside the Manor, where it can be observed by the Grimlandic people. fWhip casts his eyes upwards, briefly, as they take their place in preparation. They unfold and fold their wings, shooting a brief prayer to the gods that this will go all go well.

Jimmy stands across the table from him, his entourage behind him in a small semi-circle like fWhip’s is behind them, looking serene, hands folded behind his back. What can be seen of his expression behind that Head looks neutral, though fWhip knows Jimmy well enough to see how the Codfather is gently rocking on his heels, a little anxious himself.

Jimmy sees him looking, though, and offers a smile.

fWhip smiles back.

Between them is a big, heavy, dark-oak desk – a gift from a Mythlandic king to a Grimlandic Count of ages past, if fWhip remembers correctly. It usually lives in the royal study, and fWhip, and all his rulers before him, have signed many important documents on it. It just seems right that this one should be signed here too.

The treaty has been drafted several times, combed over with a fine-tooth comb by Grimlandic and Codlish scholars alike, until it was satisfactory, before painstakingly transcribed onto vellum and the ink left to dry for two days, just to be sure. It lays between them on the desk.

A bell toils in its tower nearby. fWhip has to restrain themself from wiping their hands on their trousers again as people start to gather. He has dressed up for the occasion – just a bit. He can’t tolerate it much, the fanciest stuff is all robes, and …it’s a little too close to a skirt for fWhip’s liking.

So instead, he’s in his nicest trousers, his cleanest boots, his crispest shirt, a pair of charcoal-grey silk gloves, and a lovely formal jacket embroidered with red, gold, and silver thread he inherited from a however-many-greats-grandfather. They’re even not wearing their goggles, replaced instead with a circlet of brass, set with rubies and amethysts that keeps their hair back instead – and amethyst earrings Gem gave him to match.

The most notable thing, perhaps, is the shawl they wear around their shoulders, knotted in the front and kept in place with a brass brooch. The shawl is of Codlish make – and even more importantly: embroidered. It’s Codlish tradition, to wear and document one’s life achievements and relationships in needlework. Jimmy made this one for them, once they got together.

fWhip loves it, but they’re afraid to wear it out too much. Certainly, he can’t wear it in his forge – he’d never forgive themself if they burnt or stained it. Today is the perfect opportunity, and he wears it with pride.

fWhip finds himself looking at Jimmy, drinking him in.

Jimmy is also dressed formally, and he looks simply gorgeous. His hair is braided, intricate and shining gold in the midday sun. He’s dressed in Codlish greens, browns and whites, long drapes and wrap- arounds that shimmer in the light, some of it iridescent netting, and a shawl of Jimmy’s own tied around his shoulders. fWhip notices a Mezalean clay-bead necklace around Jimmy’s neck, an Oceanic coral and pearl hairpiece in his hair, and Pixandrian blown glass earrings in his ears, and the sash around his waist is made of Overgrown silk. Jimmy once mentioned his shawl is woven from Mythlandic wool.

fWhip also notices, with a warm swell in his chest, a Grimlandic brass brooch of Jimmy’s own pinned over the knot of his shawl. It has an emerald carefully cut into the shape of a cod set in it. fWhip knows – they made it themself.

Jimmy wears his alliances proudly – all of them – but he wears fWhip’s over his heart. It makes fWhip’s eyes brighten with tears, just a little.

fWhip shakes their head, and hopes he isn’t flushing. He’s getting distracted. The smirk on Jimmy’s face tells them he’s not a subtle as they hoped.

The oldest member of fWhip’s council finally steps forward as the toiling of the bell dies away, and raises her hands. The murmuring falls silent. Across the entire courtyard, all that can be heard is the amethyst windchimes (gifted from the Crystal Cliffs) tinkling in the breeze.

“We are gathered here today,” she says, raising her voice, though fWhip gave her an amplifying charm before they started, and she can be heard easily across the crowd, “to celebrate not only the first day of the Festival of Progress, but a very special union of two peoples who we thought would never make peace.”

Jimmy and fWhip smile softly at each other. They can’t help it.

“But here we are!” the councilwoman continues. “Together, united, ready to take this great step forward during the most fitting of all our festivals. It is an honour to stand here with you all, under the leadership of Count fWhip and Codfather Solidarity, as they bring us together.”

And then she smiles. “In more ways than one,” she winks at the crowd, who hoot and cheer and clap even as fWhip goes red, and even Jimmy has to cover his mouth.

fWhip and Jimmy step in together, and fWhip hands Jimmy the quill first.

“After you,” they say softly.

“Why, thank you,” Jimmy replies, and he takes it carefully, and leans down, one arm around his middle to sweep back his layers to protect from stains as he dips the quill in the provided ink, and the Codfather signs the treaty.

As Jimmy hands fWhip the quill, his hand shakes – just a little. fWhip takes it, rolls it in his fingers gently as he takes his place at the desk too. He stares at the document before him. An age-old feud, coming to an end before his eyes. A new horizon. fWhip takes a steady breath, and signs it before he can hesitate any longer.

As fWhip sets the quill down and steps away, Jimmy takes a breath, and starts to sing. His voice is loud and clear, cutting through the air. He sings in Codlish, and the language flows, beautiful and open on his tongue. As he reaches the end of his verse, his council behind him join in.

fWhip knows enough Codlish to pick up on what they’re singing, though the words go by very fast and he misses half of them. It’s a style of song they sing at births and weddings, of the cycle of life and the joy of starting, of making something new.

fWhip stands there, entranced. Only when the song ends, and silence falls over the courtyard, do they realise that every other person present seems equally as enrapt as he is.

Then, someone gently clears their throat.

fWhip jolts, and realises that’s his cue, and he sharply turns on his heel to face the crowd, turning his own amplifier charm on with a tap, and throws out his arms.

“The deal is done!” he cries. “Let the Festival of Progress begin!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, before music starts up again, and the whole place comes alive.

--- --- ---

Jimmy takes fWhip’s hand as the crowd moves around them, and over the noise, fWhip hears the delighted peal of Jimmy’s laughter.

fWhip steps in close, puts a wing around Jimmy.

“Want to find somewhere quiet?” they ask, raising their voice.

“Okay!” Jimmy says. “Just for a moment!”

fWhip nods, and turns to the Manor’s front doors, leading Jimmy inside. He also invites Jimmy’s councillors in, telling them where they can put their bags, before they and Jimmy politely disappear into fWhip’s chambers.

Jimmy lifts the Codfather Head off carefully, and fWhip gets to watch with a dreamy smile as Jimmy’s face gets revealed. Logically, they know what Jimmy’s face looks like – but it’s wonderful to watch the reveal every time.

“Stop,” Jimmy looks away, red.

“Stop what?” fWhip asks.

“Looking at me like that!” Jimmy turns away to put the Head down carefully on fWhip’s dresser. Something in fWhip’s chest aches a little at that – at the show of trust. This all fell apart over that Head, and now Jimmy feels safe enough to leave it in fWhip’s bedroom, on his dresser. “Like I’m…”

“Like you’re what?” fWhip raises an eyebrow, his grin spreading. “Gorgeous? Breathtaking? Beautiful?”

Jimmy goes redder, and lets fWhip put their hands on his waist.

“Yeah,” he breathes, slinging his arms around fWhip’s shoulders. “All that.”

“You’re all that and more, ally,” fWhip says, meaning to sound more teasing, but the fondness breaks through, unstoppable.

“Ally,” Jimmy echoes, relief shining in his eyes. “Ally. I love you, fWhip.”

fWhip rises up on the balls of their feet, tilting his head as they lean in. “I love you too,” they whisper back.

Jimmy meets them halfway with a kiss.

It’s tender and soft, and fWhip yearns for more even as their lips part, and Jimmy hums into it. It’d be irresponsible to deepen the kiss now – but by the gods, does fWhip want to.

“Later,” Jimmy promises as they break apart for air, and fWhip kisses his throat for good measure. “Tonight.”

“Good,” fWhip says, wrapping their wings around him as they all but breathe Jimmy in. “God, I missed you.”

Jimmy peppers kisses over fWhip’s hair, in agreement, before his fingers trace the circlet nestled between fWhip’s horns.

“This is pretty,” he compliments.

“Thanks.” fWhip shudders a little. “It was an heirloom. Only rediscovered it a few months ago. It had to be resized so it’d fit me.”

fWhip tips his head back up as he speaks so he can look at Jimmy. Jimmy’s already looking at fWhip like they’re something precious, and it makes the words fWhip was going to say fade on his tongue, before the two of them drift back together. They kiss again. And once more, for good measure, before there’s a knock at the door.

“My lords,” one of fWhip’s staff calls. “Lunch is ready for you in the parlour.”

They break the kiss so fWhip can call back, “Thank you, we’ll be there shortly.”

Footsteps patter away.

Jimmy and fWhip glance at each other, before the two of them break into giggles.

“I like how they know not to open the door, now,” Jimmy teases, before he kisses fWhip’s forehead, as fWhip shivers and tries to convince himself to let Jimmy go. “Now, come on, before they decide they have to send a reminder.”

--- --- ---

The food was delightful, but fWhip can hardly focus on it. He watches until Jimmy signals he’s done, before they rise from their seat and offers a hand to their partner. Jimmy takes it with a gracious smile.

“Ready to see the festival?” fWhip asks.

“More than ready,” Jimmy replies, rising to his feet. “Where do we start?”

“It’s almost time for the gizmo races, so, there!”

fWhip practically drags Jimmy out the room, out the atrium, down the stairs and down the main road, to the plaza with the fountain in the centre, and fWhip and him get ushered over to a raised platform.

Jimmy stares at the miniature racetracks set up around the fountain itself.

“What is this?!” he asks, as fWhip pulls him up on the riser with him.

“Gizmo racing!” fWhip repeats. “It’s a time-honoured tradition. I’ve been Festival Champion eight years in a row, it’s one of my favourite events.”

“Who broke your streak?” Jimmy asks, peering over at the racecourse, drinking it all in. The individual lanes, as well as the starting-slash-end line are drawn in chalk straight onto the cobblestones. An extra string of colourful bunting is strung over the finish line.

“Not being allowed to compete anymore!” fWhip says cheerfully. “They said I was too good.”

Jimmy snorts, and steps in a little closer to fWhip, so they can wrap a wing around him.

“You still haven’t told me what a gizmo is.”

“It’s like a little cart,” fWhip gestures the rough size with his hands. “Regulation says they can’t be bigger than a half-slab. At least three wheels. They have to be remote controllable, self-powered, and self-propelled. People spend months making a gizmo for the Festival Races. There are separate classes for adults and for kids.”

Jimmy turns his head and sees the line of children, all with a little device of some sort in their hands, putting their… gizmos down at the starting line. Someone double-checks all the little carts are lined up fairly.

“Does it get intense?” Jimmy asks.

“Oh yeah,” fWhip says. “People take it very seriously. It’s great. First to five laps wins.”

Hubbub falls quiet, now. People look to fWhip, who is almost vibrating with excitement.

“Racers!” he calls. “Are ya ready?”

Jimmy hides a smile behind his hand at the very enthusiastic chorus of kids’ replies.

“Start your gizmos!”

Jimmy listens to a cacophony of whirring and humming start up.

“Ready!” he calls, almost bouncing in time with the rhythm of his words, and the spectators join in on the countdown too, the whole crowd bobbing with this energy, “Steady! GO!”

Jimmy laughs with delight as the race begins. The kids are all lazer-focussed, and it’s amazing how fast the gizmo carts can go, whizzing around the racetrack. They are all different shapes and sizes; some having big, thick, tall wheels and little chassis; some being long and flat with many smaller wheels. Jimmy’s favourite is one that looks like a pig.

People hoot and holler and cheer. Jimmy has to cling to fWhip’s arm as his partner bounces so much that the riser shakes under their feet.

Jimmy can barely keep track of which lap is which, despite flags being waved and whistles being blown. The crowd gasps and groans as one gizmo flips, spins out and takes three more with it. Some of the kids start yelling at each other.

“Final lap!” someone with a flag announces.

People start clapping their hands, stomping their feet, rhythmic but getting faster and faster as the little carts all rip around the track one last time. Jimmy cheers himself as the pig gizmo weaves through the pack and pulls ahead, just for a moment, before a mean looking one almost double its size comes up behind it.

“Go pig!” Jimmy calls.

fWhip laughs, thrilled Jimmy’s joining in, and echoes, “Go pig!”

The pig zooms ahead, swerving out of the way of the second place gizmo. They are almost neck and neck, but the pig pulls ahead one last time, under the swooping of the checkered flag, over the finish line.

One little kid jumps up and down with an excited scream, face split into a huge grin, and the crowd applauds them.

“Bonus points for style,” fWhip says admiringly.

“…How much more intense does the adult one get?” Jimmy asks, leaning in to ask more quietly into fWhip’s ear. “I think it’s a bit much for me.”

fWhip snorts. “A bit more,” they admit. “Hey, we can go-”

“No, no,” Jimmy shoves them lightly. “You stay. I… I can go find us a snack. Are there snacks here?”

“Oh yeah,” fWhip says, and points out a line of colourful vendors’ carts on the far end of the courtyard. “You have to try a potato on a stick. I’d like a chicken one.”

“…Okay,” Jimmy says. “I’ll be back?”

“I’ll wait for you here,” fWhip turns to Jimmy now, and tilts their head up questioningly. Jimmy dips down for a quick kiss, and feels fWhip smile into it. It really is surreal, that they can do this in public, that Jimmy can be here amidst fWhip’s people and be safe, be wanted here.

“Sounds good.” Jimmy trails his fingertips down the membrane of fWhip’s wing as they pull apart, which makes fWhip shudder and go a little red and stare at Jimmy with wide eyes – Jimmy’s favourite expression to get out of fWhip.

Then, Jimmy steps off the riser and starts to weave his way through the crowd to go find food.

--- --- ---

Jimmy joins the queue for one of the food carts, and he watches people walk away with their food with wide eyes. It’s a – roasted or fried? – probably fried potato, that has been cut into a spiral – though it’s still one continuous piece and speared on a wooden stick. The outsides seem to be coated in various kinds of flavoured salt, that must be what fWhip meant by a chicken potato.

People stare at him a little, but Jimmy is met with polite nods or bows or smiles, and he smiles and nods back. Jimmy wait patiently, as the crowd watching the races keeps cheering and roaring behind him, and eventually, he’s at the front of the line.

“Oh!” says the vendor. “Codfather! What can I get you?”

“Um, two potatoes, please?” Jimmy asks. “One chicken, and… what do you recommend?”

“Well, honestly,” says the vendor as she starts to prepare the first one, and Jimmy watches the machine she has with great interest as it cuts the cooked potato cleanly, “my favourite is also the chicken. But… you a fan of salt and vinegar?”

“I am, actually.”

“Then I’d say that. It’s also popular, and if you don’t like it, you can steal his,” she winks, handing Jimmy the first one and prepping the other, and Jimmy flushes a little, though it’s hidden behind his Head. “Enjoy!”

Jimmy fumbles with a pouch on his belt as she holds out the second stick, but the vendor loudly clicks her tongue.

“Don’t be silly, sir,” she says. “Take them. It’s the Festival! The council’s covered the food costs.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Jimmy lets the lady press the second stick into his hand. “Thank you, then.”

“Enjoy!” she calls, as Jimmy steps away. “Next! What can I getcha?”

Jimmy transfers both potatoes to one hand and goes searching for something to drink, too. The sun is high in the sky – it’s midsummer, it’s a beautiful day – and it’s making Jimmy thirsty. The air here is a lot more arid than he’s used to.

Eventually, he’s attempting to weave his way back through the crowd to fWhip’s riser with his potatoes-on-sticks and two bottles of cordial. Fortunately, when people see him trying to slip through, they move for him, and Jimmy hurries back to fWhip, who grabs his arm and helps him back up.

“Thanks,” Jimmy says breathlessly. “Here’s yours.”

“Thank you,” fWhip says sweetly, taking the bottle and the stick.

“How’s it going?” Jimmy peers over at the race, which seems to be setting up for one last thing.

“It’s last years champion against this year’s new first place, for ultimate winner this year,” fWhip says, words muffled as they also tear into the potato swirl with their teeth. “This doesn’t count for the medal, that guy’s already won it, but it’s like, for glory, y’know?”

“Uh huh,” Jimmy says. He shrugs and starts eating his own potato swirl too, and his eyes light up as he eats. “This is good.”

“I know, right?” fWhip grins. “They’re so good.”

Jimmy watches the race with less interest than before, he won’t lie, but he takes the opportunity to look around the plaza instead. The place looks vibrant and colourful in a way Jimmy didn’t even know the Grimlands could be. It really is stunning.

A loud wave of cheering makes Jimmy look back, and he sees that the races are finally over. He’s not much for these things, if he’s honest, but the part that makes it worth it is seeing fWhip come alive, grinning and bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement.

“That was better than last year,” fWhip declares to Jimmy, as the crowd starts to dissipate, and Jimmy looks up once he hears music start playing again. “That was awesome. God, did you see the one constructed of copper and gold? It was beautiful.”

“I did,” Jimmy agrees, shifting on his feet. “And it was. …fWhip, love, can we find somewhere to sit down for a little?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, of course.”

--- --- ---

Jimmy people watches for the next little while, as they finish their snack and drink their cordials, and fWhip Jimmy-watches as the afternoon sun makes its way across the sky.

“How are you?” fWhip eventually asks. “I haven’t bored you, have I?”

Jimmy, taking an unfortunately-timed swig of his drink, chokes a little on it as he turns to fWhip quickly. “No!” he cries. “No, love, not at all. There’s so many things to look at, is all. And I’ve never been much for racing, I won’t lie. Even Lizzie’s swimming races aren’t my cuppa tea.”

“Fair enough,” fWhip nods, swinging their feet. “What is your cup of tea, then? There’s games and stuff, we can go find some.”

“That sounds nice,” Jimmy agrees, fanning himself with his hand. “Yeesh, it’s hot.”

“Is it?” fWhip squints at the sky.

“You Southerners have hotter summers overall, I think,” Jimmy says. “Or at least, being further from the sea makes it worse. Gods, you’re still wearing a jacket.”

fWhip can’t help but laugh, and leans their head on Jimmy’s shoulder as their partner cools off.

--- --- ---

They wander the streets now, fWhip letting Jimmy gawk at all the displays. Jimmy holds their hand the whole time, and it makes fWhip’s heart beat so fast.

Jimmy stops to admire a jewellery stand, around them people of all ages are playing games, and some kids have just pulled out a long jump rope. fWhip tries to follow Jimmy’s eye to see what his partner is looking for here.

fWhip did make Jimmy’s brooch themself, but that by no means makes fWhip a jeweller. His hands are stained with redstone, gunpower, dyes, and a few burn scars. He makes weapons, first and foremost. Making Jimmy’s brooch was… meditative. But if Jimmy likes Grimlandic jewellery, maybe fWhip should learn more about it.

Jimmy lets fWhip stand there, losing his interest even as fWhip starts inspecting a few pieces to see how they were made. They even into a discussion with the stall-holder, but Jimmy notices something, and disappears from their side.

fWhip doesn’t notice right away.

It’s when the children jumping rope behind him giggle and whoop, before the children’s rhyme starts up again, louder and more gleeful, and the vendor glances over fWhip’s shoulder and does a double take.

fWhip turns, now, and blinks. A smile stretches over his face as he sees Jimmy, robes hitched up over his knees, jumping rope perfectly in time with the kid’s chant.

Jimmy even manages to jump and spin between beats of the rope on the ground, which earns a scream of excitement from the kids around him.

“Faster!” Jimmy calls.

The kids spinning the jump rope grin, and the rest of the kids clap in time with the increased speed. fWhip folds his arms as he watches Jimmy keep up.

Even adults gather around, now, as the Codfather keeps skipping rope, and the kids keep getting faster to see how much Jimmy can manage.

Jimmy eventually loses grip on his own robes and trips on them, and fortunately he doesn’t fall over, but he does get wacked with the jump rope, which makes all the kids laugh.

“Wow!” says one holding the rope. “That was awesome, Mr Codfather!”

Jimmy bends in half, leaning on his knees, gasping for air, but he offers the kid a grin and a thumbs up.

And then fWhip sees all the kids expectantly turn and look at him.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, no.”

“C’mon, Count fWhip,” Jimmy teases breathlessly. “Not even once?”

fWhip’s wings press in close, and they get met with a chorus of pouting children.

“Please?” says the other one holding the rope. “We don’t even have to go as fast!”

fWhip rubs his temple, before he approaches, and Jimmy pulls him in.

“We could do doubles!” Jimmy says, his breathing back under control. “What do you say?”

“I say I’ll fall on you,” fWhip grumbles, but looks around at the expectant faces. “What the hell, why not? When’s the last time I jumped rope?”

Jimmy takes the time to hitch up his robes a bit more securely, before looking at fWhip expectantly.

fWhip shakes their head but smiles back, and nods.

The rope starts. They both clear the first jump. fWhip centres in on the rhythm, and ends up staring at where the rope hits the cobblestones, focussing intently.

One of the kids starts up a chant fWhip remembers from his own childhood.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around!”

fWhip bites his lip, and it takes him about three jumps to turn on the spot, but they manage it. Jimmy copies him, grinning.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground!”

The step involves leaning down and, well, doing as the instruction says without getting hit by the rope. fWhip does it, and Jimmy copies him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, climb up the stairs!”

fWhip raises his knees in a couple of high-step jumps. Jimmy laughs at the step and mirrors him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, say your prayers!”

fWhip bends over, pressing their hands together in a prayer gesture, and Jimmy mimics him.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn out the light!”

fWhip mimes pulling on the cord of a redstone lamp to turn it off. Jimmy only just manages to avoid hitting the rope as it goes over their head.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, say goodnight!”

It’s the last line of the chant, and fWhip… fWhip isn’t as young as he used to be. He can’t remember what the last action is, or if there is one, so they tilt their head to the side and put their hands under it like a pillow, miming lying down. Jimmy laughs delightedly, and copies the gesture.

The chant’s over, but the kids keep going, starting to chant their way through the alphabet in time with the rope thudding on the ground.

fWhip ends up mouthing along.

“A… B… C... D… E… F-!”

fWhip mistimes the jump, stumbles, and trips. Jimmy squawks as the rope tangles around both of them, pulled from the hands of the kids swinging it, and Jimmy tries to catch fWhip as the Count almost falls over.

They end up leaning against each other, laughing.

“Sorry!” fWhip says, looking up at Jimmy from where they’re pressed to his chest, tangled up in jump rope as they are. “Sorry, I never was any good at this.”

Jimmy just laughs fondly, and pulls them in close.

“It’s alright,” Jimmy says. “It was cute. So therefore it was worth it.”

The kids hurry to untie their leader, apologising, but fWhip also gets a hail of ‘that was so cool!’s and ‘you know that rhyme?! That’s awesome!’s

fWhip laughs as Jimmy casts his eye around.

“A drink would be nice,” he says.

“Let’s find something.”

As the skipping games pick up behind them, Jimmy leads fWhip over to a cart he spotted that’s handing out water.

--- --- ---

The day has been long and gorgeous and full of fun, but as the sun sets, fWhip’s nerves really take over.

Jimmy side-eyes them as they reach automatically for their scarf – to wring it in their hands – and realise they’re not wearing it, and stick their hands in their pockets instead. He unfolds and folds his wings instead.

“You good, love?”

“The fireworks,” fWhip says, glancing at the sky. “They’re happening a half-hour after sundown. I’m… It should be good.”

“Knowing you, it should be better than good,” Jimmy bumps their hip with his. “Worried?”

“Not for any good reason.”

“Bad ones are fun, too.”

That makes fWhip snort, and he turns to Jimmy properly.

“The Count has many roles and duties,” they say. “But… planning the fireworks is my favourite one, I think.”

Jimmy’s smile is soft, under the Codfather head.

“I know what you mean,” he says, looking around. “Sometimes, our jobs are… just, the best.”

“A high honour,” fWhip agrees. “And… Jimmy?”

Jimmy tilts his head at fWhip.

“I love you,” fWhip says.

Jimmy’s smile spreads. “I love you too,” he says, and he takes fWhip’s wrist and gently pulls until fWhip’s hand emerges from his pocket, and Jimmy takes the time to lace their fingers together. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming.”

fWhip glances around again, at the sky. The best places will already be crowded with people – some people reserve their spot for the fireworks a good hour or so in advance. He… he has a special, more private place in mind, though.

“Do you want to go find somewhere to sit?” Jimmy asks, and fWhip laughs, because Jimmy read their thoughts. “I could do with a sit-down, honestly.”

“Yeah, we can,” fWhip says, before they fidget a little.

Jimmy pauses for a second, before he snorts in amusement and stops walking, making fWhip stop too. fWhip looks up at Jimmy with wide eyes, the unshakeable feeling of being caught plotting settling on their shoulders.

“You have a plan,” Jimmy sing-songs.

fWhip can’t keep the giggle that bubbles out of him down, and he looks down, shoulders rising, wings enveloping them just a little, sheepish.

“Yeah,” fWhip says. “Just a little.”

Jimmy waits, expectantly, and when fWhip doesn’t look up right away, Jimmy steps in closer, and tilts their head up with his free hand. It knocks the breath out of fWhip, and they can only stare in wonder at Jimmy.

“Tell me,” Jimmy says.

“The roof,” fWhip blurts, before he goes red. “I was thinking I could fly us up to the roof, and we could get the best view from up there.”

Jimmy softens.

“That sounds wonderful,” he agrees.

“Only thing is, it’ll be loud,” fWhip warns, glancing up at the sky again.

And now, Jimmy laughs openly, head tipping back, before he shakes his head and shoots fWhip a look.

“fWhip,” he says dryly. “Love. We’ve both lost enough hearing from your explosions that it’s not going to matter.”

fWhip laughs back, though he goes a little redder.

“Alright, alright, fair point,” he says. “Sorry.”

Jimmy flicks his nose in vengeance, then holds his arms out expectantly towards them.

“Well?” he says. “Roof time.”

fWhip grins, and scoops Jimmy up, cradling him in their arms bridal style, and quickly double-checking they aren’t going to hit anything around them with their wings. The coast is clear, so fWhip spreads their wings and takes off.

Jimmy clings to him, arms around his neck, but leans his head against fWhip’s.

The flight is short. fWhip lets Jimmy down on the roof of fWhip’s Manor, and steadies Jimmy as the Codfather gets comfortable on the slates. fWhip settles beside him, and leans back, tucking their hands behind their head.

The stars seem even brighter up here.

When fWhip was first gifted his wings, his main form of practice was flying up and down from this roof. They liked being up here at night, admiring the constellations and pretending he knew any of them. Getting down in the dark was less fun.

In the past, he’d brought Gem up here with him, and even Sausage a couple times, and Gem had gladly told him the constellation names, and Sausage had told him the myths behind a few of them.

Jimmy doesn’t say anything. He just looks at fWhip looking at the stars, and the smile Jimmy gives them is tender.

fWhip checks their wristwatch again.

“Just a few minutes, now,” he says anxiously.

His anxiety, however, is melted away by Jimmy sitting up and carefully removing the Codfather Head. Jimmy puts it in his inventory before he turns to fWhip, and fWhip gets to have his breath stolen all over again for how Jimmy’s face is lit up in the moonlight.

“You’re beautiful.”

fWhip says it without thinking.

This time, when Jimmy smiles, fWhip can see how his eyes glitter, how the skin around them crinkles, the dimples on his cheeks, the way his too-sharp teeth glint.

“So are you.” Jimmy then takes a breath in, holds it, and lets it out, eyes closing. “Gods above, I… I can’t believe it, fWhip.”

“Can’t believe what?” fWhip asks, scooting in a little closer.

“Can’t believe we’re here,” Jimmy replies, opening his eyes again, and fWhip’s heart beats so fast in this moment, and so loud that they’d be surprised if Jimmy can’t hear it. “Can’t believe we’re at peace. Can’t believe we’re together.”

Then Jimmy’s eyes flick down to fWhip’s lips, and Jimmy’s expression sharpens into a grin.

“Can’t believe you’re going to kiss me right now,” he adds.

fWhip snorts, but gives in without complaint, shivering as Jimmy pulls fWhip in closer, and they kiss. It’s gentle and sweet, at least at first, until Jimmy makes a sound in the back of his throat that makes fWhip’s knees go weak, and he lets Jimmy pull them on top of him, and deepen the kiss.

fWhip’s eyes drift close, they cling to Jimmy’s clothes as they lose themself in it, long and slow, and when they pull apart for air, fWhip studies Jimmy’s face.

“What do you see?” Jimmy asks. His voice is so soft.

“Something worth remembering forever and ever,” fWhip replies, equally as low. He almost dips down for another kiss before-

BANG!

fWhip jumps as the firework show begins, and he scrambles off Jimmy so he can watch it too, which makes Jimmy laugh and scoot up beside them. fWhip puts a wing around Jimmy as he snuggles up close so they can block the wind.

Jimmy laces their fingers together again, squeezing once.

They watch the fireworks in the quiet, there, alone on the roof. The crowd below cheers for the bigger ones, but all of them are beautiful. Jimmy watches ones that fill the sky with glimmering jewels, ones that streak across the sky in a trail of stardust, ones that whistle and pop with the most tremendous of sparkles. Jimmy doesn’t have a favourite. The whole display is stunningly gorgeous.

Throughout it, though, Jimmy catches fWhip shooting him anxious side-eyes, trying to judge if Jimmy is enjoying himself. So, Jimmy squeezes their hand again, and lets the awe he’s feeling shine through in his voice.

“It’s beautiful, fWhip,” he says earnestly. “You’ve done a splendid job.”

fWhip absolutely lights up under Jimmy’s words, and they finally relax, curling up to Jimmy to watch their hard work come to fruition.

“Here’s to Progress,” he mumbles.

“Here’s to life,” Jimmy agrees, before he rests his head against fWhip’s again. He couldn’t have imagined a better day spent here, with fWhip, if he tried. “Here’s to us. To you. I love you, fWhip.”

fWhip looks away from the fireworks to look at a far prettier sight, and smiles up at Jimmy.

“I love you too, Jimmy,” they say.

And so they curl up here, content and together, and for once, fully at peace.

#djpurple3's writing yo #empires smp #empires s1 #fwhimmy #empires fic #food mention #codfather jimmy #count fwhip #esmp #empiresshipping

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inaris-mage-of-storms · 11 months

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The number of days Scott didn't want to get out of bed grew more frequent in the weeks following his visit to the flower cave. But it wasn't because his limbs felt far too heavy, or because his thoughts felt about as easy to hold on to as dead leaves on a windy day. Instead, it was because absolutely nothing held a bigger draw than the way Jimmy heaved a little sigh, slowly blinked his eyes open, and smiled sleepily when he saw Scott watching him.

If Scott got out of bed, he would have to interrupt the lazy way Jimmy kissed him or the gentle way Jimmy's hand ran up his arm or the eager way Jimmy nosed into Scott's neck and pressed closer until Scott held him. Once his canary decided he was hungrier for actual food than for cuddles Scott happily got out of bed, but until then, he wasn't going anywhere.

Loving and being loved by Jimmy made Scott ridiculously happy. Giddy, even. So that made it all the more bitter when he woke up to Jimmy's gentle smile and couldn't muster one of his own in return.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into Jimmy's chest on one of those mornings when a sadness whose source he couldn't name settled into his bones.

"What for?" asked Jimmy, his fingers soothing in Scott's hair and his hand gentle on Scott's back.

Scott sighed. "I dunno, for being this weak and pathetic thing you have to babysit?" Shame and frustration burned in his throat. "For being a grown man who can't keep himself together just because he had to face the consequences of his own actions? Gods, I'm a mess."

"Hey now. Don't even start with all that nonsense." Jimmy rubbed Scott's back and peppered kisses along his hair. "You're strong, petal, you really are."

The unexpected pet name was enough to make Scott's thoughts pause, and he lifted his head to look at Jimmy questioningly. "...Petal?"

Jimmy looked embarrassed, and Scott knew if he hadn't had his arms full of dispirited elf then Jimmy would be running fingers through his own hair or rubbing the back of his neck. "I was thinking the other day about how bright and pretty you are, like a flower. And how, um, how soft your lips are. Like flower petals. And I dunno, it just sort of seemed to fit, you know? I can call you something else if you don't like it, or just by your name if you prefer, I know some people don't like - "

He was starting to ramble, and Scott cut him off with a kiss. "It's okay. I like it," he said softly. Jimmy smiled brightly, and while it didn't make Scott's heart soar as high as it usually did, it was enough to make the darkness that dogged him a little easier to bear.

Scott tucked his face against Jimmy's chest again, and they lay there in silence for a few more hours. He got the sense that there was something on Jimmy's mind, but lethargy had settled in again and asking questions felt beyond his capabilities. He had his suspicions. More than once in the last couple of weeks he had found Jimmy staring forlornly at Fwhip's bedroom door. It was four months and counting into Fwhip's absence, and the canary was no doubt missing his king.

"Would it help if you left?"

Jimmy's question broke Scott out of his doze, and he lifted his head in confusion. "What?"

Jimmy didn't meet his eyes. "Would you be happier if you could leave? If you weren't trapped here?"

There was a downturn to Jimmy's lips that Scott didn't like. He kissed the corner of Jimmy's mouth, then his jaw, then his cheek. "Being with you helps."

"That doesn't answer my question." Jimmy gazed at him, worry and guilt mingling in his eyes. "The worst snows are over, and it will begin melting soon. You have your belongings. You could leave."

Scott stared at him. "Are you...are you saying you want me to leave?" He hadn't considered the possibility that Jimmy might one day grow tired of him. He hadn't considered that one day he might be presented with the opportunity to escape and be filled with dread rather than joy.

"No, of course not!" Jimmy's feathers began to puff up in distress. "If I'm honest, I want you to stay forever. I meant it when I said I loved you." His cheeks went pink at the admission. "But I want you to be happy, too. And if that means leaving, then - "

Scott shook his head. "I can't. Fwhip made it quite clear that he would hunt me down if I left."

"I wouldn't let him," said Jimmy stubbornly.

"You would betray him for me?" asked Scott in disbelief. "Because that's what it would be, Jimmy. Betrayal."

Jimmy looked sick at the very thought. "I love him," he said in a small voice. "He's my king and my partner and I love him so much it hurts sometimes. But watching you suffer hurts too, Scott. You've been unhappy for a long time, and I can't stand it."

Scott considered it. Part of him wanted to take the opportunity while it was there. Part of him wanted to leave and get as far away from Gobland as possible and never enter another cave again.

Most of him, though, wanted to see Jimmy smile again. Most of him wanted to cover Jimmy's face in kisses and hold him close and reassure him that the place Scott wanted to be was right by Jimmy's side, and he did exactly that.

"You aren't entirely off-base," admitted Scott after Jimmy's sad look faded away. "I would prefer to be here of my own free will rather than as a prisoner. But I also know this isn't for too much longer." He cupped Jimmy's cheek in his palm. "You gave me a reason to keep going when I wanted to give up, sunbeam. The situation isn't perfect, but I can't imagine how leaving you could possibly make me any happier."

Jimmy studied him for a moment. "Okay," he said finally, and despite his earlier insistence, he looked relieved. "If you're sure."

"I am," said Scott, then smirked. "Also, kind of flattered that you would consider committing treason for my sake. If I weren't already in love with you, I definitely would have fallen for you today."

Jimmy grimaced. "Please don't tell Fwhip we ever had this conversation," he muttered.

"Of course not." Scott twined his arms around Jimmy's neck. "On one condition. I'm hungry now, and I want dumplings."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think that can be arranged," said Jimmy with a smile. "Throw in a kiss and you have a deal." Scott smiled and kissed Jimmy, and once again he got out of bed for his songbird's sake.

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#empiresshipping #flower husbands #canary in the gold mine au #file: storm writes things #this feels really rough and it's probably gonna need SO much re-working when i start editing #but i wanted to get through it because! fwhip returns next time! :D #there will be some fhwimmy AND some scwhip happening soon I promise

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withering-sunflower-dust · 6 months

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A bit more conversation/interviews from the esmp actor cast!

Question; what are their favorite blooper scenes?

Celestia/Gem's actor;

Celestia; we have bloopers all the time, I'd say a lot of the bloopers are so funny especially since the scenes are supposed to be serious

Interviewer; can we hear one of these bloopers perhaps?

Celestia; of course you can! Okay so like we were filming the Gem and Sausage fight where she was supposed to break sausage out possession, we have to do like five different take for that because Sammy{sausage's actor} kept laughing and swearing and also kept tripping off the edge!

Interviewer; I am ready hear how many times Sammy caused the cast to have to retake a scene today!

Celestia; totally should cuz there's going to be so many!

Cris/Fwhip's actor

Cris; oh that's a hard one cuz I have so many bloopers in mind for like a favourite, but personally I think one of my favorite ones are just like Carson laughing while he was in a scene with ash (Xornoth's/Bratwurst's actor) like they could not look into each other's eyes and play it seriously we'd have to like redo that scene at least 10 or so times until they properly do it cuz every time they look at each other they just straight up start laughing out loud like not even laugh they would fall to their knees laughing and crying on the floor those two are brother-in-law's and I have respect for that but that also means we have to redo the scene like 15 times unusual basis when those two have a scene together

Interviewer; that is an absolute nightmare to live through having to redo 15 takes

Cris; it is, it takes so long o film the cuz those two would lay on the ground and laugh for a solid 20 minutes

Sammy/Sausage's actor

Sammy; uuhh, honestly I'd say season 2 when Shelby and supreme meet and they have this elaborate plan to trap Joey but my favorite bloopers were when they were flying in

Interviewer; now why is that?

Sammy; every time we would start the flying scene they would straight up get tangled even after we untangled them when they started to take they got tangled again somehow, so like we had to retake that one 10 second flying motion for like I think it was like 7 or 8 times we had to retake it

Interviewer; unless they did it on purpose they were spitting around in the air

Sammy; that's probably what they did

Ash/Bratwurst's/Xornoth's actor

Ash; there are a load of funny ones, if you're talking personal favorites, then it was when we were setting up ice for Carson's Elsa arc and when he got on the ice he literally slipped face first

Interviewer; he didn't know how to skate?!

Ash; Ironic right?

Dianna/Pearl's actor;

Dianna; Favourite blooper was when we were trying to film an angel sausage scene and things didn't go quite to plan, needless to say we almost put set on fire

Interviewer; well now how that happened!?

Dianna; we were messing with the lights

Carson/Scott's actor;

Carson; this isn't a blooper scene but I think Id count it as one, we were doing like a technical fighting scene and then someone bumped into Cris and accidentally fell hit ash and then they kissed on the floor, like watching that back over and over is so funny the two of them were completely stunned by it were you curious ones out there it was nether fight scene

Interviewer; wither husband was trending ship for a while, maybe that's why!

Shelly/Shubble's actor

Shelly; My favourite blooper of all time is most likely Like the wedding scene where Xornoth was like hiding from the crowd like ash kept falling and losing balance at the ledge he was trying to so hard to balance he swore when he finally did it he swore while filming and we had to retake it again!

Interviewer; now that, was an epic fail!

Kathliana/Katharine'sactor

Kath; it's a very specific one, you know how season 1 Scott has messenger owl? Yea while we were filming the owl moved and Carson jumped and screamed, he thought those were remote controlled so like he didn't expect it to move to him

Interviewer; they were real?

Kath; yea, one of the writers had trained owls as a pet and brought them in for plot no one knew expect for Sammy cuz he was part of the writers crew for a bit

Sebastian/Joey's actor

Seb; This is really unclosed info don't tell anyone I said this, but my favorite blooper was when Sean was trying to set up the candles then then rolled on one making him fall in the fountain

Interviewer; I am sworn to secrecy!

Sean/pixl's actor

Sean; probably when cole was pulled into the ponds by actual cods, that wasn't a joke we had like couple hundred cod's on set

Interviewer; now that would be a feast!

Cole/Jimmy's actor

Cole; this isn't a blooper it's more a behind the scenes, but I love how like every Sunday Sammy would bring soda and empanadas, they were homemade and f______ delicious!

Interviewer; woah now! You can't say that word were on live television!

Louise/Lizzie's actor

Louise; I'd say Dianna screaming on the tops of the lungs when she saw ash, she had no idea Sammy had a twin

Interviewer; You have the most straightforward answer of everyone

Louise; and yet I'm still not straight

Joey/Joel's actor

Joey; personal favorite was when anyone trips and fall over the corrupted vines

Interviewer; I'm guessing that happens a lot?

Joey; more than you may think

Sahara/False's actor

Sahara; everytime cris would fall while he was crouch walking Trying to reach his hight requirements

Interviewer; so he was actually crouching?

Sahara; Yea and it was hilarious seeing him struggle with it

Liam/Oli's actor

Liam; I have a particular one in mind, It was when the Lammas wouldn't stop spitting on Owen while filming, they hated him for some reason

Interviewer; I guess they just hate the special guests!

Liam; soo true

_________

If there's anything you wanna ask abt the actor au shoot me an ask! And if you have questions for the cast then also shoot me an ask!

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siriannatan · 13 days

Text

Scratches, Tattoos and Red Roses

I remembered I once wrote a similar one shot, re-read it, and decided to try writing a longer fic. Might be more than 3 chapters but that's the plan for the moment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55860592/chapters/141836842

Jimmy was an absolute mess. He knew it but couldn't be bothered as he knelt on the living room floor. Sobbing uncontrollably over a tangled mess of bandages. Sweater he bought in a hurry due to rain was long forgotten by the door but the damage it caused to his arms was still there. Long angry, red lines five minutes off from bleeding.

Not that he cared as he scratched his neck. He was far too upset to care about anything. What was he supposed to say to Scott and fWhip when they're back? He couldn't tell them what happened at his outing with his brothers. Not after he insisted on going after they tried to convince him it was a bad idea. It was actually a terrible idea.

He was so busy feeling bad for himself and crying he didn't realize Scott was home until all he could see was his perfectly white button up. “Hush, it's all okay, I'm home, will fix your arms in just a second,” Scott said gently as he cradled Jimmy. Who just cried harder, grabbing at Scott's shirt. “Let it all out, don't worry about my stupid shirt,” Scott chuckled as Jimmy tried to pull back once he realized he was likely running one of Scott's work shirts.

“But…” Jimmy started but got gently shushed.

“No buts, I got more,” Scott shook his head. Jimmy felt it more than saw it. “I'll check if…”

“I'm hom… oh my god, Jimmy are you okay?” fWhip said as soon as he walked in. Soaked from driving a motorbike in the rain.

“Better now,” Jimmy nodded, sitting back to let Scott look over his arms. “I kind of stormed out of the coffee shop and forgot my sweater…” he gave the simplest explanation. He didn't want to give any more details if he could help it.

Scott nodded. “fWhip dear, please go shower before you catch something,” he told fWhip with a stern look.

fWhip sighed. “Fine, but I'm making dinner, you'll need to get out of the suit eventually, no?”

Scott agreed so after giving both Jimmy and Scott a kiss fWhip went upstairs to shower and change.

Jimmy watched in silence, after taking his shirt off, as Scott gently cleaned his arms and neck with disinfectant before applying spray to calm the rashes. “What did they do this time?” Scott asked as he moved to the bandages.

“I don't want to talk about it,” Jimmy tried to avoid the topic but Scott just gave him a stern look. He really wanted to know.

“Should I call Lizzie so she can grill Joel about it?” He asked and Jimmy sighed. There was no doubt Scott would do it.

“They tried to set me up on a date with some friend of Grian, I told them I'm perfectly happy with you and stormed off,” Jimmy shrugged. His oh so lovely brothers had no clue about fWhip. “I'm fine now, no hate on the guy, he had no clue I was seeing anyone,” he quickly added before Scott could ask who.

“Who was it?” fWhip asked as he walked down the stairs. “A co-worker was out longer for lunch, and then said something about a messed up blind date,” he added, arms crossed over his chest. “And fresh shirt,” he added as Scott finished the bandages with tiny kisses to Jimmy's wrists.

“Tango,” Jimmy admitted with a sigh. How many other blind dates could have happened today? “But it's not his fault, he had no clue I'm taken, please don't be mean to him.”

“Just for you I won't,” fWhip sighed. “I think I avoided Gem enough, we should just date officially,” he offered as Scott was about to go change.

“Are you sure? You always said she's… a bit protective,” Scott asked, just to be sure.

“Her protectiveness goes the other way to Grian and Joel's so it'll be all fine, she'll love you both,” fWhip assured as he helped Jimmy stand up. “Go change CEO-boy,” he chuckled and Scott went upstairs with a chuckle, and all the medical supplies.

Jimmy smiled at the idea but didn't say anything, just yawned. “Can I help in ANY way?” He asked as he followed fWhip to the kitchen despite being told to just sit on the couch.

“Be pretty?” fWhip grinned as he pulled out some leftover he planned to repurpose with some wraps. “Fine, you can make tea and set the table,” he quickly bed under Jimmy's pout.

Jimmy gladly did that even if he wished he was trusted doing more than reheating leftovers when his boyfriends were at work. He just got rashes and bruises easily. He could cook. Well… Scott and fWhip did cook pretty well too. Maybe one day he could surprise them?

“You two spoil me too much,” Jimmy complained once he ran out of things fWhip would let him help with.

“I'd say we don't spoil you enough if you still want to help,” Scott announced he's back. In plain white t-shirt and light blue shorts. Jimmy pouted at him.

“You do remember that I'm perfectly capable of cooking?” He grumbled, and gave Scott an unimpressed side eye.

Scott nodded in agreement as fWhip announced dinner was ready. Jimmy ate mostly in silence as fWhip and Scott planned a shopping list. Their fridge was almost empty. Luckily they both had a day off on Saturday so all three of them could go grocery shopping together. And to pick up more bandages and Jimmy's prescription.

“Did you remember to take a day off on Tuesday for the optometrist appointment?” Jimmy asked fWhip. He only made an appointment because Jimmy bothered him about it.

“I did, don't worry,” fWhip rolled his eyes but did smile. Jimmy nodded with a huff before another sip of his juice.

“I'm sure you'll look cute in glasses,” Scott tried to lift fWhip's mood. “While we're at appointments, we're still good on Friday?” Scott was talking to fWhip about getting a tattoo done by him for weeks now. Sadly Jimmy couldn't get one due to his condition but fully supported his boyfriends.

“Of course. Would you like to come along?” fWhip asked Jimmy. “Hold Scott's hand and stuff,” he chuckled, grimacing as Scott kicked him under the table.

“Umm… would Tango be around? O don't blame him for anything just…” Jimmy mumbled nervously.

“I think he's working then, but I can ask him, I promise I'll be nice, to not go to the lobby when you two arrive?” fWhip offered.

“No need I'll be fine,I just wanted to know to, you know, prepare myself mentally,” Jimmy shook his head but had a feeling fWhip would be talking to Tango.

“Mhm… oh wait. There's a chance I'll need to be at the studio on Tuesday, just a couple hours to cover for Cleo,” fWhip suddenly remembered and pulled his phone out to scroll for a particular message. “I'll be off before the appointment, I promise.”

“I can drive you in the morning,” Jimmy didn't protest at all. He was kind of excited to be recognised not only as Scott's boyfriend but also fWhip's.

“Aww, you two are going to have a cute date while I'll be stuck at the office, not fair,” Scott faked a pout.

“We'll get you a souvenir,” Jimmy chuckled. And they say he's the cute one.

Scott laughed at that and requested a cake. Jimmy was more than okay with a cake. If he could get fWhip in on his plan then even better.

When Jimmy woke up the next morning, finally fully rested and relaxed, it was just him and still sleeping fWhip. Scott must have been out jogging. Good for him, Jimmy thought as he glared at the new red marks on his arms. There were no doubt more hidden by the sheets. He just sighed and hugged fWhip. It wasn't that bad. In the past he'd wake up with bloodied sheets.

“Hmm, mornin’,” fWhip murmured into Jimmy's shirt. His morning voice was pretty nice. Heavy and gravely. Jimmy was only willing to share it with Scott. Not that he was often long enough in bed to hear it. “Sleep well?” He asked and yawned.

“Morning to you too, I slept great, would be even nicer if someone was here to cuddle with us,” Jimmy sighed in faked disappointment. Mostly faked. He understood why Scott was so set on keeping his exercise regiment but still sometimes wishes he'd stay in bed longer.

He could faintly hear the front door open and close. Scott was back. “We should get up,” fWhip sighed and sat up. Jimmy allowed himself a moment to marvel at the ink lines of the roses on fWhip's arms and surrounding the rib cage perfectly matching his, shift and move as fWhip did. “Should I carry you downstairs?” fWhip chuckled.

“I don't know, maybe?” Jimmy grinned. Scott wouldn't be too happy but it'd be fun. And it wasn't like he believed fWhip would do it.

Not that he got a chance to. “Aren't you two cute,” Scott chuckled as he saw Jimmy draped over fWhip. Both still in bed.

“You could be cute with us from time to time, you knoooow,” fWhip’s pretend hurt dissolved into a yawn. “Come on, Jim, breakfast and then shower,” he said while gently patting Jimmy's thigh. He just mumbles something between yawns but did follow fWhip downstairs as Scott showered first.

fWhip made them pancakes. From Scott's homemade mix. Jimmy made their coffee, humming along to the radio playing quietly in the background between yawns.

Breakfast and a shower followed by Scott redoing the bandages woke Jimmy up somewhat. “How's work?” He asked, watching Scott's fingers deftly work with the bandage.

“Good, few clients are being difficult and complain about everything but we got them handled,” Scott hummed looking up for a second. “Something bothering you?”

“No, just… curious. Don't you sometimes miss not being the guy in charge?”

“Not really, I don't have to listen to clients complain, just filter some emails that should have been sent to a different department,” Scott shrugged. Jimmy smiled. He liked seeing his boyfriends be happy. “What about you? Are you bored while we're at work?”

Jimmy hummed. “Not really, I know how to keep busy. Like do some light cleaning, laundry and stuff. Nothing that would irritate my skin but… I'm happy if that's what you're wondering,” he smiled and stole a kiss.

“Wow, I think I'll melt from the cuteness,” fWhip was back from the shower with a grin. “What got you two so clingy?”

“Nothing, I just love you two a lot,” Jimmy grinned at him.

“All done,” Scott announced and passed Jimmy a shirt. He dutifully got it on, followed by a cardigan. All picked out by Scott.

“If you ever get bored of being CEO and architecture you could try fashion,” Jimmy mused with fWhip nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah, but for now we have places to be,” Scott rolled his eyes but a fond smile was tugging on his lips.

#my stuff #my stories #empires smp #fanfiction #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott #empires jimmy #scfwhimmy

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nach0 · 7 months

Text

MCYT Yuri Week; Day Four - Genderbend/ Transgender

"Doe don't have antlers."

Wordcount: 667

AO3 Link

Years after their death, Gem finds a letter from her parents addressed to who she used to be. Pearl is there to help deal with the memories it dredges up.

It was ridiculous to be scared of a piece of paper. It couldn’t hurt her. It was just words, the words of long buried people that had been dead to her even longer.

Maybe she should just burn it. Logically, she knew nothing they had to say to her would be good. That they would have remained bitter and cold to the very end. But a small, childish part of her hoped they had seen a new light in their last moments.

Dear Gale, the letter started, and she almost screamed.

Why had Fwhip given this to her? It was still sealed, he hadn’t read it, but he would have had to know it wasn’t good. Maybe this was a sick kind of revenge for leaving him to deal with them alone.

But curiosity had always been her biggest flaw.

“Gem’s late,” Pearl hummed, a teasing smile on her face to hide the deep concern the simple statement brought. As much as she liked to get lost in her books, Gem hated missing any meetings. A desire to prove herself as a ruler that Pearl herself could relate to.

Fwhip immediately looked guilty.

“You might… I don’t think she’s going to be here for a while. Best to leave her alone.”

“What did you do?”

Smoke puffed from his nose but he didn’t respond, suddenly very interested in the table grain.

“Fwhip.”

“I didn’t think it would be this bad!” He protested. “She knew what they were like, and it’s just a letter! One of their final wishes was for me to give it to her, I held off long enough already!”

Pearl was out of the room before he’d finished his excuses.

Gem could barely hear over the pounding in her own ears. Her hands clenched around the letter and the air was almost unbearably hot, her magic reacting to emotion pushing and slipping through the boundaries of her control.

You would have made such an excellent count-

The door was locked. She made sure of that because if she locked it then she wasn’t trapped and everything was ok but nothing was ok-

-so disappointing that those wizards have confused you, but if you come home and apologise-

The door was locked. Then it was opened.

(When had Pearl ever let a little thing like locks stop her?)

There were hands on her arms, warm but devastatingly cold compared to the fire begging to be set free, a gentle voice trying to break through the fog in her mind.

You will always be our son.

The letter was gently tugged out of her hands. Pearl pulled her into a hug, and it had to be Pearl, no one else knew the right balance of tightness and room to move, whispering comforts into her ear.

It took time for her to wrestle her magic back under control, longer for her limbs to stop feeling like lead, but Pearl never stopped looking at her with that gentle worry.

The first thing she said once she was able to talk was-

“Doe don’t have antlers.”

Gem couldn’t bring herself to look up as she said it. The words hung in the air with a weight she could feel pressing on her shoulders and she waited for Pearl to push her away, for confusion to turn to scorn and disgust.

She was kissed gently on the head instead.

“You never have listened to what other people expected of you. Why would nature be any different?”

“Wha- Pearl, I’m wrong. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, I’m sorry, but I’m-”

Lips pressing into her own cut her off immediately. She only let herself enjoy it for a moment before pulling away again.

“You’re my amazing girlfriend who I love very much,” Pearl said firmly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t matter who you were, who you’ve been, this is who you chose to be now. That’s what’s important.”

And as they fell into another kiss, Gem made sure the door was properly secured this time.

@mcyt-yuri-week

#mcytyuriweek2023 #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #empires smp #nach0 writing #my writing #writing #pearlgem #gempearl #getting this out on time was a bit of a challenge but we win this

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blocksruinedme · 1 year

Text

JIMMY FINALE SPOILERS (but i tagged it so)

If Jimmy can get there on his own, he can come back on his own. My brain is aggressively rejecting any idea that he's gone for good or impossible to reach. It's kinda of funny to see it happen, I'm well aware of it but I'm just going with it. I don't know how much i will even muse on emp s2 post canon.

But.

After Joel's finale, i was thinking through "Jimmy knows people can get Actual God Joel's attention but he refuses to cause Joel didn't say goodbye" and then Joel show up to demand Jimmy's attention (and kisses).

Now I'm thinking fWhip finds out Jimmy left and tracks him down like the insane goblin he is, and Jimmy knows about the shrine and that gives him what he needs to have an actual conversation. That and the emotional space of having left and reflected, and fWhip's panic at Jimmy being gone and seeing what his life is like both without his gobland obligations and without Jimmy - and friends gone too!

I gave up on writing real fWhimmy set during the season, maybe this is what i needed. (God I'm going to miss them)

And in my headcanon Joel can physically manifest wherever he wants. Like Weekend Town. It really seems very plausible, and Joel can be annoyed Jimmy ran off and then argue briefly before kissing. I have TWO late season emp2 smallidarity fics in actual progress, so maybe i should write those lol.

Also Jimmy could come back to visit and be surprised at who is gone! Feelings!!

Oh i haven't watched Scott's, but he went adventuring? Obvs he can show up in WT for feelings and kisses. (They had so much unresolved sexual tension lets be real) Everyone gets to have feelings about other people leaving empires, including "well it made sense for me to leave but you should have stayed (for my emotional reasons i don't understand)". I could do a series of NO NOT ANOTHER SERIES NO uh hey one could do a series of diff visitors to weekend town!

Here's what i said on discord immediately after watching (in a parked car)

"Well i shrieked and literally pounded the roof so ill call it a win

Did i get any resolution between Jimmy and anyone? No.

Did Jimmy fly over to Joel and call him attractive? Yes.

Did we see fWhip? No.

Did i have feelings about Jimmy talking about him and his self-esteem? Yes.

Had it been so long since the shrine that I had full on given up hope Jimmy would ever see it? Yes.

Did i lose my fucking shit? Yes.

Does it give me fic fodder? Absolutely, ideas churning.

Did I literally scream about Jimmy being inducted into a lineage with mandatory bisexuality? Yes

Do i want other people to write Jimmy/old sheriff? Yes."

-----

Now, asap, just give me a new long term smp with at least some lore and rp featuring (at minimum) Jimmy fwhip scott joel oli lizzie, and I'm good. It's not that i need it for fic, i just need boys crashing into Jimmy's streams.

(if you are inspired by any of my fic ideas, go ahead, just let me know if you are working on one so i don't write sometime too similar!)

Empires season 2. It's been real, y'all. (I will not stop talking about them ever. Just less after awhile)

#empires solidarity #EMPIRES SPOILERS #jimmy spoilers #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #solidaritygaming #me #solidarity gaming #empires s2 #fwhimmy #smallidarity #empireshipping #empires shipping #flowerhusbands

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thedo0zyslider · 7 months

Text

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter 30: End of Everything (And Baby It's All Our Fault) - 9k Words

When Fwhip sees the Codfather next, all of his partners problems coming spilling out like a tidal wave. And the Count thinks he has the perfect solution for it.

A03 Link

Playlist

The next time the two see each other, maybe a week or two after Fwhip had gained the crown, the Count is yet again trying to cheer up his boyfriend. They’re at the cod empire again, Fwhip having flown over in a slight worry, for he hadn’t heard from his partner in a few days. Now the two of them had ended up laying on the cod’s couch again, the half dragon resting his head against his partner's chest, and one of Jimmy’s hands gently running over his wings.

Fwhip holds back a sigh as they lie there, knowing that this isn’t doing anything. Well the cuddling is nice and all of course, but he can tell this isn’t working. He can still feel Jimmy’s frown, can still feel that near permanent melancholy feeling rolling off him in waves. The cod mutters something quietly to him, something Fwhip doesn’t quite catch, and he can barely remember to respond to it. He’s lost in his thoughts entirely, which are a mix of things that makes his boyfriend happy, and hyper focusing on the sadness in Jimmy’s voice whenever he speaks nowadays, and wonder why exactly it’s there. (Well, he thinks it’s sadness anyways, it could be something else entirely, for all the half dragon knows at this point.)

But maybe he’s found something that would work, as he shifts through his thoughts for what feels like the millionth time. The Count remembers what today’s date is, and can barely hide a wide smile at the significance of it. If that won’t cheer the Codfather up, then he isn’t sure what will anymore. Jimmy starts to idly run a hand through his hair, and the Count shifts his head closer to the touch.

“It’s been just over a year.” Fwhip mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Jimmy’s neck. He closes his eyes as he does so, taking in the warmth that radiates from his boyfriend.

“Since what?” The cod asked, his voice becoming tinged with a slight curiosity; continuing to fiddle with strands of ginger hair. And maybe hopefully, his eyes brightened just a bit, even if Fwhip couldn’t see them do so.

He smiled, and muttered his response against cool and familiar tanned skin. “Since the Xornorth defeat, the feast, everything.”

‘It has!?” Jimmy exclaimed, moving his hand back in surprise.

“Yep, it has!” Fwhip lifted his head, chasing the touch that had just been so rudely taken from him. He fixed the blonde with a smile and bright blue eyes in the process, and could practically hear Jimmy’s heart melt as his tense expression morphed into one that was far softer than before.

“One year of dating you.” He continued softly with a smile, reaching his head upwards and pressing a kiss to Jimmy’s cheek. The cod laughed, and gave his partner a kiss in return. Warmth spread through the Count at that, and he laid his head comfortably against the cod’s chest, after his face had been properly peppered with kisses of course.

“When did we first kiss?” The blonde asked after a few quiet moments, supposedly of thinking, and his hand going to twine itself into the Count’s hair once again..

Fwhip simply shrugged in response. “A few months before the Final Battle? Like six or something? Why?” He wasn’t entirely sure when that had happened, but it was a few months at least probably. The past year had been sort of a mess really, and events were scattered and probably misplaced all throughout his memory. But it was a mess with a good ending, ultimately anyways, because now he was cuddling with the man under him.

“Just wonderin’.” Jimmy pressed a kiss to his temple, still smiling like he had been a moment ago, and Fwhip beamed inside just a little. His plan to cheer the other ruler had worked it seemed, even if only for a little bit. A few hours was better than nothing at all, in his amazing opinion anyways.

The next thing the Codfather says catches the Count off guard a bit, but the question isn’t unwelcomed at all. “When did you start loving me?” Jimmy mutters, burying his face into Fwhip’s hair, and the half dragon thinks he’s still smiling just a little but too.

“I don’t know really,” The half dragon chuckled a little, filtering through god knows how many years of messy memories in his head. “Probably like half a year before we kissed, probably longer.”

“There we go then. Two years of loving you, well at least two years.” The blonde says, and presses another kiss softly into his hair.

“Two years of loving you…” Fwhip repeats, like he can’t believe it. And really, part of him can’t. The other part however, which is most of him, is utterly overjoyed by the information. Two years, two whole years of loving this wonderful, wonderful man. Jimmy says nothing, just giggles quietly and holds his partner closer.

“It could’ve been more..” He muttered, sounding a tad wistful as he did so.

“True, but the world’s not ending anytime soon, so~” The cod hummed in response, another giggle already beginning to bubble out of him. Fwhip can't help but smile at that, and laugh along as well. He missed seeing Jimmy this happy, he missed seeing his smile and hearing his wonderful, pleasant laughs and giggles and all those little clicks he made. He’d missed it so much.

“Should we go check out my road I built? For your rule and all?” Jimmy mentions after a moment, his earlier mood seemingly forgotten for now, and the Count’s eyes light up almost instantaneously.

“You built a road!? And didn’t tell me!?” Fwhip sat upright suddenly, yelling in surprise. The cod shifted underneath him in surprise, hands finally being untangled from his partner's hair.

“Yeah! Out of slime!” Jimmy smiled at the other’s enthusiasm, and Fwhip’s eyes got a whole like wider, like a cat's would. Like they always did when he was excited. He couldn’t help it though, not that the half dragon even realized he was doing it most of the time.

“How did I not see it when coming in!?” The Count groaned, his wings puffed out behind him, more than they had already been before.

“No idea, rose, no idea.” The blonde let a small laugh slip out at his partner's enthusiasm, Fwhip’s tail thumping exectiled against his leg. Like a little puppies would. And his eyes had gone all wide and cat-like with the same emotion. (Which Jimmy totally didn’t think was adorable, no, never.)

“C’mon, c’mon!” Fwhip said, somehow already on his feet. He’d moved so fast, the cod hadn’t even seen him stand, like at all . “I wanna see it now!”

“Okay, okay! I'm coming!” Jimmy laughed a little louder this time, the Count grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He heard the Codfather stumble after him, but couldn’t bring himself to slow down. Though he at least let the other lead the way for a moment, for he wasn’t really sure where the bridge had been built in the first place. Jimmy laughs again, the sound lighting up Fwhip’s whole world, and they travel together to the bridge. Hand in loveable hand all the while.

When they finally reach the bridge, the half dragon cannot help but marvel at it. It’s a simple design really, only being made of floating slime blocks with lanterns around them (because slimes floated, for some reason, something the Count would definitely want to look into later.) Even though it was simple, it was still amazing and beautiful and pretty , all because Jimmy had built it. And clearly the simple design had taken hours upon hours to create, with building in the water always being so tricky. Yet that made Fwhip love it more. And maybe it was his favorite bridge yet, for all those reasons and maybe a few more as well.

“Ohh! It’s bouncy!” He said, feeling himself move upwards a bit with every new step.

“Yeah! It is!” Jimmy smiled beside him, but it sounded dull once again. And the ginger couldn’t help but frown and look at his partner pointedly. The look the Codfather gave him in return was pointed, and said a lot of things. Mainly that he didn’t want to talk. And the Count knows he shouldn;t bring it up, if it will upset his partner. He knows he shouldn’t, but he really, really wants to, for both of their sakes. Yet mainly for Jimmy’s in the end.

Sp despite himself, Fwhip lets out a sigh. “You’ve been so on edge, I just....”

“I know.” Jimmy says, his voice quiet and stiff. He lightly bumps their foreheads together, but still doing it hard enough that both of them make small oof sounds as he does so.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, y’know?” Fwhip repeats the words for what has to be then twentieth time by now, and he can practically hear the sigh that his boyfriend keeps trapped in his throat, like he seems to do every new time the Count says that same phrase again and again.

“I know, you keep saying that.” Jimmy mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut just a bit.

Fwhip hums, fighting back anything in his tone that isn’t tenderness. “Because it’s true, orchid. Anything you want to tell me, you can.”

He sees Jimmy’s eyebrows furrow, and the cod moves away from him ever so slightly, so he can properly look into his partner's eyes as he speaks. “What if you don’t get it?”

“Then I’ll try my best to understand it.” Fwhip tries to put a smile on his face, a soft one, but what the cod says next shatters it instantly. Jimmy’s voice is small, scared and trembling when he speaks, and it’s a heartbreaking sound to Fwhip’s ears.

“...What if it makes you think I’m weak?”

“You’re not weak, you never were.” His answer is said in an instant, said firmly and without any thought needing to go into it. “Nothing could ever make me think that about you, ever.” Fwhip clutches Jimmy’s cheeks firmly in his hands, and wishes he could read the thoughts behind those wide, beautiful brown eyes right now.

“It’s related to this, isn’t it?” He mutters, moving his hands away from the blonde’s cheek, all the way up to his Codfather’s head, until his claws are thumbing threateningly at the edges of it.

“Fwhip, what’re you-” Jimmy starts, startled and sounding on the damn verge of panic, before he's cut off and rendered more than a little speechless by the Count in front of him.

Fwhip looks at him softly, and removes the supposed Codfather head. Jimmy looks at him, more stunned than before, and also like he’s on the verge of yet another breakdown.

“It was related to that, wasn’t it?” The Count says, his voice softer than it had been all day.

“Y-yeah.” Is all Jimmy can manage out, accompanied by a small, heartbreaking little nod.

“What was it, then?” Fwhip asks, and that is what finally breaks down all his partners' carefully maintained and constructed walls, ones that had held up for almost a goddamned year now. All of what’s been plaguing his boyfriends seems to come out like rushing water, and the Count figures he’s probably just broken down the whole metaphorical dam inside the cod’s mind. Or several, most likely, by the looks of it.

Jimmy ends up babbling and hyperventilating a little at first, so much so his words sound like nonsense. And honestly, there a bit more codlish slipped into his sentences than there is the common english most people speak, so anything he’s saying is entirely lost regardless on Fwhip regardless on how many tears he actually ends up shedding.

Yet the Count is patient, and drops the Codfather’s head onto the smiley road below their feet, all so he can grab ahold of Jimmy’s hands in its place. He rubs soothing circles into the blonde’s skin, and mutters quiet words of comfort and makes any soft, calming chuffing sounds his dragon side can make. He does this until Jimmy is mostly calm again, and wipes away the wetness from his boyfriend’s face with a gentle touch.

“I can’t help it if I don't understand what you’re saying, darling.” The Count mutters, squeezing his partner's hand.

The Codfather almost gasps out his next coherent words, sounding as choked up and breathless as he looks. “Sorry I, I just-”

“Never apologize for using your native language around me, okay? I know it means a lot to you.” The Count squeezes the blonde's hand tighter, making sure his grip is as firm and straying as he can manage, “Just repeat what you said if you can, alright?”

Jimmy starts his explanation again, and what Fwhip hears is truly and utterly fucked up, in his opinion. Especially if it had this horrible of an effect on the blonde before him. “It-It’s the Codfather head. They took it from me, right after I lost the crown. The cod themselves told my council I wasn’t worthy of it. A-and they gave me this stupid replacement head and started calling me the Codboy. And no matter what I did to prove my worth t hey wouldn’t give it back. And I did everything! I redid almost my whole empire, I stopped killing any fish at all, I prayed, I made cod sanctuaries, I did everything — ”

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” The Count murmurs, holding Jimmy’s face in his hands as delicately as he can. Like his boyfriend is something fragile that could break at any moment. And normally, Fwhip wouldn’t dare to think such a thing of him, but he'd just watched part of Jimmy shatter into a million pieces in front of him on this stupid slime bridge. So today the cod feels fragile, and he is not loved any less for it.

“We can declare a permanent peace treaty between our empires, okay? And after that we can go back to my forge and make you a new Codfather’s head somehow. Does that sound good?” Fwhip says softly, the plan having come to him on the spot. It’s not flushed out in the slightest, but from what he knows about his forge and machinery, and whatever magic surrounds his or his boyfriend’s empire, this is probably doable. It has to be, for the cod’s sake it has to be.

“Do you think that would actually work…?” Jimmy is so skeptical, like he’s waiting for this to fail like every other attempt, but also so hopeful at the same time, because in his mind it’s probably the best damn idea he’s ever heard. The half dragon’s heart honestly aches at the sound of his partner's voice, at the desperateness hidden under layers and layers of tiredness and disappointment. He is reminded once again of how he would do anything for the cod hybrid standing in front of him, even something incredibly stupid like this.

“It has too! You’d literally be officially settling the Codfolk’s longest and worst dispute! Forever! How would you not be worthy of leading them after doing that!?” Fwhip smiles when he speaks next, and hopes it works. And it does, because Jimmy smiles back, and his whole face gets a little more hopeful.

“You’re brilliant, have I ever told you that?” The cod breathes, far too much relief now coating his face.

Despite himself, Fwhip can’t help but beam that toothy smile (the one he knows Jimmy likes so much) and let out a small chuckle in response. “No, not really.”

“Well you are, you're brilliant and a lifesaver .” The blonde says, and surprises the Count by wrapping him into a tight embrace. Fwhip is a little taken off guard at first, but is soon holding his boyfriend in return, the two of them swaying ever so slightly as he did so.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” Jimmy murmurs into his shoulder, sounding like a thousand weights have been lifted off his back. And honestly, that seems to be just what has happened.

“It’s no problem.” Fwhip mumbles in response, burying his own face against his partner's warmth.

“Cod, I should've just talked to you sooner…” The cod groans a second later, and he can’t help but let out the smallest of giggles at how exasperated he sounds. At how stupidly silly he’s been for the past several months, even if all of that wasn’t a laughing matter beforehand.

“Yeah, but let's not think about that now, okay?” The Count says, pulling away a little and cutting the embrace a little short. “Let's get this plan of mine into motion!” He beams, and watches his partners face shift in return.

“How are we gonna do that exactly?” The blonde asks, which is honestly a pretty fair question, when the half dragon thinks about it for more than a few seconds anyways. Which he clearly hadn’t done beforehand, not in the slightest.

He ponders on it for a moment, before coming up with a good enough sounding plan. To his brian at least. And if he thinks it’s good, then it’s probably decently solid. He thinks so anyways, and hopes Jimmy does as well. “Well we need some fish I think. Two cod and two salmon each, probably.”

“There should be some just off the docks?” Jimmy suggests, like he’s not entirely sure that both fish will be there. And Fwhip can’t really blame him, for salmon aren’t really known for living in the Codlands much. Or even at all.

The half dragon just shrugs in response. “If we can’t find any salmon here I;m sure some will be in the Grimalands.” He starts moving off the slime bridge at that, his now calmed boyfriend in tow, and he lets himself be led to a small pond near the docks area, one that connects to a larger body of whatever somehow. Apparently a school of cod likes to hang out there sometimes, and if the two of them are in luck they should be there now.

The fish are indeed there, and Jimmy hands him a bucket to scoop the little guys up in. The Count does so carefully, the item being delicately balanced in his arms afterwards. Unfortunately, there are no salmon hanging around that day, so the two emperors resigned themselves to walking back to the Count’s empire in the plainslands. Which feels like it goe smooch quicker, despite the rather large distance between their two kingdoms; all thanks to those path Fwhip had ordered his friends to install.

“Will this idea kill the fish?” Jimmy asks, walking behind him. They’re just over halfway to the Grimlands when he does, and Fwhip turns his head back the best he can to spare a quick glance at him.

“I should just be harnessing a little of their magic, so no, it shouldn’t. If all goes accordingly that is.” He responds, trying to shrug best he can with the bucket still in his arms.

“Right, okay. That’s good.” The cod hummed, taking a few steps forward, until the two of them were walking side by side. A smile sneaks its way onto Fwhip’s face, seeing that Jimmy is now carrying the Codboy’s head instead of wearing, and not forcing himself to feel horrible when doing so. His partner wondered aloud as they retrieved the salmon, and it was the most lively he sounded in months. It was wonderful really, to hear him truly happy in god knows how long. It was so, so wonderful to Fwhip, enough that this stupid plan was fucking worth it, even if i did fail, because they could always figure something out after this.

This problem was fixable, and Fwhip was going to make damn sure of that, no matter what it took.

“I always wonder if the cod just hated you that much, and that’s why they didn’t give it back.” Jimmy continued to wonder aloud, the fish still swimming circles in the bucket the Count carried, almost like they were responding to his voice.

“Like some kinda overprotective parent?” The Count mused, stifling a slight chuckle as he did so.

“Yeah, kinda..” The blonde mumbled, sounding like he’d never considered that before, even if it had seemed fairly obvious to the Count. But maybe cod parents weren’t as overbearing as ones in the Grimlands are, and he had no reason to draw the connection. Or maybe the half dragon just had some deep seated and decently ignored parental issues, which seemed far more likely than the other option.

“Well if that is the case they’re stupid.” Fwhip huffed, his tail flicking in what appeared to be indignation. Whether it was genuine or faux, even he couldn’t tell, though he should be able to really. “How could anyone not like me?”

“Maybe they just have the wrong point of view.” The codfolk suggested behind him with a shrug, watching the Count carefully shoved the door to his forge open.

“Well then you’re the right person to change that, aren't you?” Fwhip smirked, setting his bucket of two cod down on the forge’s rather heated floor. He held the door open for Jimmy, all while watching to make sure the cod didn’t hop out of their respective bucket. Which they seemed to be trying to do, for some strange reason.

“Guess so.” The Codfather smiled, making a thankful sounding click as he walked through the open door. “You are wonderful, after all.”

“You sure you’re not just biased?” The half dragon teased, looking around for the glass he kept in the room. It should be by his redstone supply, unless he’d moved it recently…

“Me? Biased? Never would be. Not in a million years.” Jimmy replied smoothly, watching as the engineer moved around his forge rather quickly. The cod wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but he would just wait for any instructions he was given. He didn’t want to mess up anything in here after all, with how dangerous the forge could be.

Fwhip called out a moment later, already in full focus mode. “Here, put them in this tank!” Jimmy nodded, and did as he was told, quickly yet carefully emptying their two buckets into the tank Fwhip had had laying around, for some reason or other.

“Then I just need to turn this on…” Fwhip muttered, doing so half to himself. He flicked his goggles over his eyes, squinting with concentration as he fiddled with the levers and buttons and whatnots on his already pre-built machine.

“Should I stand back for this?” The blonde asked, already taking a step back before he got a proper answer. The fish part of him wasn;t liking the heat around the machine, is all it was. Even if his instincts were going haywire and telling him that something was off, he ignored them, and simply thought it was just the heat instead.

“Preferably, yes.” Fwhip said over his shoulder, and Jimmy moved several feet back. He watched as the machine powered on, and seemed to vibrate with some kind of energy. He watched as the ginger himself took a step back, and his tail flicked worriedly as he looked at his invention, one that usually worked perfectly fine. Until today, it seemed.

Fwhip frowned, his pointed ears already straining at the sound he heard. His invention…wasn’t supposed to be making that sound. He wasn't sure what sound it was making exactly, but he knew it shouldn’t be happening in the first place. And it definitely shouldn’t be shaking like that. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. He felt that fact deep in his gut as he stared at the screaming, near writhing mass of metal in front of them. The high pitched squeal from the metal bounced off the wall, filling the Count’s ears until he flinched. Yep, okay, definitely not good. That was very, very, very bad. Most machines were not supposed to squeal like a dying rat, at all! Unless you had made it for the reason, but this one had clearly had not been!

Whatever was wrong was dangerous. Highly dangerous.

They need to get out of there, and fast.

He turned to Jimmy, knowing his expression was already near frantic. “Orchid you need to go.” Fwhip said, blue eyes sparkling with great worry already.

Jimmy just blinked, looking at him dumbfounded. “What?”

“Run, you need to run. Now!” He urged, placing himself in between his boyfriend and the reactor, as if it was safe for the Count to act as some sort of shield.

“Why? What’s wrong?” The cod took a step closer, quickly glancing between his partner and the machine behind him. Before he can take a step forward, Fwhip flares his wings out behind him in warning.

“Something’s off with the reactor and I don’t….” The half dragon's voice sounded strangled and deeply panicked, even to his own ears. God, and the thing had only been on for a few minutes too. “Just go, just go and take anyone you see with you.” He is desperate, oh so desperate for Jimmy to leave and save himself, at least save himself, if nothing else can be saved. The desperation is eating him whole as he stands there. Jimmy needs to listen to him, he needs to go and he needs to go now.

“But what about you?” Jimmy doesn’t move, much to Fwhip’s newly growing frustration. The cod just stands there, eyeing the reactor nervously, and reaches out for his fellow ruler in front of him. The Count almost takes it, but stops himself, because there’s a chance—a very small one—that he can turn the reactor off in time and save them all the damage. And that’s a chance he’s not willing to risk.

When he doesn’t answer, the blonde becomes more frantic, and tries to take a step forward again. “Fwhip what about you? I’m not leaving you-!”

“ Jimmy . Please. Just run. Go. ” He takes one of the cod’s hands finally, and shoves him towards the door best he can, begging like he’s never begged for anything before. He takes Jimmy’s hand, and chooses to stay instead of staying with him. “I can fix this, I know I can, just…just go. ”

The sounds from the machine pick up again, right as the Codfather fixes him with the most pleading eyes Fwhip knows he will ever see. But as much as Jimmy wants to save him, he trusts his boyfriend's knowledge of machines more. Maybe he trusts it a bit too much. The blonde turns, and runs out the door, and Fwhip watches him retreat for maybe a second too long.

Time seems to speed up in those last few moments his forge is standing, and Fwhip realizes what he;s doing. He realizes what he’s doing once again, what he always does.

He's warning Jimmy to leave. Because he's always warning Jimmy isn't he? Always trying to save him from some danger, or from his own actions. He's always been trying to protect him, even when he hated him. From Sausage, from the demon, from killing the dragon to now, he has been trying to keep his Codfather safe.

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least half-work, at least one last time. Because it never fully worked, warning Jimmy, because Jimmy is stupid and impulsive and runs into danger if he thinks it’s the right thing to do. And that’s what Fwhip loves about him, it's why he loves him so much, for all those stupidly endearing traits of his.

And if he can turn this forge off, maybe he can keep experiencing those traits of his for a little while longer.

The half dragons whips around, and reaches for the reactor. He leaps back a moment later, the metal radiating heat and burning right through his favorite gloves as soon as he so much as grazes it. He looks up, and catches a glimpse of the cod and salmon they’d brought, only to see that the fish were dead. There is more and more heat filling the room by the second, enough to suffocate someone, and enough to dry out Jimmy if he would’ve stayed. There is lava pouring from where lava shouldn’t be, from where he made sure lava couldn’t pour from, and the Count knows it’s far too late to do anything about this.

He backs away from his own damn creation, stumbling a bit as he does so, and tries to beeline for the door. He almost makes it out of there, too, burning hand and all.

Fwhip thrust the door to the forge wide open, thinking he has a little more time as his non burnt gloved hand unsteadily grips its frame, just a second or two being all he needs in his mind. Right behind him, there is a loud, deafening bang, one that leaves his ears ringing. The Count is flung forward, screaming as scream he doesn’t even know he’s making, and the whole world goes dark.

______________________________________

Jimmy scrambles to his feet, hyperventilating and blinded by panic. He slips and stumbles in the newly formed debris, the shattered stone and glass and what have you tear at his clothes and skin, though he hardly hears the ripping of fabric or hardly feels the tearing of his skin through the adrenaline clouding his whole being.

The Grimlands had exploded, and Fwhip had been right in the center of it.

Distantly, as the ringing in his ears clears, the Codboy hears screams. Screams of pain, screams of the dying and the damned, screams of the people. None of them are Fwhip, none of them are a voice the cod can even begin to recognize.

“Fuck.” He hisses, now standing unsteadily on his own two feet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck .”

The cod repeats the swear over and over, slowly approaching what used to be the Grimalands’ forge on shaking legs. Because for some reason, the blast hadn’t thrown him very far, despite the fact that he had been running. He nearly falls flat on his face god knows how many times, but he gets there in the end, after several painful minutes.

“Fwhip!” The cod called out, standing unsteadily on the rumble beneath him. “Fwhip!? Fwhip are you there!?” His voice is quickly becoming frantic, and he scans the area far too fast to even see anything properly. He has to find Fwhip, he has to find him. He needs him to be alive and okay or the cod doesn’t know what he’s going to do with himself.

After a few horrible, frantic minutes of yelling, and looking, and nearly falling and cutting himself on rocks, the blonde finds something that makes him absolutely sick to his stomach.

Laying crushed in between two rocks, Jimmy can just barely see a familiar red fabric peeking through the destruction. The red fabric of a scarf, one he would know anywhere, his beloved's scarf. Fwhip’s scarf.

Fwhip is dead. He’s dead and buried under the pieces of his forge and it's all Jimmy’s fault. It’s all because of him and his stupid, stupid problems, and his stupid fucking Codfather’s head and his stupid need to have it back.

The cod wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to do a lot of things. But all he can force himself to do is make a strangled cry, and run. He can’t even uncover his partner's body, for he knows he cannot bare the sight. All Jimmy can do is turn heel and run, run best he can on injured limbs and around dangerous, broken debris that now cover the once soft grass. All he can do is run to the one place he knows, the one place where people will maybe be due the explosion size; and the cod holds back a whole ocean of tears all the while.

He runs for a little while, he runs all the way to spawn. And when he gets there all his fellow emperors are there, turning to stare as he crashes his way through the undergrowth, battered and bleeding and a panting, hysterical fucking mess. His vision is so blurry, he can’t even focus on anyone's faces, can barely hear their voices over the ringing in his ears, even when someone is directly in front of him.

Before anyone can say anything, Joey is right in front of him. The Lost Emperor grabs him by his ripped shirt collar, snarling before a word has even left his mouth. “What the fuck did you do!?” He hisses into Jimmy’s face, pure rage shining in his eyes. “Why is my empire on fire Jimmy!?” The cod hears him, but he’s not really processing it, not yet anyways. And he can tell it’s angering Joey, by the way his green eyes fill with even more rage than before.

“Why is my empire of fire, codboy!? And why can’t I put it out!?” It’s the nickname that brings the cod back to his senses, and he flinches at the word. It is also what finally pushes their fellow emperors into action, as shouts are heard right after. Someone pulls Joey off him, Sausage he thinks, and another person lightly moves him away as well.

There’s more shouts around them as the rest chastise Joey, screaming at him in their own right. And Joey screams back, and glares pointedly at the cod, still full of that same rage from just a mere moment before. Jimmy doesn't even realize they’re screaming, because his head is swimming and has been since he saw that scarf in the rubble. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, or that people are paying him any attention, until someone finally says his name.

“Why is Jimmy crying?” Scott says, standing close to him for some reason, and reaches a careful hand towards the Codfather. He does so, because it’s clear the cod is out of it, even to the most angry and unobservant of them. And dear lord the blonde hadn’t even realized he was crying. Jimmy takes in a sharp breath at the motion, and has to stop himself from flinching away from his friend’s touch. It doesn’t work very well, and the elf ends up fixing him with a look of concern. He moves his hand back, but still stays close to the cod, even as a few more of their friends start to crowd around him.

“Petal? Why’re you crying?” Scott asks again, quieter and maybe a bit more scared this time, and Jimmy becomes vaguely aware of Lizzie now standing to his right. He leans towards her presence on instinct, and thinks he feels his head become a bit more clearer.

“Little egg. What happened?” His sister asks, and it’s that old nickname that breaks the blonde down entirely.

Jimmy gasps out his first words in about half an hour, feeling himself start to choke up before the sentence is even done being said. “It’s Fwhip, he’s…he’s dead. I think he’s dead.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?! ” Sausage yells out suddenly, and Jimmy doesn’t even know where the Mythlander is standing in relation to him, all he knows is that Sausage is far too loud. Everything is too loud, and everyone feels far too close, like they are all just inches from him instead of the feet that they really are. More of his friends shift closer in worry, and they really need to move back. Before it gets too much and he bites someone or something.

“He was trying to help me, with the Codfather head, and-and there was an explosion and he told me to run and-” The blonde babbles, losing himself as he recounts it. All he remembers is the Count telling him to run and the explosion and the pain and seeing the scarf buried under the rocks and-

Joel is beside him suddenly, a light hand hovering just above his arm. “Breathe, Jim. Breathe, okay?” He says quietly, so quietly Jimmy isn’t even sure anyone else can hear him saying it. The cod does what he’s told though, because his brother in law has always been good at keeping him calm, hasn’t he? He takes a deep breath, and then a few more, and he leans closer to Joel’s presence without a second thought. Jimmy thinks his hands are shaking as the Mezelean King goes to grab one of them and squeeze.

“What happened exactly? Why is Fwhip dead?” Scott asks after a moment's pause, and the blonde’s thinking feels a little straighter now.

Despite that his explanation is still a little messy and all over the place, and missing a few personal details about why the explosion happened in the first place. That was baggage he did not want to get into right now, nor was it the appropriate time too. “The explosion that just happened — the one that made all the cracks ‘n stuff — that was us. That was his forge, in the Grimlands. And he was in the forge when it happened and he told me to run and now he’s dead- ”

“Who’s dead, now?” Gem’s voice comes from behind him, and the cod whips around faster than he ever thinks he has in his life.

Gem is standing there, clearly a little injured like the rest of them, with a dragon on her head, and two very familiar looking dogs standing around her feet. But Jimmy pays far less attention to an entire baby dragon than he does the person next to the wizard. Fwhip is standing there as well, an arm around his sister’s shoulders for support, and is staring back at him with those wide, beautiful blue eyes. Eyes the blonde never thought he would get to see again.

Jimmy hears someone mention how Fwhip isn’t dead, and that he’s literally standing right there, and the cod thinks he stops breathing for a moment. Fwhip isn’t dead, he isn’t dead . He’s still here, he’s still alive, he’s still here.

Before either of them knows what's happened, the two rulers are holding onto each other, the Count having limped away from his sister to wrap his partner in a hug. If their friends are staring at them, Jimmy can’t even bring himself to care anymore. All he cares about is the idiot under him and holding him close until he physically fucking can’t anymore.

The cod takes a shaking breath, and buries his head into Fwhip’s familiar and still alive shoulder. “I thought you were dead…” He whispers, already able to feel the beginnings of even more tears forming in his eyes.

Fwhip squeezes him tighter in response, his tone just as quiet as he mutters out the most comforting words he can think of. The only ones he can think off. “I’m okay, orchid, I’m okay.” A kiss is sneakily placed somewhere onto his face, and Jimmy takes yet another shuddering breath of air.

“Oh cod, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I just-” He starts to babble again, his tears now spilling over. What had they done? Dear cod, what had they just done?

“Shut it, save that for later, okay?” Fwhip hushes him quickly, quietly, like a caring mother would do to her upset child. “We have some questions to answer, love.” He mutters, and Jimmy has already answered all the questions he thinks he can.

But the Count asks “Can you do that?” And the codfolk suposses he can, for his partners sake. For them, if it has too. For just a few more minutes, at least, he can try and do that. Then he can have a breakdown.

“I can, I can do it rose. I kinda have been.” Jimmy responds, resisting the urge to pull Fwhip closer once the latter starts to pull away. People are staring at them, he’s keenly aware of that now. He’s aware of the ten pairs of eyes boring into both of them, and how Gem hovers nearby, the overprotectiveness of her badly injured brother spilling out of her and into the air around them

“Okay, okay good.” Fwhip moves away, and is immediately leaning on Jimmy for support as soon as he does so. The half dragon has a leg injury, he notes, and can’t help but wonder how his boyfriend got it. He can’t help but feel guilty for being the cause of it either, for all of Fwhip’s suffering, for all of the destruction around them right now.

When the two turn their full attention to the group again, a few people are crowded around Gem, quietly asking about the baby dragon. Quietly asking about Violet, Fwhip corrected himself, now having to call the thing a name instead of just….the baby dragon egg; like he had been for months now. Joey is standing towards the back of the group, and glares daggers at Jimmy. Shrub sees this, and kicks him hard for it. Fwhip doesn;t know what that’s all about, but he does see his partner flinch and recoil in on himself, and that is enough for the half dragon to see red. That is enough for him to restrain himself from punching the Lost Emperor in the face, knowing it would only make their current situation worse.

A few more questions are thrown at them, and apparently whatever Fwhip’s answer is, Jimmy has said just as much. Their friends mull around for a few minutes, exclamations of worry being passed between them. What had become of each empire? Were they going to be okay? Would they see each other after this? Had anyone else been harmed? All of those words float around in the air, yet all the Count can focus on is himself, and the man he’s leaning on. All he can focus on is his own pain, how injured Jimmy is, and the guilt that's already starting to eat him up on the inside.

Eventually, it is just the two of them, alone at spawn. Everyone else has said their final goodbyes, and flown off in worried panic. The Count didn’t know if he’d ever see any of them again, but he wants to, he wants to deep these people in his life oh so desperately. Gem has gone somewhere for a minute, something about healing his dogs he thinks.

It is him and Jimmy alone at the starting campfire, and Fwhip can’t help himself as they turn to face each other for the final time. He cradles the cod’s face in his hands, staring into those beautiful brown eyes he adores so much, and finally manages to get those three little words out, just as the rain begins to fall. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jimmy’s reply is broken, strangled, but it means the world to him all the same.

They kiss right there, in the middle of spawn, like they haven’t kissed a thousand times before. It feels like the final one. Fwhip hopes and prays with all his being, to whatever god is out there, that it won’t be, and they can see each other again when the rain clears and the damage has settled.

They pull away for the final time, and Jimmy rests his hands on top of the Count’s. He rests their foreheads together for the last time, and starts muttering quietly. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey it’s okay. ‘S not your fault, it was my forge.” Fwhip shushes the other gently, his own sentiments spilling out just as fast. “Love you too, so much. I love you so much, orchid.”

It feels like they’re making up for lost time, with all the I love you’s. Fwhip couldn't even bring himself to care about that either, he just needs to say those three little words, a million times over, all the way until his lungs give out completely.

Their last moment together is cut short when they hear Gem’s voice calling for her brother. Fwhip nearly swears to himself. That wasn’t enough time, they would never have enough time for this. Even if his twin wasn;t yelling for him, there would still never be enough time to say goodbye like this. Never in a million years.

“You’ll meet us back here, right? In about an hour?” He asks, ghosting a hand over Jimmy’s cheek. He wants to hold it, to cradle it so badly. But if he does, the Count isn’t sure if he can leave afterwards.

“Right, okay.” Jimmy mumbles after a moment, a moment of them just staring into each other's eyes, like they were trying to memorize what each other’s looked like. “Yeah, I will.” The Count had only offered because he could just see how badly part of Jimmy longed to return to his swamp once more, for one final goodbye. If not for that he would’ve taken the cod with him, wherever Gem wanted to go, Jimmy would have joined them.

“See you soon. I love you.” Fwhip said, pulling away from his boyfriend rather reluctantly. He takes in every detail of the blonde he can, committing his image to memory as best he can manage. Just in case something changes, or goes wrong somehow. Just in case.

“I love you too.” Jimmy responds, trying to crack one last sweet smile. And then Fwhip is turning away, and nearly running towards Gem, because he knows if he doesn’t move he won’t be able to. He hears the squelching of boots in newly formed mud behind him, even over the rain, and knows his partner is heading towards the swamp. He knows his partner is leaving as well.

In hindsight, maybe Fwhip shouldn't have left at all. Maybe he should have stayed and stared for a moment longer, and not ever been able to move from that dying old camp site.

______________________________________

Jimmy knew he was running away before he actively thought about it. Something in him just knew that’s what he would be doing. Maybe because he’d done it before, when things had gotten bad. Maybe because he had done it before, plenty of times, in those memories he forgot upon leaving the ocean.

It doesn’t really matter how he’s doing it, just that part of him somehow knows what he’s doing before he even decides to do it. The blonde supposes it’s poetic or tragic, something like that. Something he doesn’t care to name at the moment.

He definitely knows he;s running when he sees his empire. There are dead fish littering what once was a swamp, all of the water having drained already. The houses he’d spent the past year repairing, all to prove his honor, are destroyed and in pieces. Everything is destroyed, in ruins, all because of him. His empire is gone.

The cod are gone . His people are gone. The water is gone . Everything is gone. He’s never getting his Codfather head back now, that is for certain, not after killing his empire entirely like this.

He feels that now familiar panic setting in again, and backs away from the sight of it all. He backs away towards where the docks used to be, because that was where his house had been standing just that morning. It was familiar to him. It was where he spent half of his time and had all those wonderful moments with his rose petal. That was where he would look out into the ocean and-

The ocean. The ocean. Did the ocean have any water left?

“ Lizzie. ” He breathes, horror washing over him like a tidal wave once would've before today. “Oh fuck where’s Lizzie.” Jimmy realizes he needs to find his sister, needs to find her as quickly as possible, before the memory loss starts setting in. Before this becomes just like the last time the two of them had left the water. Because maybe then they can find a way to undo it, somehow, if the world would just give them enough time for that.

After that he runs to the ocean, and sees it is drained as well. He sees no sign of his sister either, just more dead aquatic creatures flopping about. The Prisma Palace is all exposed to the air, even the parts that stretched thousands of feet deep down into the ocean beforehand, because they had destroyed the world, he and Fwhip had. Hell, even his siblings underwater trinkets shop is in the open now, one of the few places young merfolk could barely swim to because it was too deep for them. And the blonde can barely remember what some of those deeper parts of the palace had been called, for the curse he and his seabling share is already starting to take effect. When he stares at a dying pufferfish, and realizes his memory slipping, for he cannot remember the fish’s name, the cod does not even think about running away. He just does so. He runs back to his empire, grabs Norman after a panicked search for the cat, the one thing there that is still his, that is still alive, and heads towards what remains of the world.

Jimmy runs blindly into the old swamp trees he used to call home, towards the land beyond that, never to be seen again.

______________________________________

When Fwhip came calling for him, Jimmy was too far away to hear. He’d called and called for what had to be at least ten minutes, and there was not a voice responding. There was not a soul in sight either, and the half dragon had started to yell louder with every passing second. Even though his calls were futile, he yelled louder, in desperate hope his voice would reach his orchid. Gem had been searching as well, on the other side of the swamp, and her calls had faded into the distance a few minutes prior. There wasn’t any message from either, so the former Codfather wasn’t over there, which meant there was still a chance for him to be here, in this part of the swamp. There was still a chance for the former Count to find him.

“Jimmy!? Jimmy!? Orchid, where are you!?” Fwhip yells out, his voice starting to grow hoarse from the strain. He needs to find the cod, needs to find him now. What of he had gotten lost, or hurt, or had collapsed somewhere and was bleeding out, or, or-

“Fwhip?” Gem’s voice has caught up to him, breaking through the panic swirling around in his brain. The ginger turns to face his twin, blue eyes wide and frantic as he meets her concerned gaze.

"I can't find him, Gem! I can’t find him anywhere!" His voice has not lowered, and he still yells frantically even as he speaks to Gem. Maybe Jimmy will hear that, maybe that will lead the blonde to them. Maybe, just maybe.

“I don’t think he’s here Fwhip, we’ve checked almost everywhere.” The wizard says, her voice low and gentle. Fwhip hates it, he hates that shes probably right. He hates that part of him knows that, deep down inside. He hates how that tone of voice always makes his resolve crumble and break, especially right now.

All the half dragon can give in response is weak, broken protest. “B-but he promised…he…” He’d promised, and Jimmy never broke his promises. Not to him, not normally. Not if he could help it…

“Maybe something happened, I don’t know. But I do know Jimmy isn’t here anymore.” Gem continued, now standing in front of her brother. She lightly touched his arm, and tugged at it. They had to go. They had to leave the swamp. They had to leave the love of his life behind.

When he didn’t respond, the wizard’s brow furrowed, and any protest of his that came out afterwards was weak and meaningless. “Fwhip, we…we have to go..”

“Gem I-”

“I’m sorry, but we have to go..” She repeated, and tugged on his arm again. Fwhip gave in, and slowly limped after her back to the Crystal Cliffs. The dogs followed at his side as he did, whining and rubbing against his legs. The ginger barely had the energy to reach down and scratch their heads anymore, the guilt and the grief was crushing him so badly at this point. He didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave without Jimmy, but he knew they had too. He knew they couldn’t stay here any longer. It hurt more than anything in the world, anything he’s ever felt before. But he had to do it, at least that's what it felt like.

Him and Gem get atop one of her wyverns, the air heavy. Koda and Nova follow, and Violet stays atop her owner's head, just as she had been practically since she hatched. The dragon lets out a huff, and then is flying on Gem’s command. All Fwhip can do is stare at the ground below, at all the broken empires down there, and responsibility chokes him like nothing ever has before. He sees the debris covering the cliff, the mass of red consuming Mythland, and Fwhip doesn’t think he’ll ever see a worse sight in his life.

The half dragon sees his own empire, and wants to sob right then and there. He sees the rubble, the remains of his beloved forge and manor, and knows he cannot look at it any longer. He sees what has to be people buried under all that, and Fwhip knows he can’t even think of it either, lest it drive him mad.

He didn’t think of Clara’s form buried in rubble. He’s not even sure if it’s her, he never saw her face, but it has to be. Her hair was so distinct, because she liked to dye the tips of it a pretty burgundy color, and let it gradually fade from her natural brown down into the dye. He never knew anyone else in the empire with that, so that body had to be her. And she had to be dead. Or else Fwhip was leaving his friend to die in the rubble, after everything they’d gone through.

She had to be dead, or else Fwhip was a coward. They all were. Because all of them were running in some way, all the rulers were, if their kingdoms were as destroyed as they looked from atop the back of this dragon. They just had to be, because who could live here after what he had done.

Everything was gone, and unlivable, and it was all his fault.

Jimmy was gone, his Codfeather’s head was gone, and it was all Fwhip’s fault. He’d just wanted to help his partner, and look at what he’d done. Look what he’d fucking done to the world, look at what he’d done to them.

The Count says nothing as the dragon keeps flying, because there is nothing more to say. Gem says nothing either. All that there is to say is below them, burned and destroyed and gone all because of him. Nova noses at his hand, clearly scared of the height they’re flying at, and the half dragon can barely remember to give his dog a comforting scratch behind the ears as he drowns in his own inner turmoil. His own inner guilt that is eating him alive entirely, and will continue too until it consumed him whole.

Fwhip buries his head against the back of Gem��s neck, and tries to keep it together. He takes several shuddering breaths, and tries not to sob against his sister's nice wizard robes. It doesn’t work, because he;s crying not even two minutes later. Gme hears him sobbing, she absolutely does, but she says nothing of it. She can't make any comments on it, because the wizard will be crying her own tears in only a few hours time, tears that she is currently holding back for her brother's sake. Even if he wouldn’t want her too. Even if she knows that.

The two twins fly away, and Fwhip cries as he leaves everything he’s ever loved. He leaves his people, his empire, his childhood home, all his memories and possessions that were now buried under the rubble he’d made with his own two hands. The half dragon leaves behind the title of Count as he flies away, a title he never thought he really earned in the first place. He leaves behind his friends, the ones that were still alive, never to see them again. He leaves his brother and the rest of his alliance behind, he leaves behind all those wither roses he holds so dear to his heart.

He leaves behind Jimmy, the Codfather, his former enemy, his boyfriend, his beloved, his orchid , the light of his whole damn life. The man he wanted to fucking marry one day, on the back of dragon, crying into his sisters robes like a hopeless man. He doesn’t even know if Jimmy is alive before he leaves him.

All Fwhip knows is that he leaves him, and regrets it for every single minute after that, for the rest of his stupid life. Because missing Jimmy is like an aching hole in his stomach, one he never manages to fill ever again. Because he left his world back there, his whole damn world. He left it on the back of a dragon, clinging to his sister like they were kids again, with his two dogs pressed nearby him.

He leaves the empires for good, deeply missing something the world is never going to let him keep. Something it will not let him keep the next time they meet either, in any life after that.

But they still fall in love all the same, because who are they if they don’t, really? They fall in love again, as they were always meant to do. As they were always meant to be.

#ron.writing #ron.fic #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #empiresblr #explosions acorss lifetimes #empiresshipping #fwhip #the codfather #count fwhip #empires smp s1 #This is the last time I get to tag some of these....wahgg #fwhimmy

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

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what to throw away

Masterlist - Previous

yes that's correct!! two trust au updates in one month! we love to see it <3

cw: choking, light violence

This is almost a dream come true.

Jimmy is engaged to the love of his life. They share everything—quarters, meals, a bed. He lives with his fiance in a beautiful palace in the snowy mountains of Rivendell, overlooking a picturesque elven town. He spends every day with his fiance, working together and trading smiles that are literally only for each other.

Yet as sweet and wonderful and purely happy as that all sounds, Jimmy’s every moment is devastating.

His fiance will never love him the way he loves Scott. And none of this is real.

When Scott had suggested it, desperation lacing his voice, Jimmy had barely even had to think about it before accepting. Even if it wasn’t the only option to keep him safe, it was the only one that Jimmy wanted to consider. A chance to be engaged to Scott Smajor, despite the way he messed up their friendship by kissing him that one time? Please.

What he didn’t consider was the fact that even letting Scott sleep in his bed at night was already something that left him feeling empty inside—watching him sleep and knowing that they would never have anything that he truly wants. Surely he ought to have thought about how much worse being betrothed to him would be.

And now here they are, playing a game of catch with Jimmy’s heart, the odds of it hitting the ground and shattering becoming more and more likely with every passing moment.

It’s a terrible way to live, as thrilling as it is. But it’s keeping him safe.

Sausage and fWhip have been entirely silent on the issue of the Codfather head, not even mentioning that they might have it. With the diplomatic immunity that Jimmy currently possesses, he would be surprised if they even tried to interact with him at any point in the near future. Luckily, no such thing had happened so far. Scott’s plan was working.

Scott’s plan, however, includes some very . . . interesting stipulations, including some of the most interesting clothing Jimmy’s ever had to wear.

Every day, Jimmy dresses in a long elven robe, falling to his ankles despite that skin already being covered by his hose underneath. It’s similar to Scott’s everyday clothes, but with a longer hem and sleeves and higher neckline. Atop that is a veil that covers his head and face (this comes in several varieties, some veils trailing down to the ground and others cutting off neatly at his collarbone, and he thinks they have different purposes but Scott hasn’t explained that yet). The veil is fastened in place with a couple of pins and clasps and the robe with various ties, none of which Jimmy can successfully put together without making a mess of his clothes, then finished off with a pair of gloves pulled over the gold ring on his left hand and soft boots.

The only time he can skip out on the veil—and only the veil, unfortunately—is when he’s in their quarters, which is where he spends most of his time outside of tutoring. He’s not exactly allowed to roam around any farther than the palace gardens, and without permission to even dip his fins in the pool of freezing water, the gardens quickly lose their charm. No part of his skin can show outside of their quarters, and shown to no one but Scott. He’s actually not supposed to even see anyone but Scott.

Exceptions have been made, thankfully. Not only is he from a different culture, but he’s also royalty (as far as anyone knows), both of which have been taken into consideration by Scott’s various councils (he has an advisory council, then a historian council, then a culture council, all for the ordeal of just getting engaged). He’s allowed to video chat on his communicator with his advisors as necessary, and he’s managed to stretch that a little bit to include the Cod Alliance. At least he can see Lizzie and Joel on occasion, even if they can’t exactly see him.

The clothes aren’t all bad, of course. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Jimmy feels as if he has full autonomy over his body, even as he expects the clothing to cause the opposite feeling. Sure, the gloves and long skirts and veil cover any scars he has, but it’s not really that. He mentions it to Scott one night, and he’s surprised when Scott agrees.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? All this time as the king of Rivendell, it’s like my body has been constantly on display.”

“Constantly judged,” Jimmy adds. “Every time I passed by, people would just be gossiping about how I looked.”

Scott nods. “Exactly. And now nobody knows how I look, and there’ll be no tabloids about how it looks as though I’ve not brushed my hair in three weeks. I can just . . . do whatever. They aren’t even allowed to perceive me. This is excellent.”

While it isn’t exactly excellent, Jimmy completely understands. He’s never felt more like his body belonged to himself.

That night occurs maybe a week into their sham betrothal, and it’s a night when they stay up late talking, the lamps low and both of them in bed. Despite his positive feelings about the betrothal get-up, Jimmy’s relieved to be able to wear just shorts and a loose top to bed, even as Scott wears embroidered nightclothes.

(Jimmy had been measured for some when he first arrived, but they’re too slidey and silky on his scales and too fancy for his tastes. Scott looks impressively rich and handsome, but Jimmy just doesn’t think it’s right for him.)

“It’s an awful lot of fabric, though, isn’t it?” Jimmy continues, waving his arms for emphasis. “I feel as if I have a million different pins and clasps to do before I’m anywhere near right, and I always seem to get tied up in it wrong.”

Scott giggles. “There’s two clasps and two pins, Jimmy, it’s not that difficult. And the ties are a bit tricky at first, but you’ll figure it out soon. And then I’ll teach you how to style it!”

It’s strange that Scott knows all this stuff already. According to the councils, this is Scott’s first time being engaged, which makes it some sort of big deal. Maybe it’s just something that they teach in Rivendell schools? Maybe the ties on Scott’s usual robes are similar enough that there’s no real difference, even if Scott’s usual is a decent bit more form-fitting and skin-showing?

“How long have the robes and veil been a thing?” he asks thoughtfully, thinking over the past week’s worth of mind-numbing lessons with his tutor on Rivendell history. He doesn’t really remember anything from them.

“A while,” Scott shrugs. The moon has properly risen, now, and Scott wiggles until he’s under the covers, rather than sitting up to talk. “Many thousands of years, probably. They started out as just whatever household clothes you could throw together to cover your whole self in order to go to the market, if I’m recalling correctly. It was only within the last . . . five thousand years, maybe, that they became something that was marketable. I could be entirely wrong on that.”

“I’ll make sure to ask the tutor instead of you, yeah?” Jimmy suggests, to which Scott laughs.

Jimmy also readjusts, scooting under the covers to press as near to Scott as he dares. The conversation dwindles away and Scott blows out the lamp. They fall asleep like that, almost touching, and when Scott wakes in a panic in the middle of the night, he buries his face in Jimmy’s chest and clutches his arms around him.

Jimmy wakes the next morning in the warm embrace of a very clingy, sleeping Scott, the smell of their now-shared gingerbread shampoo strong in his nose, and he cries (just a little bit).

Lizzie had boasted that she knew the whole time. Joel had laughed and congratulated Jimmy. Jimmy had smiled through the anxiety that at any moment they could be found out to be lying, and surely what would happen then would be worse than if the Wither Rose Alliance went public with their possession of the Codfather head.

It’s been nearly a month, though, and nobody seems to suspect that he and Scott are anything but deeply in love with each other.

Maybe it’s the level of commitment that they’ve taken this to—neither of them have left Rivendell’s palace, neither have shown any skin since the engagement was announced. They’d had to do a press conference of sorts on the first official day of the first step of their commitment (‘first official day’ because Scott’s councils had known for several days already and had been getting them both fitted for the proper attire), where reporters from all of the empires were given the opportunity to ask a couple of questions before the total isolation began. They had an agreed-upon story (with as many embellishments as Scott could throw in on the spot)—in which they’d been courting since the beginning of their alliance, and had decided to bite the bullet and commit to strengthen their empires when the rumors of war began. Somehow (despite certain members of the Cod Alliance knowing otherwise), every one of the other rulers bought it, as well as the citizens of both their empires. Katherine in particular became much warmer to the both of them, extending her congratulations and arranging a personal meeting in order to work out a neutrality statement in the coming conflicts that wouldn’t harm their trades.

The first week had been a flurry of activity, but now things have settled down and Jimmy mostly finds himself bored.

His lessons are mindnumbing and confusing, but despite them feeling as if they drag on forever, they only last three hours and leave Jimmy with a pile of homework he can’t wrap his head around without Scott and nothing to do for the rest of the day.

There’s the gardens, of course, and he can visit the courtyard, as long as he puts in a request with the staff (by way of a note slipped through a slot in the door) to ensure it stays empty an hour before his arrival. He can only stay for two hours at a time, though, and is otherwise confined to within the palace walls, moving as a wraith through the halls.

It’s frustrating that the only place he can remove his veil is in their quarters, particularly because there’s not a lot of opportunities for exercise in their rooms. Two bedrooms, a sitting room, a washroom, two walk-in closets, and a half-kitchen. Not much room to run laps, do heavy lifting, and certainly not a place for swimming. He brings it up to Scott one morning, who frowns.

“Maybe we can get you a few hours per day at the public pool?”

“You have a public pool?”

Scott shrugs. “Of course. It used to be a bathhouse, I believe, but it was too cold. Nobody wanted to bathe in it. Instead of tearing it down, we remodeled.”

Jimmy’s never been so excited at the idea of going to a public pool, but there’s not much to get excited about in this incredibly dangerous false arrangement. It would set his heart racing with excitement just to see a tree that isn’t one of the two in the gardens.

They bring it up to all three councils the very next day. At first, none of the elves seem to approve of the idea, but Scott (rather forcefully, Jimmy thinks, blushing under his veil) reminds them that Jimmy’s a cod hybrid and has a biological need to swim. A begrudging amendment is made, and Jimmy is allotted three hours every morning to travel in a covered carriage to the pool (new hours of service established so that the general public are not swimming with him), swim, and travel back, all in solitude.

It’s better than nothing, he supposes. The pool is deep enough on one end for him to dive into, and large enough that he can swim laps at a moderate speed without crashing into the wall. There’s also a slide on one side, reminiscent of the children’s mudslides into ponds back home, and after one ride Jimmy decides that he’s going to be installing slides at every dock he can.

Scott smiles every time Jimmy mentions the slide (because there’s not much to tell of Jimmy’s every day, the slide is a recurring character), and one night he mutters, “If we were getting real-married, I’d make you all the slides you want.”

And that one hits like a punch to the gut.

Every day is more of the same. They wake up and get ready for the day together, then Scott leaves for his private library and Jimmy leaves for the pool. Jimmy gets back and eats a midday meal alone, attends his lessons, then has a conference call with his advisors (it usually only lasts a couple of minutes, the empire is fine and all is quiet). Scott’s often in meetings and war preparations until supper, which they eat together—and which Jimmy has recently taken upon himself to cook, as bored out of his mind as he tends to be, and as safe as he knows it makes Scott feel.

Over supper they chat, then they throw themselves in random places around the sitting room or Scott’s bedroom, and study and read and have generally heartbreaking conversations.

Jimmy’s never borne a heavier secret, and yet it’s still the most prized secret he’s ever been privileged enough to keep.

The only people in on the secret are Lizzie and Joel—well, they think that the love is real, and that the betrothal will remain beyond the threat, but they are aware of the disappearance of the Codfather head. They’ve been sending recon groups into Mythland and the Grimlands, searching for anything suspicious, spying on the emperors. They haven’t found anything yet.

Jimmy both hopes they do soon and hopes they won’t.

The worst thing, he thinks, is that Scott is incredibly sweet about all this. Not only does he keep up pretenses in front of the councils to a fault (holding Jimmy’s hand, keeping his arms protectively around Jimmy’s shoulders, using pet names and rubbing his back and so on in such painful ways), but when alone, he’s apologetic, closer than ever, lightheartedly joking and doing his best to make the situation bearable for Jimmy. He never blames him for their predicament, never asks him to take any of the blame for losing his own claim to the throne. Scott shows Jimmy nothing less than utter compassion and care, and Jimmy falls in love with him a bit more every day.

Tonight, he lays on his stomach on their—on Scott’s bed, trying to unobtrusively watch Scott flip through his notes and compare to whatever he’s reading.

He knows he must look embarrassingly cliche—his feet in the air behind him, chin propped up on his hands—but he can’t help it. Scott’s quite absorbed in his work and won’t notice, and if he does, he can write it off as practice for being in love. Cod knows he needs it—every time Scott so much as mentions his name, he gets all tongue-tied and can barely look at him.

He’s got it bad, hasn’t he?

“Lizzie said she caught some salmon sneaking around the east border, right?” Scott says absently, and Jimmy jolts, quickly turning his eyes down to the history book he’s meant to be studying.

“Uh,” he says after a moment, faking concentration. “Maybe? I think so, yeah.”

Scott sighs, bonks his head against his desk. “That just doesn’t make sense. If they’re looking for the End portal, they’re nowhere near it. It’s been nearly two months—how have they not gotten close yet?”

“Maybe Lizzie’s misdirecting is working,” Jimmy suggests.

“If it wasn’t fWhip, I would believe it,” groans Scott, lifting his head and stretching. “Were it just Sausage? I’d hardly worry about it. But fWhip. . . .”

He trails off, and Jimmy doesn’t offer any other solution. He’s willing to believe that Lizzie’s plan is just working, but if Scott’s right, then why on earth would they be at the east border? Is there something else there that fWhip wants?

“I’ll call Lizzie about it tomorrow,” Scott waves off. He pushes back his chair, stands. “You’d think that requiring total isolation would mean I would deal with less people, but I seem to have a new meeting every day. What about a one-year betrothal period do these elves not understand?”

Jimmy doesn’t answer that either, just shoots him a sympathetic smile. He checks the incense clock—the stick’s burned halfway down. He hadn’t realized just how late it was.

Scott seems to notice, too, ducking into his walk-in closet to change. Jimmy checks under the bed, finds his shirt and shorts. He pulls the robes off over his head and changes quickly, leaving his clothes in a heap on the floor.

Scott barely even pauses his stride to scoop them up and throw them in the hamper on his way to the bed, blowing out his desk lamp before climbing in under the blankets. Jimmy scoots under them as well, pulls them up to his chest. He settles in, swiveling his ear fins a few times contentedly. There are ups and downs to this, sure. But at least tonight, he can pretend that all the pain doesn’t exist and just sleep next to Scott.

That’s just going to make it worse in the morning, he knows. It always does.

Scott quickly looks away when Jimmy glances at him, any color draining from his cheeks. “Um. Bed?” Scott says weakly, despite them both already being in bed.

Jimmy nods, so Scott reaches over to his bedside table and lowers the lamp shade, allowing just the tiniest bit of light to peek through, offering some definition to the shadowy shapes around the room. He fluffs his pillow, then lays back beside Jimmy.

It always takes Scott a little while to fall asleep, and Jimmy always makes an effort to not fall asleep before him, so he rolls onto his side to face away from Scott, staring instead at the curtains through the crack of which he can see the tiniest sliver of the night sky.

It’s beautiful, moreso here in Rivendell (at Scott’s side) than anywhere else Jimmy’s ever been. Maybe it’s the height of the mountains, reaching closer to the heavens than any other empire. Maybe it’s the clarity of the crisp air. Something about Rivendell makes the sky mesmerizing in a way he’s never found it.

“Scott?” he finds himself whispering.

“Hm?”

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

A moment. “Probably the Clash of the Stags. Basic, I know.”

Jimmy shrugs. “I don’t know it. Has it got a good story?”

“You don’t know it?”

“I’m sort of new here, remember?” Jimmy’s not sure if he means new to Rivendell, or new to the empires as a whole. Scott hums thoughtfully.

“Well, I can’t do it justice right now. We can go out tomorrow night to stargaze, and I’ll point it out. Sound good?”

That sounds terribly romantic, actually, and Jimmy already is both excitedly anticipating the event and entirely dreading it. “Yeah,” he says eventually, ignoring the roiling emotions in his stomach, then adds, “I’ll bring something to eat, how about.” Scott yawns. “Perfect. Tomorrow night, okay?”

“Tomorrow night,” Jimmy agrees, and with that, they fall silent. Jimmy listens as Scott’s breathing slowly evens out, his body losing all of the tension that it’s been holding.

It’s nice, lying next to Scott as he falls asleep.

Jimmy just wishes there was more to it than that.

He’s about to fall asleep himself when his communicator beeps. He fumbles to grab it off the bedside table, meaning to see who’s messaging him at this time of night and mute it, like he usually does before bed. He can’t have it waking up Scott, and he’s holding down the volume button to mute it when it buzzes again, messages coming into focus as he blinks the bleariness away from his eyes.

Had he muted it earlier, had it not disturbed him just as he was about to fall asleep, perhaps all that transpired next could have been avoided. Perhaps the message sent wouldn’t have been seen until morning, when Scott was awake, when they were both levelheaded enough to handle the situation as a team.

But that isn’t what happens.

fWhip: If you want the cod head back, meet us at the end portal in one hour

fWhip: Come alone. Tell no one. Or else

Jimmy’s blood freezes in his veins.

They have the Codfather head. They’ve found the portal. And while he doesn’t know what would happen were he to ignore the requests given, he knows fWhip’s style. It would involve a lot of pain.

He can’t wake Scott. He can’t tell him about any of this.

It’s terrifying to know that he’s about to go face his tormentors without even the option for backup, so terrifying that he can’t even think straight. He just knows he has to obey fWhip’s demands.

And maybe—just maybe—he can hold them off from going into the End long enough that someone finds them.

It’s not much of a plan, but Jimmy can’t take the time to think any longer. He has to go.

He slides out of bed, careful not to disturb the covers. Tiny things can wake Scott up, and he’s actually spent hours teaching himself which floorboards are safe to step on so that if he needs to get up in the middle of the night, Scott will still be able to rest (the first week here, Jimmy had gotten up for some water and woken Scott, fuelling a panic attack and setting them both up for several more hours of wakefulness).

Those practiced skills have never come more in handy than now. He sneaks across the chilly floor, into the sitting room, then through there into his own (almost unused) bedroom. He shuts the door near silently, then rushes to get ready.

One of the Rivendellian robes won’t do, not with his elytra. The only other clothes he has are his travel clothes that he’d worn here weeks ago, so those will have to do. Brown leggings, green-and-grey mottled tunic, a brown leather jacket. He laces up his boots over it, then adds a pair of his day gloves, the warm ones—though they’re long enough to go up to his elbows, a bit excessive. The veil’s tricky, but if someone catches him sneaking out without the veil on, he’ll be accused of infidelity and the whole betrothal will be off. He pins it around his head, tucking the longer ends into his tunic.

It takes about ten minutes to get dressed, which leaves him only fifty to get to the End Portal. It’s not a terribly far flight—it can’t be more than half an hour, twenty minutes with good winds—but he’s anxious to get going anyway. fWhip gave him a one hour time slot. He can’t mess this up.

He doesn’t think to grab anything else—he barely remembers to slip his communicator into the inside pocket of his jacket. He just has to leave, has to take care of this and get back before Scott wakes up.

Maybe soon, he’ll have the head back. Then they can cancel this silly betrothal once and for all.

He’s not sure if he wants it back quite yet.

Still, though, Jimmy straps on his elytra, and with a final glance at his closed door, pries open his window and leaps out.

He arrives at the portal alone, swooping down through the tunnel into the dimly-lit portal room.

Jimmy’s been here once before, but the portal is still the novelty it had been the first time, drawing his eye as soon as he enters.

It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the room, rough stone bricks and crumbling patches of clay. The portal must be the feat of some great craftsman, carved out of some material he doesn’t recognize, shimmering words in a language he can’t read pulsing and melding together. The Eyes set into the holes in every finely-carved brick glow softly, glassy green and shiny.

The most foreign aspect of the portal is, however, the void.

As opposed to the swirling purples of a Nether portal, the End portal lacks . . . anything at its center. To look into it is to see nothing forever, an enveloping blankness that makes Jimmy dizzy to take in. Perhaps there are flecks of color if he looks closer, but he’s too afraid of losing his balance and falling inside.

It thrums softly, filling the room with an ominous presence. Jimmy tears his eyes away.

It’s only two minutes later that the fluttering of elytra alert him to the presence of others. He spins around to face the entrance; Sausage flies in first, stumbling on the floor, followed by fWhip, landing gracefully.

These are the men who hurt him for so long. These are the men who tortured Scott for a week straight.

Somehow, Jimmy can’t find a single spark of anger. He only feels cold fear.

Jimmy does his best to seem imposing, standing straighter and holding his head high, but fWhip only laughs.

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to learn?”

Jimmy glances between him and Sausage. What’s that supposed to mean?

Even with the veil hiding his face, fWhip seems to pick up on his confusion. “I mean, I do have to thank you. Best ally I’ve had in a while—after all, you led us straight to the portal!”

Oh no. Oh no.

Oh no.

Jimmy’s heart sinks.

How could he have been such an idiot? Of course they didn’t know where the portal was, of course he shouldn’t have come, of course he should’ve woken Scott and discussed with him. The panic had seized him and all thoughts had left his brain.

“I’ve held up my end of the bargain,” Jimmy blusters, pure will keeping his suddenly-dry throat from cracking. Maybe he hasn’t ruined everything. Maybe he can salvage something from this. “Give me the Codfather head.”

It’s Sausage’s turn to laugh. “Not so fast, little fishie! We never offered it!”

And they hadn’t, had they? They’d just told him to be here if he wanted it back.

They tricked him, and he was stupid enough to fall for it, and now his stupidity has likely brought about the invasion of a demon.

“Aw, maybe we’ll give it to you anyways, right?” fWhip sticks out his bottom lip, mocking a pout. “That way, you won’t have to wear this old thing.” He bats at the veil; Jimmy pulls away, hands shooting up protectively.

It’s clear they know his betrothal is a sham, and Jimmy isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse. For an instant, fWhip’s mask of joviality slips to show irritation, then is back up as he clucks his tongue.

“C’mon, what Scott doesn’t know won’t hurt him! After all, his feelings for you aren’t your responsibility. You can take that off, it’s just us!”

Jimmy would’ve worded it the other way around, but he stands firm. He promised Scott. He’s already ended any shot at friendship he could ever have with him, let alone a relationship (Scott will never forgive him for this, he’s freed the demon and Scott’s going to hate him as will everyone else), but he can at least keep this last promise. He can at least follow the rules laid out for their short-lived betrothal until its termination.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance, as someone swoops in behind and knocks him to his knees, tearing off the veil. Jimmy winces as it rips along the pins, coming entirely off his face. He ducks his head, hit with the stale, cool air of the portal room, the musty smell suddenly that much stronger. He feels uncomfortably naked without it, because for almost two months no one’s seen his face but Scott and they aren’t supposed to see him—

Joey Graceffa appears before him and stomps on the veil—unnecessarily brutal, and now the shame is melting into anger, it may have been fake but that veil had come to represent an important part of his life—but before he can do more than turn toward Joey with his fists up, Sausage is shoving him to the ground.

His elbow knocks against a wall, hitting his funny bone, but he ignores the tingling up and down his arm and rolls up—

He’s hit again in the stomach, hard enough that his vision instantly blurs with tears and he can’t see who did it as he doubles over, and he doesn’t get any time to recover as he’s kicked onto his back.

“Stop,” Jimmy gasps out. “I need—give me—”

“Look, Codboy,” fWhip sneers, shoving his boot under Jimmy’s chin to tilt his head up (and it’s just like old days, isn’t it, it’s just like it always was, how could he ever believe he’d escaped), “you’ve always been the funniest guy to mess with. But you just had to go get Scott involved—which I’m not mad about, by the way!”

fWhip’s boot presses into his throat and Jimmy chokes, his gills flap open for a split second but he’s not in water, his fins flare in defense—

“Because as it turns out, Scott’s very fun to play with as well,” fWhip continues, as if Jimmy’s windpipe isn’t being crushed under him. “And you, Jimmy. Well . . . you’ve become quite the issue.”

The pressure releases and Jimmy gulps in the air, rolling to his side. This is the worst—he hasn’t been so humiliated in ages, and here fWhip is, in control like he always was, Sausage and Joey laughing and jeering in the background.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s really changed, and he’s once again on his own because of his own stupid decisions.

fWhip claps his hands together, startling Jimmy so badly he almost loses his tenuous hold on his gag reflex, bile leaping up his throat. “Well, Jimmy,” he says, voice dripping with grandiose. “How would you like to go to the End?”

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cielcreations · 2 years

Text

Tattoos - Hermit X Empires

The design of Tango is based off of @lunarcrown‘s design, so make sure to check them out!

It wasn't a shock that Tango had tattoos. It just fit his aesthetic and the type of person he was. He was a blue blaze hybrid, he wore a lot of leather, usually crop tops paired with thigh highs to both embarrass Solidarity and to show off, it just wasn't really a surprise.

The first time people had seen it was when Tango took off his long cape like overcoat. It did get very hot and stuffy when wearing all black and leather, so he took off the cape and Fwhip (the first one to see it) gasped.

"WOAH!" The goblin ran over, "That's awesome!"

Tango smiled, showing off the warden tattoo, "Thanks! It's still healing though, which is why I have the plastic wrap!"

"It's so pretty! And so cool! The colors are awesome!"

"I know, I have the best tattoo artist!"

"I'll say! You'll have to take me sometime, been thinking of getting one myself!"

That was that. Other people would see it and compliment the design, the colors, the way it fit Tango's arm perfectly, everyone was amazed and impressed. Especially Scott and Joel.

"I have a few tattoos!" Scott removed his shirt and, sure enough, on his lower back was a flower field, full of beautiful colors and all sorts of flowers. He also had a few small ones scattered around his wrist, his ankles, just tiny ones like a rainbow, the word 'Chromia' written in beautiful cursive, a silhouette of a llama, etc.

"Those are nice too!" Joel complimented.

"The artist was the worst though!" Scott complained, "He was way to rough, my skin was swollen for weeks! He was awful! Not to mention the colors all washed out! They used to be super duper bright, but after they fully healed, which took about three months because he was way too rough, they were all gone!"

"That sucks! I hate those type of artists! They feel like they're just stabbing you rather than actually making art!" Tango huffed.

"Exactly!"

"I have one on the back of my thigh of some blue orchids?" Tango turned and lowered his thigh high boot, "This is a cover up!'

"No way!" Joel exclaimed, kneeling down. The tattoo was beautiful, it looked like a flowing pile of blue orchids, "What did you cover up?"

"Originally, it was a black heart and mine and Soli's name-" Tango explained, Joel stepping back as Tango fixed his shoe, "-but the artist was awful and the black faded!"

"How does black fade?!" Joel exclaimed.

"When you're rushing and not pressing hard enough! Honestly, it felt like she was just stabbing my skin with a dull pencil!"

"Well, that one is awesome. They're both awesome!" Joel smiled, "It looks so clean! Colors are blended beautifully, the outline, everything!"

"Thank you!" Tango giggled.

Scott playfully glared, "You have to take me to your artist! I need these ones redone!"

Tango laughed, "Sure!" The blaze then looked at his arm and smiled, tracing it with his finger, blushing slightly, "Soli was so worried it would turn out bad, but I told him it would be fine!"

"Makes sense he would be a buzzkill." Joel teased.

"Well, he does have to be strict if he's the one tattooing me!"

A beat of silence.

"WAIT WHAT?!" Both screamed, making Tango jump.

"SOLIDARITY, THE SHERIFF, DID THOSE?! NO WAY!" Joel yelled.

"He did! Why would I lie?" Tango questioned, "Has he never done one for any of the other emperors?"

Scott and Joel stared.

"....So that's a no..." Tango giggled, "I can prove it! Do either of you want a tattoo?"

"I'll pass for now, I need to do more work at Chromia."

"Joel?"

The god hummed before he nodded.

***

"Soliiiiiiii~!"

The dirty blonde turned and smiled before it was gone in an instant, seeing a familiar brunette god beside his husband, "...Tango, why is he here?"

The blaze ran over and kissed his cheek, Solidarity instantly blushing and loosening up a bit, "Joel doesn't believe that you made my tattoos! Can you believe that!"

"I can, he's jealous he can't do what I can do!"

Joel glared, smirking, "Yeah right! I know Tango is lying to just hide your secret! Who's the real tattoo artist?! Is he a criminal, is that why the sheriff is hiding him?"

Solidarity raised an eyebrow before he sighed, "Follow me."

"Ha! I'm going to know the sheriff's dirty little secret!"

They walked into Solidarity's home, the dirty blonde taking out a bunch of materials for tattoos before handing Tango a book. The blaze gave it to Joel, who began to flip through it. Most were just pictures of finished, beautiful tattoos while some showed Solidarity working on those tattoos, him beside the tattoos, even some of him with the client who wad clearly amazed and happy with the result.

"...No way..."

"I told you!" Tango exclaimed, "My husband is the best tattoo artist ever! I would never let anyone else ink my skin when I found him!"

"C-Come on, t-they're not that gr-great!" Solidarity blushed, completely embarrassed by his husband's assertion.

"Dude, these are awesome!" Joel yelled, "Can you do me?!"

"I-I can-"

"Sweet!"

"H-Hey, I didn't say I wo-"

"I want a large lightening tattoo!" Joel pointed at his shoulder, smiling brightly, "Right here! Maybe it could have a cloud and lightening?! And maybe some good praising and-"

"H-HOLD ON!" Solidarity yelled, startling both him and Tango.

"What's wrong, baby?" Tango gently took his hand in his.

Solidarity took a deep breath, "I-I'm not comfortable with writing sentences on people unless they're super meaningful. I'm not going to write 'I'm super hot and sexy and tall' on you." Joel nodded so Solidarity continued. He stepped forward, tracing Joel's arm, "...Do you just want a simple lightening bolt? Black and white or color?"

"Oh, um..." Joel blushed, now a bit embarrassed. He didn't think he would get this far, "...Um..."

Solidarity continued stroking his arm, "...Your skin is really nice, but I'm guessing you want yellow? Yellow or gold?"

"Yeah, um, yes."

"...I don't think that's a good idea." The sheriff hummed, "Yellow, gold, those type of bright colors? They fade really quickly on light skin and they don't turn up well on darker skin. You may be tan, but it's really not worth it."

"You can't, like, go over it?"

"I could, but it would one, hurt you a lot and two, it will look very washed out when fading." Solidarity stared before he widened his eyes, "....Unless...."

"Unless?" Joel questioned.

He could almost see Solidarity's brain processing. He ran to a chest in the corner, Tango running after him. The dirty blonde took out his tattooing materials, Tango taking them as the dirty blonde finally got to his sketchbook, effectively sitting down in his spot and beginning to sketch.

"He's in work mode." Tango explained, setting the equipment down, "Here."

The blaze took,out a long comfortable chair and had the brunette lay down on it as Tango set the equipment up. It took about thirty minutes before Solidarity came back over with a couple of designs. One was a half sleeve with a large cloud on the top of the shoulder with bolts of lightening shooting out of the clouds. He explained he would color them in a way that so it looked like the cloud was lighting up and wasn't just a simple white. The next was a full arm tattoo but it was a lot more simplistic. It was just a string of lightening bolts that went from Joel's shoulder to his hand, Solidarity explaining he would either do it in black because it was just a bunch of straight lines, or UV ink that would glow under UV light to give it that pop. Finally, the last one was a half sleeve again.

It had a silhouette of Joel lifting his hand up towards the sky with a large flash of lightening and storm clouds, mini lightening bolts behind the one giant one.

"Woah..." Joel was amazed, "I... never knew you were such a good artist..."

"He keeps it hidden." Tango hugged Solidarity from behind, the dirty blonde blushing, "He's really passionate about this stuff so if you ever want to embarrass and make him a stuttering mess? Just compliment his art~!"

"T-T-TANGO!" Solidarity yelled.

"Seeeeee~?"

Joel chuckled, "Um... I really like all of them. I want all of them. But, if I have to choose one? I'd go with this one." He pointed to the one with the silhouette.

Solidarity smiled, "I figured. I try to make two or three designs that are 'basic', in terms of what the person wants, and then one or two catered to that specific person!"

Tango sat in a chair opposite of Solidarity's equipment as the dirty blonde transferred the sketch to a stencil. Once that was finished, he got his inks and tattoo gun ready.

Solidarity hummed, "Ready?"

"Ready!" Joel smiled.

"If you need a break, just tell me."

"Okay."

The dirty blonde began to work, Tango watching him intently. Joel did too. The other's face was calm and he gave off an aura of confidence, knowing exactly what he was doing. Solidarity didn't even blink when Joel let out a small groan as he hit one spot, just wiped away some ink, looked at him to gage if he was okay, and straight back to work mode.

"He's hot like this, right?" Tango giggled, not bothering to whisper.

Joel stared, "...Honestly, yeah..."

Solidarity looked... different like this. Just super confident, super calm, completely in his element. It was... amazing to see. He was completely comfortable, unlike when he left his empire and always seemed on edge because of something.

Joel hummed, "So, how long will this take?"

Solidarity didn't answer.

"Mine took three hours, so probably that, maybe a little less or more." Tango explained, "Trust me, you're not getting anything from him. Even complimenting his work won't deter him from work mode."

Joel nodded, "Amazing..."

"He is~!" Tango exclaimed, giggling,

Solidarity wiped another bit of ink, humming to himself.

"S-Something wrong?!" Joel exclaimed.

"No." The dirty blonde reassured, "Just admiring it. I don't make mistakes in my tattoos."

Tango and Joel chuckled before the two continued to talk among themselves. Joel did let out small groans at some point, but Solidarity would look at him, gage if the pain was too much, before getting back to work. It took about 3 hours before Solidarity hummed taking a step back. He smirked, putting his tools down before wiping Joel's arm a couple of times.

"Alright, you are all set." Solidarity smiled, "I know you hate following orders, but trust me on this. Do not take hot water, try to take cold or slightly warm showers, hot water will hurt your arm and it can wash the ink out. I would also suggest wearing plastic wrap, just in case. Wash the tattoo twice a day, all you need is a little soap and water and then gently pat dry. I'm going to give you some antibacterial/Vaseline ointment that you apply after washing it. Do not put on another bandage after the ointment, just wrap it in plastic wrap. Also, I suggest using some moisturizer to keep the tattoo moist."

Solidarity helped Joel sit up and handed him a mirror. Joel took it and gasped, amazed, "HOLY SHIT!"

"LANGUAGE!" Solidarity yelled.

"SHUT UP, NO WAY YOU DID THIS!!!" Joel stared, "IT LOOKS AWESOME!!! WAIT, OMG, IT LOOKS LIKE I'M REALLY CONTROLLING THE SKY!!! AND THE SHADING, THE COLORS, IT'S ALL BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL!!!!"

"Yellow and orange tends to fade the quickest just because they're so bright, so I built up the colors a lot and the shading with the whites and darker oranges should keep it looking bright!" Solidarity smirked, clearly proud of himself.

"Dude, oh my god..."

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS GOOD!" Tango giggled, grabbing Solidarity's cheeks and kissing him. The dirty blonde blushed and smiled, giggling.

The sheriff then grabbed some petroleum jelly and gently rubbed it on Joel's arm, wrapping it in plastic wrap and then a bandage, "Keep this on for 24 hours. You take it off early, I will find you and kill you for ruining my masterpiece."

"Got it." Joel smiled, "Well, then, I'm off-"

"Excuse me?" Solidarity glared, "My work ain't free."

"Oh, uh... what do you want? Diamonds, iron? How much?"

"A stack of diamonds." Solidarity smirked.

"WHAT?! I DON'T HAVE THAT!"

"Then, I guess you owe me-"

"Oh, I know!" Tango smiled, "You can give him a kiss!"

"WHAT?!" "T-TANGO!"

"Whaaaat~? My tattoo cost a kiss!"

"T-That's because you're my husband, th-there's a difference!"

Joel hummed before he smirked, "I can give you that~"

"H-Huh-"

The brunette grabbed Solidarity's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. The dirty blonde blushed darkly as Joel hummed, kissing him so gently. The sheriff put his hands on Joel's chest and pushed him back, face bright red.

"Y-YOU-! TH-THIS IS DISRESPECT TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE! THIS IS THE LAST TIME I EVER GIVE YOU A TATTOO!" Solidarity screamed, grabbing his things and angrily washing everything off.

Tango chuckled and helped Joel sit up, "Don't be upset. He's fine."

Joel snickered, "At least I don't have to pay!"

The blaze chuckled, "Your welcome~! I know he's my husband and we're suppose to be on the same page, but seeing him get so flustered is so adorable! How can I pass that up?!"

The brunette stood up and looked around. He went to the Ender Chest and then took out 20 diamonds, giving them to Tango, smiling, "Give them to the toy man."

The blaze smiled and nodded, "I will."

Joel then left, smiling.

***

"Wow, Joel! That tattoo is awesome! Did you go to the same artist as Tango?"

Joel smiled at Grian, "Yep!"

"Who's the artist?!" Grian hummed, "I might get one!"

The brunette looked up and pointed at the sheriff who was talking with Scar.

"....No way."

"Yes way."

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft x empires #hermitcraft tango #tangotek #empires s2 #empires smp #empires solidarity #empires jimmy #jimmy solidarity #team rancher #rancher duo #solidarity x joel #empires joel #joel smallishbeans #jimmy x joel #solidarity x tango #hermitshipping #empires shipping

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djpurple3 · 4 months

Text

his tears freeze when he cries, did you know that?

3k words, Empires s1, romantic scwhip (fWhip/Scott), vaguely canon compliant, set just before Scott leaves on his Elsa Arc. Full fic both on AO3 and posted below.

Tagged: kissing, crying, self-deprecation, abandonment issues, hurt no comfort, angst, winged Scott and fWhip, tragic romance.

Summary:

After fWhip's sister gets hit by Scott's newly developing and quickly out-of-control powers, fWhip has that sort of... gut feeling that everything is about to fall apart. He rushes to Rivendell to see Scott just in time - catching Scott as he is about to leave. fWhip now has to try, in vain, to convince his love to stay.

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

fWhip has that… that gut sort of feeling. When Gem had shown up, allegedly ‘feeling fine’ but corrupted to all hells and back, and talking about Scott, fWhip had a terrible sort of feeling. Now, coming to a quick landing in Rivendell’s main plaza, he sees he was right to assume the worst.

Scott, wings half-unfurled, stares at him, caught off guard, and… painfully scared.

When fWhip dares to approach, he has to swallow hard, stomach twisting itself into agonising knots, because as he draws closer, Scott shies away.

“I’m not mad,” fWhip says quickly. He raises his hands in a show of peace. “Not anymore, I promise.”

“It’s not just that,” Scott says, and he doesn’t even look at fWhip, and that hurts too. “It’s… no. You should go.”

“Go?” fWhip stops five paces away, hands still in the air, and he tries to smile, tries to joke it off. “But I just arrived! And it was such a long journey, too.”

“You may use one of my people’s homes to rest,” Scott says. He’s really trying to brush fWhip off. And, fWhip notices, Scott’s… not in his usual robes. He’s in warm weather gear – not sleek and well-fitted royal garb, but thick and sturdy. Scott is… he’s in runaway clothes, isn’t he? “I will send word for you.”

“Scott.”

“You can’t… I-,” Scott cuts himself off with an aching sigh. “We can’t, fWhip.”

And Scott finally looks up. His eyes are wide and bright and exhausted. fWhip can’t help but notice that Scott’s been clutching his hands tightly together over his stomach this entire time. It’s a stark contrast to the usual way Scott would gesture as he spoke.

“You should understand better than anyone else.” Scott’s lips purse, and he looks away. “…How is she?”

“Well, she’s…” fWhip looks away, too. Scratches the back of his head as he fumbles for his words. “She went looking for a cure herself, and got corrupted, actually, but… I took her to Katherine, who managed to purify her. She’s good as gold, now, …if not a little shaken.”

“Corrupted?” Scott echoes, horrified, and he steps back sharply, hands flying to his mouth. “Even Gem? E-even the… the Great Wizard of the Crystal Cliffs…”

“Hey. We both know that it doesn’t matter who you are,” fWhip says sharply, but the way Scott’s face falls tells fWhip he’s accidentally hit a sore spot. “But! She got help! We defeated it together.”

fWhip does his best to smile, now and takes a half-step closer.

“And besides. This,” fWhip gestures at Scott, now, up and down, “isn’t that. You’re… you’re you, Scott. You didn’t mean it. She knows you didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t mean it. It… it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Scott’s hands tighten, and the air gets several degrees colder even as Scott takes a jerky step back that spreads frost from where his boot makes contact with the ground. fWhip fights down the urge to shiver, and holds his ground. “I… you’re not listening to me! I can’t control myself, fWhip. A-and I don’t… I don’t want to keep hurting people.”

And fWhip watches in quiet horror as tears fall down Scott’s face. But… but they aren’t normal tears. They’re frozen on his cheeks, long before they hit the ground, and bounce on the cobblestones with little tink-tink-tinks.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Scott says, and he reaches out to fWhip for a moment, just a moment, before he catches himself, and tucks his hands away again.

fWhip involuntarily makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat, before he has a thought, eyes lighting up. Scott watches him in confusion as fWhip frantically pats down his coat.

“Look, wait, hang on,” he tells Scott, before he finds the right pocket and pulls out his work gloves. “These- these babies? Designed to withstand the extreme temperatures of my forge.”

And fWhip doggedly closes the distance before Scott can argue, pulling his gloves on, and takes Scott’s hands in his. Scott flinches, gasps, his hands flex as frost spreads across fWhip’s gloves, but fWhip just raises a shaky eyebrow, and smiles.

Scott’s eyes widen.

“See?” fWhip squeezes Scott’s hands, coaxing him along, and finally, the tension leaks from Scott, his shoulders uncurl enough to stand tall again. “You can’t hurt me. It’s alright.”

“…Your technology is marvellous,” Scott says, musing. He gently turns fWhip’s hands over so Scott can inspect the gloves closer. “And you’re sure I’m not…?”

“Can barely feel a thing,” fWhip assures him. “You’d really need to start pumping the temperature up or down to damage these.”

In truth, he hasn’t actually really tested these for cold. But they certainly work for heat. Wearing these, he can handle magma and, to some degrees, even lava with his hands. Which is more where his expertise lies. But they’re holding up more than fine right now. fWhip squeezes Scott’s hands again, even as the frost thickens. He still doesn’t feel the cold.

Scott looks up now, finally meeting fWhip’s eyes… and, gods above and below, he looks tired.

“I’m about to go,” Scott whispers. “I’m… I’m going.”

“Where?” fWhip asks, voice equally hushed, worried, and he immediately steps closer.

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Away from here. I have to.”

“You… Scott.”

“I have to,” Scott’s still crying, his frozen teardrops are almost piling around them now. “I need to learn to control myself. And I need to do it somewhere I won’t freeze someone half to death. O-or worse.”

“And you?” fWhip tilts his head, studying Scott’s face.

“Oh,” Scott says, his best attempt at playful, and he even does his best to give fWhip a smile. “The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“…H-how long will you be gone?”

“Long enough,” Scott says, and his hands tighten around fWhip’s for a moment. “I… I don’t know if I should even…”

“You better come back,” fWhip cuts Scott off, brow furrowing as the pain in his chest threatens to seal off his throat. “You better. I’ll hunt you down if you don’t.”

“fWhip,” Scott says He sounds in pain.

“Scott,” fWhip matches his tone. “You… you can’t go. …I-I’m sorry. I hate seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Scott says, the bitterness in his tone taking fWhip aback, and he watches as Scott’s lip curls. “A menace? A danger? A threat?”

“Scared,” fWhip says, earnest and simple. “In pain.”

He moves in, now. fWhip catches Scott in a full-on hug, and wraps his leathery wings around both of them, best he can.

“You better come back,” he half-growls, hugging tighter as Scott tenses up with a sharp gasp. “We… gods, Scott, we were just beginning to work.”

“I know,” Scott says, and he sounds so… mournful. “Maybe we just weren’t meant to-”

“You better not finish that sentence either,” fWhip cuts him off again, voice so dark, and fWhip looks up sharply to meet Scott’s ice-blue eyes. They’re practically pressed chest-to-chest now. Scott’s shaking in his arms. “I… you can’t… I can’t… I’ve already lost so many, Scott, you…”

fWhip closes his eyes for a moment, before he finally says, “I can’t lose you too.”

Scott’s face crumples, and he watches fWhip with a devastated expression. fWhip takes his opportunity to lean in and place a kiss on Scott’s cheek.

“fWhip!” Scott reprimands him, and snowy owl wings push draconic ones aside. Scott physically shoves his way out of fWhip’s arms.

“What?” fWhip tries not to sound choked up even as he stumbles back a few steps. “You can’t say you don’t want it!”

“I’ll freeze you!” Scott cries, and fWhip’s eyes widen as frost spreads from around Scott’s boots, seeping deeper into the ground, edging closer to fWhip. “I’ll kill you, fWhip, and I don’t want to. You’d be safer without me!”

Scott puts his head in his hands, turns away, wings circling himself, drawing in tight.

“Everyone would be safer without me,” he whispers to himself.

fWhip chokes on his tongue. He can’t breathe. He needs to say something, anything, but he can’t. The words won’t come.

He takes one hesitant step forward. Then another. He tries to take care not to slip on the ice. Scott doesn’t look up until fWhip is directly in front of him again.

“…fWhip?”

fWhip reaches out, now. He reaches out, worn leather gloves reaching out until he cups Scott’s face gently, so gently, and fWhip tears up as he watches Scott’s eyes widen. fWhip guides Scott’s head down, not all the way, just until their foreheads are resting together, and fWhip closes his eyes, staying there. It’s almost too much to bear.

“I can’t stop you,” he says, low and slow. “I know I can’t. But promise me, Scott. Promise me you’ll come back. I need you to come back.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“You can.” fWhip’s face scrunches up, eyes screwing tighter shut. “…Who’s even looking after your people, when you’re gone?”

“My advisors,” Scott says. “I’ve left them letters; they know what to do.”

“…The Grimlands will lend aid, if they need it,” fWhip’s voice is so soft. Scott’s touch is much colder than it used to be, but fWhip isn’t scared of it. He likes it, even. It… fWhip runs too hot for his own good. He could even get used to this, grow fond of this, …if Scott would stay.

“Thank you,” Scott whispers, and somehow, he’s the one who shivers. “…fWhip.”

“Scott.”

fWhip hasn’t opened his eyes yet. He can’t. If he opens his eyes to see that fear on Scott’s face, it’ll… make this far harder. Too hard. fWhip wants to remember what Scott looked like with a smile. What he used to look like before the demon. Before everything.

“What are you doing?” Scott whispers to him.

“I-I’m trying to remember you happy,” fWhip replies honestly. “So it’ll hurt less when you’re gone.”

Scott’s breathing hitches. Under fWhip’s touch, he shudders. Slowly, fWhip feels the familiar warmth and softness of being encircled by feathery wings, and he melts into it.

“Don’t go.” fWhip can’t help but beg.

“I have to.”

“Then kiss me,” fWhip finally opens his eyes, and takes in Scott’s tears, the fear in his eyes, the way his mouth is hanging a little open, the way he’s drawn tenser than a bowstring, and knows he won’t be able to erase how Scott has changed, has been changed, by all of this. “Kiss me, one last time. Please.”

Scott gasps again, and fWhip watches Scott as he openly wars with himself, fear and longing clawing at each other until Scott gasps for air, and-

“I…” Scott’s hands almost make it to fWhip’s face, but they falter, fall a little, and lightly cup his throat, over where his scarf is, like Scott can’t bring himself to touch fWhip’s bare skin.

“Lean in,” fWhip whispers. “Close your eyes, if it helps. I just… Gods. Give me something to remember you by, Scott.”

Scott caves. fWhip watches it happen, watches it play out across Scott’s face. Scott caves, and closes his eyes and tilts his head down, hesitant, waiting. fWhip is the one who cups Scott’s face again to guide the kiss.

Scott’s lips are cold. fWhip doesn’t let it throw him, just presses their mouths together insistently, tries to press everything he can against Scott’s lips to try and let Scott know he has something to come back to.

When they part for air, Scott doesn’t open his eyes for another moment.

fWhip leans back just a little to start undoing his scarf, and he slips it off, loops it around Scott’s neck, and he’s fumbling with doing up the knot when Scott’s eyes fly open.

“I… I can’t take this,” Scott tries to argue, though he makes no move to stop fWhip.

“I have others,” fWhip tells him sharply, doing up the knot a little too tight as his nerves spike. “Remember me.”

Scott touches it softly, his expression twisting. “Red’s not my colour,” he whispers.

“Means you’ll have to give it back.” fWhip drags him in by the scarf now, and kisses him again, pressing his words to Scott’s lips. “Means you’ll have to remember me.”

It seems to be yet another touchy thing to say to Scott – his lips part like he was going to say something. fWhip almost takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss then and there, but he doesn’t. He… doesn’t think Scott would forgive him if he did.

They break away. fWhip just doesn’t want to take his hands off the elf before him, yet. When he does, Scott will go, and it’ll all be real.

“Is there any last things you need?” he asks instead, makes himself ask instead.

“No.” Scott’s hands fall away to hang at his sides.

“You have enough food?”

“I do.”

fWhip smooths down the scarf. …Scott isn’t wrong about red not being his colour. It just kind of washes Scott out.

fWhip still thinks he looks beautiful.

“…Be safe?”

“You too,” Scott says earnestly. “…If there’s an emergency, send an owl. They’ll find me.”

“I will,” fWhip promises.

And the conversation lulls. It’s come to an end, fWhip can feel it has, but he doesn’t want it to. But Scott steps away now, leaving fWhip’s hands trailing behind him. Snow has started to fall around them, slow and soft.

It settles on Scott’s hair, gleaming in the sun.

fWhip wants to say all sorts of things. Things like I’ll miss you and things like I love you. He doesn’t say any of it, though, because… at the end of the day, he knows Scott knows. And he knows it’ll only make this hurt more.

fWhip knows he can’t stop him. Despite how badly he wishes for the contrary, fWhip cannot stop him. And he knows Scott wouldn’t cope with fWhip following. Even if fWhip wanted to, he …can’t. because even outside of the ‘powers’ thing, it isn’t really, politically, the best of times to leave. But fWhip won’t tell him that. He’ll just have to… to try to cover Scott’s tracks for him.

Scott now leaves five, now six, now seven, now eight empty paces between them, before he smiles, so sadly, so scared, at fWhip; and… there. In that moment right there, fWhip knows that this expressionwill be the face that will haunt his dreams from now on.

“Goodbye, Count fWhip,” Scott whispers. It’s almost as soft as the snow falling around them, but it falls louder than an avalanche on fWhip’s ears.

fWhip swallows hard.

“Goodbye, King Scott,” is all he can whisper back. Helpless. He feels helpless, watching Scott extend his wings, put his back to fWhip, and hesitate only once before he takes off.

Scott circles once, overhead. What gold he’s still wearing catches in the sunlight, as does his hair. fWhip has always thought his hair looks particularly fetching in the sun. It makes his heart lurch now. With a few mighty beats of powerful wings, Scott is soaring into the distance.

Just like that, he’s …gone.

fWhip stays rooted to the spot until Scott’s out of eyeshot, and then a little longer, just for good measure. Snow settles on his hair, his shoulders, his wings. fWhip stays, still as a statue, frozen in place until he can’t stand the cold anymore, and he cracks. fWhip wraps himself up in his wings, finally giving in and shivering as he rips his eyes away from the horizon.

He feels barer – colder – without his scarf.

As fWhip drops his head, gritting his teeth, something sparkling catches his eye. fWhip makes a sound – a sound that’s a little too close to a sob to play it off, before he leans down, and scoops up a handful of Scott’s frozen tears. He cradles them in his hands, watching them glint in the morning sun.

They are small and delicate in the palms of his thick, dark, leathery gloves.

…It’s only morning. He has a whole day ahead of him. Buildings to build. Councils to meet with. Treaties to negotiate. Paperwork to finish. Inventions to fix.

He…

H-he needs to replace his scarf first.

fWhip stands, turns sharply, and spreads his wings too, closing his hands around the tears. They don’t even seem to be melting, yet. And they don’t the whole way home, and not even when he takes off his gloves and cups them in his bare hands, where they sit, freezing and lonely, against his skin.

fWhip leaves them on his windowsill, in his bedroom, by his bed. He puts his back to them as he huddles by the fire long enough to stave all the cold off, replaces his scarf, though he gave Scott his favourite one. …It was bloodsheep wool. Sausage had made it for him, years ago.

…It’s one he can probably never replace, nowadays.

Eventually, fWhip rises to his feet, making to leave, to try function for the day, and ends up turning back to the window. fWhip can’t help but notice with detached curiosity and buried pain that, even in the full sun, Scott’s tears aren’t melting.

Well then. Good to see fWhip’s got something to hold onto, too.

So, fWhip doesn’t let himself cry. fWhip plasters on his best smile, and leaves, trying to put some fake pep in his step as he goes to meet up with his civil planning committee to try suss out the last of the preparations for their newest building project, and does his best not to slam his bedroom door behind him, as all he can do is to… continue on with his life, and hope for Scott to come back.

#empires smp #empires s1 #empires fwhip #empires scott #scwhip #empiresshipping #empires fanfic #empires smp fanfic #empires fic #djpurple3's writing yo #i havent posted fic in so long. and it's rarepairs. B)#it's 2am im going to bed now

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