The title

This is a vigilante applyfic for Hermitcraft and Empires Season 2; where people are able to gain abilities from little charms. Kind of like Miraculous, but more gay.

eheh. there is no plot yet sooo i'll do this later :)

A Reader-Interactive Story!

An Villian, Vigilante, and Hero apply-fic.

Hello. Will contain: Empires smp s1 and 2. Hermitcraft. Witchcraft smp. Afterlife smp. New life smp. Vampires smp. Bannerfall smp. Cowboys smp. Life series. WILL contain!: Blood, gore, allat stuff. Ships most likely. WON'T contain!: Smut of any kind, I'm not comfortable writing that, it's mature because there will be blood and stuff. Weird ships. Uhh, requests are very much fine. Enjoy, I suppose. More info on the first chapter. (Fanart on the cover is not mine, I can't find the original artist!)

Life as a royal seems so simple. Money, fame, and power are all at your fingertips. It should be easy, and yet... One decision, one choice, one thought, one mistake is all it takes to break the peace. A single wrong move can send it all crashing down. --- An Empires SMP s1 royalty highschool au! (With a bit more hiding behind the surface...) Ships include: Flower Husbands Jizzie Nature Wives Jornoth Shiny Duo + More! -- Crossposted on AO3! Art in cover by kisekii25 on tumblr!!

Thank you guys so much for 50 followers! To celebrate, I'm doing a book of one shots! Please read the first chapter for information. Again, thank you so much for 50 followers!

So I decided to make a Bannerfall story for funsies on ao3 where 4C gets out of Hell and is found by Nominal. Oh btw Nom's a Dragon. And of course we have the mandatory silly cover picture 😌

Cub was told from the very first day: never reveal himself. Hide the wings. Hide the horns. Hide the sharpness of his smile and the power humming just beneath his skin. Be smaller. Be quieter. Be less. So he learned. He learned how to file his horns down until they ached, until the dull nubs left behind could pass for harmless deformities rather than proof of what he truly was. He learned how to grind his teeth flat, ignoring the sting and the copper taste in his mouth, because predators were feared-and fear invited questions. He learned how to fold his wings tight against his back, binding them beneath a lab coat that hung heavy and stiff, its fabric hiding the faint shimmer of vex light that refused to be fully smothered. Most days, the coat was enough. Most days, no one noticed the way he stood too still, or how his eyes caught the light just a little wrong. No one questioned why he flinched at mirrors, or why he never laughed with his mouth open. They saw a scientist. A helper. Someone safe. And that was the point. Because Cub knew-had always known-that the moment the truth was seen, the moment the wings unfurled or the horns grew back sharp and proud, the world would stop calling him Cub and start calling him something else entirely.