#and bdubs was hurt by these things. no doubt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amethystfairy1 · 4 months

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(Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.)

Hi! Hello! How are you? :]

Let me just say, your work is simply incredible.

I've been binge-reading your TTSBC series for a few days now, as you can probably tell from all the kudos (you deserve them!), and I have been going crazy

First of all, I think this was the first Hermitcraft ship fic I've read. Conclusions/thoughts;

1) You've made me a flower husbands fan, great job, I am now obsessed with them

2) the relationship between Scott and Martyn is so precious to me, you have no idea

3) I am now a fan of ALL the relationships you've written; flower husbands, treebark, desert duo, Tango/Zed, Lizzie/Joel, Shelby/ Katherine, Etho/Doc (I hope I didn't forget anyone)

4) PEARL IS A MENACE AND I LOVE HER. SHE IS MY FAVOURITE, YOU HAVE NO IDEA. She is the big sister™ and she is the best

5)Scar is a sweetheart and that is a FACT. HE WAS SO SWEET TO CUB?? AND TO GRIAN?? I LOVE HIM

6) I absolutely love mom Cleo, her and Bdubs are so kind and thoughtful and caring to each other, I will simply explode

7) KATHERINE STRAIGHT UP JUST SAID "nope" AND WENT BACK TO THE UNDER-CITY

8) I need more Scott as a journalist. I need to see his hunger to get all the details. I need to see him use his silver-tongue skills on someone, and I need to see Jimmy(or anyone) be scared but also fascinated. I need to see more Scott and Pearl fighting for the best interview.

I don't even watch cc!Scott, and now look at me. Im obsessed with his character.

9) PESKY BIRDS BEING LITTLE WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER I WILL CRY TEARS OF JOY. SMALL BDUBS?? CHILDREN ARE SO CUTE

10) I also,,, kinda,,, want to see someone react a bit badly to seeing their partner being from the under-city. Maybe,,, Martyn being angry with being lied to? Maybe,,, Scott screaming at him that what he's doing is helping no one? Maybe, maybe,,,,

(im secretly an angst-girlie at heart, what can I say. I love me some good hurt/comfort)

11)JOEL AND LIZZIE'S BACKSTORY IS ALL I NEEDED IN LIFE, I CAN NOW DIE HAPPILY

12) please let zed and tango have a happy ending pleasepleasepleasePLEASEPLE-

13) also the titles have all been so cool! I saw a post of yours that said you use terms of endearment, and I thought that was really cute :)

14) SOUP GROUP

In conclusion, I am crazy for your work, please feed us more.

To show you how crazy I've been over this series;

I went completely nuts, explaining to my friend some basics about it the moment I was sure I've read everything, and Im probably gonna make them read it too. I've already sent them the link to the series.

They are not even a Minecraft fan. They don't know what Hermitcraft is.

Anyway, this was all to say; you're amazing, your work is truly fantastic, your writing style is one of the best I've ever seen/read (and I've read a lot of fics, do not doubt me)

Please don't feel forced to write anything I've said! I'm just throwing ideas that came over my head when reading!

(your traveling thieves series is also amazing! Im just currently full of ttsbc thoughts rn, its eating me alive /pos)

Hope my spam liking was not annoying!

Have a great day!

It was not annoying in the SLIGHTEST!

Hello hello, thank you, thank you! I'm so glad TTSBC has been so enjoyable for you and that you've had fun binge reading all of it!

I am delighted and honored to be the first author you've read that has written Hermitshipping and that you've enjoyed it and it's caused you to love all my ships! That's a great day for a fanfic author!!!

FLOWER HUSBANDS ARE MY FAVORITE! More people who like Flower Husbands? HAPPIER I AM! It is a DIRECT correlation!

Someone commented at some point that they reminded them of drunk girls comforting each other in the bathroom after a party, and I think that's exactly accurate 😆

YES! ALL THE SHIPS!

Pearl is the Big Sister ™️ of the group and if anyone hurts any of her little siblings it is game over!

Scar is SUCH a sweetheart in this AU! He's a superhero, he's a boyfriend, he's a best friend, he's a professor, and he's just doing his best to juggle it all!

Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick. Only the best combo!

Katherine said "Wait crap I think that was the love of my life!" and dove back in!"

Journalist Scott will be making a return in several pieces of the future, don't you worry! We'll get to see him strut his stuff! I'm very glad I've gotten you to love c!Scott even if you don't watch cc!Scott, that's just the best!

PESKY BIRRRRRRRBS!

ooooo there's an angsty take. Hm. Well, there is certainly more angst on the docket for everyone, I assure you, and while I can't promise that brand of angst in particular, there is other stuff left to unpack! Please look forward to it!

JOEL AND LIZZE! BUTTERFLY AND CAT LADY! MARRIED FOR OVER A DECADE AND RUNNING A BAKERY! ADORABLE!

Zedango will return! That is all I shall say!

I'm so glad you like the titles! I think it's very cute but I have to admit I'm starting to struggle to come up with terms of endearment I haven't used before 😆

SOUP GROUP

I'm so glad you're trying to get your friend into TTSBC! The nice thing is I don't think it's too terribly difficult to spring into without context of watching any of the CCs because the characters all pretty much explain themselves within the AU. Maybe looking up some fanart for what everyone ought to look like, but it's not the worst thing!

Glad to hear you also like Traveling Thieves! I was gonna point you that way when you said you were an angst girlie so good that you're already there!

Thanks so much for coming by! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #hermitcraft #traffic smp #through the sky blue cracks #life series #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #empires smp

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demis-alted · 5 months

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tango's curse

(@blueorchid-95 because its your buddy demise who wants to ramble bout tangos lore ness and i know your the person to get it)

tango has a curse and we dont talk about it enough. tango has a curse, and without a doubt it's one of the worst curses to have. a curse in wich im going to title the candle curse.

now, what i refrence when i say candle curse is the expression "not worth the candle" which basically means its pointless. And that applies to tango. Not because he himself is useless or his sacrifice and pain and effort is in vain and pointless when compared to anything. Thats tangos issue. Not that he's pointless, but that hes more so insignificant. sure, tango is great. But hes allies with skizz, whos got skizzes blessings and literally makes things come true. sure, tango is hurting after bdubs killed him. But cleo must be hurting more. sure, tango died. But jimmy also died, and he was more important. So much so his grave wasnt even marked.

hes forever second place. Can't hold a candle to anyone else, and is forced to burn and fizzle all alone.

#Tango tek #curse #secret life smp #last life #third life #limited life #trafficblr #double life #Sobs

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hermitfic-ao3 · 4 months

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do you have any Impulse/Etho recs? thx so much!

unfortunately, there aren’t many out there that are just straight up etho/impulse, but here’s what i found!

Counts of the Waltz by MatleenaMaddie

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairings: Ethoslab/impulseSV/Bdoubleo100

Summary:

“Impulse says you’re hurt,” Bdubs tells him. That makes Etho react. He turns, looking at Bdubs.

“Not angry?”

“He says you’re lashing out out of pain, not anger.”

“I didn’t know he was a psychologist.” His tone is biting. Bdubs hears it.

“Etho,” he scolds. And it’s just that. Just his name, and Etho feels ashamed and smaller. “He’s worried about you.”

Oh, screw Impulse and his perfect boyfriend attitude. Etho will punch him in the face next time he sees him.

“I know what’s happening, Ladders,” Bdubs continues, and Etho snorts, almost despite himself.

“Somehow, I very much doubt that.”

Because Bdubs is in tune with people’s feelings, and he is a very observant person, but Etho has loved him in silence for years, has spent all of this time by his side, and Bdubs has never said a thing.

So he feels perfectly allowed to be skeptical.

“You’re jealous,” Bdubs says, and Etho forgets how to breathe.

Etho is jealous of the growing bond between Bdubs and Impulse, right up until he isn't.

OR: Three idiots learn about polyamory and waltzing

mod note: i have actuallly read this one and i adore it. it explored bdubs/etho/impulse double life relationship so well. - Mod Nox 🌙

Thin Ice or a Ticking Time Bomb by Gfgjjjjgfff

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairings: impulseSV/Ethoslab

Summary:

Etho wasn’t sure exactly where Impulse stood, but it was usually at his side. They were always together and when they weren’t Impulse would return with gifts to shower him with. His soft smiles make Etho nervous, but it must be just enamoured nerves and not Ethos fine tuned sense for trouble.

Sweet Lips on My Lips by elliphire

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Pairings: impulseSV/Ethoslab

Summary:

Taking the night watch was the only thing protecting Etho from his own illusions; from his own mind, staying up and making sure no mobs - person and creature alike - got close to Dogwarts walls.

Tonight was meant to go the same way. Etho had planned his small bundle of food and his flask was full of water; his weapons were sharpened and his arrows were ready to fire.

Except Impulse, with his damned honey-smooth voice, convinced him to go to their castle and rest.

That’s all for now! Let me know if you want anymore. As I said it’s a pretty rare pairing but I might be able to dig up some <3 -Mod Nox 🌙

#ethubs #etho x impulse #impulsesv #ethoslab #third life #trafficshipping #bdoubleo100

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tunastime · 7 months

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for the ask game!!

"It's true, isn't it?"

“I don’t think so,” Etho shakes his head. He looks into his hands, picking at a chip in his nail. “I still loved you. Still love you.”

“Sure.” Bdubs doesn’t sound truly convinced, but he says it in a gentle voice that Etho’s only heard when Bdubs is making sure he’s okay when he hurts himself, a voice he heard a lot in the death game. But it doesn’t bite any less. Etho sighs.

“Why are you here, Bdubs?” he says, finally turning to him. “When there’s a perfectly good version of you asleep somewhere, alive.”

“Because you’re dreaming about apologizing to me, your brain’s stuck on hallucinating me,” Bdubs says, furrowing his brow. “Because you feel bad.”

“I don’t...I don’t think I feel bad.”

The shape of Bdubs’ face finally comes into view, the one he knows from outside the games, unbruised and awake.

“You sure?”

laurie belaurie only you would choose this fic and it means so much to me that you did!

this is from Night Swims (previously called You're My Favorite Ghost), and it takes place right after Hot Tea! gosh, this fic was so fun for me, I really dived right into how ethubs works as characters and tried my best to analyze etho without having bdubs there.

through this entire fic, etho's guilt and despair manifests physically as the "ghost" of bdubs, who follows him around his modded world. tldr: he can't sleep, and his guilt makes it worse! I originally got this idea after a beloved mutual (nightbug! hi!) sent me an ask curious on how etho dealt with the loss of bdubs post last life, and honestly. until that point, I don't think I'd realized that etho just. doesn't really go back to hermitcraft after last life. not in his videos, not really. he jumps straight into modded. and so I started writing!

this scene in particular is really interesting to me, because etho isn't really good at dealing with complex emotions, to me--he can, but he's a lot more likely to just pretend they don't bother him all that much. he's real easy going, real cool and chill, and I think there is a point where things get to him, but when they do, they really get to him (something I talked about in Spacer!). he tries hard to keep it at bay by working harder ("With no left over time for thinking too hard. With no left over time to mourn. Right.") but there comes a breaking point (this section) where he's forced to confront his feelings.

it was purposeful to have etho confront his feelings in a way that wasn't internal--that is, bdubs' ghost being the reason he "can't keep doing this" and eventually sends a letter to bdubs. so while he's trying to work and trying to put it off, those feelings get to a point where he's forced to do something about them, or risk making himself miserable in his condition. I think etho, alongside tango, are two characters that put big, difficult, complex feelings aside to deal with later, only to never come back to them. at least I think so!

this fic is actually titled after the half alive song Night Swims, chosen in post. the song is more of a spoken word piece, and I think it's descriptions of needing to shed feeling and take a break from the world, and from yourself, is really pertinant to what etho was experiencing. he's suffering through grief and self-doubt and anger with himself and isn't able to fully realize it. instead of facing those feelings head on, he takes a break, and in doing so, accidentally makes that grief worse by feeling like he's running from the source. it's only in Back Around, the follow up fic to Night Swims, that etho feels strong enough to face those feelings and return to hermitcraft, to season 9.

anyway! i'm still insane about ethubs to this day. i always meant to write another half alive inspired ethubs fic...

(x)

#ask #ethubs #text #fics #ask game #HIII LAURIEE HIIII EHEHHEHE #i'm so glad you chose this fic.. i love this one a lot :(#definitely one of my flop fics lmao <33 cult classic if you will #i had no idea you actually read it tbh #fun fact i wrote the bit about etho building a house for no one first <3 #it was what inspired me #anyway ty laurie!! <33

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sleepless-in-southlands · 4 months

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Up My Sleeve (Off My Shoulders)

Ao3

Summary: Bdubs is a good right-hand. A great one, even. Some days, that feels more like a condemnation than a compliment. Content: AU- Mob Bosses, bittersweet/hopeful ending, emotional hurt; emotional repression, past/past relationships, bdubs having a Time and scar being a good boss-friend Pairings: Platonic Scar and Bdubs Note: Part five of Bloody Fruits au

Sometimes, Bdubs got tired of being good at his job.

Not that that made any sense, not when being good at his job kept him alive. Make no mistake, he wasn’t looking to get shot anytime soon.

He took pride in his work, too. If anything was running smoothly in the Glass Empire, it was always, in some part, because of him. Business papers, merchandise, clearly defined borders, exterminated moles- you name it, Bdubs had a hand in it. Of course he did. He was Scar’s right-hand man. That was his job, to do a little bit of everything.

And, see, that’s where the issue was. Bdubs did everything. Sometimes he got tired of it- no, sometimes he got sick of it.

It wasn’t Scar’s fault. He entrusted Bdubs to do a lot, sure, but that’s how it worked. Bdubs was the only one Scar could truly trust, so he was the one who had the most to do. Bdubs knew that. Bdubs was fine with that.

Compared to some bosses, Scar was a soft-touch anyways. Most of them wouldn’t require a right-hand to take a break unless they were on their deathbed. With Scar, Bdubs got sent home if he pulled too many all-nighters in a row.

Which meant it wasn’t a problem with the Glass Empire either. Even if it was, he wouldn’t want to work in any of the other organizations. He couldn’t imagine being a subordinate for Mumbo and Grian- because if Grian was just a right-hand like him, Bdubs was the mayor- where it was a miracle they noticed anyone outside of each other (and now Scar, apparently), the Guild was a puppet-show, the Armory was too aggressive, and the Seventy-Sevens-

Well. They were run by Doc.

Call him biased, but the Glass Empire was the only good group in the whole sludge of a town. So that wasn’t the issue.

Really, there wasn’t any issue, not one that was anyone else’s fault. Some days Bdubs sat at his desk and looked down at all the work he had to do, the papers on several different subjects, the notes about what he had to do outside of the office, the ever ticking clock that stood monument as a constant reminder of the mayoral election’s steady approach, and he wanted to scream. Not because it was too hard. Not because it was too much. Not because of anything that made any sense.

And because he was good at his job, he never screams. He buckles down and does his work and goes home when he must and ignores the way it feels wrong that he never tries to reach for a gun instead of the remote when he’s there.

All of which would be perfectly fine if it weren’t for one of the previously established facts: Scar’s a soft-touch. Not in business, but always with Bdubs. He’s close where the previous had been distant, and that means he notices things Bdubs doesn’t want noticed.

Which is why when he startled Bdubs out of his work with a seemingly random, “Is something wrong?”, that was a problem. Because something was wrong, and Bdubs didn’t want to talk about it.

“Our shipment’s been delayed again.” Bdubs answered in a way that wasn’t a lie so much as it was him ignoring the actual question. “I’ll have to call the manufacturer.”

Scar waved, dismissive. “Not that, that’s just business. I meant with you.”

Bdubs raised an eyebrow. “Even if it’s ‘just business’, I still have to fix it.”

“Aside from that, then. I doubt you’re that upset over making a phone call.”

“I’m not upset.”

If Bdubs had said that to anyone else, they would have had no choice but to accept it. He wasn’t tensed up, distracted, working slowly. At a glance or a stare, he seemed completely normal.

Unless the one looking was Scar, who had started to frown.

“Your clock’s smudged.” He pointed out, and Bdubs took a moment to look at it even though he knew exactly to what Scar was referring. A tiny glint of grease against the pocket watch’s face, accidentally left behind by someone’s clumsy touch. It had been there for hours, each hand taking a turn spinning underneath it. He would’ve cleaned it as soon as it happened if it weren’t for the fact he left its cloth in his car, and he didn’t trust himself to fetch it without also getting behind the wheel and driving for as long as his tank would let him.

“It happens.” Bdubs replied, trying to force nonchalance into his tone as he turned back to his papers. “I’ll take care of it once I’m done with this.”

A minute passed in silence, but to Bdubs it felt like an hour. He knew that Scar was still watching him. He also knew that Scar didn’t believe him.

“Bdubs, look at me.”

Bdubs obeyed despite the fact he would, at that exact moment, rather gouge his eyes out than meet Scar’s. He didn’t want to talk about this, but Scar was concerned and his gaze was searching and there was no escaping the head of the Glass Empire, not in his offices, not as his right-hand man.

“I’ve seen you, quite literally, drop everything to clean that watch.” Scar spoke slowly, as if waiting for Bdubs to disagree with him. Bdubs wasn’t quite desperate enough to make that mistake again. “So I’ll ask again: is something wrong?”

He wasn’t really asking. They both knew that.

“I already told you. Nothing is.”

He wasn’t really answering. They both knew that.

Scar sighed. Leaned heavier on his cane. Bdubs wasn’t sure why he had left his office, if he had needed to get something or talk to Bdubs for other reasons. Like usual, they were the only two left in the office after sunset. “Give me the manufacturer's number.”

“What?”

“You said that was the only thing wrong.” Scar held out his free hand. “I can make the call, I’ve got time.”

Bdubs knew what Scar was trying to do. He wasn’t being subtle. He wanted Bdubs to give him a reason to end the conversation. A simple one, even. All Bdubs had to do was give him the phone number and he would let the matter drop with no further argument. The worst he would do would be forcing Bdubs to take the next day off. They wouldn’t have to talk about it.

So, obviously, he refused.

“I can handle it.” Bdubs said with a half-shrug. “It’s just annoying.”

“It won’t be annoying for me.” Scar’s hand was still extended.

“It’s fine, Scar.”

“Not if it’s bothering you.”

“It’s not bothering me.” Bdubs’s voice was sounding dangerously close to clipped.

“I’d still like to take care of it for you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” Scar said in faint disbelief that sounded more curious than angry.

Bdubs didn’t answer. He was realizing too late that he had been backed into a corner.

“Why not, Bdubs?” Scar repeated when Bdubs didn’t say anything for too long of a moment, and Bdubs was out of options.

“Because it’s not your job!” Bdubs snapped.

He regretted the outburst in the same second it happened, ducking his head and once again looking away from Scar before he could see his reaction.

“I- sorry. I’m sorry.” Bdubs fumbled out, hating how quiet his words sounded in comparison to the near-shout they followed.

More silence. Bdubs didn’t turn his head when it was broken by the sound of footsteps and cane taps. Scar leaving, not acknowledging any of this had happened- it would be for the best.

Except then there was the sound of rolling wheels, a chair being pulled away from a desk, and Bdubs looked up to find Scar still next to him, now sitting, cane put to the side. As Bdubs watched, he reached across his desk to carefully pull Bdubs’s pen from his grip, the groves of its design showing white against red as Bdubs uncurled his fist and let Scar place the pen down. He had forgotten he had been holding it.

“Bdubs,” Scar said, quietly, and Bdubs might’ve felt worse about being treated like a cornered animal if it weren’t for the fact he had been acting a lot like one, “talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“...Nothing. It’s nothing.” Bdubs admitted in unhappy defeat. When Scar didn’t understand, frown remaining, he tacked on, “What’s wrong is that nothing’s wrong.”

“I see.” Scar didn’t sound as if he truly did, but Bdubs appreciated that he accepted it, that he wasn’t going to try and argue whether or not that made any sense.

It didn’t, but Bdubs already knew that.

“It’s- how long do you think I’ve been doing this sort of thing? How long do you think I’ve been in this business?” He wasn’t sure what suddenly possessed him to try and explain it. It wasn’t something he knew how to put to words, wasn’t something he had ever wanted to tell someone else about. It was his non-problem problem that he kept silently tucked to his chest, never a concern to anyone but himself.

But Scar had noticed. Scar had made it his concern. It was the first time Bdubs had been asked about it, and maybe the fear that it would be his only chance to answer was what pushed him clumsily into attempting to define it.

“Well, you’ve been with the Glass Empire for quite a while. And you’ve always seemed to know a lot about the business, even as a lackey.” Scar answered thoughtfully. “I think you’ve been in this business for a very long time.”

“I have. And I’m good at what I do?” Bdubs phrased it like a question, for the sake of asking it, but he didn’t actually need to hear Scar’s answer. He already knew it.

“You are.”

“Right. And I- I do everything that needs to be done, and I handle everything that needs to be handled, and as long as I’m fine everything goes fine, right?”

Whatever worry Bdubs had managed to ever so slightly assuage by trying to explain his problem had returned to Scar’s expression as he continued with his self-evident questions. “What’re you getting at, Bdubs?”

“I know this life. I know this job. I’m good at this job, when I’m here, when I’m working. But when I go home…” Bdubs fumbled, not sure how to put into words what he was driving at, “I just go home.”

Somehow, Scar managed to pick up on what he was trying to say. “You can’t always be making shady deals and hiding evidence. Work has a way of following you home, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a life outside of the life.”

“Should I?”

“I’m not sure that’s a question either of us is really equipped to answer.” Scar half-joked. “But I think it’s better that you do. It eats you alive if you don’t.”

“But… it’s not something everyone can do, is it?” Bdubs glanced back to his pocket watch and the grease stain he had left smudged on its face for far longer than he ever had, trying not to think about it even as he watched its hands spin. “Is there a reason I can do it when other people can’t?”

Scar didn’t respond immediately, and out of the corner of his eye, Bdubs saw he had the same look on his face he got when he was sizing up customers and competitors alike. It was a harmless expression on the surface, idle thoughtfulness, but Bdubs knew his boss well enough to know it was more than that. In business meetings, Scar would follow it with a disarming smile and a throwaway comment that casually informed the other party that he knew exactly where to hit them hardest.

But in the backrooms of his empire, with only his right-hand man across from him, Scar didn’t bother with the formalities of friendly nonchalance.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but the Glass Empire’s policy on inner- and outer- organization relationships is fairly flexible.”

Bdubs huffed a laugh. “Painfully.”

The corner of Scar’s mouth quirked up, amused. “I’m just saying, if there’s someone else… you can tell me.”

Bdubs hesitated. He knew Scar meant it, that he wasn’t trying to trap Bdubs into admitting something that he’d then turn around and kill him for. But things said couldn’t be nearly as easily unsaid, and Bdubs had built a new life in the Glass Empire out of a sole desire to never have to speak it- or think it- again.

The latter had never worked out though, and for once Bdubs was tired of keeping his mouth shut.

“It was in the past. Before I was with the Empire.”

“Oh?” Scar’s tone was that of mere polite curiosity, nothing more. Bdubs appreciated him pretending to be only mildly interested in the first bit of personal information regarding life before the Empire Bdubs had ever volunteered to share.

“I was still in Heremita, though. With a different group.” Bdubs glanced at Scar. “I was their right-hand too.”

It only took a few seconds for Scar to shift from contemplation to realization, and Bdubs could follow his thought process without him saying a word. The South hadn’t arrived in Heremita until after Bdubs was with the Glass Empire, not that they would be a real consideration either way. And the right-hands of the Armory and Gorgeous Guild were public knowledge. Which left only one option.

“You were Doc’s shadow right-hand.” Scar didn’t phrase it like a question.

“More than that.” Bdubs said before he could overthink it, watching as Scar’s eyes widened in surprise before turning his gaze back towards his pocket watch.

“...Doc does have a reputation for being a workaholic.” Scar offered slowly, when the silence had begun to stretch.

Bdubs let out a humourless laugh. “That’s an understatement.” He said bitterly. After a long minute with no follow-up response from Scar, Bdubs slumped down slightly in his chair, replacing the bitterness with exhaustion. “The business was always his priority. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing- he was always thinking about work.”

The minute hand on Bdubs’s watch ticked over a space, lining up right beneath the smudge. Bdubs dropped his eyes to the surface of his desk. “He never came home, y’know? Even when he was at home, he was still working. It was all he cared about.”

“Is that why you left?” Scar asked, quietly.

Bdubs nodded, moreso to the ground than Scar. “I wrote him a note, so he’d know I hadn’t been kidnapped or killed, but it was… professional. A resignation, nothing else. Meant to leave Heremita as a whole, but I needed funds, so I ran some odd jobs as far away from Doc’s territory as I could get.”

“The Glass Empire.”

“One thing led to another… and you know the rest.” Bdubs finally raised his head again, propping it up on one of his hands with a sigh. “I should have known better. In this line of work, not putting business first can get you killed. I can’t be that surprised he made his choices like he did.”

“There’s a difference between putting work first and putting everything else last.”

“Yeah, well.” Bdubs shrugged. “Not everyone gets that.”

Scar was silent, and for a foolish moment, Bdubs assumed that he was going to leave the matter there, an awkward not-so-secret secret that they knew but would never talk about, like Dolos or the way that Scar was clearly in love with both heads of the South (not that Bdubs hadn’t been trying to broach the latter subject, but Scar had been persistent in stonewalling his attempts). Outside of sympathetic platitudes, there wasn’t much else to be said.

But the analytic expression was back on Scar’s face, and while Bdubs knew it better than most, he had managed to forget just how perceptive Scar could be right up until the moment where he said something no one else in the room had even thought.

“Is that why you hate Mumbo and Grian?” Scar was kind enough to twist the observation into a question, softening the blow, but it still hit hard enough that Bdubs couldn’t keep meeting his eyes.

Bdubs had often found, with his line of work, you only ever had two choices when it came to personal issues that had the potential to interfere with business: you either took care of them, or you ignored them. He couldn’t make things work with the Seventy-Sevens, so he wrote a note and left. He didn’t like the thought of Dolos rotting in one piece, so he cut him into three and buried him on the territory of every Heremita gang (outside of the Empire) that had existed at the time. He got sick of seeing Scar turn down partnerships with the South on the same basis that middle schoolers used to pick teams in PE, so he bullied him into staying away until he was willing to make a decision.

He watched the way Mumbo never went anywhere without Grian at his side, both professional to a fault despite how clear it was that their only real priorities were the other, not their business, and Bdubs ignored how his chest twisted painfully at the sight.

It wasn’t fair to say Bdubs hated them, and he knew that Scar knew that. He had nothing against them or the South as a whole. What few interactions he had directly had with them had been civil and respectful. The only issue Bdubs truly had with them was just how close they were.

Professionally, the only reason Bdubs had any problem with that was because it made them unpredictable. Bdubs would never forget the look in Mumbo's eyes the day Grian had been kidnapped, the way he had threatened to ruin the organization responsible so vehemently Bdubs knew he wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. The goals of the South were always at risk of making a complete one eighty, subject to the mood and well-being of its boss and right-hand, and as such Bdubs always had to be on his guard with them.

As to any personal feelings, nothing good could come of hating Mumbo for doing what Doc never managed, of hating Grian for having more than Bdubs had even wanted, so he didn't. Nothing else to it.

(It was possible that that was different when Bdubs was home, far from work and professionalism, on the rare nights where it was late enough for him to entertain such thoughts. Late nights where he would do his best to convince himself he hated them, briefly giving into the hope that if he pretended it was true long enough, it would be. But Bdubs wasn't home right then, and the night wasn't dark enough.)

Bdubs managed a half-smile, shaking his head slightly as he tried for a light, joking tone despite the fact that he still couldn’t meet Scar’s eyes. “I don't hate Mumbo and Grian, I hate the way you interact with them.”

Scar pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. The deflection was so obvious Bdubs might as well have outright declared he was changing the topic, but Scar went along with it, accepting that they had gone as far into the conversation as Bdubs was willing to go. “I’m hurt. All my interactions with them are the epitome of professionalism, what about that could be so awful?”

“What about Grian cupping the back of your neck was ‘the epitome of professionalism?’”

“He was helping me keep pressure on my injuries.”

“I didn’t realize you had cut your lips as well.”

“He never-” Scar paused to clear his throat. “Your recollection of events seems to be somewhat faulty, Bdubs.”

“Something about the situation’s faulty.” Bdubs countered, though he didn’t try to push much past that. Any other time, he wouldn’t hesitate, but Scar was doing him a favour by letting Bdubs turn the tables on him. The least Bdubs could do was return it, if only for the night.

Scar chuckled, a tad awkwardly, before taking the opening to steer them away from the topic of the South (and his relationships within it). “Speaking of faulty, I think we've both been up past our bedtimes.”

“Smooth transition, Scar.” Bdubs quipped even as he started to put away his papers. Bdubs had learned fairly quickly that when Scar decided to wrap up for the day/evening, nothing short of a knife to his throat could make him change his mind on the matter. Bdubs wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face down his car and the thought of sticking the pedal to the floor, but arguing was futile.“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

Scar waved him off long before he had the chance to so much as get up, however. “I won’t make you play chauffeur tonight. Plus, part of the reason I came out here in the first place was to give you this.”

Looking up from his paperwork shuffling, Bdubs expected to find another file or written inquiry he’d tuck away for the night and get to first thing in the morning. It was clear at a glance that his guess had been wrong, the small bundle of folded fabric and hemmed edges held between Scar’s fingers more familiar to Bdubs than any legal form or dark alley.

Bdubs took the proffered cleaning cloth from Scar, flipping it over in his hands to confirm what he had immediately realized- it was a watch cleaning cloth. Specifically, it was Bdubs’s watch cleaning cloth, the exact same one he usually had on hand, other than the fact that it was clean and unused and new. Which meant Scar hadn’t broken into his car to get it.

“I thought it’d be a good idea to have some extras.” Scar explained casually, as if there wasn’t anything noteworthy about it. “In case you lost yours, or something happened to it.”

“Some?”

Scar shrugged. “They were cheaper in bulk.”

For a moment, Bdubs couldn’t help but stare at Scar, who was continuing to act nonchalant. To anyone else, the gesture would likely be seen as small and somewhat meaningless. Nice, but little else.

Except it was identical to Bdubs’s cloth, which meant Scar had, at some point, gone through the effort of identifying the brand and make of a small square of fabric that was rarely in sight. He had bought multiple of it, hiding the purposeful act behind a white lie about cost (as if that was truly a concern for the Glass Empire), and had done so without ever mentioning it to Bdubs until he gave him one. Scar had done all that because he had realized it was something important to Bdubs, so much so that when he noticed Bdubs had neglected to clean his pocket watch for the better part of the day, he left his office to ask Bdubs what was wrong and present him with the cloth, with no indication from Bdubs that he was, in any sense, doing poorly.

It was almost too much. Bdubs didn’t know how to respond.

So, of course, Scar didn’t make him. “You can take the bed in the office, I’m going to check if we still have that spare sleeping bag in the storeroom. Your appreciation is implied.” Scar added to the end, voice light as though metaphorically brushing aside Bdubs’s stunned silence.

Bdubs remained quiet as Scar stood up, watching as Scar picked up his cane and pushed his chair back where he had gotten it from. He couldn’t even find the words to protest Scar’s declaration- the floor was worse on Scar’s back then it was on his, like hell he’d take the bed (though that, at least, was a point Bdubs could make later through light shoving and pushing)- letting Scar start walking off without saying anything.

Scar didn’t make it very far before he stopped, however, turning back towards Bdubs. He didn’t say anything immediately, hesitating as though he was considering his next move very carefully.

“For the record?” Scar’s tone was still light, but there was an undercurrent of something serious to it, something meaningful. His expression had softened as well, gentle in a way Bdubs couldn’t put an exact name to. “If you suddenly left the Empire, and your only goodbye was a resignation letter… I would come after you.”

Coming from any other Heremita boss, the sentiment would be a threat. A way of saying that Bdubs may have been able to do that to Doc, but he better not try it with them, that he better not abandon his job and their organization without a damned good reason personally presented to them.

But it wasn’t any other boss. It was Scar, who was looking at Bdubs with more feeling than had been contained in his words.

From Scar, it was a reassurance.

Scar resumed his trek to the storeroom, leaving Bdubs with the plausible deniability of privacy. A purposeful and gracious move, given the situation had officially become too much for Bdubs.

Because Bdubs was good at his job. He made sure that the cracks never showed- not for the Glass Empire, not for himself- because a seen weakness was an exploitable weakness, and it was better to never show anything rather than flashing an achilles heel at the wrong person. Scar knew that- he was good at his job too.

Which is why he walked away, giving Bdubs the space to stare at his desk, not really seeing it, as he idly thumbed a single tear out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t scream, didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound, just took full advantage of Scar’s discretion and let himself have five minutes where he wasn’t anything more than a heartbroken sucker.

“Bdubs, did you move the sleeping bag?” Scar shouted, presumably from the storeroom, giving Bdubs something else to focus on before he could sink too far into his own moping. He let out a breath, taking a moment to collect himself and straighten up as though Scar was present in the room with him.

“Don’t worry about it, Scar, just take the bed.”

“I’m not taking it from you!”

“It’s not my bed, you can’t take it from me.”

“Where’s the sleeping bag?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor!”

“It’s my floor! I can sleep on it if I want!”

Despite himself, Bdubs laughed. He had, as a matter of fact, moved the sleeping bag, but he wasn’t going to be telling Scar that. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, not wanting to shout his every rationale for why Scar would be taking the bed, actually.

He stopped by the edge of his desk as he went, picking up his pocket watch. The spot of grease glinted in the dim lights, but its presence didn’t mock Bdubs as it had all day. The cloth Scar had gifted him was still in his hand, and with a single swipe across the clock’s face, the smudge was dealt with, leaving the watch as clean and clear as it nearly always was.

Bdubs looked at it for a long minute before carefully placing it back on his desk, folding the cleaning cloth to put beside it. The watch kept ticking. The cloth didn’t vanish.

With a nod to himself, Bdubs continued towards the storeroom, where he could hear the sounds of Scar attempting (and failing) to find the hidden sleeping bag. There was a tightness in his chest, wrapped harshly around his ribs and heavy over his shoulders, that felt loosened in a way Bdubs had no intention of thinking very deeply on while at work. He had other things to focus on- papers to put away, an argument to win, a boss to subtly thank. Things that needed- and would get- his full attention.

After all, Bdubs was very good at his job.

#hermitcraft #bdubs #goodtimeswithscar #m.y funky words #bloody fruits au #everyone say sorry to bdubs for me for this one y'all #this got . meaner to him than intended :'')#im not posting it all here but my end notes on the ao3 fic are. long #pls read them i put a lot of brainrot into them /j

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wasyago · 2 years

Note

God I am brainrotting SO HARD over bdubs and impulse I am going feral over them. THEY ARE HAPPILY MARRIED. THEY WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW. ren said he saw them holding hands and making out in the woods

SAME they're so gay and so in love and so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. i just love how they immediately jumped on the whole "we are now married" thing, how impulse keeps saying "this is us now", how bdubs calls him "honey" and "my love" and this whole thing with "i was on full hearts since i knew you were my soulmate"- OUGH THEY'RE SOOO

and don't get me started on this gentle music playing in the background of impulse's video, i am not normal about it. and how impulse proposed with the clock and everything... how bdubs always chooses one person to stick by and how he is loyal to the one he cares about... and how now this person is his soulmate that cares about him too... they're so gentle i think im gonna die just thinking about them. how they discuss all the daily stuff and what style their (their) house is going to be, and what farms they should make, what stuff they should hide. impulse saying he will need to make a safe pool in case bdubs falls while building. bdubs remembering that impulse wanted the brown mushroom and trying to get it as soon as he gets the opportunity, even when Impulse himself forgot. impulse saying he learns a lot of new stuff about bdubs that day. bdubs constantly complimenting impulse on his skills and knowledge. bdubs remembering impulse doesn't like the sound of horns and joking that impulse will leave him because of it.

and god at the very start when there were four of them, bdubs noticed that he took damage as soon as Impulse did, but he didn't push the topic until they found out later. maybe he didn't want to assume things, maybe he didn't want to be hopeful, maybe he had other things on his mind to care about. but after they figured it out ouuugh man, yes they found out they were soulmates just a few seconds ago, yes they are now married for life, yes they are now in love and they are proud and they are going to tell the world about it. and they put their minecraft beds together and everything. also jeez ren, leave the men some privacy! maybe they want to make out in the woods and there's nothing wrong about it, keep ya nose out of their business!

also i for some reason really want to compare them to scar and grian. because scar didn't care about finding his soulmate, he would've never did it if grian didn't come to pick him up. they both spent this whole session struggling. and their both reactions to finding out were "NOOOOO" and "oh my god...". they don't care, but they do care, they have to care, at least grian does, because otherwise scar is going to kill them both. and in contrast bdubs and impulse, who cared from the very start. they cared, and they protected each other, and they were one of the first ones to find their pare and they spent most of this session together planning and protecting. true love is real or something. they're just. so lucky? they found each other and they love each other and they're comfortable with each other? while others are struggling and suffering to find their pair, or to keep them alive, or they don't want their pair at all and they're finding someone else, or they're abandoned by their soulmate aka the only person who should really care and are now trully and utterly alone? i would maybe go out of my way and say that some people could be jealous of what bdubs and impulse has going on, because they got everything so easy. but i doubt it, at least for now, because people have things to deal with other than caring about other's relationships. might be worth it to take a mental note of this stuff for the future though! when someone is on red and they can hit a pair of soulmates where it would really hurt--

woooow okaaaay i maybe got a little carried away there. very normal about bdubs and impulse as you can see. clearly. uh huh

#jeez. do i tag this?#maybe not #double life smp spoilers #double life spoilers #trafficshipping #yagotalk

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slashmagpie · 2 years

Text

Ren isn’t losing his grip.

Oh, he’s heard the whispers, the hushed voices that fall silent as he passes them in the shopping district. Seen the looks people send him, the glances they exchange when he speaks. He’s even borne witness to the Soup Group’s treasonous shenanigans! He knows what his people think about him: that he is weak. That he isn’t fit to rule. That the power has gone to his head.

They’re wrong, though. Ren is the only one fit to rule. Sir Bdubs had told him himself! Ren is the only one with the initiative, the drive, the vision needed to guide the server. So let people think what they will—Ren is King, and King he will remain.

He isn’t losing his grip.

He sits in his royal vault, legs overhanging the edge of one of the pillars, water bubbling below him. He can still hear the distant thudding of a warden’s heart, thump, thump, in time with his own. His tiny crown weighs heavy—does not weigh—upon his head. He’s surrounded by his riches. This, right here, is the centre of his power, the place he feels most at home. Here, in his vault, he is free from the stares and the whispers and the insidious doubt. Here he can live his truth.

And the truth is—

(Bdubs had made the whole king thing seem like a good idea at first, convinced Ren as much as he’d convinced the other hermits, but with every passing day Ren sees scorn and anger in the eyes of his friends and he wonders if he’s making the right choices—)

(He’s out of diamonds and he knows it’s only a matter of time before the hermits mutiny because the economy is the only sacred thing in this world and if he’s recklessly spent all of their hard-earned diamonds on a castle and a court and a fancy statue they will not stand for it—)

(People are already fighting to take him down, the Soup Group and Grian and Doc and probably others, too, and Ren can’t trust anyone, can barely trust his own court, needs to watch his back always—)

(There’s a robot from outer space that wants him to save the world and Ren has been ignoring her voice in his head because he’s got bigger things to deal with but it weighs on him, the weight of the world, and he thought that after last season the stakes would be lower but he doesn’t feel any less stressed—)

(Ren has spent most of his day baking pies and he doesn’t even know why at this point, what’s the point of all of this, what is his end goal—)

—that Ren is the best king this server could ask for, and anyone would be ridiculous to doubt him.

He runs his fingers through Impulse’s hair. The severed head sits upon his knee, dead eyes staring blankly into space, mouth slightly agape and neck stained with dried blood. Maybe it’s morbid, a little macabre, to carry around his enemy’s head, but Ren finds it comforting. When the whispers and the glances get a little too much, he just strokes his hand across Impulse’s skull and finds himself relaxed. If it were anything else, any other comfort, he’d find himself reticent to do it lest he be seen, but, well—it’s a severed head. If anything, the gruesome sight should be a warning to his enemies not to try their luck.

It’s cold in the vault. He shivers, his knee jerking just slightly, and then has to fumble to avoid dropping Impulse’s (important, soothing, precious) skull into the water below. His fist closes around braided hair and he sits like that for a moment, leaned over the water, head dangling from his hand. His fingers hurt, knuckles almost white from how hard he’s holding on.

Ren is not losing his grip. Not on his kingdom, not on his sanity, not on Impulse’s severed head. No, he’s going to hold on with all that he has, and try his best to ignore the glances and the whispers that question: what’s going to be left at the end of it?

#magpie feather quill #welcome back to magpie's weird tumblr ficlets. this time: what the fuck is wrong with ren #hermitcraft #fanfiction #rendog #severed head tw #??#idk how to tag that

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sparxwrites · 2 years

Note

Don’t know if you’re still doing prompts but if you are: Impdubs, and the Problem of Etho. (Like a shovel talk from Etho to Impulse?)

"Aha," says Impulse, setting his mining gear down on the kitchen table. It brings a fine scattering of grit with it, dirt and rock dust and a few bits of gravel. Bdubs will tell him off for it later, no doubt. "So this is the shovel talk, then, is it? I was wondering when I was going to get that."

Etho, sat in a chair across the table and furthest from the door, drums fingers on the hilt of his axe. "Oh, no, no need for that," he says, mildly, looking up at Impulse with an odd intensity. He's not smiling. "Just coming to tell you that you won't have him for long."

Impulse's skin, flushed and sweat-warm from his mining, prickles abruptly cold. "I'm- what? Is that a threat? Etho, are you threatening me?"

Etho, finally, grins. It isn't a nice grin. "No, no." He runs his thumb along the flat curve of the axe head, pressing hard enough it seems sure he'll cut himself open on the edge. He doesn't. "No, no threats. Just letting you know. He might play house with you for a bit, but he's mine, Impulse. He's going to come back to me eventually."

"No, he won't," says Impulse, physically recoiling, oddly hurt. This isn't how he thought this conversation would go. "He's my soulmate, not yours. He's not going to leave me."

"He will." Etho says it like it's a statement of fact. A matter of when, not if. This world is doomed, Jimmy will die first, and Bdubs will leave Impulse for Etho. "This server's weird code might have thrown the two of you together by chance, but that means nothing. he's mine."

"He won't," repeats Impulse, helplessly. "He loves me!"

Etho stands, abruptly, with a shrieking of chair-leg on wooden floor. His hands are curled, white-knuckled, around the hit of his axe. There's a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Impulse takes a step backwards.

But Etho doesn't raise the axe. He doesn't look like he's bracing for a fight. There's something strange in his posture, something off in the way he's holding himself. There's something in his eyes that looks similar to, but almost entirely unlike, grief.

"Well," he says, and his voice is soft, rasping. "I think I've wasted enough of your time. I'll be taking my leave, now. My congratulations to the happy couple. Give my regards to your soulmate, would you?"

He's out the door before Impulse can think of anything to say. Impulse isn't even sure he wants to to say anything. Not sure saying anything is a good idea, either, in a world where alliances are everything and enemies are a good way to end up swiftly, permanently dead.

There are a lot of things he wants to say to Etho, actually, he realises, as he stands there beside the open door. None of them are smart.

He stares at his mining gear on the table, at the satchel of diamonds he's gotten for them. At the mess that Bdubs will yell at him for making, and kiss him for clearing up. And he thinks about Etho - about the confidence in his voice, and the grief in his eyes. The presumption of victory, and the recognition of failure.

One of those is a lie, a self-delusion. Impulse hopes it's the former. But - as he begins to clean the table, to settle the the cold worry of his guts - he's pretty sure that it's the latter.

#ethubs #impdubs #dlshipping #trafficshipping #traffic shipping #trafficblr #dlsmp #life smp tag #fic #anonymous #ask #fic prompt #life smp fic #this has been Brewing in my head for like a week #and finally i have forced it out #etho my sweet fucked up emotionally illiterate moron <3

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arts-and-drafts · 2 years

Text

Come Morning Light (Part 6)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

(Long time no see, aha ;; Sorry this one took so long, I've been very busy IRL and haven't had a lot of motivation to write. Anyway, I've looked at this chapter for way too long so I need to let it go or I'll just keep poking at it. Mind the TWs, and enjoy!)

CW: Multiple mentions of death, mention of injury, violence mention

Bdubs kept a watch on their back as he ushered Tommy into Xisuma's main tower, the kid still tense as a spring even after their heart to heart. They had to run all the way to Xisuma's portal since Tommy had no wings, and the poor kid ended up vomiting as soon as they exited the portal from overexertion. Bdubs hated having to rush the boy as soon as he was done instead of giving him time to recover, but they had no idea where Dream was. Bdubs didn't doubt that he wasn't far behind, and they couldn't risk a single second for him to catch up.

Bdubs' worries eased significantly after seeing several hermits already in the tower, the uneasy chatter of a busy room soothing his tension.

A small gasp caught his attention, and Mumbo was already halfway to them by the time Bdubs looked up. The hermit didn't even pause before he was already embracing Tommy, the first time he'd done so without asking first. Bdubs opened his mouth to remind Mumbo to give the kid space, but his words died in his throat after noticing Tommy shudder and melt into his mentor's arms just as he had for Bdubs.

"Oh my gods, Tom, oh my gods--" Mumbo exhaled, his arms shaking as they held the boy like he was the most precious treasure. "You're okay, you--you're okay." The hermit pulled away to cup Tommy's face, looking the kid up and down fervently. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Tommy uttered thickly, wiping his eyes. Mumbo looked about to pass out from relief. "Thank the void--"

"Tommy!" Xisuma's voice reached them before his hulking form did, his boots thundering against his concrete floor. Bdubs noticed Tommy full-body flinch at the noise, and Mumbo pulled the kid closer in an attempt to comfort him when they turned to the admin.

Xisuma's gloved hands nervously flitted over Tommy's shoulders before resting there, the admin kneeling down to be eye level with the boy. "Are you alright?"

"Fuck, man--" Tommy muttered under his breath, his expression pinching. "Why does everybody keep fuckin' asking--"

Xisuma's eyebrow raised sharply and Tommy sighed dejectedly, though Bdubs saw Tommy's old self for just a moment in his childish expression. "...I'm fine."

Xisuma's eyes crinkled in a hidden smile. "Good."

The admin stood again, raising his arm to quiet the group of hermits that started to gather near Tommy as they realized he was in their presence. Bdubs saw the faces of False, Keralis, xB, Wels, Ren and Doc looking attentively up at Xisuma, their expressions varying from concern to fear to anger.

"As most of you know by now, we've--we've been invaded." Xisuma started. "A player has come here with the intent to hurt Tommy, and they're willing to kill as many of us as it takes to reach him."

From the corner of his eye, Bdubs saw Tommy's face crumple with a heartbreaking expression. Hearing the situation aloud made the whole thing more real.

"This is..." Xisuma trailed off, his shoulders sagging. "I...I want to apologize. And I'll do so again when everyone gets here, but..." The admin turned to look down at Tommy, who was hollowly looking back.

"I'm sorry. My whitelist wasn't strong enough to protect this world. You're all in danger because of me." Xisuma inhaled with the slightest shake under his breath. False reached up to lay a gentle hand on his arm, a silent encouragement.

"I...have a few ideas on how to deal with this." The admin continued with more strength in his voice, nodding at the influx of other hermits who were arriving as he spoke. Hypno, Cleo, Joe, TFC, all of them frantically searching the growing crowd until they saw Tommy safely tucked into Mumbo's side and visibly relaxed, though they didn't put away their weapons.

Joe moved against the wall to get to Tommy, the boy obliging without a word when the wordsmith opened his arms. Bdubs' heart twisted painfully at the sight of Tommy shrinking into Joe as if the hermit was his only solace, like if he shut his eyes tighter then he could just disappear into the safety of Joe's arms and leave this terrible reality behind.

"This is the first time someone's been powerful enough to break through my magic." Xisuma said, his tone serious in a way that commanded his every word was to be clung to. "This new player is a threat, and he's made that very clear." Every hermit's face flickered with anger at that, fists clenching and eyes narrowing at the reminder that one of their own was attacked and murdered so viciously.

As if on cue, Iskall came staggering into the tower, instantly aided by Hypno and xB. Seconds later, Stress, Jevin, Etho and Tango arrived, all together with matching looks of determined rage. Bdubs noticed they all paused to check Iskall, who was being carefully eased down to rest on the concrete floor. His throat tightened as he saw pain wrack Iskall's features, his communicator heavy in his pocket.

Tommy had been spared the news that Iskall fell to Dream's blade, too urged by Bdubs to check his comms, but when Tommy was blocks ahead Bdubs stole a look in case it was news telling them to detour. Seeing Iskall's name next to Dream's almost made the hermit trip over his own feet from the shock. If Dream could take Iskall down...

And as if more salt needed to be rubbed in the wound, Bdubs could clearly see that Dream hit Iskall so hard that he was still feeling it. It terrified him to his very core to know there was someone that powerful coming right for the kid he almost killed once already. How many hermits would fall before Dream was subdued?

"We're not prepared to take on a threat like this," Xisuma continued, and Bdubs snapped out of his swirling thoughts to pay attention. Right, the plan. Xisuma was going to tell them what to do and then everything would be okay.

Bdubs had to believe that.

"However, we do have netherite armor, almost every one of us." Xisuma said, taking that moment to stare right at Joe, who grinned back with more nervousness than sheepishness. "And for those who don't, we definitely have enough ancient debris among all of us to spare."

A whoosh of air announced Grian landing outside the tower doors, his enormous wings buffeting the hair of several hermits near the entrance. Impulse and Zedaph followed a second behind, both without their usual bright smiles. It made the whole situation suddenly seem much more dire.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you, friends." Xisuma said, his tone falling into genuine sadness. "But we need to gear up. We need to protect Tommy, and our world."

Bdubs knew that all his admin wanted was to maintain a safe haven for his hermits. Now, despite his best efforts, that was no longer going to be the case until Dream was taken down.

Xisuma took a breath to continue, but everyone's communicators buzzing in unison cut him off. It was out of habit when Bdubs glanced at it, but the messages froze his eyes to the holoscreen in shock.

[GoodTimesWithScar hit the ground too hard whilst trying to escape Dream]

[cubfan135 was slain by Dream using Nightmare]

[Dream has made the advancement Sky's The Limit]

All the color drained from Bdubs' face as shocked murmurs and gasps broke out among the group of hermits, and there was nothing to stop Tommy from looking at his communicator this time.

Tommy was gripping the device so tight that Bdubs feared it would snap in two, his diamond eyes fixated on the messages. He already knew that Tommy was blaming himself in his head.

Before he could say anything, the kid turned to Iskall like he finally noticed him, his expression as fragile as glass.

"He's after me." Tommy croaked, his eyes unwavering from Iskall on the floor as his voice tried so hard to stay even. "You're not--you're not safe."

"Tommy-" Joe tried, faster than Bdubs. The kid responded by forcefully pulling away from his guardian, holding himself in shaking arms. "Don't--don't try to fucking deny it, any of you."

The venom in his tone made Joe pale, the poet halting in his tracks to reach out to the boy.

"He--he's gonna kill all of you." Tommy breathed, his voice thick. "He's too strong, he--he's gonna get me and you're all going to pay for it."

"We can come back, Tom." False finally spoke, her words the gentlest that Bdubs had ever heard from her. Tommy looked up.

"He can probably kill us. I don't doubt that he will." False said, and Tommy flinched. "But if he does, we'll respawn and go after him again and again."

False's eyes were kind, her voice unwavering with steady calm. "We are killable, Tommy, but we will never stay dead."

#lmk if i need to tag anything else im kinda distracted rn #meraki post #come morning light #hermit tommy au #tw death #tw death mention #tw injury #hermitcraft fic

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zedif-y · 1 year

Text

you know, i never did explain why i chose 'be as you've always been' as the title for my impdubs fic . maybe it doesn't really need an explanation, but i felt like rambling a little about impdubs (+the song itself).

so if that's something you want to see, by all means, read more !

the way i interpret the song Be is that it's about asking someone to continue to love, in spite of hardship, in spite of tragedy. asking someone to keep loving you in a shitty situation, where even the speaker may turn harsh and cruel.

ie: "When I have no kind words left, love, for you"

the first lyrics talk about a wave breaking, Atlas and the world, the worst of what we fear coming to fruition. sound familiar? (coughs . 3L impdubs)

the speaker, throughout the song, asks his lover to continue to love in spite of everything— and if we look at it through the lens of the life series, it could mean a whole myriad of things:

love me in spite of old doubt, old anger and hurt. love me in spite of what i've asked you to do. love me in spite of the games, where eventually only one of us will come out alive. love me in spite of the warnings, in spite of all the reasons you shouldn't.

love me in spite of the betrayal. love me in spite of our history.

there's this part of the song that really drives the point home for me, and it's this:

"Love, when the sea rises to meet us Oh, when there's nothing left for you and I to do Oh, when there is nobody upstairs to receive us When I have no kind words left, love, for you

Be, be, be, be, be Be as you've always been"

the way i see it, for impulse and bdubs, it means this:

when the world has ended, blood splattered against the grass. when the fire burns bright, razing everything we've ever known. when the blazing hatred has come and gone, leaving nothing but ash and soot.

when all we can see is red— be as you've always been. love me as you always have.

in these games where love is trampled and punished, we're given a chance to breathe. soulmates, bonded by pain. maybe it's a weakness to stay with you. maybe it's safer to run.

the song to me is about hope. it's about love as an act of defiance against the terrible circumstances you're in. choosing to love, even when it hurts.

it's about someone asking you to stay, and replying, "of course."

in short:

"Be as you've always been (Lover be good to me)"

#ryan's screaming #ryan's writing #i guess?#impdubs #impulsesv #bdoubleo #bdubs #traffic smp #life series #life smp #i dont really know why im tagging my ramblings i just want people to validate my raging brainrot KJSDGHKJSDHGKJSDG #trafficblr #trafficshipping #trafficship #anyway listen to be by hozier KSDJGHKJSDGHSDG

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meteormoss · 6 months

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idk what else to say abt it but like. i kinda always half read tags & summaries espwcialy when its like late fpr me so i kinda was like went into it with not much idea abt what was going on but immediately i was like oh etho dead? cleo coming for funeral? and then i was like oh maybe etho has been dead for a while and i like that a lot of theings were just so ambigious and idk if this was like meant to be implied but it was kinda like etho death accident. or on pupouse. yknow. and thw small details of like bdubs not knowing what cleo liked anymore bc like. hes still stuck there in the past with this old idealised version of her. back wen things were 'good' (they werent good but he thinks theyre better than now but also nostaligia is a bitch) god i just. uagh. and then bdubs & joel having sex abt it all. sad people who r greiving finding comfort in each other in not a great way. but theyre greiving. - tfz (i like how i said i didnt know what else to say abt it and then said all. that. jdbsjd its late i ramble easily when its late)

The ambiguity was so intentional. Why elaborate when that person is supposed to (used to) know everything about you? They know all the codes and everything. They don't but you think they should. They dont care enough to tell you they dont know. AND THE IDEALIZED VERSION VS. THE REAL IS MY SHIT!! Bdubs thinks his thoughts in confidence but then cleo just doesnt line up and and and he's starting to doubt how right he is but he refuses to be in the wrong so he just shuts it down. The bdubs and joel one night stand was not in the original plot and it occurred to me and it was just so genius and oh my gosh i love this story so much!!

The bracelets mean so much to me. Not many people notice them and I didn't overuse their metaphor. But! The bracelets are friendship bracelets from a long time ago. Now, it isnt logical for bdubs' to have lasted this long but suspension of disbelief and all that. Cleo cut hers off, she intentionally rid herself of them. I think I mentioned that? Ethos fell off, slipped over his hand one day (i didn't mention this) (this is both a metaphor for his self destructive addictions and habits/deteriorating health and for how bdubs and cleo slipped out of his life). and bdubs' are still on his wrist, frayed and faded, but still there. He refuses to get rid of them just as he refuses to let go of the versions he's half remembering mostly creating of them. It's just such a detail to me that i get the perk of knowing from being the author!!

ALSO!! The last chapter!! It's just so fucking mundane. It needed to be mundane. This isn't a big story about anything dramatic, it's just a story of reckless teens who turned into adults with issues and the repercussions of self destructive behaviors. They're just living, it's just a week in the life. Even if it was a really bad week. It wouldn't have made sense if I were to give it a big ending, or a fix it ending, but the ending still hurts because nothing changed. But it's essential that nothing changed. i am tearing it apart!!

#i am crying /pos i love people enjoying my art #you are the first person ive talked to that figured out etho was dead!!!#everyone else was like :O when that chapter got posted #tcpootw #we buried your bones in plywood

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redorich · 3 years

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to those who carried on

A fic for @petrichormeraki and their Hermit!Tommy AU.

-------

The hermits know Tommy as a quiet young man who is very sad and contemplative. The more time they spend with him (against his will, but they know he needs the company) the more they learn of the little details. His favorite block is cobblestone, he likes building towers, and apparently his favorite woman is the Queen. They don’t ask why he wears a smiley mask even though he never seems happy. They don’t ask why he hides important things in his ender chest. They don’t ask why he wears a shattered compass on a chain about his neck.

(Once, he died in lava and lost his absolute mind. He was so upset about the compass that he didn’t even mention the stack and a half of diamond ore he had on him. Xisuma ended up manually rolling back the server just so Tommy could have it back.)

As time goes on, the tremors in Tommy's hands grow lesser. His dull blond hair seems a bit brighter, his bruises fade quicker, he doesn’t look quite so skinny-- he spends his time serenely building, resource gathering instead of running and fighting. He has a sense of humor under all that trauma, which the hermits unfortunately find out after another massive-scale prank war thought to be instigated by Grian actually turns out to be Tommy's fault.

Tommy starts swearing more. Doc gets the stink eye from Stress for this, but Doc insists he’s never once sworn around the young man. (That’s an absolute lie, but it wasn’t anything Tommy hadn’t heard before. Tommy thinks Doc is remarkably unoriginal in his cursing. He does take note of the German ones, though.)

Inviting Tommy to PvP minigames can be touchy, they learn. He likes to fight, but he fights like an animal with nothing to lose. Grian once chanted, “It stays in the pit!” and everyone present had to spend the next five minutes wrangling Tommy’s soul back into his body from wherever it’d floated off to.

Tommy likes to glide with his elytra. He claims he’s never had one before, but he flies like such a natural that a few people have their doubts. On a dark desert night, with dark blue eyes watching the night sky, he confides to Cub that it reminds him of the way his dad used to fly. He hates rockets, though. He does not confide to Cub that it reminds him of what his brother did to his best friend. He says enough that Cub can guess, though.

Scar gets fed up with Tommy’s creeper holes and makes Tommy help him fix them. At first, Tommy has no clue why Scar is breaking out things like coarse dirt and birch leaves and making the ground all fancy, but he’s not afraid of a little hard work and Scar makes it fun. He learns a lot about terraforming that day, and awkwardly comes back a few days later asking if Scar needs any more help terraforming. Tommy still hasn’t built a real base, not by Hermitcraft standards, but the small hill he’s built his dirt hut near now has a very beautiful, if amateurish, waterfall. He doesn’t tell Scar about this, but Scar finds out anyway. Tommy wakes up one morning to find that someone has left a shulker box in his house. Instead of iron-gripped paranoia, he just feels wonder that someone would give him a gift-- to the hermits, a single shulker box is nothing. To Tommy, it’s everything.

The shulker box contains coarse dirt, birch leaves, and a silk touch shovel.

Tommy helps Xisuma mine a giant hole in the ground near bedrock, because he realizes that he’s never thanked the admin for getting him his compass back. Well, that and the fact that instamining with a haste two beacon and an efficiency five pickaxe is a novelty. Xisuma lets him keep the cobble, since everyone knows it’s Tommy’s favorite block, but also insists he keep some of the other blocks like andesite and diorite. He pats Tommy on the head and tells him to talk to Bdubs about building a house some time. Tommy nods. He's taken aback by how tall Xisuma is, completely contrasting his mild nature. He reminds Tommy of Wilbur, on one of his good days before... Before. Not Ghostbur, though-- the admin is much too alive.

Tommy waits too long, so eventually Bdubs comes to him. The man is silly and outrageous, playing everything for laughs and unexpectedly tender. Bdubs plays up how beautiful he thinks Tommy’s hideous dirt shack is, then offers to help him build a house that’s better. For Tommy, building a house means settling down, accepting that this is his home now. Bdubs doesn’t know this. Tommy builds cobblestone dicks while Bdubs tries to lecture him about depth and block variation. Nothing gets done and Bdubs feels like he might have failed, but come next week Bdubs is flying over the area and sees the dicks are gone; so is the dirt house. In its place is a spruce-and-cobble cottage nestled near the tiny waterfall. Off to the side, he’s made a cozy doghouse for his fox, Theo. Bdubs doesn’t know how close that fox came to being named Fundy.

He spars with False, and she very pointedly does not mention how his stances are uniquely suited to a piglin. There’s only one renowned fighter who’s a piglin, after all. It's Tommy’s story to tell, if he ever does, why he’s seen enough of the legendary Technoblade’s fights to pick up on his stances, yet he’s not experienced enough to know that they don’t suit him. Instead, False gives him different stances suited more for tall, skinny people like the two of them. She’s got blond hair and blue eyes just like him. (Not that she’d know. She’s never seen his eyes, hidden behind his mask as they are.) Every now and then, he imagines her as an older sister, and the one time he says so, she smiles. When Tommy’s at home, looking at his own distorted reflection in his waterfall (he’s improved it since he built it), he muses that their eyes aren’t the same, their hair colors are subtly off. It’s close enough, he thinks.

Stress dies from fall damage and Tommy goes out of his way to pick up her stuff, because the hermits do these things out of the kindness of their hearts. The thought never even crosses their minds to steal. It crosses his mind. He doesn’t do it. Stealing from Stress would be like stealing from Niki.

He shows up at Cleo’s base unannounced and demands to see the “cool shit”. He is appropriately enthused by the giant armor-stand-bugs. She tries teaching him her armor stand magic, but it doesn’t really sink in. It’s okay, she assures him, most people don’t have the knack for it. He does, however, learn that buttons make excellent decorations. He also learns how to braid hair, bribed by ice cream. He is terrible at it, to the point where Joe has to come by to help the two untangle her hair so Tommy can start again. Watching the two bicker over capitalism and six million armor stands and a whole host of other inside jokes he doesn’t get, he thinks he’s starting to understand what friendship is supposed to be like. Joe and Cleo don’t see him clutching his compass. He and Tubbo weren’t too far off from this, given their circumstances. Maybe...

Maybe Tubbo can be forgiven.

Tommy makes minigames of his own, ones that don’t just kill you and steal your stuff. He builds things that are pretty instead of just functional, brews potions with Stress and only calls them drugs once (again, upsetting her is like upsetting Niki. Best not done), and sets up chicken bombs above people’s bases instead of just lavacasting them. (As Grian saw the hundreds of chickens slowly raining down upon his mansion, he got such a peculiar look on his face that Tommy feared he’d fucked up. The shorter, stronger (much stronger oh god why is he so strong despite being so small) man nearly crushed Tommy’s lungs in a hug, proclaiming how proud he was of Tommy. Tommy was proud of himself for not accidentally murdering Grian out of reflex. Was this what healing was like?)

Yes. It is what healing is like. Tommy knows this because that wound gets ripped open again. Tango shows him how to build the most obnoxious redstone-powered noise machine the two can think of. Tango digs a small pit, and asks Tommy to throw down his axe. Suddenly, Tommy’s in Logstedshire again; it’s not Tango asking, it’s Dream. His hands don’t shake when he tosses his axe into the pit, followed by his sword and his armor. It isn't until he’s placed the TNT down that Tango grabs his wrist and asks him what he’s doing. Tommy’s eyes clear enough that he can see past the blond hair and freckles. Tango isn’t green, he’s red. He's shorter than Dream, and his worried eyes are unhidden. Tommy shudders, then tells Tango everything.

Tango has no pity for Tommy, just understanding and sympathy. He doesn’t push Tommy to talk about it, but when Tommy’s done telling his story, Impulse and Zedaph show up. They all pretend that Tommy’s voice isn’t hoarse, that they all didn’t conveniently happen to look away when Tommy took off his mask just long enough to wipe his eyes. The men bake a cake together, fool around with honey blocks, and don’t talk about it.

Tommy knows very little about redstone, considers himself more of a builder and a fighter than an engineer. Still, Mumbo’s living base is inspiring, and Tommy often hangs around the man’s industrial district just to watch Mumbo work. Mumbo knows that Tommy hasn’t purchased a day pass, but it’s nice having someone around to talk to while he works. It’s not like Tommy is stealing anything. (Tommy totally steals from Mumbo’s industrial district storage system. The man’s farms are so efficient that he doesn’t even notice, so Tommy assumes it’s fine. What Mumbo doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

Lava still isn’t his favorite thing in the world. He stays far away from it, instead of imagining what it would be like to hurtle towards it. Ren doesn’t really notice this, but he does notice that Tommy doesn’t seem to like his mustafarian base. On a spur-of-the-moment whim, Ren whips up some absurd plotline in which he is a lone weary traveller seeking refuge at Tommy’s base from strange alien overlords. The two have fun together, and the young man cracks more absurd jokes about it than the hermits have ever seen him do. When Ren leaves a week later to return to his own base, Tommy keeps being absurd, if a bit more subdued without someone to play off of. He builds a shrine to the “prime log”, which grows more elaborate each day. Beef and xB pretend to be his acolytes, despite having no clue what a “twitch prime” is.

They can’t see his face, but the smile in his voice is a far cry from the despondency he once wore like a heavy cloak. He is so much more animated and alive, full of motivation. He builds an entire island in three days, and hand-delivers an invitation to each and every hermit for his beach party. Everyone shows up, even those with packed schedules (Iskall) and those with introverted tendencies (Etho). Tommy is nearly moved to tears when they show up in groups of twos and threes, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to come. There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, but there is more than enough cake to go around. Tango brings drinks, Impulse brings meat to barbecue, and Zedaph makes an elaborate jump-powered grill. Keralis brings way too much confetti and several handfuls of cheap, obnoxious party noisemakers. Stress brings Tommy a crown made out of alliums. It shines far less than his brother’s gold crown, and it’ll die in a few days, but he wears it all night and keeps it in his ender chest until it withers away.

He spends five days teaching himself to make flower crowns. Even his best attempt is awful, nowhere near as pretty as the crowns Stress makes, but when he gives it to her, she takes off the one she was wearing and wears his until it falls apart.

He dies fighting a creeper on Grian’s behalf, and doesn’t even panic, because he trusts that however many times he dies, no matter how stupid or ignominious or revolutionary or important, Xisuma will always let him respawn.

He spends a grand total of nine diamonds to buy a single plot of land in the shopping district. He builds a cute little bench facing the sunset, with warmly glowing street lights on either side and a small garden. At the end of the bench he places a jukebox, and buys every single disc that Beef’s music shop sells, including Pigstep. He sits on the bench while Mellohi plays and watches the tiny silhouettes of his friends flying in the evening sky. Tommy looks alone on that bench, even if he seems happy, so sometimes other people stop by to sit with him. Scar declares the bench area a public park, since everyone likes it so much, and refunds Tommy his nine diamonds straight from the throne.

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 2 years

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Bdubs' Hels isn't all that scary- kind of a Saturday-morning cartoon villain vibe with all the scrunkliness of his usual counterpart. He still gets under Bdubs' skin, though, and it took the other hermits a while to figure out why: he's the embodiment of Bdubs' hubris, his endless, baseless confidence and egotism with none of his competence. At the worst of times, it can even make him forget he has competence at all...

It's like looking into a fun house mirror for him - a reflection, but warped and bulging, highlighting all the parts of himself that he hates most and shrinking the ones he likes so much he barely notices they're there. It's one thing to be told that the reflection isn't him...but it's another thing to have it following him around, mocking him. The others reassurances help, but some days it just gets hard to believe them.

Thankfully, usually all he has to do to remind himself of who he is is build something for a friend! Combining both his skill and his selfless generosity helps to drive away the doubts, and it only makes him better at his craft. So in a way, his rival is helping him, no matter how much he tries to hurt!

- Mod Shade

#bdoubleoo100 #hels hermits #hermitcraft #mod shade

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shadeswift99 · 3 years

Text

Déjà Vu

Characters: Etho, Bdubs, Tango, Skizz

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, mostly canon compliant, platonic intended (don’t really care if you read it otherwise but please don’t tag as ship)

Words: 2323

Description: A second week of bearing the Boogyman curse, a second gut-wrenching moment of watching Bdubs die, a second string of deals and favours he’ll probably regret...to Etho, this week is starting to feel awfully familiar. Except this time around, he’s not sure if he has it in him to endure any more.

(A take on the Boogyman stack kill moment from Etho’s perspective, continuing into a kind-of-alternate but mostly canon compliant Team BEST “reunion” back at the snow fortress. Featuring: Etho Has A Horrible Time, Tango doubts himself while also having a horrible time, Bdubs has it rough, Skizz isn’t doing too great either - you know, happy fun times all around! :) )

(I recommend reading The Way Back before this one, both stand alone but they do connect nicely)

Read it on Ao3

The world stopped.

Just a few moments earlier, Etho would have thought such a feeling was impossible. A full week of the Boogyman curse, followed by a rest so short it felt like a blink and then the dreaded message in chat for the second time in a row had left him reeling through the action at breakneck speed. Nothing slowed down for Etho anymore: not his heart rate, stuck beating at a frantic maximum even when he stood still, not his eyes, darting between his allies with the terror that someone might call his bluff. Not the shake in his arms and legs as he leaned against the snowy wall away from the others, stealing a few short moments of weakness without worrying friends or tipping off enemies about how heavy a toll this curse was costing him.

Still, he'd sworn not to be reckless. Last time he had waited - maybe too long, but it was for a good reason. This time he didn't want to (couldn't) wait that long again, but he was still going to take his time. Better to force a few more casual excuses to the rest of Team BEST than to die on a bad judgement kill and blow his cover. Besides, everyone was safe now. Bdubs was safe now. He was on yellow, and after Tango's panicky transfer to Scar there were no red names on the server left to worry about.

So, Etho had steeled himself for a wait. He'd scribbled down a few trap diagrams, joked around with Skizz and Tango in the most normal way he could manage, and kept himself upright and unwavering until the right moment would present itself. The days tended to go by in a dizzying blur when he was the Boogeyman, but still, Etho had time to kill.

That is, he did. Until it all stopped.

The moment Mumbo's end crystal clicked onto the obsidian, time held its breath: but it wasn't until Etho turned and saw that shard of crystal glass rip through Bdubs' chest that his world, his entire universe, jittered to a frozen, razor-edged halt. His heart skipped a beat.

And Etho became rage.

He doesn't remember the kill. Every blade of grass and every leaf on every tree jolted into perfect focus as his hand closed white-knuckled around his axe, and then a blink later he was ten feet from the spot he stood before, hands coated in the slick of Mumbo’s yellow life. The pumping adrenaline of the curse faded as he was cured, but he barely noticed. His heart beat faster now, if anything, the shaking twice as bad. The air stung at his throat and eyes. He breathed hard.

"Etho?"

Bdubs.

Etho didn’t turn at the voice. He couldn't force his limbs to move, and besides, the last thing he wanted was to come face to face with his old friend as a Red Name again. After all the fear...all the startling and suspicion, all the walls built between them and the pain of still not being able to leave him, this dear enemy of his whose only wish was to kill him but still made him tea in the mornings...after everything he'd done to see his friend again past that battered face... None of it mattered now. None of it mattered. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! This isn't how it works, sacrifices are supposed to mean something, loyalty is supposed to mean something, you can't just risk your world one day and have it all reduced to dust the next, the Universe can't be that cruel...

"...Etho?"

Etho had seen uncountable years. He knew that the world isn't fair. He knew that a deal can be dishonored, that betrayal is a fact of life, that fate has its own will and it cannot be predicted. But even so, as the blood he drew far too late to help dripped down his sleeve and soaked into the soil, the weight of it all was suddenly enough to bring tears to his eyes.

The last bit of unnatural energy leaked from his bones, and his body finally gave out. He barely felt himself crumple to the ground.

"Etho!"

The shout came from Skizz this time. Faces wove in and out of Etho's view in a rolling, muted haze as Skizz and Tango rush over to help him. They were saying something, he was sure. "Are you okay?", Tango was probably asking, and "of course he's not okay just help me here you idiot" would be Skizz's reply, as they do, as they are. Etho would smile if there was anything left in him to do so. Some things never change. Somebody patted his vest down, looking for injuries. Arms reached around him and dragged him up. He mumbled a protest as his aching body was shifted, but he didn’t make their job any harder than it needed to be.

Hands tried to pry the bloodied axe from his fingers. He didn’t let go.

"Hey."

The voice was gentle, though battered and rough. Etho forced his eyes to focus enough to see a worried face framed in a singed moss hood. He opened his mouth, I'm sorry and I tried and curse you for getting yourself killed again fighting to be said first, but Bdubs held up a hand and he stayed quiet.

"You were the Boogyman?"

Etho swallowed weakly. "Yes." The voice sounded strangely steady, not at all his own.

"Okay." Bdubs sighed. He looked around, back at the remaining Southerners hovering in awkward terror at the edges of the scene, over Etho's shoulder to whoever must be holding him up right now, then finally back to Etho himself. This time, he didn't bother trying to hide the tears in the corners of his eyes.

He took a half step forward, arms beginning to lift for an embrace. He hesitated, and Etho saw the flash of red ferocity flare deep in his eyes. He fell back.

When he next spoke, his tone was flat.

"Do you feel any better?"

Etho took a long look at Bdubs for the first time since the blast, taking in the bloodied holes in his clothes and the giant tear in his sweater where the glass stabbed through.

"Do you feel any worse?"

Neither of them answered.

Neither of them wanted their last friendly words to each other to be a lie.

"Take him back to base." Bdubs turned away. "Make sure he rests. While he still can."

Reaching backwards, Bdubs yanked the axe from Etho's grip and walked away.

Etho let him.

“Do you...want a potion, or something?”

Tango shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, looking down at Etho. He’d practically carried him back inside the fortress, depositing him as gently as he could manage on the floor with his back leaning up against the wall. The man looked utterly exhausted. He hadn’t even tried to catch himself. Still, it looked as though most if not all of the blood staining his vest and right arm was Mumbo’s and not his, so...he really didn’t know what else he could to do help. Would a potion even fix the kind of wounds he’s dealing with?

“Etho?” Tango nudged his leg a little with his shield.

“Mhm?”

“I said, do you want a potion.”

“No, it’s...I’m fine.” Etho finally looked up, sweat plastering his dirty white hair to his forehead in a pathetic fringe.

“Well that’s a lie.” Tango chuckled dryly.

“I think it’s the Boogyman thing.” Skizz slipped through the doorway behind him, stepping around to hand Etho a freshly collected bottle of water. “ ’Dubs said when he had it it made him all jittery. That’s gotta be rough two weeks in a row.”

Tango winced. He’d forgotten Etho had the Boogyman curse last week, too. He hadn’t even been there...something had obviously gone down between Bdubs and Etho, but he’d missed it entirely. Last time he’d seen the two, Bdubs was chasing him around and begging him to give him a life, and Etho was shouting at him for letting Bdubs fall...he just hadn’t wanted to go back to face Team BEST after that. It had all been a little too much for a little too long. He’d needed the break he took. A nice long vacation, a good long walk to process what happened and deal with the -

Guilt.

No matter how much he tried to deny it. Not at the fact that he hadn’t given Bdubs a life. Guilt at the knowledge that if he could do it all over, he would choose the same thing again.

Tango cleared his throat and shook away the thoughts. In the past now. Now, he was back, and it was his job to help his team however he could to make up for the absence. And right now, that looked like tending to Etho and doing something or other to take that lost and helpless look off of Skizz’s face.

“Hey Skizz, speaking of Bdubs, have you seen him lately?”

“No, I...” Skizz hesitated. “I was scared to go look. He split off sometime before we said goodbye to the Southlands crew, I don’t think he’s been back yet.”

“Well, even if he is going to go join the red gang, I don’t think he’d leave without his stuff.” Tango gestured towards the battered B shield on Skizz’s back. “Why don’t you go be lookout on the wall in case he comes back?”

Tango purposely left it unclear whether “lookout” meant “welcoming party” or “last line of defense,” but either way, Skizz took the meaning. He left with a worried backward glance and a “let me know if you need anything”.

Tango turned back to Etho and sighed. Medic was not his role of choice.

“I’m sad about Bdubs.” The voice was so small. Its speaker barely moved.

Therapist was even less Tango’s area of expertise.

“Uh.” He crouched down, gently taking the half-drunk bottle of water from Etho’s hand. “Here, how about we make it so you’re just sad instead of sad and covered in blood?” He poured out some of the water onto a scrap of wool and started blotting away at Etho’s shirt.

He made no move to stop him, so Tango spent the next few minutes cleaning him up as best he could. Etho tried to help, but after the third time his shaking hands spilled the water all over himself Tango just pushed his arm away and reassured him he could handle it. He carried on with the work, no sound to break the silence but the slosh of water and the whistle of chilly air cutting through the fort’s towers.

Gradually, that silence grew heavy. Tango’s heart sank to match. He knew what was coming.

When next he looked up, Etho was staring him right in the eyes.

“I’m just going to go rinse this off, and then I’ll be back to finish up -” He tried to turn and leave.

“Tango.” Etho grabbed his sleeve.

The unease in his stomach blossomed into dread.

“You need to give him a life.”

“No.” Tango pulled away. “No! I’ve got six lives, he doesn’t! We all got the same lottery in the beginning. It isn’t my fault he’s already down to one. Maybe he should have budgeted better!” He crossed his arms, burying his hands in his armpits to hide the shake.

“I never said it was your fault.” Etho eyed him up from the floor. “Interesting that you would come to that conclusion yourself.”

“I said no.”

“I didn’t ask again.”

Tango pressed his lips together nervously. He said nothing.

“He’s killing me.” Soft, barely audible, but still distinct from behind the mask.

Tango rolled his eyes. “We won’t let him kill you. Skizz has his bow, and I’ve got - well, I can figure something out...you know we’ll defend you if it comes down to that -”

“No, Tango, I didn’t say he will kill me.” Etho let out a huff of frustration. “I said: he’s killing me. I can’t stay. I can’t leave. I have to stay close to him, and as long as he’s red, I’ll be dying a little more every day just waiting for the hammer to fall. You have to give him a life to make it stop. It’s the only way.”

Tango stared at him, looking him over with new eyes. In all his years spent with Etho from a distance as a fellow Hermit, he didn’t think he’d ever seen his face look this hollow.

“You really are hopeless, aren’t you,” he whispered.

“Don’t say that.” Exhausted though he was, a tiny bit of fire leaked back into Etho’s voice.

“You’re going to have to give him up sometime.” Tango met Etho’s stare full on, for the first time since he got back. He wanted to make extra sure that Etho knew just how screwed he was, if he’d really let it get this far. “A stray arrow, some lava, Scar or Joel or whoever the next Red Name of the week is causing mayhem...that’s all it’ll take, and then one of you will be gone for good. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Etho leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “That’s why I’m not giving up my life for him. That, and if I did, he’d know.”

“Know you can’t bail on him even though the whole ship is sinking.” Tango glowered down at the floor. “Know you’re willing to take the rest of us down with you if this goes sideways.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Etho said nothing.

Tango cursed under his breath.

/givelife Bdoubleo100

“If this gets me killed somehow, you’d best believe there’ll be hell to pay.”

Tango dumped the remaining water out over the floor and left, slamming the door behind him.

#ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #tangotek #skizzleman (more of a cameo)#last life smp #last life spoilers #I'm gonna be honest with you I have absolutely no idea if this is bad or good #I feel like it's really far to one end of that scale but hell if I know which one #either way I had an absolute blast writing this #This is what I had to pause tango's ep to write #and then when i went to edit it instead of doing that I doubled the word count lol #I am so loving last life right now #so. enjoy your Freshly Angsted Etho!#shade writes

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4h4hi · 3 years

Text

Pretty sure that's normal, right?

Hermittober 2021 -- Day 1 -- Wings -------------------- Etho's finally completed the No Wings Club! Which is great-- except for the fact that he no longer has an excuse not to use an elytra. (How do all the other hermits do it?!)

Or: Etho realizes-- with Bdubs' help-- that his experiences with elytra might not be the same as everyone else's. -------------------- Cross-posted on Ao3-- link in the notes! --------------------

To fly, or not to fly. That was the question.

Etho sighed, shaking his head. It was no use deliberating-- he might as well just get it over with.

After he reached his thousand days in the No Wings Club, he'd stored an elytra in his enderchest, as well as some rockets-- he didn't need it around his and Iskall's base, thanks to Riptide, but the other hermits were a different matter. Visiting Doc had been a hassle while the club was still ongoing, and with the giant mountains that every hermit on the server seemed to be constructing, it would probably be best to get in back in the elytra routine as soon as possible.

He shuffled the wings out of his enderchest, shaking them out before inspecting their condition. After ensuring the wings themselves were flying fit, he moved on to the horrible, awful, terrible straps of leather they were attached to, which were unfortunately also in working order. Sighing, he buckled them on-- he'd tried to pad the things before, even tried to etch some sort of feather falling-silk touch combo onto the interiors to make them magically less painful to wear...it'd worked with the surface-level pain from the constant digging into his skin through his vest, at least.

"Ah! Etho!"

He turned quickly, gripping the hilt of his sword before relaxing at the familiar sight of his friend's round, googly glasses. "Hey, how's it going, Bdubs?"

Bdubs grinned brightly, leaning against a tree. "Oh, just fine, just fine. Been doing some work here and there on the Big Eyes shopping district-- ran out here to get a few more spruce logs, you know how it is." He pulled out his axe, tapping the butt of the blade against the trunk-- then paused, intrigued. "Wait a minute... are you wearing an elytra?!"

"Yeppers." Etho flexed the faux wings experimentally. Good, the locking mechanism was working. "Got my final medal a few weeks ago, figured it was about time to get back into using this."

Bdubs whistled. "Wow, got 'em dyed and everything already. A few weeks, though? You could wait that long?"

"Well... 's'not like I really need elytra to get around in the savannah."

"I guess." Bdubs shrugged-- then hefted his axe, wedging it into the bottom of the tree trunk. "Where are you headed, then?" Thunk. "Kinda"-- thunk-- "middle of nowhere"-- thunk-- he set the axe down, exhaling loudly. "Alright. Don't chop and talk, Bdubs, it's impolite. Where ya headed?"

Etho shrugged. "Nowhere, really. I was planning on just flying around for a few minutes, getting back into shape, getting used to the whole thing."

A snort. "Sure... getting used to it."

"Yeah, well. I gotta make sure I don't fall in public." Etho shot back, perhaps a bit sharper than he should have-- "can't have the people know I'm not an expert."

Bdubs nodded in mock seriousness-- "right, right. Of course! Gotta keep 'em all fooled." A sigh, a kind grin. "No, I'm just teasin' ya. Go do your flyin', poor old Bdubs'll be here chopping logs."

Etho chuckled, giving his friend a mock salute before grabbing a firework out of his inventory, pulling the start string, and taking off.

Flying fireworks were a pretty ingenious invention-- Etho hadn't come up with them himself, of course, but he couldn't help but admire the design. A string attached to a fire-starting strip pulled through the base of the firecracker in order to ignite the gunpowder-- he pulled the string upwards, avoiding the flame, though it wouldn't hurt him through his standard enchanted gloves. (He'd have to customize those later-- dying them like his standard blue ones should be fine if he didn't come up with a better idea.)

He'd only gone through a few fireworks out of his stack, but he considered that a victory. What had it been, ten minutes? Twelve? Either way, his shoulders were already crying out for mercy; he grimaced underneath his mask, scanning the ground for a good place to land.

Normally he wouldn't have done his first flight around Bdubs, but... well. It didn't really matter-- his friend was probably having the same struggles, what with his flip-flopping between wearing elytra and going without.

He should probably tease him about that.

The forest below was missing... maybe three, four trees compared to before. Etho narrowed his eyes-- Bdubs was striking his axe into a fir next to the small clearing he'd created, completely oblivious to his altudiously advantaged watcher.

Etho grinned and dived.

"Aah! Wh-- Etho!"

He skidded to a stop in the grass behind Bdubs, twirling the stolen axe in the air with a snicker. "Did I get ya?"

"Get me? I almost had a heart attack!" Bdubs stomped over, slugging Etho in the shoulder as he swiped at his axe; Etho quickly adjusted so that the axe was held right out of Bdub's reach. "Oh good grief!"

Etho chuckled deviously. "Oh, sorry, I should hold this down for you, I forgot." He leaned down so that the axe was a few inches above the ground, earning a indignant shout from his friend-- and then dropped it, letting out an involuntary "oof" as his back protested at the motion.

Bdubs snatched his axe from the ground. "Hah! Serves you right. Old man Etho having back trouble?" he crowed triumphantly-- then paused, pushing up his googly-eye glasses to look at Etho in concern. "Hey, man, are you okay? Do you need to sit down or somethin'?"

Etho sighed. "No, I... okay, fine." He smacked away Bdubs' arm as the other tried to help him over to the shade of a nearby tree-- thankfully he was still able to stand up this time, at least for the most part. Using the tree to keep himself steady, he unbuckled his elytra before lowering himself to the ground with a pained huff.

"So," Bdubs started, flopping onto the ground next to him. "You okay, big guy? That was kinda out of nowhere."

Etho shrugged, then winced, immediately regretting the painful motion. "I mean, it wasn't out of nowhere, was it? It was my first elytra flight of the season. It's always gonna be a little rough, especially since I've gone so long without using one."

Bdubs frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You were up there for like... five minutes, tops. That shouldn't bother your back enough that you almost fall over."

"I did not 'almost fall over!'"

"Did too!"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Did not. Besides, it was more like ten minutes, right?"

Bdubs scoffed. "Do you doubt the clock-keeping abilities of the Time King, Etho?"

"Ah, the Time King. How could I forget." Etho deadpanned.

"Hey! Stop trying to get me off topic, you... you... ohhh, I know you're laughing at me, stop that!" Despite his protests, Etho did not miss the fact that Bdubs was laughing along. "But... seriously. Does your back hurt often? Like, have you been doing any heavy lifting lately?"

Etho thought about it for a moment. "Not more than the usual, no. But the pain's been pretty normal, too."

Bdubs looked at him oddly. "Normal? Like, what's normal for you? Like"-- he tapped his leg, seemingly reaching for the right words-- "like, let's say you've got a scale of one to ten, and one is 'I'm Fine,' five is 'I'm pretty uncomfortable and I might have to not, say, fly as much' and ten is, uh. Bad."

"Uhh..." Etho snorted. "Like, daily, or..." after seeing Bdubs' affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, back in Season Seven when I was flying a lot more, it was like, a four on a good day?"

"On a good day."

"Yeah?" Etho answered, perplexed. "And normally it would be around a five. But nowadays it's been better, what with the No Wings Club. Like, maybe a four or five usually instead of six or seven."

"Instead of--" Bdubs spluttered. "Etho!"

"What?" Etho laughed. "That's normal, isn't it? Like, we aren't built for flying like Grian or Pearl are. S'just how the muscles work on most players."

"And the-- the other pain?! Without flying?!" Bdubs half-shouted.

Etho pondered this for a moment. "Dunno. Never really thought about it."

"Never really--" Bdubs covered his face in his hands with a groan. "Etho. My friend. My fellow redstone genius." He looked up at him, a desperate expression on his face. "Do you mean to tell me that you... just... feel pain, all the time, and... you think it's normal?"

He stared at him. "Is... is it not?"

Bdubs stared back. "Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"You're an idiot."

"Hey!"

"No, but seriously!" Bdubs jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to convey his extremely confusing point. "You... feeling pain-- it's not-- it's not supposed to be normal. Does it ever stop? Are you ever-- what d-- the-- you--" He pulled up the bottom of his moss-colored sweater, holding it to his face to muffle his frustrated scream. When he uncovered his head, he looked back over at Etho, who was genuinely surprised at how distraught his friend appeared to be. "Did... we've been friends for forever, Etho. Why didn't you ever tell me-- or Beef, or Doc, or-- or anyone?"

"I..." He didn't know what to say. "I guess I thought it was normal. And, like, I didn't want to bother anyone."

"You didn't want to... bother anyone," Bdubs muttered, disbelieving. "About... about... being in pain."

Etho shrugged, grateful his back had calmed down enough to allow him to move without dying. "I mean, yeah. Like, it's not a big deal, you know? I didn't think anyone would care."

"I would care!" Bdubs yelled suddenly, desperately putting a hand over his heart, waving the other towards the Boatem village-- "Doc would care! Beef would care! Hell, if you told any of the hermits 'hey, I'm Etho, my back hurts like I crushed it with one of my anvils, sorry to bother you' I bet you fifty diamonds-- no, fifty diamond blocks they would have helped out in a heartbeat! You can't"-- he laughed, exhausted-- "you can't just say 'no one would care!'"

Etho frowned, staring at nothing in particular. A few leaves fell off a stray oak tree. A squirrel darted through a fallen trunk.

"Well." He sighed quietly, hauling himself off the ground. "I... I guess I just didn't know it was something I needed to ask about." Stretching quickly, he touched his gloved palms to the pine-needle covered floor, legs straight. "If... if you're mad at me, I--"

"Mad at you? I'm-- I'm--" Bdubs' face melted as he walked up to Etho, putting his hands on his shoulders-- then grumbling, taking a piece of scaffold out of his inventory, placing it down, climbing on top and trying again. "There. Equal height. But"-- he took a deep breath. "Etho, I'm not mad at you. I just... I'm worried! You... you're my friend, Etho. I don't want you to be in pain, and-- and it makes me feel awful that I didn't notice you were hurting sooner."

Etho stared at him for a moment, taken aback. "Oh."

Bdubs snorted. "Yeah! 'Oh,' he says, 'oh.' C'mere, stupid." He pulled Etho into a tight, quick hug, then let him go, looking at him with watery eyes. "Oh, you."

Etho grinned. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, stupid!" A pause-- then a sigh. "Ah, I'm just kiddin'. Love ya, buddy."

A snort. "Love you too."

...

"By the way, you'd better talk to Stress about this later."

"Uh... nice talking to you, Bdubs, real-- real good talking to you, but I gotta"-- Etho shuffled through his inventory, grabbing an enderpearl-- "uh, gotta go." He lobbed it... somewhere. Hopefully not in a lava pool.

"Uh-huh! Sure!" Bdubs yelled after him, even as he vwoop'ed to his new location. "Yeah, I'll call her myself if I have to! You'd better watch out, I bet she makes house calls!"

Etho chuckled as he started at a leisurely pace towards home. He'd talk to Stress about it at some point. Maybe. Probably. Bdubs' threat didn't hold any water.

Hopefully.

#hermitcraft #hermittober #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #soggy words

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