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waterfall-ambience · 1 year

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Watcher's Call

Synopsis: After months of minding his own business and living with Worm Man and NPC Grian, something calls out to Evil Xisuma.

(Or, the events that preceded Evil Xisuma's return to Hermitcraft in March 2019.)

3.9k, vaguely within the Hurt-Comfort ballpark. Evil X is doomed by the narrative.

AO3 link

March 2019

It started in the early evening. Evil X stood at the stove, boiling pasta and stirring leftover spaghetti sauce. They usually took care of the cooking; it started out because they wanted to be better than Xisuma, but it eventually grew into genuine enjoyment. Besides, Worm Man was more than happy to let them take the wheel.

Through the whirr of the exhaust, Evil X heard someone call their name. They spun around to face Worm Man. "Did you say something?"

"No?"

"Ah. Okay, nevermind." Their focus returned to the stove, and for a while, that was that. Occasionally hearing things was fairly normal, after all.

A faint, pulsing pain rang in their head. They pressed a hand to their temple. It would go away eventually, they thought.

The evening continued as normal.

Evil X was quiet during dinner. They tried to listen to Worm Man talk about the new book he'd been reading. They tried to focus on the warmth of their food. Still, the pain beat and drummed away at their head, the wave of each pulse rippling outward.

They just clenched their jaw and tried to ignore it.

"Are you alright?", asked Worm Man.

They looked up from their pasta, and met his worried gaze. "Just a bit of a headache, is all”, they said, almost laughing it off. “Don't worry, I'll be-"

“Return to us”, said a voice. It echoed softly, melodic and crystal clear. They dropped their fork.

No, no, this couldn’t be happening. The last time they heard a voice in their head, it started picking at all the bits they didn’t like about themself. It goaded them into playing a part they loved and hated and loved again, until it deemed them worthless at it. Because of it, they sacrificed their friendships for the promise of being, and for what?

It had been over a year since Xisuma saved them. They hadn’t done anything truly heinous since last autumn, and even that was debatable!

There was no reason for them to be hearing voices.

"...Did you hear that?", they asked, straining to hide their panic. They could just be scaring themself silly, after all!

Worm Man gave them concerned look. "Hear what?"

Oh, oh no.

“I could’ve sworn I heard a voice…must’ve just been my imagination!”

Worm Man wrapped his hands around his glass, decidedly unconvinced. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine!” said Evil X, full of false, knee-jerk confidence. The pain pressed down, harder. They strained. “It’s probably just the weather. I- ”

A thunderclap boomed in their head.

They just managed to catch themself as they nearly collapsed and face-planted into their food. There wasn’t any denying it anymore.

“...I think you should lie down.”

Worm Man helped them to the sofa, pulse after pulse beating at their head. Faint whispers tugged at their focus, a stream of white noise between the surges. The voices spoke with such urgency, but they couldn’t make anything of it.

In their stillness, they fixated on it. They felt their head throb against the soft cushions. The pulsing started at their temples, pushing outwards and reverberating through their skull. The voices continued on and on, whispering like the wind in a storm at sea. They curled up and begged for it to stop. A distraction would've only overwhelmed them more.

They weren’t sure how much time had passed before Worm Man came over to them. It could’ve easily been minutes, but in the haze of whispering voices and the migraine, it felt like hours.

He said something, smiling sympathetically before handing them some painkillers and milk. They stared at the glass like an idiot. They should’ve thought of using milk sooner, with the way it neutralised status effects- it would’ve saved them a lot of trouble.

They took it, and waited. Worm Man left again, presumably to wash the dishes, as he did every night.

Time blurred. They stared beyond their familiar living room, into the artful cracks NPG placed into the floorboards, into the shadows on the wall, through the darkened windows, and out into the black forest surrounding their home. Still, the hearth burned its golden light, like a beacon in a lonely sea.

They were safe here, they had to be.

Through the haze, a single voice echoed in their head, louder than all the rushing whispers. It was not harsh or distorted or acerbic. It did not taunt or demand or scald like he did. This voice was light and androgynous, and spoke in a language they couldn't recognise. The words flowed into each other like cool water, or a sweet song amidst the crash of waves and sharp winds. It called to them. Its very presence threatened to sweep them into the tide.

They squeezed their temples harder.

Evil X was not a spiritual person. In fact, they probably bordered on irreverence. Their workings with gods and demons shattered the half-formed belief that the divine had their best interests in mind. The gods never let them have it easy- they exploited and tricked and humiliated them. They threw them into impossible realities just to point and laugh.

The gods were nothing short of cruel.

Still, despite everything, Evil X prayed for mercy.

—

Worm Man tried to ignore the sinking feeling at the back of his mind. Evil X had a habit of getting themself into painful situations, but he’d never seen them fall apart so suddenly. It seemed one moment they were completely fine, and then the next…less so.

He wiped down the table, cleaning up as normal. He left Evil X’s plate out, just in case they were still hungry. They lay curled up on the sofa, their messy braid poking out of their hooded jacket.

They looked so small.

There had to be something he could do to help, he thought. He liked doing that, helping people- he even prided himself on it. There should be something for him to do! He could tend to the fire. Clean up the coffee table. Keep them company.

But for now, the tasks at hand.

Realistically, whatever was going on with Evil X was bound to pass eventually. They’d feel better by tomorrow morning, and everything would be fine. The migraine would be over, and they’d tell him that the voices were part of a terrible prank to get out of doing chores, or something mundane as that.

…He felt a tad guilty, assuming that they’d go that far to… well, avoid washing dishes, which was something he already took care of.

It was probably nothing. Yeah, that was it. There was nothing to worry about! Nothing bad was going to happen and he could let his mind rest easy! It was as simple as that! He could stop this senseless worrying any time he wanted!

And so Worm Man decided to think of other things.

He was really very lonely, not so long ago. He spent his days alone, fumbling in the cold and trying to keep busy. He went on "patrols", but they were usually just excuses to pace around the server just in case anyone needed help or saving. He wasn't stupid, though. Plenty of people needed help, but not in any way he could. The Hermits were just more capable than he was. They didn't need him.

For the longest time, no one needed him.

But now, he wasn't lonely anymore, and he had someone to save.

He stuck the plates in the dishwasher and made their way over to Evil X. The medicine should've been kicking in by now.

“Are you feeling any better?”

They shook their head. “The voices are getting louder."

Well, that wasn't good.

He held up a hand. "May I?", he asked, and felt their forehead.

Nothing. No fever…or anything, for that matter.

Still, Worm Man couldn't shake the sinking feeling that something was very wrong. People didn’t just collapse like this.

“I’m going to get NPG”, he told them. He didn’t expect a response, considering that Evil X was pretty much incapacitated, but it was always nice to be informed.

Worm Man darted upstairs, through the dark, twisting corridors of the house. His heavy footfalls echoed behind him as he climbed the winding flights of stairs to NPG’s atelier.

He imagined himself as a brave knight seeking aid from the solitary wizard at the top of the tower. That way he could be someone, anyone, braver and more capable than himself.

He trudged on, the floorboards creaking slightly as he made it to the landing. He felt a twinge of pride. Evil X couldn't make the trek without gasping for air and going red in the face, and that was on a good day.

Golden light seeped through the crack beneath the hand-carved door.

He knocked. NPC Grian was smart, surely he’d know what to do.

“Come in", said a distant voice.

Worm Man opened the door and stepped through. NPG sat at his desk in front of the large window, surrounded by miniature rustic houses, each one incomprehensibly intricate and detailed. The warm lamplight should’ve been comforting, but its yellow glow only made the night feel darker.

Worm Man's composure melted away as he tried to explain the situation- about Evil X, about the voices they claimed to hear, about the migraine, about the medicine that didn’t seem to work. He felt like a child begging for his mother’s assistance

In that massive attic, he felt small, helpless, and at the mercy of big things he didn't understand.

NPG stood, the windup key attached to his back clicking slowly. “Alright, let’s see then.”

Worm Man followed him into the dark, trying not to trip on the way down.

Downstairs, Evil X had disappeared from their spot on the sofa. Instead, they lay on the floor in the corner, hugging their knees and breathing softly.

"What are you doing down there?" asked NPG. Whether he was genuinely concerned or unimpressed, Worm Man couldn’t tell.

They strained. "It…started feeling better once I moved to this spot. It hurts more if I go anywhere else.”

“How odd.” NPG bent down to their level. “Are you seeing things?”

“No.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“Vaguely.”

“Who did the cooking tonight?”

“Me.”

NPG’s tone lightened. “So it’s unlikely that Worm Man accidentally poisoned you. We can rule that one out.”

“Hey!” Worm Man protested, a bit too loudly. NPG ignored him, and turned back to Evil X.

“Do you have a family history?”

“...Of what?”

“Anything. Migraines, heart conditions, diabetes, psychiatric disorders…”

Evil X grit their teeth. “How am I supposed to know what- ?!”

Their body tensed. They cradled their head in their hands and writhed in pain as another surge hit them.

“So it’s just the headache and voices?” asked NPG. He sounded as if he expected an answer despite Evil X's current struggle to say anything. “Peculiar. And this started when?”

“About forty-five minutes ago”, said Worm Man, as calmly as he could manage, though he wasn't entirely sure. It was an estimate, a best guess, but it was better than nothing, right?

NPG’s processors whirred louder, and Worm Man felt his heart sink.

“The voices…they’re telling me to go south”, said Evil X, weakly. “They want me to join them there.”

Worm Man stared at them, and then turned to NPG. “We should take them to see a doctor", he said, hoping his confidence would mask any sign of worry. He had to be strong, as a hero should.

“Oh, with their squishy human body? Absolutely. But does anyone on this server have a medical degree?”

He racked his brain. The Hermits were smart, incredibly so, but he still struggled to answer the question. He hadn’t realised it sooner. Did the hermits simply not fall ill, or ever find themselves in need of medical assistance when it’s not strictly mortal? Were they really out here, alone, without a qualified doctor? That sounded stupid. There was no way!

“...Docm?”, he asked.

“He’s not that kind of doctor.”

“But surely one of the Hermits would be able to help!”, said Worm Man. “If not cure it, then at least ease the pain.”

“Can we do that please”, Evil X piped up, just loud enough to be heard.

NPG stood there, silent. The key on his back started rotating again.

Click, click, click.

“Something doesn’t add up”, he said, after some time. “Evil Xisuma, the voices are telling you to go south, correct?”

“Mhm."

“And you said the pain eased once you moved to this corner. This is the southernmost wall of the house- I know because I built it. Continue further, and you'll end up at the Hermits' island...”

He turned to Worm Man. “What episode is Xisuma currently on?”

Worm Man fumbled for his communicator. He scrolled through the Hermits’ upload feed until he found X’s most recent video. The number was almost impossibly high. “Seven hundred and ninety-nine."

NPG’s windup key clicked faster. “And a few days to the Ides as well…?!”

“What’s wrong? What are the ‘Ides’?”, he asked.

“The fifteenth of March, the day Julius Caesar was assassinated by the Roman senate. In the Western cultural consciousness, it marks betrayal. I… doubt that Xisuma would do something for it, but it’s a bad sign nonetheless.”

"What do you mean?"

NPG shifted. "It's possible that something is trying to pull Evil X back to Hermitcraft, luring them into a trap. It could very well be for Xisuma's eight-hundredth episode."

"We should warn Xisuma about this, then!"

"No. Our best bet is to stay put and let the milestone pass by without a word. If Evil Xisuma is still incapacitated afterwards, then we can look for help, but only then." He sounded as if he wanted to say more, but his neutral faceplate didn’t give Worm Man much in the way of expression.

NPG knelt down to Evil X, who still curled up on the floor. "It is imperative that you ride this one out”, he said, gently.

They looked up. "... How long will that be?"

"Three days, to start with.”

Evil X paled, even more so than they already had. "Three days", they sighed. "Three days of this…?"

"Indeed. We'll try to ease the pain in the meantime, but we can't risk you going back to Hermitcraft. It's too dangerous."

They looked at him uneasily.

“Think of it like us tying you to the mast of a ship so you don’t go running after siren song”, said NPG. “It might be a bit uncomfortable, but you’ll be safe once we move past it.”

He pulled them up and began to set up a temporary bed by the window. They hovered, swaying slightly and gripping the sofa as if they would lose their balance and collapse.

Worm Man hurried upstairs to fetch some clean linens, as well as Evil X's clothes and toiletries. He was being helpful. He was in control. The situation might've been a bit more dire than he anticipated, but after three days, everything would be fine!

Everything would be fine…it had to be.

When he returned barely a minute later, NPG had just about finished setting up.

"Thanks guys", said Evil X, though their smile was twisted into a pained grimace.

"Not a problem." Worm Man grasped their hand. "These things happen sometimes." There he was again, saying things to comfort himself. “Can you walk?”

“I should be fine”, they said, still swaying. They staggered to the bathroom to wash up, but Worm Man stayed close just in case they fell.

Afterwards, Worm Man found NPG in the dining room, drawing the curtains.

"Thank you, NPG, really", he told him.

"Think nothing of it. I care about them, too, you know." He pulled at the last set of curtains and turned towards the stairs, ready to return to whatever project he was working on.

"Before you go-”, started Worm Man, “How do you know these things? About that stuff with the voices and the server being dangerous?"

NPG stared at him, wearily.

Click, click.

"There's little I can say without completely shattering your worldview. You have a right to your innocence, after all." He sighed. "…Sometimes the divine is not on your side."

…Huh?

"I didn't know you were religious", said Worm Man, in an attempt to be polite.

He suddenly felt a pang of guilt, bringing up a subject as personal as spirituality. Considering NPG’s past, it was probably a bit awkward.

"I'm not religious at all", said NPG. "The fact of the matter is that the gods are not strictly kind to people like us, and neither is the audience."

"I understood that completely”, lied Worm Man, with his old ‘heroic’ confidence.

"It's better if you don't. I'm certain I'd be much happier if I didn't know the Truth of this world, but at least that knowledge can help Evil Xisuma."

"What's the Truth, then?", asked Worm Man, almost pleading. "Maybe I can-"

"No", said NPG. His voice hardened, and his beady eyes bore into the depths of his soul. "Divine knowledge is too heavy a burden.”

Worm Man shrank back. His face burned with a quiet, childlike shame. His friend was in danger, and he wasn't good or strong enough to help.

“It is best you remain ignorant and oblivious”, NPG continued. “Especially since these are things none of us were meant to understand. Not me, not Evil Xisuma, and not you."

He couldn't help anyone, not even when it mattered.

"It is foolish to yearn for celestial light", said NPG, in some vague attempt to comfort him. "Stay in the dark for the sake of your happiness, and focus on the things you can control."

Worm Man let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I think I understand now.” He smiled. “Goodnight.”

"Goodnight”, echoed NPG. Without another word, he headed upstairs, back to his atelier.

Worm Man traced over the words in his mind like an unwanted carving.

Focus on the things you can control.

As if he wasn’t doing that already! As if he wasn’t already trying to do the best he could. There had to be something else he could do. There had to be something more, something to save Evil X from the pain or the monster that beckoned them close.

He might not have been a hero, not anymore, but what good was he if he couldn’t even save his dearest friend from this? He didn’t have magic like Evil X or a mind like NPG’s. He didn’t have the skills to be a Hermit. All he had was himself and a fading promise to protect the ones he loved.

If he had more of that knowledge, that Truth, could he have come up with a plan? A solution? A cure?

It was like NPG said all the time, knowledge was power… though he knew from Evil X that power came at a price.

He sat at the dining table, in the golden light that only seemed colder now. He had to find a way out of this. There must have been a solution, something that could save everyone without sacrificing himself or his sanity. A third option.

But if it came down to it, he knew he’d reach for that Truth.

Evil X returned a moment later, still pale. Worm Man helped them to their bed in the south corner of the living room.

“Sorry for scaring you back there”, they said, fixing themself underneath the covers.

They hardly apologised for things like this, and Worm Man wished they kept it that way. “It’s alright. Are you feeling better?”

“The voice has gone quiet. Maybe NPG sussed it out?”

“If that’s the case, these next few days should be no problem at all”, he smiled at them. Finally some good news.

“We’ll see. Who knows really, with these sorts of things.” They squeezed his hand gently. Worm Man squeezed it back.

“I bet that you’ll be fine by tomorrow”, he said, as if he could speak the possibility into existence.

“I hope so, too.”

He bid them goodnight, staring into the dark as they turned the lights off.

—

Evil X woke up to dark blue. The sun would begin to rise soon, and they had to get going. Whatever was coming was going to hurt.

They crept around the house with a painfully clear head. They skirted every creaky floorboard and made their footsteps light. Worm Man might've been a heavy sleeper, but they didn't want to risk it. Besides, NPG could've been anywhere. They usually weren't up this early- they didn't know what his routine was like.

Evil X's armour stood in the dark part of their closet, having gone unused after many months of domestic peace. Brushing past their usual shirts and jumpers, they dug it out, thumbing at the scratches on the cool metal. They dressed themself. Each piece of their persona perfectly slid into place. Their helmet’s interface still lit up after all this time, and the interior cushioning still felt exactly as they remembered.

It was almost as if they never stopped playing this part.

They continued their preparations, gathering together food, medication, and weapons.

…This was wrong.

They knew it was. They were given explicit instructions to stay, for the sake of their own safety. The server was dangerous right now, especially to them.

But they had to go back. They had to face whatever storm willed them there. It was stupid, so egreiously stupid, and they wouldn’t be okay- they knew that- but what other choice did they have?

They couldn’t stay. Against all reason, they knew they couldn’t stay. No matter how much NPG or Worm Man begged them or forced them or tied them to their bed, they simply could not.

And as to why they had to leave, they had no answer. There wasn’t anything exciting or interesting on Hermitcraft, at least not to them.

Everything they loved was right here, right here in the outskirts of the server, in this house near the woods. Why risk it all? Why throw themself into this voice’s tide?

They ought to leave a note.

I’m sorry.

Thank you for being my friends.

I love you.

I wish you well.

Goodbye.

They didn’t really believe they wouldn’t come back from this, did they? That would be too bleak, surely! It would all be fine in the end. Whatever Xisuma had planned for them would probably just be something they'd end up laughing about later. It would be a silly story to tell at any party they'd be invited to in the years to come.

They'd come back with a slap on the wrist at most, probably.

They just had to go back to Hermitcraft despite all NPG's warnings and prove once and for all that everything was fine. The voice was just a hallucination! It was all in their head! Nothing was happening! Nothing at all! This was about to be the most boring and pointless excursion they’ve ever done!

Their final note amounted to little more than a prayer.

Outside, the sky began to lighten. With their head clear and all pain replaced with conviction, Evil X slipped through the cool morning air, focusing only on the horizon line through the trees.

They did not look back, in a vain attempt to leave their fate unsealed. They would return, safe and sound.

They had to.

When Worm Man inevitably wakes, he'll find their note and cling to its promise.

"Back soon."

Additional notes:

This was meant to be a thematic sequel to Laid Low. I started this soon after that fic was published but didn't finish it for a long time afterwards, and it as even longer until I decided to publish it.

There’s meant to be another part to this- a Worm man-centric longfic about him dealing with the fallout and metatextual tampering.

Unsure if I’ll end up writing it, especially since my focus is mostly my OCs (Perpetua) nowadays.

#hermitcraft #evil xisuma #worm man #npc grian #my writing #thought it'd be a good time to publish this seeing that the banniversary is coming up

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wren-kitchens · 2 years

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hanahaki (good ending)

TW: MENTIONS OF BLOOD (a LOT of mentions)

this is the 1st of 2 fics i’m gonna do— the backstory is grian got hanahaki on double life for scar, but scar thought it was for bigb and whoops! turns out it carries over servers and now grian has it on hermitcraft

this one is hurt/comfort and mostly fluff

scar hasn’t seen grian in a week.

that, in and of itself, is not too unusual— the avian often fixates on building and forgets to do much else — but even mumbo hasn’t seen him. the last time someone saw him, he was going down into the rift.

so, when scar flies down and spots grian curled up in a ball, not moving, you can understand his panic.

“grian!” he keeps his elytra on and flies over to him. he’s covered in blood and there’s a puddle slowly dribbling down his cheek. oddly, he’s also covered in lilac and poppy petals. his eyes are glassy, but when he sees scar, they unmist.

“hello.” grian smiles. his voice is hoarse. “sorry for the state i’m in.”

“grian, what happened?” scar asks urgently.

“hanahanki.” grian mumbles. “I ran out of food, and I can’t fly back up.”

“hana-“ scar can’t help feeling disappointed. then, incredibly panicked. “hanahaki?! what- how long have you had this?!”

“since double life.” grian says.

bigb. of course.

“alright, i’m going to get you somewhere nicer than down here, okay?” scar says. “can I carry you?”

grian seems a little more alert now. he coughs up another bloodstained petal. “you- yes, you can.”

scar gently picks grian up. it’s lucky, really, that he is an avian— their bones are hollow. on the way, scar gives grian some of his golden carrots, and he perks up a little.

when they get to his tree, scar sets grian down on his bed and starts to rummage through his cupboards, unequipping his elytra and grabbing his cans again.

“alright, take these.” he hands grian a large bucket, a health potion and a regeneration potion. “blood and petals go in the bucket and not on my nice clean sheets. drink the potions. they might make you a bit.. ah, loopy. but it may stop the blood, at least a bit.”

despite the fact that he is covered in dried blood and wilted petals, grian is still gorgeous.

“thank you.” grian says, voice hoarse.

“yeah, you should be thanking me.” scar turns back to the cupboards, searching for anything that could help. “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I thought you might hate me.” grian says. “oh- that’s strong.” he adds, presumably talking about the potions.

“why would I hate you?” scar frowns at a gardening book.

“well. you know.” grian says, meek.

scar does know. double life was, as expected, a mess of emotions. there was a lot of sneaking around behind his back from grian. scar resents what happened, but does he hate grian?

“I could never hate you, you know.” scar glances over his shoulder at grian. “besides,” he continues, resuming his search for useful things. “what you do in the games don’t count. we all do crappy things, that’s just their nature.”

there’s the sound of coughing and a wet splat. “yeah.” grian’s voice is cracking.

“I mean it.” scar tells him, facing him now. “I forgive you.”

grian’s eyes go a bit watery. “thank you.” he says. he winces, putting a hand to his throat.

“i’m gonna get you a throat lozenge.” scar decides.

“no, it’s fine.” grian says. “you don’t have to.”

“i’m still gonna get you one.”

admittedly, scar got a little carried away. he renters the room five minutes later, arms full of spare clothes, blankets and a cloth (he had to temporarily equip his elytra again to carry it all). he also forgot the lozenge.

“wow, i’m being spoiled.” grian chuckles weakly.

“yup.” scar dumps the pile onto the bed. “you and your clothes are covered in blood. change into them and wash up.”

he makes to leave the room again, to give grian some privacy, but grian grabs his wrist.

“um. could you.. help me? I don’t think I can stand.” grian says shyly.

scar softens. “‘course.”

it takes a bit of wiggling (wings are incredibly annoying when you’re trying to take something sticky off) and a lot of flushed faces, but they manage to take grian’s sweater and shirt off. scar is taller than grian, so the spare shirt falls down to grian’s thighs and the sleeves stop past his elbows.

“well, at least it’s clean.” scar says, trying to stifle a laugh.

“I look minuscule in this.” grian deadpans.

“yeah, well you were the one who lay in the ravine for however long without asking for help.” scar says. “just be thankful you have wing holes.”

luckily, grian finds a way to wiggle out of his trousers on his own— scar is very glad of that— and only needs help standing to get the spare ones on.

“so, what’re these for?” grian asks, gesturing towards the blankets and cloth as scar picks up his cane again.

“well, this,” scar picks up the cloth. “is to clean all the blood off you. the blankets are for after. you think you can clean your face on your own?” it’s supposed to be a joke, but apparently the medicine is starting to kick in faster than anticipated, so he’s getting a little tired.

“why are we in your tree anyway?” grian asks as scar cleans the blood off his cheek.

“it’s magical here.” scar says, focused on not making eye contact. he tilts grian’s head up slightly. “makes people feel better.”

“I think it works.” grian says. “I do feel better.”

“gee, wonder why that is.” scar jokes.

grian giggles quietly. “alright, you get some of the credit. but most of it goes to magic tree.”

“I made the magic tree.” scar points out. “so technically I get all the credit.”

grian hums. “you know, I always forget how nice you look with long hair.” he reaches a hand out and runs a hand through scar’s hair. scar thinks he might die. “it’s pretty.”

scar frowns a little before realising. “oh, I think the medicine’s kicked in.” he chuckles.

“hurts less.” grian nods.

scar takes a step back, having cleaned off the blood. “there we go, all good.” he says.

“come sit.” grian pats the bed next to him.

who is scar to disagree?

as soon as he sits down on the bed, grian smiles and leans sideways, resting his head on scar. a wing wraps around his shoulders.

“hello.” grian smiles. “you’re beautiful.”

scar’s face flushes. he’s not thinking straight, he reminds himself, he doesn’t mean it. “you’re not too bad yourself.” he chuckles.

grian makes a little humming noise, then coughs, pressing a hand to his mouth quickly. scar leans over and takes the bucket from the bed, passing it to him.

grian coughs again, into the bucket this time, but some blood goes onto the blanket in his lap.

“you okay?” scar asks, a little concerned as grian starts to tear up.

“I got blood on your blankets.” he says, voice wavering.

“aw- grian, it’s alright.” scar smiles gently, stroking his hair. “it’s okay.”

“i’m sorry.” grian sniffs, snuggling closer to scar.

“it’s okay.” scar says. “you didn’t mean to.” scar rubs a thumb behind grian’s ear and he makes a quiet chirping noise. it makes scar’s heart leap.

“you’re my favourite person.” grian mumbles, a sleepy smile on his face.

“and you’re my favourite person.” scar tells him. “I just wish I could help you more.”

“mm?” grian hums, the end lilting higher. “help me more?”

“stop the blood and flowers.” scar explains. “I don’t know how.”

“‘the cure for hanahaki is the genuine confession of love from the one who made the flowers bloom’.” grian recites.

“oh. okay. no, we can do that.” scar says, thinking of the logistics of inter-server portals. “but- wait, genuine confession?”

grian nods, looking proud of himself. “I read the book about it.”

“how are we gonna get that?” scar mutters, more to himself than grian. “I mean, the whole reason you have this is unrequited love.”

“doesn’t actually have to be unrequited.” grian pipes up. “just believed to be.”

“okay, so we just need to get bigb here, and then we-“

“bigb?” grian frowns. wow he’s more out of it than scar thought.

“yes, your flowers are for him.” scar explains.

grian giggles, shaking his head. “noo~.”

“no?” scar asks, butterflies in his stomach.

“hmm.” grian hums happily. “nope! for you, silly.”

scar’s entire face goes red, his heart pounding. “you- for me? you mean..”

grian nods, smiling. “yep! I love you.” he drags out the ‘u’ sound.

“I- goodness. I never thought-“ he stammers. “I love you too, grian,”

grian beams. suddenly, his eyes widen and he sits bolt upright, grabbing the bucket. his coughing sounds more like choking, and for a moment scar is terrified. then, there’s a thumping in the bucket, and grian inhales sharply.

“are you okay?” scar asks, panicked.

“flowers.” grian says, staring at the bucket.

scar follows his gaze. sure enough, at the bottom of the bucket is a lilac and a poppy, accompanied with a considerable amount of blood.

“I can breathe better.” grian says. his voice is slightly faraway sounding.

“you should get some sleep.” scar says firmly.

“stay with me?” grian asks, hand in scar’s.

and, well. how could he say no?

—-

grian wakes up, and immediately notices three things. number one: there’s a strong smell of cookies. number two: he can breathe properly now. number three: his clothes are on the end of the bed, folded and clean.

he rubs his eyes, sitting up. it turns out he’s in scar’s bed, wrapped in at least two blankets, one with a small red stain on. luckily, he is wearing clothes— they’re too big for him, so he assumes they’re scar’s.

immediately flustered at the thought of wearing scar’s clothes, he hurriedly takes them off, jamming his sweater over his head and navigating the wings through the holes in the back. the hem of the jumper goes down to just above his knees.

he’s knocked his trousers off the bed, and as he goes to pick them up, he notices a bucket, stained with dry blood. inside are the petals of poppies and lilacs, and one of each flower, both bloodied as well. he frowns at it for a moment, wondering what it is, before his memories come flooding back to him.

grian told scar he loved him. and scar told grian he loved him right back.

he sits back down on the bed. wow. okay. his hanahaki is gone now. because scar loves him, which he knows for definite, after so long of doubting and pining. and he knows this because grian told scar that he loves him.

it doesn’t quite click until now. they love each other. they actually love each other.

so what’s he doing sitting here?!

“scar!” grian races down the stairs, not bothering to put his trousers on. “scar!”

grian bursts into the kitchen, effectively scaring the life out of scar, who was wafting a tray of steaming cookies with an oven glove (he’s dropped the glove out of surprise).

“oh! oh my goodness! you can’t scare a man like that!” scar turns, one hand on his heart. “I take it you’re feeling better?” he doesn’t say anything about grian’s lack of trousers, but his face flushes pink when he looks at him.

“yes.” grian says, slightly out of breath from running down the stairs (and maybe scar’s bed-head). “hello.”

“hello.” scar says. “what’re you doing up so early?”

“I- um. well, I wanted to thank you. for helping me yesterday. and to say that i’m sorry.” grian fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, suddenly nervous. “I should have told you about it before I, ah. almost died.” he chuckles.

“oh, don’t apologise.” scar tells him, smiling easily. “how could I be mad at you for that?”

grian smiles, slightly shyly. “you’ve always been too sweet for your own good.” he says.

“you’re a hypocrite sometimes.” scar grins. “you called me pretty at least three times last night.”

“yeah, well, I basically got fed a truth potion.” grian says.

“I did tell you it would make you go a bit loopy.” scar says.

“I didn’t expect that.” grian says, feeling his face flush.

“i’m not complaining.” scar winks. grian’s heart flutters.

“okay, well, since I did a poor job of it yesterday, I wanna do it again.” grian decides. “this may be equally bad, but oh well.”

he moves closer to scar and takes his hand. “I have loved you for.. years now. and I am so terrible at expressing it, that i never was able to tell you, but I can now.” grian smiles up at scar, who looks completely lovestruck. grian supposes he looks like that too. “I love you, scar. I completely, utterly, irreversibly love you, and i’m going to love you until I die, so I may as well say it now.”

scar breathes out, slightly shakily. “can- can I kiss you? I kind of need to kiss you right now.”

grian grins. “absolutely.”

scar takes his free hand out of grian’s and instead cups his cheek, tilting his face upwards. grian rises on his toes and closes the gap between them.

scar runs his fingers through grian’s hair, and he melts. he never thought that he’d be able to do this, and now he can, he finds doesn’t ever want to stop.

however they do need to breathe, and break apart after a moment. they stare at each other for a beat.

“wow.” scar breathes. “you’re good at that.”

“you’re not too bad yourself.” grian manages. scar doesn’t miss the reference to what he told grian last night, if his blush and sheepish expression is anything to go by.

“I really love you.” scar says, smiling.

grian hugs scar, face red. “I love you too.”

#endings remain my worst enemy #this took ages to finish idk why #tw blood #hanahaki #scarian #desert duo #double life ficlet #hermitcraft ficlet #hanahaki (good ending)#hermitshipping #trafficshipping

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ranubd · 7 months

Note

I would like to know what your boundaries are when it comes to interacting with you.

are you ok with requests or questions that don’t have to do with your works

are you ok with receiving headcanons that are not relevant to or may contradict with what you already have

how many asks are you comfortable with receiving at one time.

Are there other things that you want us to know about fan interaction that I didn’t think to ask about

OK I AM NOW RESPONDING TO THIS THE SECOND TIME BECAUSE TUMBLR DECIDED TO BE A BITCH AND GOD UGHHHHHHHHHH OMG >:((((((.... SIGH

Hi, thank you for asking about my boundaries, and to anyone reading this, I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to look at this! :)

I am super okay with any questions you have about anything. I might not come with the correct answer to these questions, BUT I'll try to answer them either way! However if some questions are uncomfortable for me to answer, I can't put my finger on what such questions would be expect for like, NSFW stuff, I'm really not comfortable with that on my blog so please keep NSFW material/questions/requests to yourself. :)

With requests, if we are now talking art requests etc, then I'll gladly draw most stuff!! I tend to only enjoy drawing stuff I'm fixated on, so if I'm going through a overwhelming time or something due to my undiagnosed and therefore unmedicated ADHD I will probably not be drawing your requests. :(( BUT I'LL GET BACK TO THEM AFTER THE OVERWHELMING PERIODS!! (At least I'll try to.)

I would like to add on this that when I'm in artblock, I sometimes will just draw anything... So I may make a post asking for people to send me their OCs and so on so that I can get the creative juices flowing!! :D

You are again free to send me any of your headcanons even if they contradict mine, because if anything, I can add on to my own HC by yours. 🤭🤭 However, if you do send me headcanons, try to mostly just keep yourself to Hermitcraft/Life Series headcanons or anything related to that because if it isn't about that I really won't have anything to respond to your headcanons. Hard to care if I don't know anything about the topic, yk?

I'm fine with any amount of asks. If you as a singular person have many questions that you feel won't all fit into one asks, then send them as individual asks, I don't mind!! :D

I try to answer asks as fast as I can, but sometimes it may take some time as I do go to school. And sometimes, LIKE YESTERDAY, I may have burnout or I may be over stimulated. If that is the case, I will not be active at all on social media, so don't take it personal if it takes a while for your ask(s) to be answered.

I would like people who view this blog to know that I most likely have ADHD, I'm mentioning this because it's something so recent and it is affecting me quite a lot.

I draw stuff when I feel like it, I genuinely cannot draw unless I get that certain flow going, it's a little hard to explain... But I haven't been working on the comic because I know it's better for me not to force myself to work on it because if I did that, I would risk losing interest in it completely, and that's something no one here wants. :(( So please do try to be patient with me, I may be academically smart, but I'm still a little slow. <33

I HOPE THIS ANSWERS ALL YOUR QUESTIONS!! If there is still something for you, the person reading this, that was left unclear or you didn't get a good or direct answer to, then send an ask to me or send me a message and I'll try to clarify myself. :)))

Also with ibispaints new animating tool... i might be going a little... Nuts... Hehe. AAAAAA 😝😝😝 Not saying anything but, like, well I'll just leave a few very very very fast doodles here.

Steady steady... Pum pum pudum dum dum..

#grian #gtws #desert duo #hermitcraft #ranubd #boundaries #coughs #HI :)#i really like talking in the tags #and YOU seem to enjoy to read the tags #so how is your day #good?#splendid!!#mine was so fun too #i had sm energy today cant wait to work on this ibispaintx thjngy #also its exam week...#heha #aaaaa #YUM.

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brick-a-doodle-do · 7 months

Note

You guessed correctly! I’m not planning on going to sleep for a while :]

:0000000 glad to hear the history went well, I shall tell you the results of biology when it comes out! :D

please please please spam me!!! Can be about any of my stuff, I just need to write anything and get it done :/ especially the birthday fic, since I kind of have a deadline for that, but anything would be great!! I love asks qwq

I’m watching hermitcraft from grians view lately, and it’s amazing-

Wish you luck on your math test tomorrow!!!

Cookies? 🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

-✨anon✨

AHHH im late to this, how did i leave it to marinate for five days ?? damn D:

sorry about that,,,, so how DID IT GO?? have you gotten your results back yet?

OKAY i definitely will try to generate something. i hope to try to get in a creative spirit tonight cause i'm Arting :D if you wanted to talk in discord about the bbf i'd also be totally fine with that cause it'd probably be a little easier and more specific to what you want dsfjdjs

OHH hermitcraft. the fandom i have yet to touch but still know about,,, i heard it's good so i mean POSSIBLY if i ever find the time i might check it out...... gotta let the watcher fixation die down first lmaoao

thank you! the luck didn't work since i got over half the questions wrong but HEY that's okay! i've got the opportunity to revise some stuff and hopefully get a b-

i shall take the cookies! i offer bricks 🧱🧱🧱🧱

#brickquiries #<- me writing brickquiries and seeing it's underlined in red and going to fix it as if brickquiries is an actual word #✨ anon ✨ brickling #munchkin my beloved !!!!!

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quaranmine · 2 years

Note

As someone who has posted fic on a03 what would you say a successful drabble is? And how normal is it to get author subs

honestly, this is a difficult question to answer! and what is successful to you may vary--do you value hits, kudos, etc? you also need to have a healthy relationship with your stats page! if i get too fixated on how successful one of my pieces is, it starts to suck the fun out of it, and makes me feel bad. but it's also only natural to want engagement on your work! i think setting reasonable expectations on your work is valuable--for example, when i post art, i don't expect it to get thousands or even hundreds of notes. if i do, i'll get upset, because it's just not gonna happen (probably....) instead i shifted my expectations to consider something "successful" if i got one nice comment in the tags, and i can almost always guarantee someone, likely a mutual, will leave me a great comment. this is also one of the reasons why i try to add supplementary/commentary tags on everything i reblog as well!

now that i've said my disclaimers, i'll try to answer your question best i can? i've honestly never paid attention to this myself until the last couple of weeks

i associate drabbles with fanfics that are usually only a couple hundred words, and i haven't posted any of those. all my ao3 fics are over 1k, but most of them are oneshots. so, i can only speak for longer works. my most popular fanfic is New World, New Faces with 5.2k hits and 840 kudos. How to Be a Human Being has about 4.2k hits and 326 kudos--it is much newer than NWNF though, which is nearly a year old. however, NWNF only has 8 comment threads, while HTBAHB has 74 comment threads. that's the difference in a oneshot versus a multichaptered work with 8 chapters currently. multichaptered works are inherently going to get more attention due to having updates that people come back for, and i expect HTBAHB will take the top spot with a little time.

anyway, those are my most successful works. i think they're pretty good/average benchmarks for what is "popular but not earthshakingly so" in this fandom. by contrast, my least popular fic is take (his) life which has about 121 hits and 28 kudos. it was posted months after last life ended though, and was much more successful when originally posted on tumblr, so that's to be expected. it's definitely not a fic that i considered as doing well on ao3, but it has one of my highest note counts on tumblr, so it's all relative. timing definitely played a factor on that too.

basically, i tend to consider it to be "successful" if it gets over 1k hits. but really the line is very arbitrary and also i mostly made it up just for this post. it's also worth noting that my 3rd life fics tend to get lower stats, presumably due to it being a smaller fandom than hermitcraft. but it's hard to judge these things.

as for author subs, i have no idea. i only realized i could see that count like three weeks ago. i have 30 right now. i do know that it's probably doubled since i first saw it, because i've been posting more things and updating htbahb.

anyway, novel length post. go forth and create and try not to stress too much about your stats lol

#quara asks

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nicoforlifetrue · 3 years

Text

I think I've seen this film before (and I liked the ending)

He remembers when he was taken.

He remembers fighting and flailing and trying desperately to get back to his friends, to get away because he didn't know what was happening.

He remembers the faint tap of something to his side and the visions of his worst nightmares that forced him to be quiet.

He remembers kneeling and listening to words, being told that he had the privilege of being a watcher, being told his new name.

He remembers the urge to scream and fight, wanting to lash out, but being too terrified to do anything.

He remembers watching as a thick fluid was forced down his throat and thinking he was choking.

He remembers being watched by two beings as the pain started; pain was an old friend to him, but this, this feeling was brand new, and he didn't know if he would survive it as he felt the familiar heat of cut muscle start to rise…

…But he remembers one stepped forward.

One with soft blond hair that peeked out from the hood, who carefully held his head in their lap and ran fingers through his hair and rubbed between his shoulder blades— silent unlike the other two, silent but so viscerally there, their warmth clashing against the cold of the room as his back lit up with fire.

He remembers the two leaving just as two lines of lava erupted deep in his spine, he remembers the one holding him, running a thumb along the side of the lines and gently pushing in; he remembers that made the pain just a little bit lighter, just a little bit less breaking.

He remembers as the lines started to push, forcing their way to the surface of his skin, and he remembers how he’d started screaming as the inside of his back tore and he slammed his eyes shut.

He remembers the soft press of fingers on his back alleviating the pain the smallest fraction— he remembers the force moving the feeling to go faster— he remembers his head laying on a chest, listening to a soft steady heart and long deep breaths that he found himself mimicking, the two hands carefully massaged his back.

He remembers the sound of his own back tearing open as a new sensation flooded his mind, new limbs he didn't know how to work dripping blood and gore onto the floor.

He remembers the pain of new nerves and bones exposed to the cold air, he remembers the only thing grounding him being the heart beat and those hands moving from his back to his hair, carding through it as the pain slowly faded to a dull, unpleasant throb.

He remembers shakily joking that at least the worst was done with; he remembers them not answering, simply gripping him tighter.

A silent warning that he recognized.

‘It's not over yet.’

The next burn was one he had a few vital seconds to prepare for, not screaming that time as his gut suddenly felt like it was being rearranged, instead biteng into his lip so hard it bled as he tried to focus on the heartbeat in his ears instead of the sounds of something in his body moving, tried to fixate on the hands in his hair instead of the shifting in his gut.

When the pain faded after what felt like hours— when he felt himself lifted yet kept close to this person's chest, the steady, calm heartbeat grounding him from the lingering soreness and the burn in his back— he wanted to ask again, ask the one that had stayed if they were done with him.

They didn't answer.

Instead they honored him by washing his back of his own blood and gore, gentle hands stitching the gashes in his back closed.

“So you're like the medic of this little operation then?” he had asked. “You're required to patch me up before forcing me through another round of torment.”

He remembers watching the person freeze, clearly handmade bandages half wrapped around Grian’s torso, the mask hiding their eyes but the faintest flick of a frown flashing across their lips for a split second.

And he remembers them shaking their head twice, answering both his questions silently.

He remembers them carrying him around for a while, until the last pangs had stopped.

He remembers them re-teaching him how to walk with the new appendages on his back.

He remembers them showing him how to preen, letting Grian stumble and pull on their feathers before he tried to do it on his own.

He remembers them shoving him off the side of a building into the void, his terror for those few vital moments as he froze, how they had grabbed him before the void had swallowed him. He had asked why and they’d said nothing, just pushed him again— and this time he had understood as instead of freezing in fear (they would catch him, he knew that now) he started to struggle in the air as his wings moved on their own.

He thinks there was pride in that blank expression when he shot up with fluttering wings.

He would mutter under his breath around them, about how something was unfair, morally wrong, how something was right. They wouldn't do anything, but he thinks at times they nodded— a small, barely noticeable nod.

They would correct him gently, and after he had flinched away from their hands during the first staff training they shifted him with the stick; kind, careful, aware, as if they knew.

He didn't trust them, and at times he found himself hating them.

Until they weren't there.

“Aeipra will be unable to train you for a short while,” a higher up informed him, his mentor at their side. “Lerva will fill in until they return, understood?”

Lerva was high up enough in the chain to speak.

Lerva followed the rules, apparently.

The staff caused nightmares— awful, horrid nightmares meant to break the soul… his mentor never used their staff on him.

They apparently were meant to.

He’d felt like he was breaking quite quickly, this new mentor was downright cruel.

Where his would silently encourage questions, was invested in Grian’s opinions for all their apathy, this one seemed set on getting rid of them, and any sort of sound would receive him his worst memories on loop.

Where his mentor was kind in their corrections, gentle and carefu,. this one was cruel, any mistake receiving punishment.

Where his mentor for their silence was warm and understanding, this one in their words berated him and tore him down.

“Have they not trained you at all?” the new one would spit, “or are you just defiant, hm?”

There was a hidden threat there, one he caught onto quite quickly. He was given leniency for being so young, his mentor's gentleness would be treated far more harshly.

When they returned, their gentle and large wings stretching to shadow him, he didn't scoff for once; after all, how much had his mentor risked for Grian’s own comfort?

“You hate me,” were the first words his mentor ever spoke to him, the words raspy from disuse, the tone willfully blank.

‘I hate what you are’ he found himself thinking in his shock. “I don’t,” he had said instead.

After that, words— though far and few between— came despite the clear breaking of rules… and he learned things.

He learned that the other liked to fly, not for speed but freedom; he learned the smallest changes in their tone and the slightest change in their wings.

They became a figure he never really had in his life.

A parent of sorts.

They shared his own joy of chaos, that joy slipping through painstakingly-crafted walls at times, teaching him small tricks that could never be traced back to them that would cause the smallest ripples in the still pond around them.

They shared his joy of flight, showing him tricks and dives, teaching him how to adapt those tricks from his mentor's large swooping wings for his own smaller fluttering ones, a glider vs a sprinter they had whispered to him when he asked.

They shared his joy of building, playing elaborate games easily disguised as training of tricks and perspective, learning new items and fun ways to use them.

They understood his want for life, to live and enjoy and steal away little moments of heaven for himself.

They knew him better than anyone else, despite not knowing a lick of his story.

Seeing them go back was what hurt.

On that one time, because night and day were nothing it was always just time, as they hurried him awake— saying nothing as they grabbed him and tugged him along— twisting through corridors and shoving him through a sputtering portal.

It was a blur after that, of flying and twisting and portal nausea.

And when they finally stopped, as they gave him that soft smile, the one of reassurance and safety, his heart dropped.

“No no no come on no stay please—” he knows he's begging as he grips onto their robe. “We’re out- stay- please, they'll kill you if you go back, please—” because his mentor could be killed, his mentor wasn't immortal like he was.

With soft hands (too soft, artificially soft, meant to be covered in calluses and stained with soot) they take the hand clinging to them, rubbing soft circles in it as they smile.

“Goodbye my child,” they whisper to him as they drop his hand and spread their wings.

And he can't follow, he can't chase after the only parental figure he ever had, because he has to hide, he's free and they are not. He can’t follow because then, what would their life have been worth?

So he hides.

----

#watcher phil #watcher grian #philza #grian #1/10 #the finch fanfic

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

So, 3rd Life request... I'm really liking the Etho and Impulse alliance so far. How about a split-second decision type of situation, where one of them ends up dying so the other one can carry on? How/which one takes the hit is up to you

theres some really good duos in 3rd Life omg i hope this does your request justice

...

“Would you die for me, Etho?” asks Impulse out of the blue.

Etho, who’s sitting next to him under the tree, glances at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Dunno, just thinking about death.”

“Oh.” Etho chuckles. “Well, honestly, no. Probably not.”

“Great,” laughs Impulse. “Thanks.”

“Well, I mean, I’d die for you on the Hermitcraft server, for sure. I’d die for any of my friends there. But not here, where deaths matter.”

“Arguably, a sacrifice on this server would mean more than on Hermitcraft,” Impulse points out. “Because like you said, deaths matter here. If someone were to sacrifice themselves for you here, you know they really love you.”

Etho nods slowly. “I guess that’s true. Why, would you do it for me?”

Impulse shrugs. “Maybe. I’m on yellow; my chances to win are a lot lower than they used to be. They’re a lot lower than yours, that’s for sure. Maybe it’d be better to give a life for someone who’s got more of a chance of winning than me.”

“Hm…”

And that seems to be the end of that conversation.

After a while, Impulse stands up and stretches. “It’s time to go over to the desert, Etho. We need some sand.”

“Oh yeah.”

Etho stands up as well and follows Impulse back to their base. Once they’ve gathered everything they’ll need for a potential confrontation, they set off towards the desert.

It doesn’t take them long to get there. As they get closer to Monopoly Mountain, they spot Grian and Scar standing atop the peak, watching them.

“They’re up there,” says Etho, keeping his eyes fixed on them. “I’ll watch them. I don’t trust them not to pull some kind of shenanigans.”

“Good idea.”

But Etho is so fixated on Grian and Scar that he doesn’t notice the thin tripwire until it’s too late.

As the telltale hissssss sounds, Etho scrambles forwards, but he knows he won’t make it far enough away in time.

Then something hits into him from behind, propelling him forwards and over a slight overhanging lip in the landscape.

Before he’s even hit the ground, the TNT goes off, creating a deafening explosion behind him. But thankfully, the overhang protects him from the worst of it.

Unfortunately, someone else isn’t so lucky.

impulsesv blew up

Etho stares at his communicator with wide eyes. Logic tells him that Impulse must have pushed him out of the way of the explosion, certainly saving his life. But WHY? Why would he have done that?

He checks the tab list. Impulse’s name is red now.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Etho gets up and dashes back across the desert, dodging around the crater left behind by the trap.

He runs all the way back to the swamp, where he meets Impulse just leaving the castle with rudimentary iron armour.

“Etho!” Impulse gasps. “Are you okay?”

“Me?!” Etho yelps back. “Impulse, you DIED! What did you do?!”

“I pushed you out the way. Etho, I said it earlier: you’re green. I was yellow. You have more of a chance to go far in this whole thing. In fact, I think you might win it.”

Etho stares at his friend helplessly. “But to actually sacrifice one of your lives for me? I don’t understand why you would do that…”

Impulse gives a smile and pulls his friend into a hug. “Because I love you, buddy.”

After a moment, Etho hugs Impulse back, trying to think of something to say in response. But what CAN he say? Impulse has just made the ultimate sacrifice for him, less than half an hour after Etho said he wouldn’t do the same for him. What words would be sufficient in this situation, to express his gratitude and guilt and all the emotions swirling around inside him right now?

But luckily, Impulse isn’t expecting any of that. As he holds Etho tightly, he’s just glad he was able to save his friend’s life.

Finally, the two move apart, unsure of what to say or do now.

“I need to get some diamond armour back,” Impulse says with a chuckle. “I think I’m still a friend at Renchanting so hopefully I can get some good stuff.”

“Oh, let me do that,” offers Etho. “If you make the armour, I’ll take it over to Renchanting for you and you can stay here in safety.”

“You sure?”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Impulse smiles. “Well, thanks, man.”

Etho pats him on the shoulder. It seems almost like an empty gesture compared to what just happened but it’s all Etho has.

“No, thank YOU.”

#3rdlifesmp #etho #ethoslab #impulsesv #vaunna’s requests

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melon-wing · 4 years

Text

Valentine’s Day (Grian x Doc)

Grian had never cared for Valentine’s day much. He’d never been in a relationship that made him care about a holiday dedicated to lovers. He would probably miss the date altogether if it weren’t for the decorations popping up in some areas of the Hermitcraft server.

But this year was different. This year all the hearts and lovey-dovey atmosphere annoyed him. He shouldn’t glare at his fellow Hermits on a date walking past him, but he just couldn’t help it. Still, it was his own fault. He was the one who fell in love with a scary Half-Creeper whose only love was his newest redstone project.

“Grian? You okay, dude?”

Grian snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Iskall who was standing next to him in the middle of the shopping district.

“What? Yeah. Fine. Totally fine. Nothing wrong with me.”

“Uh-hu…” Iskall didn’t sound convinced at all, raising his eyebrows at him. “And you didn’t glare at Cleo on Joe over there one bit. Nope. No, sir.”

Grian felt his cheeks burning a little in embarrassment. Of course Iskall had noticed. He was so obvious that even Mumbo would have noticed his foul mood.

“It’s just…” Grian waved his hand at Joe and Cleo who were now sitting on a bench, Joe reciting poetry and Cleo pretending not to like it. “They are so happy.”

“And why would that be a bad thing?”

Grian shrugged and glared at the floor. “It’s not, okay? It’s amazing and wonderful and I shouldn’t be jealous, but I really am.”

Iskall made a shocked sound and looked from Grian to the happy couple and back to Grian again. He lowered his voice to a whisper even though they were to far to be overheard anyway.

“You like Cleo?”

Grian’s head shot up and he gaped at Iskall.

“No!”

“Joe then? I don’t judge, man.”

“NO!” Grian answered more forceful this time and then he sighed defeated. “I just want to go on a date too, you know. I’ve never had a Valentine’s date before and that has always been okay. But since I’ve joined you guys…” He hesitated for a moment.

How much should he tell Iskall? What would Iskall think about his crush? And knowing Iskall, he wouldn’t give the topic a rest. A glance at the other’s eyes was all he needed. There was a curious sparkle in there that wouldn’t go away.

“So~o…” Iskall started in an amused tone. “You do have your mind set on someone. Why, I am so glad you told me, Grian. I am after all the best wingman you could ask for. So who is it? Mumbo? He was the one who got you into this world after all. Feeling some affection for our fellow business partner?”

Grian just shook his head and grimaced. He liked Mumbo, but the thought of dating him? No way.

“Ren then? Did you start the whole Hippie thing to be close to him?”

“No! That wasn’t about Ren!

“O~oh… Who was it about then? Impulse? Did you bond at the campfire? Did you spend some lovely hours doing naughty Hippie stuff?”

Grian blushed at the guessing and shook his head, before mumbling something unintelligible.

“What?”

“It’s Doc…”, Grian whispered and Iskall gasped in shock.

“You’re in love with Doc?!”

Iskall probably hadn’t meant to be that loud. He did have a loud voice after all. He probably hadn’t meant to say it at all. And he couldn’t have known that Doc would walk around the corner exactly at that moment.

Doc froze.

Grian froze.

Iskall looked at Doc and back to Grian, all the colour fading from his face, horrified at his own mistake. They all just stood there for what felt like an eternity.

“What the fuck?”, Doc’s voice finally broke the silence.

Grian should have laughed and played it off as a joke. He would have gotten away with it. They would have all forgotten about this in a few days. But his heart was beating in his ears like a drum and he panicked. His instinct kicked in and before he knew it he was in the air, fleeing at a crazy high speed.

Doc knew.

He knew!

Oh dear god, Doc knew he was in love with him.

He would never be able to look into Doc’s eyes again.

What was he supposed to do now?

Grian dived into his base, landing on the floor with too much momentum, tripping over and crashing into a pile of shulker boxes that opened and spilled items everywhere. He stayed right there on the floor breathing heavy. He felt like crying, but no tears were coming. Doc was probably disgusted by him.

Now he wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the kinda-friendship they had going on. He couldn’t try to find happiness in all of their small interactions. After all of this Doc wouldn’t look at him anymore with that lopsided charming grin. Doc wouldn’t take his time anymore to explain how those overly complicated redstone machines worked, even though they both knew Grian would never understand it.

Why did he fall for Doc? Why couldn’t it have been someone safe like Mumbo? Someone who would have been nice about turning him down.

Grian just lay there, lost in a spiral of emotion. The sun was slowly sinking and his base was only dimly lit now.

He needed to fix the lighting. He needed to fix the mess he was still lying in. Hell, he needed a proper sorting system. He really needed to get up. He needed to do something.

He heard the sound of footsteps and sighed. “I don’t need your company right now, Iskall. And I don’t need your pity or any apologies, got that?”

His only answer was a gurgled groan. His eyes snapped open wide in shock. He jumped up, reaching for his sword, that had landed in the pile of items, but a green fist already connected with his abdomen, throwing him a few feet away from his weapon.

Grian cursed himself, as he looked at the zombies closing in on him, one of them now carrying his heavily enchanted diamond sword. Could his luck be any worse today? He didn’t need the pain of a fucking respawn on top of it all today. Even worse, he would respawn right next to the horde of rabbit zombies only to be torn apart again until somebody came to help him.

His only option was to flee.

Grian turned around, rockets in hand and jumped of the ground. The first rocket lit and fired, but just before he could get away a zombie grabbed him by the ankle only to throw him back to the ground.

The zombies were all around him now, weapons raised, ready to tear him apart.

Grian squeezed his eyes shut. And finally he felt tears running down his face. This was just too much. A rough hand was around his neck, pressing down. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled to get away from the zombie, but as his vision started to blacken his strength left him.

And suddenly the pressure was gone. Grian sucked the air in, heart beating fast and breathing heavy. He looked up at the zombie in confusion only to see a trident sticking out of it’s chest. The trident stayed there for another second before it flew back out of the zombie and up to one of the entrances of his base, where it was caught by an all too familiar figure.

“Doc?” Grian croaked.

The trident flew again, almost too fast for the human eye, impaling another zombie. As it made its way back to its owner, Doc jumped down, already hitting the next zombie with his mechanical fist. If Grian hadn’t been so high on adrenaline, he probably would have been star struck right now.

“Get back, Grian! Get your fucking sword!”, Doc screamed from the middle of the small horde, who was now fixated on the new threat.

Grian almost stumbled over his own feet as he hurried to his weapon. He managed to reach it just in time to stab another zombie, watching the body dissolve into ash and pieces of rotten flesh. He rushed over to Doc, who was kicking away one zombie, while his trident impaled another. Naturally Grian took the position right at Doc’s back to defend his blind spots. He wasn’t as good in battle as Doc, not by a long shot, but the way they moved so completely in synch, slicing through the mob of zombies still felt like a very elegant dance.

The last zombie fell to the ground. Grian stood there breathing heavily, his sword hanging loosely by his side.

Just as he was starting to feel happy about the win a sound behind him made him tense up again.

Doc! He had almost forgotten about what had happened earlier.

“Thanks… for the help. I’ll… you know… I’ll just be… I think I need to go to… There’s probably something important to do at… Sahara, yeah Sahara needs me”, Grian mumbled putting his sword away and getting out his rockets, never once looking behind him at Doc.

“Grian…”

Grian fumbled with the rockets, almost dropping them to the ground. His hands were shaking.

“Let’s just…” Grian swallowed hard, trying to keep talking without giving away how he felt. “Let’s just pretend today never happened, okay? Let’s just pretend everything between us is still fine. Let’s just pretend we are still friends….”

“Well, I don’t want to be friends anymore after today.”

Grian’s head whipped around at that, looking with wide and saddened eyes at Doc. Why did he have to be so direct?

“I… Yeah… Sure… That’s fine… I’ll just… Leave… Yeah. Sorry for bothering you.”

Grian took a small step back, fist clenching so hard around the rocket he was afraid it would break.

“Damn it, you idiot!” Doc growled and strode forwards grabbing Grians arm, taking the rocket from him and throwing it to the side. “Don’t run! Not again. Do you know how worried I was when I saw you with those monsters? Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Grian looked up in utter confusion. He didn’t understand what was happening. One moment Doc was so cold and now he was worried? What the hell was going on?

“But you said, you don’t want to be friends…”

“Damn…” Doc ran his mechanical hand through his head, his other hand still holding onto Grian’s arm, as if he was afraid Grian would run away. “I’m not good at this, okay? I sometimes say things that are easy to misunderstand. What I meant was: I want to be more than friends. I’ve been trying to flirt with you for a while now, but you…” Doc sounded so exasperated now, waving his free arm around. “You just don’t get it!”

“You were flirting?”

Grian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wrecked his brain, thinking about an instance were Doc had been flirting. He came up empty. He had never noticed Doc behaving differently with him than with anybody else.

“Of course I was, you idiot! Do you think I’d take the time to explain all my machines to you if I didn’t like you? Or that time I fixed your little redstone farm in the middle of the night, even though I had a lot of work at my own base? Oh and let’s not forget how I stole a freaking time-machine just to get your attention?”

Grian felt his face burning up and knew he was probably as red as a tomato right now. He felt like the information had overloaded his brain and it was starting to reboot itself now. Doc liked him…? Like really liked him? Was this a dream?

“I… I didn’t notice”, Grian replied in a stupor, kicking himself mentally in the ass for saying something so utterly dumb and not at all romantic.

Doc snorted in amusement, grinning at him the way he always did. And just like all the other times a warm and tingly feeling spread inside of Grian.

“Yeah. You are an idiot in that regard. But maybe I was an idiot as well. After all I never noticed you felt the same way… So now that that’s out of the way. You wanna be my valentine, Grian?”

Grian smiled brightly and nodded. As soon as he did he was swooped up in Doc’s arms, his feet lifting of the ground. Doc looked up at him fondly and their lips met in a sweet kiss. A kiss holding all the emotions they had held back for so long.

Grian had never cared for Valentine’s day much. But this year was different. This right here… He could really get used to it.

#Hermitship #Gridoc #Sorry I'm a little late #still not a native speaker #Thanks for all the love on the last story #and gridoc-senpai noticed me :D #i abuse the tags for random rants again #more stuff to come soon i hope #next one might be gren #🍉 stories

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ Rules ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ General ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

So I’m one person, I won’t get things done exceptionally quickly. I have school and am rather forgetful, so i apologize in advance.

I probably did get your ask if you sent it, but if I haven’t answered it in a hot second, don’t be afraid to send in an ask to see if i got your previous ask. Just please don’t spam/spam too much.

I may not immediately get to you on an ask because of my anxiety or irl things, so apologies if i just go missing for a while.

There may be some requests that I won’t do, either because i don’t think I can do it well, am uncomfortable with it, or I got hyper focused/fixated over something else. I will try to do them though. So please don’t take it personally if I don’t do your request, I’ll answer the ask saying if i can’t do it.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Writing ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Only in game characters/fictional characters. I will not do irl people ever. That makes me very uncomfortable. Don’t send me asks about them either because that also makes me uncomfortable.

I will be tagging triggers. So block those as needed. If I forget to add a trigger tag or want me to tag a trigger, please send me a message/ask about it.

Will only write for minors if it’s platonic. No romantic for them. At all. Especially if it’s adult/minor.

So far I’ll only write for Hermitcraft and Dream SMP/Tales from the Dream SMP. I will try to write for everyone though.

This is a sfw blog. That means I will not be taking nsfw requests/asks.

If a continuation is requested, it’s a “I’ll get there when I got ideas” because I don’t always plan on making a continuation to stuff. I swear most of the things that ppl want continuations for were meant to be headcannons so I don’t think far ahead-

Will write Angst/Yandere/Fluff (as a few examples)

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artsarasp · 5 years

Text

The memory of the observer [Ch1]

What’s up my name is Sara and I started a Hermicraft/Evo fic because I’m W E A K.

Have fun and let me know what you think of it!

[AO3]

-----

“We will use the buddy system!”

He said cheerfully turning to look at his friends.

“Everybody, get a buddy!”

Happy chatting surrounded him as he waited for everyone to find their partner. He looked at the portal.

“Uh..?” Grian blinked a few times. What was he doing? Oh, right!

He stepped through the Nether portal and reappeared inside his base in the futuristic district. He just needed to put some junk away before meeting with Iskall and Mumbo at Sahara. He had plenty of time, the meeting was in little less than an hour and Mumbo was probably going to be late again. Jumping around his every unorganized storage he emptied his inventory in the first chest that he thought was empty enough.

His communicator buzzed a few times. He picked it up with one hand and took a look as he chucked his last bit of nether bricks inside a chest.

[Private message from Iskall85]

<Iskall85 > Griaaann

<Iskall85 > Dude where are you?

<Iskall85 > We’ve been waiting for half an hour.

Grian frowned. Were they early or something? He had checked the clock a few minutes before leaving the Nether and it was 2:30 PM, the meeting was at 3:30, there was no way he had spent more than 10 minutes between coming back and putting his stuff away.

He checked the clock.

4:04 PM.

Oh. No.

He had just lost an entire hour.

He quickly texted back to Iskall.

<Grian> Coming. It happened again.

He knew they would understand.

And they did.

Iskall frowned and looked away from his communicator. Mumbo watched him from his chair in the meeting room.

“So?” He asked.

Iskall sighed and stood up from his chair. “He said it happened again.”

"Isn't it...the fourth time this week?" Mumbo's voice didn't really hide his concern.

Iskall thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He looked outside of the window trying to spot Grian in the sky.

Mumbo anxiously played the ring he kept on his left hand for a few seconds before standing up and joining Iskall next to the window.

On a surface level, Grian was exactly like every other hermit. He goofed around and had fun with everyone. He was a great builder and he quickly became one of the best flyers on the server, but there were little things that everyone noticed with the passing of time.

Grian didn’t remember where he used to be before Hermitcraft, but that was something common for most of them. Whatever was before being a hermit was forgotten except for the knowledge on how the world worked. The knowledge that they would wake up in their beds after dying or that the night brought monsters was an example of that.

Everyone knew that. Grian too, obviously.

But there were some moments that made the hermits suppose that he must have come from somewhere a little different from everyone else. He expected the world to react in strange ways sometimes. He tried to do things that really didn’t make sense to anyone except him. It was funny seeing his confused expression whenever something happened that made his mind blown, even if no one knew exactly what it was. He thought that placing a piece of soul sand before a door would stop anyone from entering.

He was amazed when he saw an elytra for the first time and he adored the shipwrecks around the island, so much that he made one his first base on the server. Usually, all those little moments were the start of a good laugh of everyone who witnessed them.

It was something odd, but harmless about him.

Then they noticed something else.

Mumbo was the first one to notice it, actually. It was late at night and he was walking through the shopping district to go get some supplies he needed for the witch farm. He was mentally calculating how many hoppers he could buy with his very scarce stash of diamonds when he saw him in the corner of his eye. Grian was there, Mumbo waved at him but he didn't seem to notice.

He was stuck in place, staring at something on the Baker Street building.

Mumbo didn't see anything weird in it at that time. He supposed that maybe he was thinking about making some changes to it. The build still needed an exit if he remembered correctly. He continued with his shopping but wrote him a message.

<MumboJumbo> Working late again?

There was no reply.

About 15 minutes later he was done, or better he had no more diamonds to spend.

He was about to fly back to the farm when he saw that Grian was still outside of Baker Street.

In the exact same position.

Staring at the building.

"Hey, Grian!" He called approaching his friend.

He didn’t move or reply.

This whole situation was starting to get a little too unnerving. If it was a prank it was not funny.

"Grian?" He called again, just a few steps away from him.

Nothing.

He stepped in front of him. Still, Grian didn’t seem to notice him. Even if he was standing right in front of him. Grian's eyes were still fixated on an undefined place on the building.

Then he blinked, which actually startled Mumbo enough to take a step back.

"Oh! Hey Mumbo, what's up? " He said actually looking at his friend now.

"That was not funny!!" Mumbo gasped with his heart feeling like he had just run a marathon suddenly.

Grian blinked a few times, pure confusion on his face.

"What's not funny?" Why was he keeping the act up?

"I'm not falling for it again!!" Mumbo said, irritated. "It's not a good prank."

Grian just looked more confused, he ran a hand on the back of his head and looked on the side, thoughtful for a moment.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't pull any pranks lately Mumbo"

"Sure, and what were you doing then being all creepy and staring at nothing??” Mumbo asked skeptically. Grian looked more puzzled than before.

“What are you talking about?? I just got here! I landed and I...I-” He stopped for a second like he wasn’t sure of what he was about to say. “I was...I was trying to remember something! Then you poped up and now I’ve forgotten it again!”

Mumbo stared at him. He didn’t look like he was joking, he seemed really serious, which was unusual for him.

“Dude, you’ve been standing there for at least 20 minutes. I saw you before, I’ve even sent you a message!”

Grian reluctantly took the communicator out of his pocket. As he looked at the screen the confusion on his face became something more resembling of uneasiness.

Mumbo was starting to feel really worried.

“I-..” Grian kept his gaze on the screen of the device for a few seconds more and then looked at Mumbo “I guess I was here..for more than I thought.”

They both didn’t really what to say then.

These little moments. These space outs. No one was sure of when they started or what caused them. At first, they didn't happen very often, once or twice a week.

Or at least the more noticeable ones.

Most of them lasted usually a few minutes and Grian and the other hermit often didn't see them unless they were talking. But at times they would last very long and everyone would get concerned for Grian's safety. He would just stop anywhere and anytime. No matter what he was doing. Seeing Grian's death message on the communicator became a quiet game of "was it an accident or did he blackout again?". He drowned, exploded because of creepers walking upon him and even crashed with his elytra a few times.

Hermits would put him in dirt boxes to protect him from mobs or try and get him out of his trance if they stumbled upon him. Most of the times he would come back and go off to whatever he was doing before, he didn't really want to talk about this problem with the others, even if it was not a secret. Maybe he hoped that it would go away on his own if he just ignored it.

It didn't really seem to be working.

Then as the longer space outs started to get more frequent he would sometimes gasp something under his breath about remembering something just as he came back.

"I think I had a base made out of snow once."

He once said to Stress right after she had to snap her fingers next to his face a few times to get him to come back to his senses.

"What? When did you have it?" She asked curiously.

Grian had to stop again and think about it. He couldn't remember any other details at that time even if he was sure of what he just said. It was a very big base. Bigger of the one he had now? Not sure about that. And why was it made out of snow? Wasn't there something better to make--

A pinch on the cheek brought him back. "Ow! Again??" Stress nodded. Grian rubbed his cheek and looked on the side embarrassed.

"Maybe you should go home and rest a little?" She suggested smiling at him. "I can come with you if you want!"

"Nah, don't worry about it." He said opening his inventory.

"You know.." He got a few rockets ready. "I think I'm remembering where I was before Hermitcraft."

"You would be the first!" She said excitedly. "Just be careful when you do your remembering."

"I'll try."

And he took off.

Back at the present. Iskall and Mumbo finally spotted Grian flying over from their window in the meeting room.

Mumbo watched carefully how he fired his rockets and kept and kept on firing them.

“He should be...slowing down now.” Mumbo whispered, fidgeting with his ring. “He isn’t.” Replied Iskall.

The two looked at each other, immediately understanding that they were thinking the same thing.

"I'm sure he's gonna land just fine." Iskall patted Mumbo on the shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

He didn't really feel reassured until he saw his friend land safely just outside the building.

Grian quickly entered the meeting room and smiled at the other two Architech's.

"Hey guys! I'm sorry I'm late" He said as the two moved closer to him.

"Should we start now?"

#Minecraft #Hermitcraft #Hermitcraft fanfiction #grian #mumbo jumbo #iskall85 #Evo #the memory of the observer #tmoto #angst in the future prob /?/#my fic

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