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silverskye13 · 1 month

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Helsknight showing up bloody at Welsknight’s base please I need suffering 🙏

There was something to be said about the stupid things he was willing to do in the name of self preservation. Damn his fears, and the unfairness of the universe, and the uncertainty of living [and dying] and everything else. The unknown had always been his greatest weakness, his greatest betrayer. Pity it was also one of the few inescapable things about living in general.

To say Helsknight stepped into Hermitcraft would be a terrible injustice of what stepping normally, let alone gracefully, looked like. What he actually did was stagger and drag himself into Hermitcraft on unsteady and shaking limbs. There were holes in him. He hadn't really taken inventory of them yet. Admitting he had a wound [or several] was enough. The minute he admitted the wounds were bad, in certain terms his mind could comprehend, was the minute shock would steal his senses. He was on Hermitcraft for the specific reason of dodging death, and it seemed to him shock, on any level, meant dying. If he wanted to die and roll the dice of respawn, he would have died in hels, in the alley he'd been jumped in, where he could at least take comfort in familiar cobblestones and the knowledge he'd dragged all his attackers down with him. But he didn't want to die, so he was here.

It was dark. He was inside a building. He was bleeding. Wels was nearby. Those were the only things he needed to know for certain. Helsknight looked around, trying to ignore the sluggish tilt his vision offered when he moved too quickly. The double vision of trying to parse memories of a place that weren't his battled with his wounded animal double vision and together they made him feel nauseous, more so than his wounding already did. Helsknight balled a fist against his sternum, like he could hold himself together that way, and concentrated very hard on walking and nothing else.

Helsknight didn't like being this close to Wels. Not while he was this injured. He could feel the awareness of his other half like a spider on his skin. There was a reflex-like urge to shout and try to shake it off, the instinct-like certainty that if it rested on him long enough it would find a reason to bite him. And he knew, in the way only experience could teach, that if he could feel Wels, Wels could feel him. Helsknight had the sensation of walking a tightrope: his body insisted speed was the only thing that could save him, while his mind insisted he must stay unnoticed. He must balance necessity with making his thoughts and emotions small, and it was hard work to do when he was losing blood.

Helsknight blinked slowly, tiredly. He picked a direction and walked, a hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself upright. Wels's potion room was nearby, a borrowed half-memory informed him, he just had to get there. He searched his drifting thoughts for a poem to repeat in his head, to keep fear and uncertainty from rising. His heartbeat was quickening, a symptom of something; panic, or fear, or blood loss, or all three combined. He was fixing one of those things. He needed to carefully manage the other two, before Wels felt them. The only poem he could think of was in Middle English, and mostly gibberish to him, which told him it came from Wels's memories somewhere.

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Rhyming child with child was a lazy, but this was written back when one could convincingly spell "down" as "doun" so he supposed he shouldn't be overly critical. The real trick was figuring out if "derling" was supposed to mean "darling", or some other archaic word lost to time. He could only figure out so much from context clues. "Mourning" apparently transcended centuries, and that seemed fitting. Everyone knew mourning, in some form or another.]

An ache opened up beneath his clenched fist, or it had always been there, and his body was only just now reinforcing the fact that it was important. It felt like the mother of all cramps in his muscles, and he stubbornly pretended that's what it was. He needed more potassium in his diet or something, and the gods would forgive him the smear he left on the wall when he leaned on it, waiting on the intensity of his pain to ebb. The doorway he was walking towards seemed close, but also very, very far. Closing distance with it was going a lot slower than he thought it would, and it was only one short hallway. He was glad he'd decided to do this, instead of his other half-considered option of attempting to walk across hels to the Colosseum. He wouldn't have made it.

Dread pooled in his stomach. Dread, and other more physical things, like blood, probably, but he pretended the dread bit was more important. He could feel Wels pricking on his skin again, an insistent spider twitching at a breath on his web. Helsknight breathed out the steadiest breath he could manage.

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Sorwe. What medieval idiot thought "sorrow" was spelled like "sorwe"? Maybe it had something to do with inflection. Poetry was half words, half rhythm. Maybe "sorwe" was supposed to indicate they wanted the reader to pronounce "sorrow" as a single syllable, so it sounded more like "sore". That's also probably why "bothe y-same" was sitting there like word vomit. They meant "both the same", but wanted it read without a pause between the first two words. It was really the method for the madness that mattered with poetry.]

Helsknight blinked. He was in the potion room. He couldn't fully remember the walk down the hallway, but that didn't matter. What mattered was there should be health potions in here somewhere, his salvation. Relief edged his vision in stars, and he once again felt Wels's attention cant in his direction, confused and curious. Wels didn't associate feelings of relief with Helsknight. It wasn't an emotion they felt in each other's presence, and it was far too strong to be muffled by the distance to hels.

[He knows I'm here.]

Helsknight opened a chest and rifled through it. His vision was protesting. Stars and tilting that would turn to spinning soon made a clutter of his eyes. It got hard to distinguish the colors of the stoppered bottles. He picked up one that felt overly warm to his cold and shaking fingers. He was pretty sure it was a health potion. It felt too hot, but he reminded himself he was cold from losing blood, so it should feel hot. Hesitantly removed his fist from where it was balled in front of his sternum, and let his eyes unfocus when he grasped the bottle's stopper. His hands were so unsteady, it took a couple tries just to grab it, and when he pulled on the cork, his fingers slipped off weakly. He tried again, eyes closed with concentration, pouring every ounce of his strength into the act of pulling a stopper out of a bottle, only for his hand to slip right off again.

Frustrated, nearing desperate, he looked down at himself for a clean place to wipe his hand on his tunic. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he did it. His eyes were inexorably drawn from the fabric to the poke-holes in it, to the wine-dark stain that flowed down his front and still dripped tak-tak-tak slow and inexorable onto the floor. It was a woeful amount of blood. He was honestly surprised he wasn't dead yet. Chalk it up to fortitude, and ignorance, and size. He had more blood to lose than some people did.

Helsknight's world suddenly gave an awful twist, vertigo and the crescendoing, cramping agony of his wounds, only staved off by how his now shattered ignorance, kicking him off his feet just as surely as a horse could. He slumped against the wall, and then to the floor, and the awful jarring of it hurt him worse. Half a dozen other wounds on him aired their grievances, and the big one near his sternum pushed blood onto his fist when he clutched it. Helsknight sat pinned, unable to breathe for many long seconds, feeling a bit like he'd been struck by lightning. The pain was blinding and numbing and overwhelming all at once.

Why-- have no-- have ye no-- something something...

[Words. Breathe. Think of words.]

[Gods... But it hurts......]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

[And what the hels did "routhe" mean, anyway? He knew the word "route". He knew the name "Ruth". Neither of them fit, unless his bloodless brain was missing something. There was a chance "routhe" was supposed to be read like "bothe", as a double word slurred together, but that still left "routhe the" which made less sense in context than "routhe" did.]

Right. He was supposed to be doing something other than bleeding to death on the floor. Helsknight blinked, looked down at his hand and realized the health potion he'd grabbed was gone. He must have dropped it when he slumped over. Looking around, he spotted it just to the side of his left boot, unbroken, thankfully, but it might as well be a lifetime away for all the good it did him. Helsknight knew without a shadow of a doubt he couldn't reach it. The idea of tensing his muscles and dragging himself forward to reach was exhausting, and he hurt so much he knew the movement would feel like tearing himself in half, and there were just some things a mind couldn't power through. Helsknight laughed dismally and let his head fall onto his chest. Both motions were white hot agonies, but all his pains were starting to blur together into a smear of overwhelming sensation that took thought away. It occurred to him he was breathing too fast, like he'd run too far too fast, and his fluttering heartbeat agreed.

[... It hurts...]

[Gods and saints it hurts.]

[I'm dying.]

A feeling he could only describe as doom fell on his shoulders, a cold grasp of fear that wrapped stony hands around his heart and squeezed. He'd heard of this. Never felt it himself. The utter sureness that if he didn't do something now, he would die. All the unconscious bits in his body in charge of keeping him working all unanimously agreeing they needed divine intervention, preferably right now, before they started shutting down. It wasn't something he often had occasion to feel, though he had heard people tell of it after particularly grizzly matches and bloody tournaments. Death was normally too quick in the Colosseum, or else he'd won his match, and even if he was falling to pieces there was a health potion too close to hand to let him dwell on his harms. This was so terribly different. Death stalked toward him unhurried and unbothered, waiting on him to finish drowning in blood. He might panic, if he wasn't already so cold and scared.

"Ah. This makes some sense, anyway."

Helsknight, who had stopped seeing the world in front of himself without really closing his eyes, refocused his vision on the open doorway. Wels stood there, an angel of death in azure and silver, his sword in his hand. His eyes were the ruthless blue of hels freezing over and lifeless corpses, and Helsknight thought there was no one else in the world he would rather not watch him die. But the universe hated him, so here Wels was, just as surely as if he was fated.

"I didn't think all that fear could possibly be for me."

Helsknight tried to reply, but all he managed was a dying-animal noise that strangled itself out when he tried to breathe a little steadier. He tried again, and this time managed a very weak, but vaguely defiant, "Fuck off."

"Rude," Wels said chastisingly. A glow of something like smug satisfaction prickled Helsknight's skin. The feeling came from Wels. "Especially given I'm the only person who can save you."

Helsknight chuckled, and then stopped when his body seized painfully around the motion. "We both know you don't want to save me."

"No," Wels admitted. "But I don't want to do a lot of unpleasant things I agree to do anyway."

"How... charitable."

"It is a virtue."

"Sure."

Wels didn't move. Well, he did move, but only to sheath his sword. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, the image of patience, as though they had all the time in the world.

[Hungry spider. Waiting on a web for something to struggle.]

"If you're waiting on me to beg," Helsknight informed him through staggering breaths, "I won't."

"Too prideful?"

Helsknight searched himself momentarily for pride, and came up short. Pride would've dictated he die in the alley, instead of here where Wels could lord it over him. This was something different than pride.

"No."

"Then why not?" Wels asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just say, 'Welsknight, please give me a health potion'. Or if you're feeling monosyllabic, just 'please' will work."

Helsknight managed a smirk. "Why not help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"I don't have any kindness for people like you."

[People like you. What a loaded phrase.]

Have ye no routhe on my child?

There was an entire philosophical debate that could happen in the phrase 'people like you' that Helsknight had neither the time or the energy to bother with. Besides, it was all words Wels knew. Wels pretended to be a chivalric knight. Chivalric knights helped the weak. Chivalric knights saved the defenseless. Helsknight, for all the grievances of his existence, was both right now. Then again, the chivalric knights were also supposed to make war against their enemies mercilessly, so he supposed Wels would be in his rights, as a chivalric knight, to walk away and let him die slowly and painfully on the ground.

As if sensing his thoughts, and likely because he could actually sense his thoughts a bit, Wels said, "You are always going on about how I need to be a better knight. There's something ironic here. No matter what I decide, I think you'll owe me an apology regardless."

The feeling of doom, of bone-deep, agonizing dying mantled over Helsknight again and Wels stopped existing to him. His sense of urgency, of desperation to live clawed its way up his throat. He tried to move his arm, his leg. He got his fingers to twitch. He tried to lean forward, to drag himself with willpower alone towards that stupid potion just out of reach. The potion he wasn't even strong enough to open. His vision collapsed in quickly, and he only knew he'd cried out because he was breathless. But he hadn't moved, besides managing to lull his head forward onto his chest again. Cold fear crawled around in his empty guts, a relentless, caged animal that refused to stop squirming.

[I'm dying.]

[Breathe.]

[I'm dying.]

A shadow fell over him, a presence freighted with hate, and deserving, and dissonant guilt. Wels had come forward, only to stop short when Helsknight's terror swept over him like a wave, and he stood baffled by it, and guilty for it. The fool knight probably thought Helsknight was scared of him. If only. Helsknight thought he would prefer that. At least then he could manage to die gracefully. Wels's fortitude bricked itself up against him then, a bitter soul trying to will itself to be cold and cruel, and Helsknight was thankful for it. It staved off his fear, if only a little.

"What did you do to bring this on, anyway?" Wels asked breathlessly, trying to recover his resolve. Looking for a reason to hate him.

"I was... walking home."

"That's it?" He sounded so skeptical, it was almost funny.

"I committed the terrible sin..." Helsknight laughed out a breath, "... of being fearless when I should have been cautious."

"Hubris."

"Habit."

"Yeah right."

"If I got stabbed like this every day, I wouldn't have come crawling here."

Wels glowered, parsing this statement for truth. Helsknight might have mustered some hate in him for it, if he wasn't so scared. His vision had taken on a permanent blur, and he was getting cold. He hadn't gone numb yet, which was something he found profoundly cruel. He wanted to be numb. To stop hurting. To stop fearing.

[Breathe.]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Derworth... "Dearworth", probably. Beloved. So "derling" was probably "dearling", which turned into "darling". Middle English was strange. Just slightly to the left of normal. He didn't think "tak" was a word anymore, except where it existed as pieces of words. "Tak" to "take", to take hold, maintain, maybe. "Tak" to "tack" like a nail. "Prik" also, like "pricking" flesh, like a point digging.]

"Hold down the road, my dearworth child," Helsknight muttered. "Or pick me a road with my darling."

"What?"

"Stupid poem."

"How much blood have you lost?"

Helsknight laughed, and his whole body flinched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because his pain was so alive and electric it almost stopped being pain. The concern from Wels was laughable. He wished Wels would make up his mind about whether or not he cared. Then he could get on with dying, and the terror would stop, and the universe would take him or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, he would respawn and sleep for a week. He felt Wels's hand on his wrist, which was its own kind of hilarious.

"Trying to figure out how many heartbeats I have left?" Helsknight asked.

It would be nice to know. If Wels figured it out, he hoped he would share the information. Then Helsknight could keep count.

"Your heart's too fast."

"That happens."

Wels stood up and paced, all nervous energy, back and forth across the room.

"You don't deserve my help," Wels told him scathingly, angry for how conflicted he felt. "You don't. You've been nothing but cruel ever since we met."

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

["Pine", like pining. Or pain. More pain? Punishment maybe. "Don" to done. Something like: More pain to me could not be done than to let me live in sorrow and shame.]

Helsknight decided whoever wrote this poem had never been stabbed. He'd felt both sorrow and shame, and neither of them packed quite this amount of punch, in his opinion.

"It probably goes against my tenets anyway," Wels continued, still pacing. "And yours too. Aren't you the one who follows some crazy death god?"

"... Saint... of Blood and Steel."

"He probably thinks dying in a puddle on my floor is glorious."

"... they."

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Maybe he was just getting better at this, or maybe this part was just easy. "As love I'm bound to my son, so let us die, both the same." It didn't flow very neatly when it was simpler. Maybe Middle English wasn't that stupid.]

"I can't help but think you did this on purpose to... I don't know. Test me somehow. Prove you're better. Weak again, Welsknight! For helping your enemy when you should have let him die, or speed him along. Don't you know knights are supposed to be cruel?"

Helsknight tried to call up his own tenets, or Wels's tenets, or anything to do with knights and their duties. He got a little lost on his way, his thoughts meandering and dying, and gasping back to life again when they remembered they were supposed to be searching for something. Something he was scared of. Dying. A wave of fear crashing over him that made Wels flinch, and bid Helsknight keep breathing, because any agony was worth not confronting that one, great, crippling unknown.

"What would you do in my place?" Wels asked him suddenly. "Answer me that, perfect knight. What would you do if the person you hated most showed up one day bleeding on your floor?"

That... was an excellent question. Helsknight searched briefly for the answer, and found it wasn't very hard to find.

"I would help."

"You're lying," Wels said guardedly.

"I... can't lie."

"Then you're dodging the truth. What would you do?"

"I would heal you if I could. Or I would kill you if I couldn't." With strength he didn't know he even still had, Helsknight leaned his head back against the wall. It was easier to breathe that way. To talk.

"Why?"

"No creature is deserving of dishonor or pain."

"That's not a tenet."

"It's not a chivalric tenet." Helsknight shrugged one shoulder weakly. "Chivalry states you can hang my guts from the ceiling if I'm your enemy."

"It does not."

"It might as well."

Wels didn't seem to have a ready reply for that.

"What is routhe?"

Wels blinked down at him, guarded and confused. "Routhe?"

"Routhe." Helsknight repeated, as though it were helpful. "Middle English."

"As in?"

"Poetry."

"Use it in a sentence."

"Why have ye no routhe on my child?"

"Ruth." Wels said, a bit too quickly, like he'd known what Helsknight was asking and was trying to avoid the answer. "We don't use it as ruth anymore. It shows up in rue, like regret, or sorrow. And... ruthless."

"Merciless."

"Yes."

Why have you no mercy on my child?

"Why are you asking about Middle English while you're bleeding to death on my floor?"

Helsknight let out a breath. It hurt, but everything did. "Stupid poem."

"Can I hear it?"

"I'm busy bleeding to death on your floor."

"Tell me and I'll heal you."

There it was again, asking for an excuse. That was Wels's real cowardice, his failing as a knight. He was scared of making decisions. Scared of dealing with the consequences of his actions. Paralyzed by indecision. He wanted to hate Helsknight because it was justified. He wanted to watch him suffer, because hatred allows suffering. He didn't want to label himself cruel, nor be accused of weakness, or softheartedness, if he showed mercy. And he didn't want to pick up his sword and kill, if it meant killing someone defenseless. He wanted Helsknight to give him a reason to act, so he could blame it on him later if it turned out wrong. Given it would likely be Helsknight rubbing his nose in it later if it was wrong, he couldn't really blame him for that.

Helsknight closed his eyes and counted his heartbeats, and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Do what you will."

An hour long minute ticked by. Helsknight felt the time moving like it was physical, like he was falling through it and he couldn't catch himself, and he was nearing his limits. He thought the only thing stopping him from begging for it all to stop was the crushing weight of his fatigue, the exponential strength it took to take his next breath, and that stupid poem, skipping in a circle in his head. It kept his thoughts away from his fear, from bearing the weight of the unknown that came next. It was still there, a nameless, formless anxiety that formed the undercurrent of his thoughts. But he didn't have to think about it when he was busy being annoyed about a poem stuck in his head.

Wels moved. He stooped to pick up the potion Helsknight had dropped and unstoppered it deftly. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped him drink, aware that every movement could cause pain. Helsknight could feel Wels's caution in the air like wings, like a bird hovering before it lands. The first potion wasn't enough to heal him completely, so he got a second from his chests and helped him with that as well, one hand hovering over Helsknight's wounds, waiting on the skin to knit back together. Helsknight got to his feet, shaky, and feeling like he'd been wrung dry of all vitality. There was no pain to speak of, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and exhausted.

"You should rest before you go anywhere," Wels said, words of pragmatic care that sounded stilted coming from him. "I can get you some water."

"I'll be fine," Helsknight told him, allowing himself some hesitant pride now that the smothering pain was gone. Even exhausted, he could think so much more clearly now -- think at all, really. And he thought the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance Wels would come to regret his decision to heal him. They were not made to like each other. They didn't even respect each other as enemies. And Helsknight knew if they fought now, he would lose, and he might lose very badly, if Wels decided to leave him to bleed out again. It was something Wels had never done before, but if he could convince himself Helsknight deserved it, he would.

"Do what you will, then," Wels said, bitterness creeping into his tone. He probably thought he was being coy and ironic. Helsknight mostly thought it was annoying.

"The poem isn't mine," Helsknight said. "It's one you've read before. Middle English. Why have ye no routhe on my child. I don't know the title. It might just be the first line. I think it's a lament."

"... I see."

"Next time you find yourself bleeding out on someone's floor," Helsknight snorted, "Pick something stupid like that. It makes things... manageable."

"Right... manageable."

Helsknight gave a helpless sort of shrug, as though what he'd just said were perfectly normal.

Wels mustered an enviable facsimile of concern when he said, "I've never felt terror like that before."

Helsknight felt his already parched mouth somehow go drier. The sympathy he felt rolling off of Welsknight was sickening. Literally. He could feel himself becoming nauseous.

"What are you so scared of?"

Shame, red hot and searing, clawed at the inside of Helsknight's ribs. He wished so badly he could hide it. Distract himself from it. At least turn it into anger. But he was tired, and he didn't know how to bring his emotions back to heel, and Welsknight was already giving him an open, piteous look like maybe they'd stumbled onto something significant. He could feel hope there, like maybe there was a reason they hated each other like they did, and if Wels could figure out where that fear came from, they could find common ground -- or at least the leverage Wels needed to make Helsknight relent.

"I don't need your pity, white knight," Helsknight snarled. "Go sate your savior complex somewhere else."

Wels scowled. A cold wall of loathing, resigned and inevitable, closed itself around anything else he could possibly feel.

[As it should be.]

Hours later, home and safe, Helsknight cracked open his journal and wrote:

Why have you no mercy on my child?

Have mercy on me, so full of mourning;

Take down the road my dearworth child,

O give me a road with my darling!

More pain to me could not be done

Than to let me live in sorrow and shame

As with love I am bound to my son,

So let us die then, both the same.

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quaranmine · 3 months

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Obviously I can't be sure that AdieCraft is going to join Hermitcraft--nor can I even be 100% sure if Skizz, enough though I feel like there is strong evidence toward him joining. But as a general warning to everyone, do not get Too set on anyone in particular you like joining. I know tons of people want Joel, Lizzie, Fwhip, Jimmy, Marytn, Hbomb, etc and other large creators that are already closely associated with hermits. I have seen tons of theorization and speculation on them, they're definitely the most popular choices. But be prepared for that not happening, and be prepared to hype someone else up even if they're a small CC you've never heard of.

Everybody on my AdieCraft theory post from earlier has been nothing but nice about the possibility of him joining ofc, I just have a vague sense of worry when I see just how Sure some people on here are about other CCs. I just want people to be ready for the possibility they're wrong and ready to accept whoever the lucky person is! AKA feel free to theorize whoever you want but avoid getting your hopes up so much that you'll be disappointed or upset if the person you wanted doesn't join. That way we can welcome everyone <3

#frankly i am sure of nothing even though i have strong suspicions here and there #so i'm ready to be surprised LOL #hermitcraft

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arc852 · 2 months

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It's been a while since I've shared an AU but I have a lot of thoughts about Skizz and Joel joining hermitcraft and I've decided to turn it into G/t.

So basically, Skizz and Joel are joining hermitcraft but something goes wrong. Everyone is starting in a circle for the start of the season but their two newest memebers are nowhere to be seen. Everyone is confused and more than a bit worried when messaging them yields no results.

Meanwhile, Skizz and Joel wake up in a field, only a few inches tall and with no memory except their names and a vague sense of familiarity towards each other.

Because of their memory loss, they reasonably assume they have always been that size and decide to set up a small base in a tree and try to avoid the giants of the server at all costs.

Of course, eventually they get found and caught and a lot of misunderstandings come about it. Because even though these people feel familiar, it's hard for both Skizz and Joel (mostly Joel) to believe they are telling the truth.

Have a little snippet of something I wrote for this! This takes place after Skizz and Joel are caught a second time. (Also, they refer to themselves as borrowers because that is what they believe they are).

Joel held out his sword and as the giant hand came toward him he slashed at it, sending it reeling back. “Ow! Joel!”

Before Joel could react again, Grian’s other hand came at him and knocked him over, holding him down against the dirt. Joel felt the wind get knocked out of him for a brief moment before he struggled to try and get away.

“Grian! Stop, you’re going to hurt him!” Joel heard Gem cry as Joel realized he wasn’t able to get his hands or sword free.

“It’s fine Gem, it’s not like I’m using my full strength.” Grian answered back and Joel froze in his struggle. Realization crashing down on him that, yeah, this wasn’t even close to the giant’s full strength. It was probably barely even any sort of strength to the giant. And yet, Joel couldn’t free himself, because even when the giant was barely using any of his strength, Joel was nothing against him.

He deflated, knowing he was trapped. Knowing he was caught once again.

“Are you done?” Grian asked from above. Joel didn’t dignify him with an answer but he felt the hand around him curl in on him anyway and soon he was being held in a fist and lifted high into the air. He gave a half attempt to try and pull out the arm holding his sword but it was still trapped within the grip.

Joel tried to look at anything but the giants surrounding him, finally noticing that Skizz also seemed to have gotten caught. Though instead of being held in a fist like him, Skizz was being cradled between two hands by Impulse. The two borrowers shared a look, with Skizz looking sympathetic towards the situation Joel had found himself in.

“We really are just trying to help you. And Skizz.” Grian tried but Joel didn’t want to listen.

#hermitcraft #giant/tiny #borrowers #shrinking #au #fic idea #fanficiton #snippet #unedited #skizzleman #smallishbeans #grian #impulsesv #geminitay #tiny!joel #tiny!skizz

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riacte · 12 days

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Y’know, I wonder if anyone genuinely got into Hermitcraft because of Decked Out 2? Like, with close to zero knowledge of the server or DO’s development, maybe the Tango vid popped up on recommend, you click into it and holy shit this is done in Minecraft SURVIVAL? With the voices? Sound effects? Custom items? And there’s a competition that you can follow live? Hours and hours of runs from different people you can binge? Hell yeah!

And ngl, I think it would be fun to get into Decked Out as a newbie especially in the heyday when someone was streaming basically every day, Tango’s phase updates, the detailed spreadsheet, the prominent runners emerging, all of this happening live— like it would be so much fun to presume these artefacts are randomly named but they’re actually based after members of the server that you do not know and not recognise, but hey, one step at a time! Slowly memorising the names of hermits based on the Easter eggs about the artefacts. At first feeling overwhelmed by all the different heads at the scoreboard but slowly recognising the standouts and what they’re known for— perhaps they’re “washed up”, perhaps they use a certain card, perhaps they search for the eggs. Binging run after run and learning about the runners as they explore the dungeon. Matching eggs to hermits to artefacts to hermits again and their voices and their channels. Catching up on hour long vods and learning about what the hermits do outside of running. Watching Tango’s construction process videos knowing exactly how it turns out in the end.

DO2 was such a dominating part of HC that recontextualising them as “Decked Out players” instead of “hermits” kinda makes sense during that era if you’re new and know nothing and you’re genuinely only here for the DO competition? Lots of hermits uploaded their runs independent from their episodes so you could watch a bunch of runs and get to know the player without clicking into a single episode.

Because if I randomly caught sight of an impressive, gorgeous, and addicting game that popped up on YouTube and it was the host of a months-long competition between the developer’s friends (and each friend having their unique style / flair) and you get to watch it unfold live pretty much free of charge, watching players collect the items needed to unlock lower levels, counting scores every week, feeling a sense of community with Twitch chat— yeah I would get hooked. Even without any prior knowledge.

#hermitcraft #decked out 2 #twas an era #tangotek

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

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"Do you think I would have had a soulmate?"

Grian looks over at his phone from where he's been painting his nails. It is 11:34 PM here on Hermitcraft, and he and Mumbo are having a guy's night. It's traditional; Mumbo being on a trip right now isn't about to stop them, now is it? That's what video calls are for.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if I'd been in that Double Life thing, I - well, goodness, I didn't do so well at Last Life, you killed me so early, I barely got to experience the endgame, I went right after Jimmy, I mean -"

"Are you trying to make me feel bad again?" Grian asks, gesturing with the brush from his nail polish.

"No, no, I know you wouldn't apologize. You still haven't, after all," Mumbo says cheerfully.

"You're trying to make me feel guilty!" Grian exclaims.

"Is it working?" Mumbo asks.

"You're the worst," Grian says.

"You're the one who killed me," Mumbo says.

"Ugh," Grian says. "One time. One time, and you never let me live it down!"

"I mean, technically, if we want - if we want to be technical, it may have been, uh, one time that it actually counted, but given how long we've known each other, saying that it was only one time that you've killed me is -"

"Ugh," Grian says again with great emphasis, attempting to indicate exactly how done he is with this train of thought. Mumbo makes a half-snorting laugh over the phone.

"Anyway. If I'd been there for Double Life. Do you think I would have had a soulmate, properly and such?"

"Mumbo, everyone had a soulmate, that's how the game worked," Grian says.

"It would have been an odd number of people," Mumbo says.

"We would have - Lizzie would have done it. Maybe she would have been your soulmate. Game wouldn't have worked if you were on your own." Grian looks back down at his nails. "It was all about - look, Mumbo, the whole thing was about keeping each other alive."

"And killing each other," Mumbo says.

"Well, yes, that too," Grian says. "And killing the others." He pauses. "Each other. And - you phrased that oddly. The point was not to kill your soulmate. The point was the opposite of that, really."

"But you did," Mumbo says with great concern.

"I - no, I didn't kill Scar, a warden killed me, which - I apologized," Grian says. "That's not - why do you think you wouldn't have a soulmate?"

"Well, uh, it will sound silly when I say it out loud," Mumbo says.

"Mumbo, we are having a guy's night. The whole point is saying things that sound silly when you say them out loud. All the things in the world you wouldn't say in front of anyone else. Mumbo, I just told you that I apologized to Scar. I wouldn't admit that to other people if I were being waterboarded."

"You know, I think you think that's charming sometimes," Mumbo says. "It's not."

"Ugh," Grian says.

"You can change the topic other ways."

"So can you!"

"Is it that obvious that I'm derailing - oh, well, uh, I suppose it is," Mumbo says.

"It's - I don't think I get attached to people quite like that, is all," Mumbo explains. "I don't think, um - well, you know, from how you all have talked about it. It's a little like - you get close to people. Even Scott or Pearl or - they got close to... ideas. To people. Sometimes I think, um. I don't - I don't get attached to people like that? Closely. I don't think I could give myself to someone else. And I don't think I naturally - bonding with someone in a way they'd do that for me doesn't seem... real? Like I could..."

He pauses. Grian lets the silence linger. It is clear Mumbo is trying to figure out how to say something.

"I don't think I could let there be someone, who by dying, would kill me. Uh. Oh dear. That sounded sort of dramatic, like that, but -"

"It's not about letting," Grian interrupts.

"I think maybe it is. A little bit, it is," Mumbo says. "I mean, look at Cleo. Look at Scott. Look at -"

"It's not about letting. It's not about - sometimes you don't have a choice," Grian says. "I don't know. I think you'd - there's nothing wrong if you don't feel - Scar and I are not an example you should feel bad for not -"

"Oh, I don't feel bad for not being you two. Really, I think there's something wrong with you two."

"...thanks," Grian says.

"My point's more - I don't think my brain, uh, in the way -"

"You don't have to feel like you can give yourself up for someone," Grian says. "It's okay. You don't - you'd have had a soulmate, it just would be a bit different, is all."

Mumbo pauses. "Are you sure?"

Grian shrugs. "Even if you don't think you're attached to me, I'm certainly attached to you."

"Oh. I'm attached to you too? I think? Is that a normal thing to say? You know, I think there might also be something wrong with us, actually."

Grian cackles. "Yeah, that's about right, isn't it?"

Mumbo hums. "I mean, you did kill me," he says.

"You juiced me for my soul, don't you start -" Grian says, and the boy's night devolves back into familiar bickering. The coating on Grian's nails ends up uneven. They do not fall asleep until after one, and the next morning, Grian is exhausted and happy.

#grian #mumbo jumbo #double life smp #a bee fic #(this is tagged double life because while it takes place ON hc it's not about that)#anyway. uncertain whether mumbo's supposed to be aro or autistic or both here. possibly both?#also i just wanted to write some silly grian and mumbo dialogue that was also heartfelt #sometimes i'm in that mood you know

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hopepetal · 10 months

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A little fic I wrote inspired by these two art pieces by @cherrifire! Thank you very much for creating such wonderful art for me to take inspiration from ^_^

Pearl was falling.

Plummeting, as Icarus once did, through endless blue and blindingly white clouds. The bright green thread that had tied her to Scott- finally visible to her eyes- was trailing behind her as a mocking reminder of what was broken; what she had broken.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and were torn away by the wind, shining droplets of saltwater and sorrow thrown up to the stars. The wind whipped through her hair, strands falling in her face as she continued her seemingly eternal descent through the air.

It seemed the moon had a habit of falling from the sky.

Just as quickly, Pearl was swallowed by the void, all encompassing darkness surrounding her. As the cold void whistled past her, Pearl was suddenly reminded of the fight with the enderdragon years ago, long before she had joined Hermitcraft. Maybe that's what this was.

She closed her eyes. It made no difference, but at least she didn't have to keep looking at that broken soulmate string, or stare into the void that was as empty as her heart felt.

Is she awake?

Oh.

This end poem sounded a little different than what Pearl remembered.

No, not yet. Give her time. You know how hard the games are.

She kept her eyes closed. What else would there be to see beyond the void that she already knew so intimately?

She fought hard.

She had no choice.

We all did.

There was light shining on her face behind her closed eyelids, Pearl realized. With a soft gasp, feeling herself laying on solid ground, Pearl's eyes shot open. She slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the light.

The first thing she noticed was Grian's concerned expression as he gazed at her from where he stood. The second was Scott, gazing at her with an unreadable face. The third was Tilly, laying on her lap, and Pearl was thankful for the familiar comfort in this strange place.

"...Pearl?" Grian asked, hesitant and sounding so, so tired. "How are you feeling?"

Pearl bit back a yawn as she instinctively stroked Tilly's fur, rubbing the dog's head with one hand as she rubbed the last bits of sleep from her eyes with her other hand. "What happened?" Her voice rasped and scratched against her throat, and Pearl winced. Glancing around, her gaze swept over the others present- Joel, Scar, Impulse, Tango, Cleo... as well as the rest of the members from the death games. "Where are we?"

Grian sighed, glancing over at Scott. "You won the game." His eyes met Pearl's again, and he offered her a tired smile. "I'd offer my congratulations, but I think we all know they're unwanted."

"Neither of us are too sure about where we are, exactly," Scott added on, "but we know we can't leave." We've tried, was left unsaid, hanging in the air.

"Are they okay?" was Pearl's next question as she glanced once more at their friends.

"They're not dead," Scott answered, and Grian shot him an annoyed look.

"They're just sleeping," he reassured Pearl, "like you were. Like we both were, before we woke up." He glanced at Scott, before his eyes drifted back out over the crowd of sleeping people. "The sleepers play the games, and the winners wake up. That's what seems to be happening. I don't know-" And he sounded so genuinely frustrated and angry for a moment, before he took a deep breath to calm himself- "I don't know how to fix it. Nothing we've tried works."

Pearl didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," she tried, continuing to pet Tilly. The small dog had begun to wake, ears and tail twitching as Pearl gently ran her hand through her fur.

Grian sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry. You just woke up, I shouldn't be putting this all on you." He gave her a smile that couldn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm glad you're awake, Pearl. Good morning."

Pearl giggled softly. "Good morning, Grian. Scott."

Scott's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Well, good morning to the both of you, too."

#my writing #double life #fanfiction #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #grian #life series

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liloinkoink · 5 months

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as someone who also has so much homework to do. what are your thoughts on treesekai ren (speaking of treesekai, i actually sent that fic to a friend like a year ago who doesn't watch hermitcraft etc and i remember we had fun reading it and giggling over the anime of it all so tysm for that ♡)

i am no longer doing homework so i can share thoughts. it is almost 3am tho so idk theyll be coherent

first im glad you two enjoyed it! dont know how i feel about the fact it's breached containment but it is good to know it holds up

[speaking of, this fic was posted a year ago, so if you dont know what treesekai is, here is the link for you]

second i think all the time about just how lonely treesekai Ren is. ive made posts like this before but Ren is just... he's so lonely. Ren is a character with a lot of love in him, always. he always wants someone to care about. often many someones! he gravitates towards big loyal teams, and he usually spends his time at home building a place for that team to be protected and safe, and is willing to die to defend that home (and he has. twice.)

dogwarts was a big team whose loyalty he took seriously and whose home he died to defend. the shadow alliance had matching skins and, until they went red, all ren's loyalty, and their base of operations was one of the last bases standing bc Ren continually put it back together for his teammates. Ren and BigB died on the doorstep of of box, with ren's last words being about defending it. home and the people in it are important to him

treesekai Ren is the same, but he doesnt really have anywhere to point it. he has a home, but what matters to Ren about a home is that theres people in it. he loves the country he rules but he thinks if he does that hard enough he'll have someone, and he just doesnt. he assumes he can trust his staff, thinks he'll be able to make alliances with other nations, hopes his fiance will be that person he needs. but he isnt! and Ren cant trust him! or his staff! or other royalty! no one else in the world cares about him! many of the people close to him ultimately want him dead!

so, in the game, he ends up paranoid, and he ends up evil, and he ends up dead

but in the fic he meets Martyn, and he gets that connection and affection and care hes been looking for all this time. and like. it fascinates me how much Martyn doesnt know how much hes changed ren's life. Ren isnt evil for nothing--above all he's lonely and hurt. by saving him from loneliness, Martyn saves his life. he could abandon the game plotline then and there, completely forgoing all the normal isekai tropes of running thru every event w future knowledge and picking the best possible outcome, and Ren would no longer die. just by being there and sincerely caring for Ren, Martyn has already achieved the best of all possible worlds. and he doesnt even know it!

i just. i love how lonely he is and how simple he is. he just wants to be loved. he just wants to love someone. he's a dating sim character, after all, and that's the whole point, isn't it? his world exists just so the people in it can be loved, and he's not allowed to have any of that. if youd just give him a romance, he'd be more than happy to be a love interest instead, but he isnt! he isnt allowed! no wonder he loses it. on some level, maybe he knows hes being denied the fundamental purpose for existence in his universe

this is rambly bc its rlly late but im just. it must hurt more than anything to be the one character in a world about love who is meant to be completely unlovable

#oink asks #anonymous #treesekai

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yeahiamjustalittleguy · 11 months

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Thanks!! Could u do a team rancher x dsmp reader where, during the hermitcraft and empires crossover, the reader somehow ends up in either empires or hermitcraft and sees Jimmy and Tango and remembers them from double life (the three of them were soulmates)

A little bit of angst/comfort where reader doesnt want to go back to the dsmp but they have to because dream has them on a wanted poster and he would travel through worlds and destroy them just to find reader and they dont want hermitcraft or empires getting destroyed because of them

CAN I JUST SAY OKAY.... Ranchers are the love of my life. I love them so deeply. I never watched jimmys pov of anything before double life. They got a grasp on me man..

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending and mentions of DSMP which is a horror in itself lol

____________________________________________

The last thing you remembered was the stinging sensation of withering, as you hid in a closed off room in a nether fortress, trying to not die. Then there was purple, and then nothing. It didn’t explain what was happening, but it wasn’t that long since you had entered a new SMP and you knew what that felt like, so you instinctively knew that when you awoke you were somewhere else. In a new world. Truth be told, the revelation came as a welcomed surprise. The DSMP was a hard place and it had never really suited you all that well. Your soul was too soft for it, many had told you. That’s why all your friends and family had been surprised when you had accepted the invitation to the double life server. Although it was more lighthearted than the DSMP, it was still known for violence and bloodshed. You’d never tell them, but you’d give anything to leave the DSMP. You didn’t care what server had invited you, it didn’t matter what double life was, you took the invite in a heartbeat. Turns out double life had been the best experience of your life too. You’d buried the feelings of why, never telling anyone on the DSMP that you’d fallen in love. The server didn’t allow for such weakness, so you buried it all.

You’re in some kind of cave when your mind comes to. It has a bunch of things you’re not entirely sure what are, and to your surprise it also has Grian. You’d known him for a long time, which was originally the reason you had been invited to double life. That’s when you knew where you were. If Grian was here it had to be the server he usually frequented, which was hermitcraft. He was just as surprised to see you as you were to see him. “How.. Am I here?” You had asked him, puzzled. This type of cross server travel was something you’d simply never heard of. The only way to usually go to any other server was through your communicator and only by getting an invite. He walked over to hug you, smiling. You tensed, not being used to positive physical contact. When he pulled away he still had a big smile on his face. “I can’t believe you’re somehow here! I thought the rift was just between hermitcraft and Empires.” He explained, and you raised an eyebrow at his lack of a real explanation. “The rift?” You enquired.

“I accidentally created a rift between servers. I don’t really know how, but I am glad you’re here. This is cool.” He was clearly excited about it, but you were worried. “How do I get back, Grian?” You knew your disappearance would not go over well in your own world. Both because your friends and family would miss you, but also because you knew the lengths Dream would go to just to make sure you stayed chained to your own world. Everyone had their part to play in his schemes, and you were sure your disappearance would somehow ruin his plans and make him go ballistic. Grian looked sad and dejected at the prospect of you not staying, but you had to go. You knew it would only cause trouble if you didn’t. “You can go back and forth through the rift, as long as it stays open. But hey, stay for just a little bit, won’t you? Just to see the server- I could show you so many things!” Once again he seemed excited at the prospect of you staying, just a little bit.

Maybe a few hours wouldn’t hurt. There was no way that he would notice you gone until later. He wouldn’t even have to know that you’d left. You already knew it was a yes. The temptation of a couple hours of peace and happiness was all too much, and the question had never even been real. Of course you would stay. Grian didn’t even really need to convince you, nodding your head as he grabbed you once again and unfolded his large wings to carry you out of the apparent cave you were in.

You had fun for a bit, examining Grians base with him. He was about to move on to show what his neighbor, Mumbo, had been working on when his communicator went off a couple of times. He excused himself for a second, checking it with wide eyes. “Wait here, I have to go do something.” He said, about to take flight when you grabbed his arm in panic, surprising both of you. Grian knew you were jumpy, but not this much. He was aware of the changes that the DSMP had done to you, and you had both discussed it in double life. It was hard to deny it with Grian, he had known you before you joined. He knew the person you were before that server changed you completely. He understood why the thought of him leaving you alone was so frightening to you. “I’ll drop you off with someone you know, I promise.” He settled on, and although you were uncomfortable with the idea, you didn’t want to burden him so you nodded, as he once again picked you up to take you somewhere.

So when he dropped you off with the nearest person, who happened to be Scar, you were even less comfortable. You’d grown to like Scar over the season you had with him but you knew he was not a person equipped to babysit you. It was no surprise that as soon as Grian left Scar first dragged you around his park, but then when that ran out of interest for him you were getting dragged all over the server. Then, somewhere along the way you lost Scar. It was bound to happen with him flying around. He couldn’t carry you like Grian could. For a while you stood still, but it didn’t look like Scar was even looking for you or backtracking. So you decided to start walking, deeply on edge. Then you spotted a structure.

It stopped you in your tracks as you had to decide between trying to get help or finding your way back. After an inner battle, you decided to approach the building. It was black with blue and purple accents, and it was quite beautiful. Everything on this server had been so stunning. Coming from the DSMP it left you speechless sometimes. The only person on the DSMP who ever made anything this substantial was Foolish, and you’d never had the time to simply appreciate his builds. Walking so you were stood right in front of it, you tried to build up the courage to explore it to find help, but you just kept having that feeling in your stomach and the inability to make your legs move.

But you didn’t need to, as voices started to approach behind you from the treeline. It was starting to get dark out, so it made sense that someone would be coming home at this point, but your brain didn’t register anything except the fact that there were people coming for you. And in a panic, you unsheathe the sword you had borrowed from Grian, turning around quickly in a stance ready to fight as the two people become visible to you, and you to them. And they both stop in their tracks, the cheerful chattering coming to a halt at seeing you. But it’s not fear or surprise on their face, it’s faces of recognition. And the same look comes to your face, as your panic fades completely and warmth crawls up your body and into your cheeks.

They both shout your name, running towards you, Tango embracing you first and then Jimmy enclosing you both in his arms. “T-tango, J-jimmy.” You say their names shakily, somehow against your own will. It’s like a deep hidden need or urge to say them. The things you did together, the feelings both of them drew from you, it all comes back to you right then and there. Why couldn’t you have stayed in double life forever, with those two? It was cruel, but beautiful. Something in your mind couldn’t stop you from thinking it was fate, that maybe if you were lucky, you would continue to run into them like this. That maybe something would happen, and you could have this forever. But you were not that naive.

Jimmy pulled away, but left his hands on Tangos back. Tango didn’t completely pull away, but he did pull back to grab your face in one hand, tilting it up so he could look at you. His face had a beautiful smile painted on it, but you could see that his eyes were a little wet. Looking towards Jimmy, you almost burst out laughing, seeing him fully sobbing. "Hey! Don’t laugh at me.” He said, covering his face in embarrassment and then wiping his tears away. It was honestly just.. It was a lot, and keeping your tears in yourself had been hard so you couldn’t really pick on him too much. “It was a lot today, seeing both Tango and you for the first time in a while, okay!” He explained, as Tango continued to laugh deep from within his stomach. Feeling his body again, feeling the rumble of his voice leaving his chest, it was beyond any other feeling in the world. You missed it. You had missed it so, so much.

You somehow ended up on a couch after talking for hours, Tango on his stomach against you, both of you once again trapped inside Jimmys’ arms as he laid on his side next to you. He had the longest arms, you’d learned, and so he was always left on big spoon and outer layer cuddle-pile duty. It was hard to feel bad for him, as he looked so content. If you kept playing with his hair, you were convinced you could make him fall asleep. It was something you’d have to test, to be sure. Tango wouldn’t stop turning his head to look up at you, his goofy smile constantly glued to his face. It was perfect. You don’t know which god was playing with you. Giving you this taste of heaven, when you knew it could never last forever. all you would ever get was a little taste, you could never really have the full experience. It would just leave you with a craving that would never be satisfied.

And with Grian and Scar suddenly shouting your name from somewhere outside Tangos’ base, you knew it was time. Jimmy seemed to be pulled out of his half-asleep state, and Tango followed suit, sitting up. You heard Grian calling your name again, this time closer. There was a silence as you all looked between each other, Tango and Jimmy both knowing the look in your eyes. They both knew that look all too well. From when you all lost your first life to the last one, they’d seen it. The eyebrows that pulled upwards and the eyes that glossed over. You were saying ‘I’m sorry’ again. And they knew you were going to leave.

Desperately, Jimmy latched onto your arms. “No, don’t leave us again. Stay. Just-you can stay! You can stay for as long as I can, right? Tango? They can stay-” You cut him off, knowing you would break if you let him ramble on for any longer and also for his own sake. You knew he would just keep spiraling. “I have to go, Jimmy. Everyone from your world is onboard with you being here but.. I can’t stay. The people from my server wouldn’t..” You stopped to choose your words carefully. You didn’t want Tango and Jimmy to know. You didn’t want them to worry. They didn’t need to know what the DSMP was actually like, it would only hurt them to know.

“They wouldn’t get it. They would.. Miss me." It wasn’t entirely true, yet not entirely false either. You’re sure Dream would miss whatever plans he had for you, and you’re sure he would tear the entire universe apart to find you. That was more fun, anyways. You don’t know what his intentions are or what plans he has for you, but you’re sure tormenting you and bringing you back on your knees is more fun to him than making a new plan. And you don’t want to test him. You know what the man is capable of. Maybe if you let him take your last two lives, as he had taken the first, you could escape. But even in death Wilbur couldn’t, so you were not hopeful in that regard. You only feared to think what your purgatory would be like. No, instead you would return home. Keep going in the hopes of once again getting to hear Jimmy and Tango laugh.

Tango was taking it well, all things considered. You could tell he was sad, but he at least understood where you were coming from. Jimmy on the other hand was just looking between you and Tango, mad at you for letting yourself leave and mad at Tango for letting you leave. But he sighed, sinking back into the couch and away from you. He looked back up at you in defeat as you heard Grian and Scar call for Tango. You leaned in, putting an ascetic and fast kiss to Jimmys’ lips before taking Tangos’ hand and walking down stairs together. You and Tango both knew that Jimmy would not be able to let you go if he went with you, and Jimmy must have known too as he abstained from following you but simply sat there with tears starting to form in his eyes.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re okay. It was getting dark and I was worried, I knew I shouldn’t have left you with Scar.” Grian rambled as he ran towards you and hugged you as soon as you and Tango came into his vision. You looked behind him, seeing a very relieved and apologetic Scar waving at you. “I definitely don’t plan on letting Scar babysit my kids.” You said, putting up a joking demeanor to block the pain that was building up inside you. Grian let go of you, stepping back. “I’m sorry it took so long, are you ready to go?” Grian asked, and you grabbed Tangos’ hand. His eyes were glossy and slightly red, but he wasn’t crying. He must have been holding it back well, just like you were. Putting the other hand on his cheek, he copied you and laid his hand on yours and you leaned up to give him a deep and final kiss, which was the goodbye between you two before you parted.

Grian and Scar were looking at you in surprise as you separated, starting to walk away and when they regained their composure, they followed suit silently, ready to lead you back to the rift. To most, this had just been a fun little game with the idea of soulmates. But to you and your ranchers it had been real, it had meant everything. You just hoped it would not be the last time you ever got to see them.

#hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft x y/n #hermitcraft x you #hermitblr #tangotek x reader #solidaritygaming x reader

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mochiwrites · 16 days

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I can only imagine just how bad Scar and Grian’s night terrors probably get sometimes — I mean on one hand Grian was basically kidnapped by some kind of ethereal cult, and spent two years in the dark, not knowing when or if he’d ever get to see his friends and husband again alongside having his own body be fundamentally and permanently changed against his will. Even if he does escape the watchers, he knows he will never be the same again and he has to live with that reminder forever. On the other hand, Scar grew up alone in a wasteland fighting day and night for his own survival for what could’ve been years. Years spent not knowing anything of life outside that corrupted world and deprived of human connection. On top of that, he all but loses his husband with nothing but radio silence for two years straight, not knowing if he’d ever see the love of his life ever again.

They definitely have some pretty horrible night terrors from these memories, but at least now they can wake up in each other’s arms and be comforted knowing neither is going anywhere, and that they’re both safely curled up in their nest on hermitcraft along with all their friends they’ve come to love like family

yeah ;w;

these two guys can carry So much trauma in them…. and their night terrors can be. really bad

when scar first started living with grian, he hardly slept at first. between the terribleness of his nightmares and the ingrained need to stay awake and vigilant, he wasn’t doing too well. when he finally started to sleep more, the nightmares kicked in and he was waking up at least once every night or so. and when he and grian started sharing a bed, as scar began to heal and feel safety and stability, the nightmares tampered off. but I think when grian went missing they came back, and they were worse, because just about every nightmare was about grian in that world, lost to scar forever

and grian… nightmares weren’t really something he was effected by before the watchers. sure, there were one or two occasionally that were unsettling, but eh, they were never anything crazy. that changes after the watchers, and with how fresh the wound is, it’s hard. more often than not grian wakes up yelling, or frantically checking himself to make sure he’s still him. and then sometimes it’s him waking up and for a moment thinking he’s back there, that he never made it out. and those are the nights where scar holds him and reassures him that he’s safe

with them both on hermitcraft, it’s easier to handle the nightmares. they have the safety of each other and whenever one of them wakes up, the other can reassure and hold them close

#mochi speaks #secret husbands au

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fountainpenguin · 10 days

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"I'm not the kind of girl to get messed up with you- Hello! ... You're all right, but I'm here, darling, to enjoy the party..." (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 31 - “Flame (Etho, Skizz, Pearl)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Scar files a microaggression complaint with the HALO team. Pearl helps Scott settle in while he recovers from glitchy code. They have a spat that's not about a sticker.

Meanwhile, SnifferMyFeet and Etho separate their souls… and start an honest talk about Sniff's identity as Sniff, not Joel. It was needed. It's for the best.

(First 900 words under the cut)

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Etho - Fox

Status: Resting

Self-taught programmer, full-time hero

💙 💙 💙

He gets it now.

It's like ice in your water. It's like marshmallows in your cocoa. It's like wind beneath your wings. The final week before he's due back in Between (reluctantly, but definitely due), Etho flops on his bed and sprawls his arms to either side. Is he giddy? He doesn't mean to be, but this feels…

… Oh, it's a game-changer. Which is exactly what he texts Cleo after scooping up his admin panel. They won't see it if they've left their private server, and since Session 2 of Dog's Life could be starting any day now, there's no telling how long that may take.

Etho: hey so Etho: remember after limlife 4 or 5 when we talked about burnout?

Grocery shopping. For a family dinner- he and Cleo both made one (like a peace offering) in a way that wasn't really flirty married life roleplay, but more like… regular, everyday person roleplay. Did all their shopping together so they wouldn't cook the same thing. Call it 'date night' if you want; he walked her home and there might've been a little 'dramatic logout' roleplay in there. We don't… We don't need to go into detail about it.

To some people that's romantic and to some it's completely gross. Not really sure why… It's a natural process, isn't it? Soul-eaters can't help being what they are, and you may as well snap at endermen hybrids for struggling with eye contact or shame unthreaded players if they expose their glitches instead of keeping them covered up. This world's too big and life too long for arguing. Do you really want to make enemies and be rude to people who are going to carry the echo of your words for the rest of their lives?

Lend a helping hand. Extend a little kindness. Be polite. Respond to the hurt. Try not to avoid responsibility when others are counting on your strength. Sit with the injured, even when the night is cold. They're simple goals, but so easily forgotten these days.

Etho: I think you said if I felt stuck then I should break my routine for a while

Nothing happens for several minutes. Etho rotates words without meaning through his head, then types out something else.

Etho: you were right. I get now why you go on adventures with Martyn. Why you let him and no one else log you out all the time. Thanks for the advice. Let me know next time you need a favor. Rating this cycle 10 of 10 and I owe you big xD

He takes a long, guilt-free nap in his cushioned bed. Catching up on block updates and videos really drains a guy (especially this close to the end of the Hermitcraft season, not to mention Vault Hunters and a Life series on top of it), but he spent all morning prepping the bed and it's already providing every agonizing tick of its worth. Two hours later, he's stirred awake by a buzz on the admin panel.

ZombieCleo: yay! So glad that worked for you <3 I want to hear all about it. Maybe in a couple weekends you can watch MCC with me and the kids + Martyn? If we catch a minute alone, I can recommend more stuff you might be into ;)

The kids refers to Bdubs and Scar, who skated through Limited Life like energetic teenagers spreading their wings. It's goofy, it's endearing, and Cleo's got her roleplay voice on because she knows it makes him snort. His tail gives a twitch as he tries to keep a smirk from creeping out behind his mask.

Martyn, huh? he muses, but doesn't say that. Cleo circles between lovers, friends, and exes like a pollinating bee.

Etho: whoaaaa Etho: inviting a fox? that's dangerous! ZombieCleo: nose out of your tail, fur boy Etho: dibs on Martyn, I see ZombieCleo: If you're serious about returning the favor, Martyn says Rhetoric's down here and this might be our best chance at smash and grabbing from your mum's museum Etho: Hm… ZombieCleo: I mean, you did leave my eggshell when you rescued Grian and that other soul

Yeah- it looked distressed. Now Sniff's down here. He can actually talk now when he couldn't before. Honestly, not the worst decision he could've made.

If anyone's going to try getting into the Fox Dragon's museum, a fox has the best chance of doing so. It's kept separate from the nesting cave where souls respawn, but even the deadliest traps won't keep foxes out since they'll just respawn. Unless they're traps that can't be dodged even with careful planning, or some sort of system that short-circuits code. The phantom roost is nearby, right? Frankly, phantoms are excellent trackers, they can fly, and they're probably the fastest of all non-swimming hybrids, so a phantom alone provides great security as-is.

Etho: I'll think about it. Not tonight, though. Full moon fox face isn't for me. Also if there are raiders there then that's probably the worst time to show up ZombieCleo: Fair ZombieCleo: I can think of something else, but if you ever get the chance, I want it back Etho: duly noted ✌️ ZombieCleo: btw say hi to Scar and Bdubs when you see them. They've been cracking nonstop jokes since you disappeared. One can only imagine they're attempting humor to bury immense throes of pain Etho: D:

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

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silverskye13 · 11 days

Note

how did you get the confidence to write fanfiction? i always worry that i won't portray the characters properly so any ideas or wants to write fanfics that i have go away or i talk myself out of it :(

Well! First and foremost: Most people don't start writing,,,, anything with confidence. Let alone fanfic, where you know other people are going to be looking at it, with their own ideas of how the characters are supposed to act and feel influencing what they're coming to the story with. My first fanfic I was very insecure, which I feel like was evident, reading through the author's notes now. Apologies whenever something that required a lot of suspension of disbelief happened, a poll so readers could decide the ending so I wouldn't disappoint anybody, only to end in me writing and posting three different endings. Long justifications for why I chose certain things in the author's notes. The fic nowadays reads to me like a very rough apology.

"Hi I'm sorry I tried. Be kind I'm very scared."

But the thing about writing that fic was, it was the writerly equivalent of jumping into the deep end of the pool for the first time. After I bobbed back to the surface and realized a shark hadn't like, taken my legs off while I was down there, jumping in again got easier. And kept getting easier. And now I just write and post things.

There's kind of two schools of thought that I've seen people subscribe to, when it comes to taking the first leap. The one that's really popular around here on Tumblr is: Do it scared. It is simple and straightforward. You are scared. You will be scared. You probably never won't be scared. So do it scared. Write your thing, close your eyes and hit send [either to post it or to share it with one or two friends, or even just hitting the "save" button and not deleting it]. Get scared, do it, close your eyes, finish. When you open your eyes again and nothing terrible has happened, you can breathe a sigh of relief and do it scared again. It's a little nerve-wracking at first, but the idea is giving your mind the association of jumping and not falling. I did it and I didn't fail, therefore it is safe to do it again.

The other school of thought [the one I specifically subscribe to] is: Do it once. What you think or feel about it doesn't matter. What matters is you did it once. Maybe it will be hell, or it'll suck terribly. Maybe you're really excited! And it turns out great! Maybe its a wild ride of ups and downs, and by the end you need a few months to catch your breath and decide if it was worth it. Regardless: you did it once. Now you know, if you want to, you can do it again. Now you can decide if its worth doing again. For me, the euphoria of finishing a project always far outweighs the trouble getting there, so the step forward of "Do it once" is powerful for me. And that can be broken down too. "Write one chapter." "Draw one drawing." "Clean one room in the house." There is no pressure to continue if its really that terrible, but you at least get to decide if one was worth it [and a solid 9 times out of 10, one was worth it enough to do it more.]

Now, all that said, if what you're worried about is writing the characters right and nothing else -- don't worry too much. Most people care less about how true to life the characters are, and care a lot more about consistency in the story. An example from RnS: In canon, Helsknight is a cartoonish villain with one motivation, and that motivation is taking over hermitcraft Doofenschmirtz style. To date, no one has come into my inbox demanding I change him, because he's so OOC he's basically an OC at this point. What people have come into my inbox about though, is "Hey, you established X in this chapter, but he said Y in this chapter. Was there a reason for that?" which is them saying, "Why didn't you keep your character consistent?" If you tell your audience what the expectations are for the story and you stick with them, they will stop caring about OOC moments and characterizations, and will trust you're going somewhere with your writing. Suspension of disbelief, your powerful friend! They put the world on their shoulders and carry and everybody watches and claps.

If you're also worried about consistency, then start out with one shots! There's a lot less room for error, no large, sweeping character arcs to keep track of. And stringing a bunch of one-shots together can give you practice with character consistency and progression without committing to something massive and overarching. If you're truly worried about making the characters exactly like Canon [or the Canon in your head], I recommend making little lists of character traits, or important things you want to keep in mind. At that point you're scared of your own consistency, and you just need a framework to keep yourself consistent enough for yourself, if that makes sense?

Hopefully! This helps! Sorry I'm a little scattered today :'D

#answering asks #caramelcoatednightmares #writing advice #fanfic advice #longpost #the barking writer #im very sleepy and still thinking about soup #i think maybe i'm just very thirsty

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eloquentornot · 4 months

Text

"Hey, False!"

"Oh! Gem, hi!"

Just as Gem had hoped, False seemed startled by her sudden appearance by elytra, but recovered quickly! Gem giggled.

"Are you ready to teach me PvP?"

"Wait, what?"

"You know, like you promised me the other day?" Gem asked, slightly confused.

"Oh… oh, yeah, right!" False laughed nervously. "Sorry, my… memory… isn't always great. I remember now!"

"Oh… well, that's okay!" Gem tried not to let her disappointment show. "If you're not ready now, we can always-"

"Hey, now! I didn't say I wasn't ready for PvP. You know about me, right?" False smiled confidently, and Gem grinned in return.

"The Queen of Hearts, Heads and Body Parts! Oh, thank you so much! This is going to be so fun!! Don't go easy on me, okay?"

False brandished her sword, but then stopped to consider something.

"I mean… are you sure about that? You want to last long enough to learn something from it, right?"

"Well…" It was a good point. Gem couldn't hide behind the excuse of it being a lesson, for what she really wanted. "Okay, when we start doing proper lessons, go easy on me at first, but right now I just want to see what you can do!" She already knew what False could do, of course, but to see it up close, to be slain by the famous Falsesymmetry… "Come on, fight me! Let's go!" She swung her own sword enthusiastically, an attack that False easily dodged!

"If you say so…" False chuckled, and prepared to strike…

The battle was over even faster than Gem expected!

She lay on the path in spawn village, freshly respawned but head still spinning from adrenaline, grinning wildly as she tried to make sense of what she'd seen. One moment, False had been posed elegantly in front of her, the next…

She had so much to learn. This new life promised to be the most fun yet!

"I'm on Hermitcraft!!" she cheered!

"You sure are!" replied a familiar voice, as False landed somewhere in front of her. "Are you ready to start your PvP training today, like we said?"

Gem sat up, confused.

"False, you literally just killed me."

"Oh? Yeah… yeah! I have done that!" False answered awkwardly, and Gem was concerned for a moment. Was her memory really that bad?

But then Gem understood the joke.

"Oh, right! Killing me as a demonstration was so easy, you're ready to start actually training me right away? I'm up for it, sure!" She leapt to her feet, but then her vision blurred for just a moment. "Whoa, maybe gimmie a minute, though…" she giggled.

"Right, yes!" False replied. "You just wait right there, and I'll grab your stuff for you."

"Wait, you didn't bring my stuff with you just now?"

"No, I… left it in a chest! I didn't realise you'd respawn here. Sorry."

"Okay…" Gem was still a bit too dizzy to fully process what was going on, and then False was flying off, and then Gem sat down once more, this time against a wall, and took a deep breath. Within moments, she was totally fine. Nothing had even been wrong, just, new life, new body. She'd get used to pushing herself a bit more, soon enough.

After all, Gem was great, as the newly coined saying went…

*****

It was time to practice jump-crits, and Gem leapt high!

…And higher, and higher, and higher, screaming louder, until finally she landed with an unceremonious thud, all thoughts of the weapon in her hands now a distant memory.

"Whoa, are you okay?!" False crouched down beside her. "Hey, you haven't been taking Jump Boost potions, have you?" she joked, when she saw no sign of physical injury.

"That wasn't a potion effect!" Gem said in a panic, half forgotten Celestial instincts screaming, telling her exactly what had happened but not why… "It was like… gravity… changed?"

If False said anything in response to that, Gem didn't hear it. She almost left, then and there, but she knew that would only cause more panic for False. For all her friends, on Hermitcraft. She promised herself, there and then, that whatever happened next, even if things started to get serious, she wouldn't just abandon them.

*****

"Gem! Gem, where are you?! Gem!"

"False!!" she called in reply. The quakes were getting worse, blocks flying everywhere… Stress hadn't been seen in weeks…

But she still wasn't giving up on that promise!

"Oh, there you are!" False sighed in relief, as the two began running hand-in-hand away from the worst of the fractures in the land around them. "Listen, I was thinking, earlier, and…"

"We have to get back to the bunker! I think this one will pass soon!"

Gem hadn't been wrong, before, getting a sense of how the forces holding the world together were… interacting, with what was coming. The moon. It was clear now, what was going on. But still, the hermits held out hope. No-one wanted to leave, while there were still people missing.

"Gem, I… okay, I trust you."

Had False been about to say something else? It didn't matter.

"Wait…"

"What is it?" Gem asked, as the two of them suddenly stopped.

"I just realised… I guess it doesn't really matter now… but we would have been having our weekly sparring practice, around now…"

"Oh." She was right, Gem realised, and she disagreed. It did matter. It mattered a lot, actually, that things were getting bad enough that even the parts of the schedule the hermits actually managed to stick to consistently were coming undone. "Yeah. That's… I guess we'll have to do more work next week, then!" Assuming it all blows over by then. You just had to assume, right? After all, Hermitcraft didn't do unhappy endings. Did it?

"Right…"

Then, something happened.

The moonlight, already so much brighter than it ought to have been, seemed to brighten yet again, highlighting everything in blurry white, casting colour away as the two were swept upwards, now clutching both of each others' hands.

It was getting worse, worse, worse, this time they floated higher than ever before, but this time there was no screaming. Just this once, Gem allowed herself to feel some of the peace she so desperately needed, the celestial peace she could easily grasp in full if she just… let go.

But she held on. To this life, and to False, her dearest friend…

All around them, the roaring storm seemed to be pure silence, Gem's whisper carrying loud and clear:

"False… I promise, I will never leave you."

False's eyes widened, glimmering in the moonlight. The expression on her face suddenly seemed so familiar to Gem, from a distant childhood memory. It was a face she'd never seen since, until now. That intensity of emotion, which drew the great celestials towards humanity and other such creatures, the indescribable beauty that people could bring, even to tragedy…

Oh. From what she'd learned since she last saw it, that face wasn't a positive emotion. But before Gem could think on it any more, the moment ended, moonlight dimmed by a passing cloud, and the two of them gently lowered to the ground.

It was exactly as if a raging storm had passed, and neither of them spoke for a few moments.

Soon, they returned to the bunker, still hand-in-hand.

Days later, Gem wiped away a tear, as she stepped through the portal she had crafted.

*****

Things were a lot different, this season. Gem had started out a bit out of practice, and after a few more weeks, had approached False, both to apologise and to ask for more lessons. Thankfully, the feeling was mutual.

"Let's leave the past in the past, yeah?" False had said. "Things got weird last season… I'll be more than glad to teach you again, how's tomorrow?"

But the next day, things seemed… different. False apologised, again, and so did Gem, but then suddenly everything was fine, but then…

Gem wondered just how much of a memory problem False had. Her mood sometimes seemed to alternate each week, but Gem was too polite to point it out. She decided to think nothing of it.

Now, months later, Gem was almost winning more than False! Some weeks, False was going easy on her, full teacher mode, focused on technique and keeping things as even as she could. But other times, when she seemed more tired or stressed… Those times, Gem knew she was winning for real! It was fun to see False, the Falsesymmetry, actually struggle to keep up with her!

She was getting so good at PvP, starting to collect as many heads from the other hermits as she could, Geminislay!

But at some point, something changed. Gem didn't know what, only that it started when False missed one week. After that, she was always more reserved. She still seemed a bit stressed, sometimes, but kept the lessons even more professional than ever. She didn't even seem to respond to some of the in-jokes they'd made, during those more intense battles…

Was it just False's memory problem? Gem wondered if she'd done something wrong, but she didn't want to make things awkward by asking.

One day, she brought up the possibility of practicing less often, if False was getting too busy with her base or anything, and…

It almost hurt, how quickly False agreed.

Still, by this point, Gem was used to relationships coming and going. And with more free time on her hands… there was always that other world she had recently noticed, wasn't there?

*****

Gem sighed contentedly, gazing out across her little kingdom.

The Princess of Dawn. It was a nice title, if she did say so herself. She'd say she had big plans for this place, but really she was just going with the flow and creating whatever came to mind, in between how busy she was with everything else…

Compared to Hermitcraft, this place was somehow more peaceful and less so. Everyone was so much more dedicated to the roleplaying!

At least, that's what she told herself. If everyone here truly believed the stories they'd shared, at that campfire…

Well, one way or another, it was another world, wasn't it?

Suddenly, her daydreaming was interrupted, as she noticed the approach of a familiar face! One she hadn't had a chance to speak to one-on-one, yet.

"Falsesymmetry! How do you do?" she called, from her balcony.

False looked up, something in her eyes, almost startled.

"Um. You're Geminitay, right?"

"Princess Gem, yes," she corrected, but not too harshly. To make it clear there was no harm done, she smiled brilliantly.

"Right, we already know each others' names… Well, I just… I know we've probably never met before, but I just have this… feeling… about you…"

"Go on…" Gem leaned over the wall, not bothering to conceal much of her excitement. Oh, everything was so new, and interesting, and here, somehow, was False… what was she up to? How was she here? Was it really the same one, if she decided her character was feeling that way? Or was it memories leaking through the multiverse to a different person?

After a few seconds of silence, False decided what to say.

"Do you… want to practice sparring, some time? I mean, I'm not challenging you, or anything, it's only if you want to…"

"…Oh." Well, this was a little awkward. Gem probably should have seen this coming. "I'm sorry, False, I'm… a pacifist. The only challenge I've ever accepted was my own, to never so much as hold a weapon…"

"What? Oh, okay. I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked. Stupid of me, really, I mean you are a princess, it makes sense that you wouldn't fight…" She turned away, started walking, faster than she'd approached. "Sorry…"

"False, wait! It's okay!" Gem clarified, holding out her hand as if she could stop False from leaving. "I'm not offended at all! You can still hang out with me here, we'll just have to find something else to do, that's all!"

False looked back.

"…Right. Thanks, Princess Gem. I'll… think about it. Again, sorry. I don't even know why I came here…"

And before Gem could say anything else, False was gone.

"Huh. What is up with her?"

*****

All the way from Halloween to Christmas. That was how the length of time was measured by the hermits, anyway, the empires had a different system. But however they chose to recount it, it had been months of chaos, two worlds collided… and now everything was back to normal for both.

It certainly wasn't as if it had never happened, for one thing she now had a raid farm to look at from both of her shores…

Gem sighed. On a more positive note, her head collection was looking better than ever! The basement of her elven palace was now lavishly decorated, heads organised in various categories, cells full!

"Gem? Are you down here?"

"Oh, False! Is it time for our practice already?" Gem leapt playfully in the direction of the voice, and in less than a second, both of them had a blade pointed at the other's throat!

"Ah, there you are!" False grinned, and wow Gem had missed this!

Come to think of it, she hadn't spoken to False much during that whole crossover. Strange, really, given that her secret was finally out to most hermits and also Pixlriffs somehow, but she'd heard no word of anything similar happening to False. Even stranger if it was the other option, and she just had an alternate universe counterpart there, that no-one had seen two Falsesymmetries together…

But suddenly, that thought sparked an odd sense of deja vu for Gem, and she was distracted, False gaining the upper hand in their sudden battle.

Her disadvantage didn't last long, however, as she swiftly dodged around the stairs to gain the high ground!

"Ooh, too slow, False!" she teased.

"Oh yeah? What if I've got you right where I want you?" False jokingly bluffed.

Again, a flash of memory. But this time…

"Ahahaha! Now I've got you right where I want you!"

"False! This isn't funny, you know I can't fight back!!"

"Exactly! Might as well get the easy heads out of the way for my collection…"

"Hold on, time out, what is going on? What kind of character are you playing here? Who are you??"

"Oh, this isn't a game, Princess…"

"What? Oh, fine… Don't do this! I'll… I'll tell everyone!"

"No. You won't."

Gem gasped, stumbled backwards and found herself sitting on the stairs. What was that?!

"Wait, Gem, are you okay?" False lowered her sword immediately, and sat down next to Gem.

"I… I think I just… remembered something? But how did I forget? How did I forget… that?"

"Forget what?"

"I… it was something on Empires. I mean, in that other world. You know, the one through the Rift?"

"Oh… Right, I remember hearing something about you living there too? I'm… sorry the Rift closed. Thanks for choosing to stay here…"

"No, no, it's fine! I didn't even know about the Rift, I have my own way of getting there and back! So… is that why I haven't seen you there, since then? Were you using the Rift to get between lives?"

"What? You haven't seen her- uh, me?"

Gem frowned.

"Actually, I've been wanting to ask, but I wasn't sure how. Is it you, in that other world? Like, set aside the roleplay for a minute, is it really? I'm actually confused, here."

"Gem, what do you mean roleplay?"

"I mean… like, you know! Stories! Games! Like… those times, when we used to spar every week, and sometimes you'd get really intense and mad, but it was always just an act, afterwards it was all fine?"

But False didn't look fine. She looked… horrified?

"But that's… It was you!!" she gasped, suddenly enraged! "You did this to her! It was your fault!! Ugh, all those times I thought she was blaming me! All those notes she made for herself, 'she did this not you' and I thought she meant me but she meant YOU!!"

"What?? False, stop! Slow down, what are you talking about?"

"She's not me! And she's not my alternate universe counterpart, either!" Tears ran down False's face, but Gem had too many questions to stop now.

"Then who is she?"

"She's my sister! My twin! Or my clone, or I'm her clone, or something! I don't know! The point is, we were always together. The two of us. The two of me. We were the False Symmetry. Until you came along with your oh-so-innocent charm, using us to get stronger and egging her on even after she started to snap…" Realisation dawned. "Treating everything like a game!! That's what was going on, wasn't it? All along! You thought it was all a game, so you never stopped when it was clear she was getting too violent!!"

"Wait… what…?" Gem was horrified. How could this be true? "But that means… she was here? Both of you were hermits?"

"A hermit. We were a hermit. Together. We were exactly the same. Until she started to change… How could I have been so blind? Of course it wasn't just this season. Of course we couldn't leave behind all that nonsense… it wasn't just the moon. It was you."

"False… I'm so sorry…"

A moment of silence.

"Well, it's too late now," False said. "The Rift is closed, and either way, I made sure she can't be a threat anymore."

"…What did you do?"

"I made her forget. I sent her through it, ages ago, long before the whole crossover thing. That was around the time you offered to stop bothering me so much… I guess I never was as close to you as she was."

"Hang on…" Gem thought back on some of her moments with False. "Which one of you was it when…"

"It doesn't matter. She's gone, and when we were all stuck there I checked up on her. She's fine now, happy… Wait, but you said you hadn't seen her in a while?"

"No, but… there's something else… are you sure she's not a threat?"

False's face dropped.

"No. Wait, no nono no no… when you said you remembered something you'd forgotten, just now… you don't mean…"

"Something… I'm not sure, maybe, but if you said it was never a game to you, or to her…" Gem gasps. It all comes flooding back, full clarity!

The Princess of Dawn strolled down the elegant cobbled street she had just finished laying, admiring her handiwork in the golden light of the setting sun. It was bedtime, so she made sure her wandering took her towards her bedroom, but just a few more minutes of fresh air couldn't hurt…

A cold silver glint of light caught her eye, and Gem's head swiveled towards the shadows, instincts from another life telling her to reach for a sword she didn't carry as she peered into the darkness.

In moments, the silhouette of a cloaked figure appeared, stepping menacingly into the lamplight. The sharp iron knife in their hand glinted once more.

"Uh… H-hello… Who are you?" Gem politely asked.

The figure said nothing, only took one step towards her, then another, slow, methodical, purposeful.

Gem stood frozen, until she heard a familiar laugh echo from beneath the cloak.

"False?" she asked. "Is that you?"

The figure stopped. Then, Falsesymmetry raised her free hand, and threw off the cumbersome black cape in one fluid motion.

Her eyes seemed blank.

"Looks like I lost my element of surprise… Oh well."

In the next moment, False darted forward, knife gleaming!

Gem screamed, and ran into the nearest building, but unfortunately this one only had one door! She was trapped!

"Ahahaha! Now I've got you right where I want you!" False grinned madly, stalking towards where Gem cowered in the corner.

"False! This isn't funny, you know I can't fight back!!" Gem's heart hammered.

"Exactly! Might as well get the easy heads out of the way for my collection…"

"Hold on, time out, what is going on? What kind of character are you playing here? Who are you??"

"Oh, this isn't a game, Princess…" False had reached Gem now, and held the knife to her chin, and said the word 'Princess' with such venom that Gem could no longer believe it. She felt foolish for breaking character, this was an incredible plot twist after all!

"What? Oh, fine… Don't do this! I'll… I'll tell everyone!"

"No. You won't."

False lifted a small vial of dark grey liquid, and smashed it into Gem's forehead, before going for the kill.

"I remember now! She was terrifying! Did that potion make me forget? And she didn't think it was a game??"

"No… no, that can't be right! She was happy, she was back to normal… But wait, if she used the amnesia potion on you, how did you remember? Gem, what are you?"

"I'm… a Celestial. I can jump through worlds whenever I want, and… I forget that not everything's a game, I guess."

"Celestial…?" False frowned. "I guess we never tested the potion on those…" But then something else dawned on her. "But she can't have just been pretending, when I was watching her. I know her, I know me! The amnesia potion did work on her, but sometimes it breaks? And, and, when she started going crazy, she talked about all kinds of stuff I had no idea about, but maybe she wasn't making stuff up, maybe she was remembering what happened before! Gem, maybe just being around you breaks her amnesia!"

"What do you mean, before?"

"Oh, well… It's like I said. We don't know which one of us is older. But, if I'm a clone… maybe something happened to her before I came along, that she forgot?"

"So whether it was the PvP, or my magic interfering with her mental block… Oh, it really is my fault! And every time she killed me in revenge I thought it was a game! Oh, False!" Gem started to cry, now. How had she been so naive?

"Hey, it's okay… wait, have you been sparring with her in that world too?"

"No! At least I didn't make it worse there! I don't fight on Empires, and when I told her that, she didn't seem to want to be my friend anymore… I didn't know what to do, that's why I never asked what was going on!" Gem suddenly stood, and dashed up the stairs. "But I can fix it! I'll go take a nap, get to Empires, find her and fix things! I'll… apologise! I mean, you said she was the one who…"

"Wait," False said, running after her, "if you being there makes it worse, what if she can only get better when you're not there?"

"Or, what if it's too late and she's remembered everything, and I can make things better with the real her?" Gem was desperate, but she had to keep believing. Everything always turned out for the best on Hermitcraft… except…

"Gem, wait!"

Reaching the top of the stairs, Gem turned around.

"And why does she keep her head collection a secret?? Why did you send her to a world where everyone takes murder so seriously for no reason!!"

False stopped.

"I… I didn't know where I was sending her… I just thought she needed to get away from… me…"

"Why? What did you do to her?" Gem thought for a moment. "Other than erase her memories."

"That was my last resort!" False insisted. "I didn't just wipe her mind straight away! I… kept her locked up, for… a while. Tried some… experiments. I was just trying to work out what had gone wrong!"

Gem stared. With effort, she didn't laugh.

"So, it's not all my fault, then?" she said slowly.

"I… guess not." False sighed. "Hey. If you do manage to get through to her… can you tell her I'm sorry, too?"

Gem nodded, with a sad smile.

"And don't worry. I'll try to keep all of this a secret… in both worlds."

"Thanks," False smiled weakly. "Good luck!" she whispered, as Gem dashed away.

*****

"Tick… tock… tick… tock…" sang a deep, heavily distorted voice. "So… a ruler of an empire of iron, with a dark side… And, either the wizard managed to ascend, or we have a very interesting visitor from another reality entirely… And the Sculk… Oh, there's so much fun to be had! Not long now… tick… tock… tick… tock!"

*****

From the "Sparring Practice" prompt of Geminitay appreciation week by @dronepikachu, sorry it's late!

#geminitay appreciation week #gemweek #fanfic #geminitay #falsesymmetry #two of her #hermitcraft #empires smp

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bananasofthorns · 2 years

Text

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

This is stupid, Joel decides. It’s about the fifth time in less than three days that he’s gone to say something to Etho only to realize that, for obvious reasons, Etho isn’t there.

He’s not sure why he’s so affected by Double Life when the previous games didn’t really get to him at all. Then again, he never really had a solid alliance those times. And he definitely didn’t have a soulmate. But still. He was perfectly happy to move on with his life as if nothing monumental had happened, thank you very much.

Even so, he is sometimes capable of not ignoring his problems and realizing when he’s being ridiculous, and this is one of those times. Seriously, he was perfectly fine without Etho before this. Gods - is that a thing he can say, still? If he, technically, is a god?

That’s a question for another time, he decides. The point is that he was fine without Etho before, and so he should definitely be fine without him now, even if it’s only been a few days. Maybe if he actually talks to Etho he’ll be better at adjusting, or whatever. Coping. Does he need to cope?

He flicks up his comm interface and opens his contacts, only to pause. He doesn’t have Etho’s contact; it was automatically programmed into his comm during Double Life, but contact information doesn’t transfer between worlds unless he purposefully saves it, and he didn’t exactly think he’d be missing Etho like some— some abandoned puppy, or something, while Double Life was going on. So much for that plan. Maybe he can get Grian or Scar or someone to give him Etho’s contact next time they see each other during MCC.

He frowns. That seems too— personal, somehow? Too close to home? For some reason, he feels like it would be weird to ask any of the Hermits who were in Double Life for Etho’s contact. Like they’ll know too much, or something. But who else can he ask? He doesn’t really talk to any of the other Hermits unless they’re on a world together, and—

Oh, he’s an idiot. He literally traded with Gem, like, yesterday. How did he forget that?

“Goodness gracious,” he mutters under his breath.

He’s about to jump off the island and fly over before remembering that he should maybe check to see if she’s even home, just so that he doesn’t look like an idiot by showing up only to realize she’s halfway across the world or something.

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: Gem Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: are you home?

Luckily, it doesn’t take her very long to respond, so he isn’t left standing on the edge of his island like an idiot.

GeminiTay whispered to Smallishbeans: yeah what’s up

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: can I come by real quick?

GeminiTay whispered to Smallishbeans: sure! I’m just doing some building

Smallishbeans whispered to GeminiTay: be right there

It doesn’t take him long to make the flight. Gem is waiting for him when he lands; she greets him with a bright smile and a wave that he returns, though his is somewhat awkward because the last time he was here he was giving her bees to prevent some sort of international dispute. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to hold that against him.

“Hey, Joel! What’s up?”

Joel clears his throat. Gem barely reaches up to his waist right now, since he’s 11 feet tall and all that, and something about the height difference feels like it’s offending her more than he’s ever felt like he’s offended any other empire. He sits down cross-legged just off the path. Gem laughs.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I feel weird, otherwise. Anyway, I have...kind of an odd question...? For you?”

“Hit me.” She pauses. “Not literally. What’s your question?”

“Do you happen to have Etho’s contact?”

To her credit, she barely pauses. “Hm. I can check, but I don’t think I ever saved it to my communicator, sorry. You could go ask False, maybe? She’s known him a lot longer than I have.”

Damn. “No, that’s fine. Uh, would you mind passing on a message, though? Next time you’re on Hermitcraft.”

“Sure! What do you want me to say? We can write it down or something, that would make it a lot easier, because then I wouldn’t have to remember it or anything.” She hesitates, watching Joel with a scrutinizing look in her eye that he’s not sure he likes. “And I won’t look at it, if you don’t want me to.”

He makes a face. “It’s not gonna be anything bad.”

“I know! But, like— privacy’s important, you know, Joel. I respect that.”

He chuckles. “Thanks, Gem.”

Somehow, he always forgets how genuinely nice she is. Maybe it’s because he’s intimidated by her.

Not that he’s scared. He’s not scared of anything. But he will admit that Gem, at times, can be very intimidating.

“I’ll write something down,” he decides. “Uh, do you happen to have a piece of paper I could borrow? I haven’t got any on me.”

“Of course! Somewhere. Follow me, we’ll find some.”

She turns and bounces down the path deeper into Dawn. Joel follows.

#smallishbeans #geminitay #boat boys #smalletho #banana writes things #aywth au #banana made a post #this is very self indulgent and fun to write #the au's/fic's full name is ''anything you want to hear'' if you were curious #no idea where this story's gonna go. but enjoy!

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obliqueblade · 2 months

Text

There are no words, nothing I could write that hasn't been said to properly convey how emotions and response that I had to the news about what Shubble had to go through.

As someone not on Twitter, and not an avid watcher of Shelby, I didn't hear about her video until several days after it was posted by a friend of mine, who told me that people suspected Wilbur.

And at that time, I did not want to believe it.

My immediate reaction was disbelief, and then I thought people on Twitter were saying things just to say things. I knew Shelby had not named her abuser, because she was not in a position where she could. The internet is rarely benevolent when victims come forward.

But this was someone I had watched during my cancer treatments. This was someone whose music I listened to, to drown out the sounds of my illness. This is someone I cried with and for after the loss of Technoblade. Now, after his passing, I had stopped watching that entire side of mcyt. I moved on to Hermitcraft, Empires, and the Life series, I stopped using Twitter because it's Twitter, and when the various members of the DSMP were caught doing something, It just further solidified my decision.

But this was someone I had supported. The idea that I had allowed myself to be manipulated into that situation was almost unbearable.

But the more I thought about it, the more I remembered things from back during the DSMP ear, the more uncomfortable I got. The more I remembered people he was "close" with describing him as manipulative, the amount of younger people he constantly interacted with, and the dynamics he created around them.

Even without his "apology" I realized that, yes, he was manipulative. And the horrible thing about it is that you never really notice when that manipulation occurs. It's why at least at first, I gave the benefit of the doubt.

Because "surely not".

But this is not about those things. It's not about how I feel in regard to the news, nor is it about how his old friend will respond. It's about the abuse that he did and the power kick he got from keeping his victims silent.

Wilbur Soot is an abuser.

Shelby, and lord knows who else are his victims. The horrible realization that while I was supporting someone they were intentionally hurting people weaker than them like Techno and Shelby feels like a sucker punch.

And the worst part is that, at the end of the day I cannot even say that he is sorry, because he is not. he does not take accountability. He does not apologize. He states that "he changed", which is easy to say without having to prove. Especially, when you cannot even apologize.

Wilbur is not "canceled". He's an abuser.

Shelby is incredibly strong for coming forward, and I hope that she can heal with the support and love that she deserves.

I'm also sorry, Shelby. I waited in the hope of "surely not", and that's not fair or right to Shelby or any victim of abuse. I've seen some posts about how those who supported him had no way of knowing, but this can be ... hard to accept personally. I don't mean to say it's the communities fault, because we really did not have a way to know.

It's important to know, that no matter how well you think you "know" a creator- you don't.

I don't want anyone to come away from this and think that I am in any way still in support of anything that man has created or done over the years. This includes channels, collabs, music, and certain bands with connections to him.

This is firmly a Shelby support account.

For those who still side with him; I am truly sorry that you are unable to see through his manipulation, but I hope that one day you will. I hope that you can gain the ability to see through these horrible actions of cruelty before you find yourself in a situation where you are the victim.

I'm so sorry Shelby.

#shelby #shubble #shit ass apology #support shubble #shubblesupportsquad #tw abuse #wilbur soot

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schibi12 · 8 months

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I am in like a weird/gray area when it comes to the mcyt fandom and i don't mean that morally o ethically but knowledge wise.

Because i come from the old guard of Minecraft YouTube, CaptainSparklez, DanTDM, Thinknoodles, SkydoesMinecraft, IHasCupquake, PopularMMO's, to name a few, and back in the day Minecraft YouTube was nothing like it is today it was very simple back then, lets play, mod showcases, building games, modded series or smps, that does mean lore didnt happen they where a few instances when it happened, the CrazyCraft war.

Even though i don't watch much Minecraft YouTube as i did when i was younger but there is one Youtube that i still watch till this day from when i was a child and that is Ldshadowlady, without a doubt my favorite mcytuber, and by watching her i started watching other youtubers Smallishbeans, Scott, LaurenZSide, Joey Graceffa, TheOrionSound and some more.

And then Empires SMP happened, and everything changed, lore, ships and a musical and it was the first i wanted to see fancontent of it, heck i even made my own fanart of it, i wanted to talk with peeps about it and i did (shoutout to the empires hype house discord server appreciate all of ya), but if you watch/follow any mcyt series wether you want to or not you are aware of the Hermit of all. Hermitcraft is everywhere in mcytblr and the Life series is a close second.

I have not seen a single episode of Hermitcraft and for the Life series ive only seen Lizzie's perspective in Last Life (and some episodes of Joel), but unlike the Life series where i know some stuff, Hermitcraft i know nothing like i know some of the creators like Grian because i used to watch his build/design showcases, Pearl because of Empires and a few others.

But there are some terms/things that people say or make fanart of that just leave me utterly confused for example

Why is Grian sometimes drawn with bird features?

Why is Pearl sometimes drawn with moth features?

What is Boatem???

Soup? What the heck is soup, like actual soup?

And that brings me too gemcyt which i know it's mainly based on the Life series but they are still works which are inspired by Hermitcraft that just makes me say "Your art is amazing even though i don't get the context."

And that's where i am in my self-proclaimed gray area of knowledge in the Mcytblr.

#schibi rambles #mcytblr #mcyt #empires smp #life series #gemcyt #this turned out longer than i expected #small writing does not exist to me as a concept lol #but is just to put in some context

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thefireintheshadow · 14 days

Text

don't ask questions

[sequel to come downstairs]

“I’m worried about Grian,” Gem said thoughtfully, swishing her legs back and forth in the water. She liked to hang her bare feet in when she wasn’t fishing, still be connected to the river.

“I don’t think you need to worry about him,” Pearl replied, and her voice sounded a little lower, like she might be getting sick. She’d been off today, but Gem hadn’t been able to really put her finger on why.

Things were weird. Grian had torn apart his secret room and hadn’t come out of his base for days. She’d thought he would feel better getting the mending book but it was almost like he was hungover from it.

Or, he was sick, and now Pearl was getting sick too. Illnesses tended to travel quick around Hermitcraft considering everyone was so close.

“He’s just been so reclusive, which isn’t like him,” Gem continued. “He hasn’t even checked his mail. I tried to bring him some soup but he didn’t even seem to be listening to me.”

“He’ll be fine,” Pearl said, and Gem turned to study her, really look at her.

Her forehead was a bit shiny, was she sweating? “Are you okay? You sound like you might be coming down with something.”

Pearl sighed. “Gem, you should really stop asking so many questions,” she said, and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just, go about your business, mate.”

Off. Wrong. What the hell was going on? “What is that supposed to mean?” This was Pearl. Her Pearl. She’d never been so, cryptic so…ominous.

“Well, gotta get back to work,” Pearl said, slapping her knees before getting to her feet. “Later, Gem.” She didn’t come in for a hug, or wave or wink or even look back, and Gem shivered despite not being cold.

Over the next few days, Gem watched Pearl. She tried to be casual about it, just dropping by the post office, sending her funny messages, trying to see if her friend was getting sick or how she was acting.

Pearl just got colder and colder. Gem tried to visit with Grian but he wouldn’t even open his door anymore.

She finally lost her patience, deciding to talk to someone about it. Hermitcraft had been so quiet lately, it was eerie. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Mumbo around, and usually he was zinging about doing some kind of weird task.

“Etho,” she called, hoping she still sounded casual and friendly as she landed outside of his house. It was gorgeous, of course, because he had to be a redstone genius and an artistic builder. Was there anything this man wasn’t good at?

She blushed. No, there really isn’t, she thought, thinking back to their last sparring-turned-sex match.

Usually he responded to her call pretty quickly, with a teasing “Geeemmm,” but there was nothing. She’d thought for sure he was home, he’d said earlier in the chat he was working on his storage system.

“Knock knock,” she called, letting herself into the house. Just beyond the threshold, her heart stopped and her legs turned to lead at the sight of red splashed on the floor.

Not redstone. Not redstone not redstone not-

She sank to her knees. Why was there blood on Etho’s floor?

A folded piece of paper lay next to the splatter, corner of it soaking up a blotch of crimson. She reached for it with shaking hands, unfolding it, and her pulse roared in her ears at the words scrawled across it.

stop asking questions, gemstone

Gem didn’t bother knocking – she kicked Grian’s door in.

“What the hell?!” Grian mumbled, squinting as light from outside bathed the dank space. He clutched a blanket to him – had he been sleeping on the floor?

No time for that. “I need to know what the hell is going on right now,” she demanded, and tossed the bloodied note onto the floor in front of him.

He blinked at it, cringing away as if it might bite him. “I told you-”

“I know what you told me, and I want to hear the truth now,” she snapped. “Pearl’s been acting super weird, you’ve been acting super weird, and now Etho is…” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Etho is gone and it’s because of me. And I think you know why. So spill.”

Grian stared at the paper, still not touching it. Gem huffed and knelt on the floor, unfolding and flattening it on the floor.

“Gemstone,” she said. “Skizz calls me Gemstone. I can’t find him anywhere, and his chests have cobwebs like he hasn’t been back to his base in awhile. The last time I saw him, he was hanging around here, before you started locking yourself inside like an agoraphobic.” She glared at his quivering form. “Tell me. What. Happened.”

Grian rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, groaning softly. “I…” he ground out. “Beef has gone fucking crazy. He thinks he works for some fish mafia and he had Skizz torture and murder Mumbo in front of me.”

Gem’s blood ran cold, and she sat back hard on her ass, bringing a hand to her mouth. Out of all of the things…she hadn’t expected him to say that. She didn’t know what she’d thought, but…not that. “Beef?” she asked dumbly, unable to fully form sentences.

Beef was one of the sweetest guys around. Skizz too, for that matter. And Pearl. Her Pearl. Who had warned her not to ask questions. What had happened to them?

“He told me to rip down my cod sculptures because…void, I don’t know, Big Salmon, it’s all so insane. And Skizz looked…” Grian gnawed at his fingernails, gaze darting around everywhere but at her. “He looked like a fucking fish, Gem, his eyes…” he trailed off with a shudder.

Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. Pearl’s forehead, she’d thought it was shining with sweat but…had it been scales? Was she infected with whatever thing was happening to Skizz?

“Grian, they have Etho,” she choked out, and her voice sounded so weak she hated it. But she couldn’t say the words without tears pooling in her eyes, without her heart threatening to shatter into a million pieces. What were they doing to him? There had been blood left behind, his blood, they could be-

She gritted her teeth, taking in a deep, ragged breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anything. “Do you know where they are?”

“No, no,” Grian said, voice barely above a whisper as he drew his knees to his chest, clutching the blanket back around him. “I did what they said and I just…I did what they said.”

She wanted to shake him. Scream at him to get his shit together. But she didn’t think that would help. Mumbo had been his everything. To have that happen, in front of him…and given his state they’d clearly terrified and traumatized him with more threats.

No, Grian wouldn’t be any help to her. She’d only endanger him if she tried to bring him in on this…this what? Rescue mission? She didn’t even know where to start looking.

If it were Beef, Skizz, and Pearl, she was outnumbered, and that was if they hadn’t recruited any more people. She was pretty sure if she needed to she could hold her own against Beef and Skizz in a 2v1, but not Pearl. Her bestie was skilled as hell, and…god, it was Pearl. Could she fight her? Potentially kill her?

Her heart clenched, and she dug her fingers into her hair, tugging at the scalp. How had this happened? Images popped into her head, unbidden, of Etho, hurt. Bleeding. Worse.

A strangled cry tore out of her throat. Etho. She’d burn the entirety of Hermitcraft to the ground to save him. Yes, she would kill Pearl if she had to. If she had to.

But she’d need backup.

“Gem, sheesh, you scared the crap outta me,” Bdubs gasped as he game around the corner of his shop with an armload of scaffolding. “Wanna come play-” Whatever he’d been about to ask her to do died on his tongue as his expressive brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”

She must have looked wild, her hair mussed from tugging at it and her eyes still red from the little bit of crying she’d allowed herself before leaving Grian’s.

She didn’t answer him right away. She studied his face. His skin. His eyes.

He didn’t feel off. Her gut told her he was himself.

“Gem,” he repeated, dropping th scaffolding on the ground haphazardly. “What happened?”

“Have you seen Beef lately?” she asked, voice coming out hoarse.

His brows furrowed further. “Beef? Not in a few days. He was wearing a snazzy pink suit.”

She shivered, imagining a sick suit made out of fish scales. “Something’s happened to him,” she said. “And Skizz and Pearl. They killed Mumbo and traumatized Grian.”

“What?” he gasped. “What? No. Beef?”

She’d known this would be the reaction because it had been hers, too, but she was impatient. Every second that ticked by was a second they could be hurting Etho, or worse.

“They have Etho,” she said, urgency in her usually carefree voice. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

“No.” Bdubs’ arms fell slack to his sides, and he shook his head slowly in shock. It was a lot to process, she knew. “No.”

“They do. I need to find them and save him and I need you to help me.”

He made a strangled noise and looked at her helplessly, desperately. “Are you sure? Gem, I – Beef? Skizz?”

“There was blood on his fucking floor, Bdubs.” She drew the soiled note from her pocket and shoved it flat against his chest. He fumbled for it and stopped breathing as he read the words.

“Jeezus,” he breathed, and lowered the paper, looking lost. “What do we do?”

Her gaze hardened. “We find him. And do whatever it takes to get him back.”

They landed at the top of Joel’s massive staircase almost in unison.

“Joel!” Gem called, impatient to get past the storytelling part so they could get on with the finding Etho part.

“Sup, Gem?” Joel asked from up on one of his ledges, reaching up to smear glow ink on one of his decorative signs. “Hey, Bdubs.”

Before Gem could open her mouth, Bdubs cried, “Etho’s in trouble!”

Joel dropped down to the cobbled street, not even wincing at the fall damage. He straightened and drew his sword. “Where?”

Gem filled Joel in as they traveled, and he stayed silent, eyes hard. She’d never seen him so serious, jaw gritted, without a hint of that playfulness he always wore. It might have concerned her but he didn’t feel off either. This was Etho.

If anyone would go to the ends of the earth with her for Etho, it was Bdubs and Joel.

“So we should go to Grian’s and kick his door in,” Joel finally spoke, and Gem shook her head.

“I already did that, he’s been as helpful as he’s able,” she said.

“So where are we blumming going?” he demanded.

“Doc’s,” she said, veering her wings slightly to the right. “Bdubs said he heard something about him trying to blow Beef and Skizz to hell.”

“They made him build some salmon monument,” Bdubs added.

Gem might have snorted at that before all this, the thought of anyone trying to make Doc do anything. But now all she could hope for was some kind of clue.

They landed in the swamp, next to a giant machine that Gem couldn’t fathom the purpose for. But she didn’t spare it another glance when she saw the crater.

And Pearl, standing at the edge of it. She clutched her stomach as if she were going to vomit, and when she turned her head Gem recoiled – she looked almost alien, her eyes too far apart, bulging, flesh shiny and sparkling in the sun.

Joel stormed forward, sword firmly in hand. “Where’s Etho?”

“Joel, wait!” Gem cried, grabbing his arm. Pearl looked like she was in pain.

“Let him do it,” she rasped, and her voice sounded deep, like her throat was too thick. “Before it takes over again.”

“What’s happening to you?” Gem breathed.

“Big Salmon,” Pearl moaned, clawing at her stomach. “It made me…it made me…” She doubled over, groaning, and Gem couldn’t help it, even though she knew it was stupid to get too close, it was Pearl. Her Pearl.

“Gem!” Bdubs cried as she lunged forward to catch her best friend.

They crumpled to the grass, Pearl half-limp in her arms. Up close, she smelled putrid, like rotting ocean, her eyes glassy and mouth looking painfully stretched.

“Pearl,” Gem whispered, running a hand over her slimy, matted hair. “Where have they taken Etho?”

“Coords,” Pearl gasped, “pocket.”

Gem rifled in Pearl’s slacks pocket, the fabric damp and sickeningly slick. Somewhere behind her, Bdubs retched, and Joel moaned, but Gem focused on finding the tiny piece of paper in her pocket, pulling it free.

“You have to kill me, Gem,” Pearl pleaded, “I can’t – I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t-” She cut off on a moan, curling in on herself, and Gem’s heart broke.

“She killed Doc,” Joel called, voice with an edge of hysteria. “He’s-”

Bdubs retched again, and she realized they had been looking over the edge of the crater.

“I didn’t want-” Pearl shrieked then, fingers clawing at Gem’s shirt, and she reacted instinctively, shoving her sword through flesh and bone, spearing her best friend on her diamond blade, and a sob racked her body as Pearl’s limbs went limp.

She fell back, and Gem went with her, burying her face in her postmaster clothes, uncaring that they reeked of rot and bile, mingling with the coppery scent of blood now because she was dead-

Gem screamed, she couldn’t keep it in, she screamed til her throat was raw and it hurt-

Arms pulled her back and she thrashed, flailing, sloppy, her sword hit the grass, but it wasn’t an attack, it was an embrace, and Bdubs and Joel were there, and they held her as she cried for the fucking wasteland the world had become.

“Where do we look now?” Bdubs asked, wiping furiously at his eyes once Gem had calmed down enough to disentangle herself from them.

She uncurled her fingers from their death grip on the paper in Pearl’s pocket. She blinked back the last of her tears as the scribbled numbers came into focus.

“She said they’re here,” she said hoarsely.

“So what’s the plan?” Bdubs asked.

Joel stood up, swinging his sword in a sharp arc. “Fly in and fuck shit up.”

“Tempting, but Bdubs is right,” she said. “If they’re possessed by this salmon thing too...”

“We can take Beef and Skizz,” Joel scoffed.

“But it’s not Beef and Skizz,” Gem argued. “It’s this thing that’s possessing them. Pearl went feral.”

“And they could be going feral on Etho right now!” Joel cried, voice crazed.

Bdubs clenched his fists. “Stop it.”

Gem got to her feet, facing Joel. “I get it, okay? I can’t stop picturing…” She shuddered. “But we’re no help to him if we fuck this up. We might have the element of surprise here, and we should take advantage.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Bdubs pointed out. “As if they’d think nobody would come after Etho.”

“So I fly in and fuck shit up, and you two use the distraction,” Joel said, tapping his sword against his thigh impatiently.

Gem shook her head. “No, it should be me. If it is a trap, it was for me. They won’t be expecting you guys.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit back and blummin’ watch?” Joel cried.

“No, you’re supposed to save Etho,” she said, staring him down.

“Gem, no-” Bdubs said, but she whirled on him, eyes blazing.

“You want a plan or not?” she snapped. “That’s the plan, take it or leave it. His best chance is if they think I’m alone.”

Silence. They knew she was right. Gem knew the risks, knew they cared about her. They also knew that she was willing to die to save Etho. Because they were, too.

Joel curled a hand around the back of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “Fuck them up.”

Bdubs grasped her hand and squeezed. “GeminiSlay,” he said hoarsely.

“Get him out,” she whispered, struggling to keep her voice steady.

Joel stepped back and nodded. “We will.”

Gem soared closer to the coordinates and her heart sank. They’d been expecting her. Beef and Skizz stood on what on any other day would have been a beautiful grassy island in the middle of the ocean, a crumpled form between them, white hair splattered with blood.

No. No, no no no… Her gut roiled, vision going red with rage, and she drew her sword while still in the air.

“Careful, Gem,” Beef called, and Skizz grabbed a fistful of Etho’s hair, exposing his slender throat, flashing a glittering blade too close, too close to her love’s perfect skin.

She skidded her landing, holding out a hand, voice strangled. “Don’t!”

“Drop the sword, Gemstone,” Skizz said, and what was wrong with his voice, and his face looked horrifying, he was farther gone than Pearl, so distorted he looked more fish than man.

“Didn’t I tell you she’d come?” Beef asked, his hands clasped together behind his back as if this were a casual business meeting.

Etho looked dazed, bruised, one of his cheekbones purple, his mask gone, eyes glassy. He hissed as Skizz wrenched him closer, writhing a little, arms bound cruelly behind his back. His coat was gone too, leaving his arms bare, his black shirt ripped in places, fuck, what had they been doing to him?

“Drop the sword,” Skizz snapped, pressing the blade under the slope of Etho’s beautiful jaw.

She dropped her weapon, diamond thumping uselessly in the grass, and prayed that Joel and Bdubs would stay away for the time being. This was too precarious of a situation, one slip and all was lost.

“Gem,” Etho rasped, “get out of here.”

Not a chance, she thought, and silently begged him to just stay quiet.

“No, she wants to party with us, huh?” Skizz drawled.

“I want you to let him go,” she said firmly, hoping it was firm, hoping she didn’t sound as fucking terrified as she felt inside.

“I didn’t have high hopes for Pearl convincing you,” Beef mused, and at the mention of her name Gem’s gaze flicked to him. “She didn’t take as well as Skizz here.”

“Loyal to the cause, boss,” Skizz chirped.

“Pearl’s dead,” Gem choked on the words.

“Yes, I assume she is if you’re here,” Beef replied, still calm as ever. “I’ll cut straight to the point, Gem, Big Salmon wants you on our side.”

He was delusional. She could have almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, if Etho wasn’t bleeding on the ground. If her friends were still alive.

“This is a hell of a way to proposition me,” she said, flicking a wrist in Etho’s direction.

“We thought you’d need some motivation,” Beef said.

“All you’ve done is severely pissed me off,” she replied. She tried to sound strong, in control, stall for fucking time because she didn’t know what to do.

“You asked too many questions, and pissed off the big boss,” Beef said with an almost apologetic shrug. “I had to take steps. The best way to motivate someone is to threaten something precious to them.”

As if for effect, Skizz kicked Etho in the stomach, and Gem screamed as he doubled over. “Stop!” she cried, and took a step towards them, but Skizz quickly resumed his original grip, jerking Etho’s head back as he grunted in pain.

“Ah ah ah,” Skizz sang.

“What do I need to do?” she asked, head swimming. Even if she pledged her allegiance to Beef right now, how could they trust her? They weren’t going to let Etho go just because she declared she was on their side.

“Just a little procedure,” Beef said, holding up two fingers close to each other. “But you have to be a willing participant. Hence the motivation.”

The word procedure swirled in her brain. Of course it wasn’t just pledging her loyalty. They were going to turn her into whatever Skizz was, whatever Pearl had been.

“Gem, no-” Etho gasped, and there was a sickening crunch as Skizz slammed his boot down on one of his legs.

“Stop hurting him!” Gem cried, and tears threatened because this was all so hopeless, what the hell was she supposed to do? The longer this went on the more he suffered. “Just tell me what I need to do!”

Beef grinned, stepping aside and motioning to the ocean behind him. “All you have to do is walk in there. Big Salmon will determine your loyalty.”

Gem’s head swam as she gazed at the sparkling water. “How do I know you’ll let him go? I know what happened with Mumbo.”

“You don’t,” Beef said with a shrug. “But Skizz can just kill him now in front of you, if you prefer.”

“No,” she held out her hands. “No. Please. I’m going to do what you want.”

She took a step towards the water, despite not wanting to leave him. Guilt gnawed at her guts. Etho was here because of her. Because she hadn’t listened to Pearl. Pearl was dead now, also because of her.

“Probably best to leave your gear,” Beef added, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion, but a requirement.

Gem stared at Etho as she unclipped her elytra and let it fall to the grass.

No, he mouthed, his voice either gone or staying silent to avoid more broken bones. His eyes were desperate, pained, and it broke whatever shreds of her heart were left.

She dropped all her armor, emptied her inventory, none of it mattered anymore. “I love you,” she whispered, because she knew he’d hear it, and it was just for him, and she didn’t know if she’d ever get to say it again.

She turned towards the water and it bulged – bulged? – and she froze in shock as something emerged. It was a monstrosity, like a giant fish had been through the nuclear apocalypse, with sickly pink-green scales and lopsided gigantic eyes. Its mouth puckered at the edges, like ruched fabric at the bottom of a dress, and its mouth was mottled and black and smelled like death and decay.

She knew she had to go in there. She didn’t know how she did. The thing didn’t quite talk, but she felt its essence sliding around the surface of her brain, leaving a slick feeling in its wake. She shivered.

She knew it wanted her to walk into its mouth. It wanted her to become a part of it. She also knew if she didn’t, Etho was dead.

At least if she did, he had a chance, however slight.

“Gem!” he screamed as she stepped up onto its pulsing, spongy tongue. She didn’t look back. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep going if she did.

The rancid lips closed around her.

“-it’s not gonna work, Bdubs!”

“-they’re too close together-”

“-plan was if Etho wasn’t RIGHT THERE-”

“-she’s not gonna want us to-”

“-fuckin’ just go they can’t take all of us-”

“They’ll kill him!” Bdubs roared, and Joel’s mouth snapped shut. He’d never seen his friend so angry. Playfully annoyed but not proper angry. “I want to rush in there too, but we have to be smart.”

Joel let out a frustrated yell, scrubbing a hand down his face. They were perched on a tree a safe distance away, Bdubs having convinced him to stop and look through his spyglass to get a lay of the land.

The lay of the land didn’t look good. From what they could see, Skizz had Etho and Gem stood before Beef, her sword nowhere to be seen.

With only ocean between them and the island, there was no way to get closer, no cover, no way to have any element of surprise.

Joel knew Bdubs was right. But he hated not knowing what to do. He hated all of this. He was used to just running headfirst into danger and hoping everything worked out. It had gone fine for him so far but this time…this time other people’s lives hung in the balance. People he cared about deeply.

“I know what to do,” someone said, and both men startled, and it sounded like Grian but not Grian at the same time.

How could it be Grian?

Joel looked down at the water, and it was Grian, only he looked…wrong. His eyes were pure black, too large, glassy as if staring into space. He was standing in the water as if having just emerged, hair plastered to his forehead, dripping everywhere.

“Grian, what the hell, man?” Joel asked, and it came out far less forceful than he’d meant it to be. He hadn’t thought anything else could shock him today. He’d been wrong.

“Fly high above the island where they can’t see you,” Grian continued in a monotone voice as if he hadn’t heard anything. “Divebomb them as accurately as you can. Focus on Skizz, you will have to be fast if you want Etho to live. I will take care of the Salmon.”

The hairs on the back of Joel’s neck stood on end, suddenly struck with the feeling that this wasn’t Grian. That something else was using his mouth.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“Follow my instructions or not,” Not-Grian said, then began to retreat into the water. He didn’t swim, didn’t turn, just began to move back, deeper, deeper.

“Wait!” Bdubs cried, but there was no response, and Grian’s head went under the surface, disappearing into the dark. “What the hell was that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Joel said, brandishing his sword. “It’s a plan, and it’s the only plan.”

“What about Gem?” Bdubs asked, voice strained.

“Gem knows what she’s doing,” Joel replied, and though guilt twisted his guts at the dismissal of his friend’s safety, he wasn’t wrong. When she’d parted, they’d both known that she was willingly going into a situation that would likely kill her. Their priority was getting Etho out. And he wasn’t going to shatter her last wishes, make her risk be in vain.

“Got rockets?” Bdubs asked, sounding defeated.

Joel nodded sharply, pulling out his stash.

Etho felt like he was dying. As the fish monster’s lips closed around Gem, he screamed, fuck whatever Skizz would do to him. His body was already so broken, but nothing hurt worse than losing her.

His mind tortured him, replaying the look on her face before she turned away from him, the cold fear in her eyes as she’d whispered I love you. He knew Gem. Knew when they’d taken him that she’d come. Knew that she’d do anything to save him, even sacrifice herself.

Knew that Gem loved fiercely, her stupid, beautiful, selfless heart. She had to know he was dead anyway. Beef wasn’t going to actually let him go. But she’d taken the chance, just in case, and even though he hated it, he understood. He would have done the same in her shoes.

Fuck if it didn’t destroy him, though. He hoped that they would end him fast. Hoped that she wouldn’t emerge as some brainwashed fish monster that they’d make kill him. He didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw. He didn’t want her fear to have been the last thing he’d seen, either, but at least she was still her.

He closed his eyes, imagining a better time, being wrapped around her, the feel of her kisses, her soft mewls when she’d bury her face into his neck.

Somebody shouted, and it was as if time blipped. One second, Etho was on his knees, scalp burning beneath Skizz’ grip, diamond blade kissing his throat, and the next he was on his side in the grass and Joel was there, looking feral, covered in blood, holding Skizz’ disembodied deformed fish monster head in his hand.

Etho opened his mouth but couldn’t make words. He met Joel’s eyes, and what the fuck was Joel doing here, and how did he just appear and-

Beef screamed, angry-sounding, and it was jarring after hearing him so calm and collected in the face of all of this insanity for so long. Etho arched his back, ignoring the screaming pain in his body so he could see what was happening.

Beef was on his knees, one of his shoulders spurting blood, his arm in the grass, still twitching despite being removed from his body.

“You – you fucking bastards deserve-” Bdubs grunted as he swung his sword, “-so much worse than this!” The diamond blade connected with Beef’s collarbone, and he wrenched it through and down, slicing him in two.

Etho’s brain short-circuited. Joel and Bdubs were here? How? Where had they come from?

“Eefo,” Joel said, working at the ropes bringing his wrists behind him, and it sounded so strained, so fucking defeated.

Bdubs limped over, collapsing to his knees next to Etho’s face, muttering obscenities under his breath. “-fuckin’ landing sucked,” he huffed, and then his hands were on Etho’s face, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“Gem,” Etho rasped.

“Where is she?” Joel asked as he gave up on trying to untie the ropes and sawed through them instead.

The relief in Etho’s wrists and shoulders was palpable but his heart rate tripled as he gripped Bdubs’ forearm. “She’s inside the Big Salmon,” he said, and the wide-eyed stare of his friend held utter confusion. “Behind us. In the water.”

“Etho there’s nothing there,” Joel said, uncharacteristically gentle, as if speaking to a frightened child.

Bdubs opened his mouth, but before he could say anything an inhuman screech pierced the air, making them all wince. Bdubs’ jaw dropped open and he gripped Etho’s shoulders, dragging him into his arms as if to stand up and run. But his legs had been hurt from his fall, and Etho knew he’d be useless with one of his calves broken let alone all of his other injuries.

But it turned him around, at least, and he could see what they were gaping at. The Salmon was back, or whatever it was, the giant fish monster that had eaten Gem, and it wasn’t alone.

Blood pooled in the water as another monster breached the surface, this one shades of beige and – was that Grian on its head?!

“Grian!” Joel yelled, but Grian didn’t react, didn’t move, he was like a statue on top of the thing as it lunged for the Salmon monster with razor-sharp teeth.

“Is that a fucking cod?” Bdubs breathed, and of course it was, anything was possible at this point Etho couldn’t question any of it.

His concern was that Gem was still inside the Salmon. Was she still alive in there, if they could…get in there?

“Gem is in that?” Joel asked, pointing to the Salmon with his sword, apparently on the same wavelength.

Etho could only nod. He wanted to go, too, and he hated that he couldn’t. As if reading his mind, Bdubs tightened his embrace, as if to hold Etho back, as if he was fucking going anywhere.

Joel took off running for the water, but at the last second the Cod-thing lashed out with a giant fin, slapping him back, sending him sailing back into the grass.

The Salmon took advantage of this and lunged, burying its own rotting teeth into the Cod’s side, and Grian screamed, or something screamed and it came out of Grian’s mouth. Etho didn’t thing Grian was Grian anymore. He didn’t think anything was fucking anything anymore.

The Salmon held fast even as the Cid thrashed, but then it flinched and began to shudder. It disengaged from the Cod, slithering and quivering, and then its eye began to bulge and it looked like it was going to explode and then a bodyemerged, covered in blood and viscera and wielding something and it was Gem, oh god, Etho wondered if he were hallucinating because how was she here-

“Gem!” Joel cried, and he saw her too and Etho’s heart soared with hope.

She leapt from the twitching Salmon onto the Cod, grabbing Grian around the middle. “Let him go!” she shrieked. “Leave us alone!”

The Cod tried to shake her off, but she held fast to Grian who seemed attached to it somehow.

“Let him GO!” Gem roared, and finally Grian tumbled, and she curled around him as they hit the water.

Etho’s ears rang, panic shrieking in his blood, and he did struggle against Bdubs this time, his busted body be damned.

“No, you can’t,” Bdubs grunted as he held him tight against his chest, and Joel was running again, and Etho thought the Cod monster would just smack him again, devour Gem and Grian and he’d have to lose her again-

But the giant fish retreated, disappearing into the bloodied water and leaving the dead Salmon beached, gills still fluttering but growing weaker and weaker.

Joel splashed into the waves, dropping his sword and reaching down into the water, dragging up first an arm, then a torso, then another body came up under the other arm, and it was Gem holding a very dazed-looking Grian, his eyes finally the normal size, face fear-stricken as he coughed and sputtered.

Joel hefted Grian into his arms, waving Gem off. “I’ve got him,” he said, “don’t I, buddy? You look like shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Grian rasped, and received a laugh in return, and that fucking laugh made Etho’s heart clench because if Joel was laughing everything was okay now.

And Gem was running towards him, soaking wet, still holding whatever the hell that weird weapon was, and she dropped it when she fell to her knees in front of him, sobbing as she threw her arms around both him and Bdubs, crushing them both in a desperate hug.

“Careful, careful,” Bdubs chastised as Etho groaned, even though he didn’t want to, he didn’t care how much pain he was in, she was here, she was alive.

She pressed her hands to Etho’s cheeks, staring down at him, as if she couldn’t believe it either.

“What the hell is that?” Bdubs asked, toeing the slick thing she’d dropped.

“One of its ribs,” she replied, without taking her eyes off of Etho.

And he laughed, even though it hurt. She’d been swallowed by a fish monster and ripped out one of it’s fucking ribs before using it to bust out its eyeball from the inside. Void, he loved this woman.

“You’re a lunatic,” he rasped, even though he’d meant to say I love you.

She seemed to get it, anyway, because she kissed him.

His heart slowly stitched itself back together. Because if Gem was kissing him, everything was okay now.

[read on ao3]

#hermitfic #hermitblr #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #gemtho #big salmon #cw violence #cw gore #cw language #cw blood

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