#new swaggon

[bluuedraws]

Chapter one is finished! I’m not providing a synopsis because the chapter is pretty telling of what the story will be like, along with the tags.

I hope you enjoy the ride, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Keep in mind this is my first fanfic I’ve ever published publicly, so please be patient. These are new grounds for me :)

Chapter One

Grian runs.

He’s been running for a long time, but never has he sprinted so hard and so fast, his muscles burning, his legs aching with every stride he took. His lungs scream for air as he gasps, the cold air searing his throat as he pumps his arms even harder. The constant pain in his wings aren’t helping him concentrate on running, either. They’re badly bruised, rendering him unable to fly. And never before has Grian been so desperate to take to the air. Behind him, he hears nothing but the swaying branches and the leaves crunching under his feet. It’s eerily silent, shrouded with a deceiving quiet that only strikes more fear into Grian’s heart.

How have they found him so quickly?

They’d only been on the server for a couple of months. Everyone was still deep into their projects, Scar expanding his ever growing Swaggon business, Impulse adding details to his factory, Mumbo doing whatever Mumbo did, Pearl creating gorgeous builds… It wasn’t time to end this season. Not even close. They should have had more than a few more months before they caught up with him.

Grian’s body is burning now, more exhausted than he’s ever felt. He’s pushing himself far beyond his limits, and he still isn’t sure it’ll be enough. He just has to make it to Boatem… There, he can warn his friends, and they can flee the server as they always did when they inevitably caught up with him. Grian thought he had mastered this endless chase through worlds, thought he could stay one step ahead of them. But despite his efforts, he’s failed.

The ground is getting smoother and more worn down beneath his feet as he springs on. A good sign, it means he’s growing ever closer to civilization. He’s so tired, his legs numb and feet barely functioning. Almost there, just a little longer…

WHAM!

Grian smashes to the ground, barely managing to catch himself before smacking his face into the dirt. His foot’s caught on something, his exhaustion finally taking him down. Stumbling to his feet, he continues on, but now he can sense something behind him. They’re even closer now.

Finally, finally, Grian spots the familiar sight of the Boatem hole, a strange stack of boats and various items sitting precariously over a deep hole that lead to the void. By some miracle, all of his friends are sitting around it, engaged in conversation. He can save them, if only he can convince them in the minutes he had left before they caught up.

He can convince them.

He has to.

“…and then Grian unfroze midair and asked me what I was doing. It scared the heck out of me!” Scar is laughing, obviously telling some story to the group. Whatever it was cracks them up, and they’re all clutching their stomachs, laughing as Scar buries his head in his hands in fake embarrassment. Grian skids to a halt in front of them, hands on his thighs, gasping for air.

Scar turns to him, a smile spreading across his face as he greets the newcomer. “Well, speak of the devil! Grian, I was just telling them about-”

“(Gasp!) Scar, stop! They’re here, th—(Gasp!)—they’re coming! We need to leave!” Grian cuts him off, fumbling his words as he desperately tries to get them to understand what had happened. Scar’s face drops from his usual lopsided grin to a worried frown, and he reaches out to grab Grian’s shoulder in support. The others look on inquisitively. “Woah, Grian, buddy, calm down a sec. Take a moment to breathe, you’re exhausted-” Scar moves to let him take a seat next to him, but Grian waves him off.

“T-there’s no time, don’t you see?! (Gasp!) They- (Gasp! )they’ve caught up with us! W-we need to go, change servers, or it’s- it’s all over!”

The world is spinning and blurring around him, and hazy shapes seem to surround him as muffled voices call his name. <<Grian! Grian, are you ok?>>

<<Oh god, what happened to his wings?>>

They’re concerned, but not for the right reasons. They need to go, to run, not check on him!

<<What happened? What’s wrong?>>

<<How can we help?>>

No, it’s going all wrong. They don’t know the danger, don’t know what to do. Grian hasn’t told them, couldn’t tell anyone without putting them in danger. But he guesses it doesn’t matter anymore. There was no avoiding it, because despite his efforts, his friend’s are still in mortal peril.

Grian feels himself sink to his knees as the world tilts alarmingly. He feels nauseous, but he fights it. He needs to get the words out, or else it’s all over.

He manages one word before he feels them arrive.

“RUN!”

…

The world turns cold.

The wind stops blowing. His friends grow quiet and still.

Grian opens his eyes.

Everything has stopped. The grass no longer sways in the wind, the clouds are still above their heads. And, the most horrifying of all, his friends are frozen. Scar has his arm on Grian’s shoulders, his face covered in anxiety and concern. Impulse and Mumbo are crowded around him, tense and unsure of what to do. But worst of all is Pearl. She stands slightly farther back, but unlike the others, her eyes aren’t trained on Grian. She’s looking over his shoulder, fixated on something behind him. And she looks terrified.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Grian pushes himself up off the ground (gently brushing Scar’s arm off his shoulder in the process), and turns.

And the monster stares back.

Just like that, the world is gone. He’s floating in a vast purple void, alone with the one he’s been running from for years.

It’s a humanoid figure, cloaked in grey cloth and deathly silent. When it raises its head, Grian can’t see anything. It’s too shrouded in shadow to make out.

No. No, no no no no. This can’t be happening. It can’t end like this. Grian won’t let it. If he can’t save himself, he’ll at least save his friends.

He clenches his fists against his sides, his fear turning to hot, boiling rage, bubbling against his throat as the figure looks on, silent. Now that the worst has actually happened, Grian finds himself filled with unexpected bravery. After all, what does he have to lose?

“Leave them alone!” Grian spits at the thing, the years of barely contained fury finally boiling over. He arches his wings over his head in an effort to look more intimidating, ignoring the pain that seares through his bones. “It’s me you want, not them! I’ll go with you, do whatever you want, just leave. Them. Be!”

Grian knows that they work in strange ways. They can’t forcefully take him. He must agree of his own will first. But that doesn’t stop them from making his life hell. They have enormous power, and don’t care who they kill along the way.

Grian waits for an answer.

The silence seems to stretch forever.

But then the thing laughes. It’s a cold, calculating chuckle that chills Grian to the bone.

“Oh, little one. What a silly request you make.”

He holds his stance, watching the figure in front of him. It still doesn’t move.

“What we want is far from just you. You may be the key, but there are many more doors to open.”

Fingers turn to claws as he digs them into his palms, anger reverting back to horror. He chooses his next words carefully, attempting to hide the quiver in his voice.

“What will you do?”

It watches him. It’s been watching him for as long as Grian knows.

“That entirely depends on you, my friend.”

The word “friend” has a hint of malice etched into it, a stinging threat that hangs above them. They are not friends. Never have been.

“We are more merciful than you know. And so, we offer you a deal.”

A deal. That doesn’t sound good. A deal with them never goes well. Grian knows that more than anyone.

“We won’t follow you or your friends anymore. We’ll leave you be forever. No more running, no more hiding. No more living in constant fear.”

His breath catches in his throat. This was too good to be true. Too wonderful of a thought to possibly be real.

He waits for the other shoe to drop.

“But to receive this, you must pass out tests.”

Oh no.

“We have many trials for you to overcome. If you face them all, and win, you may receive our blessing. And if not… we take you and your companions.”

There it is. No gift ever comes for free, not when they’ve been hunting him for years. Not when he’s escaped every trap, every plan they’ve made to capture him.

This is all another ploy. Another mind game to try and get him on their side. Grian isn’t dumb, and he won’t let himself fall for it.

…But oh, it is tempting. Behind his outer confidence, Grian can feel the exhaustion lurking behind his eyes. He can feel the years of stress and fear in ever muscle, every bone. To be relieved of this burden would mean everything.

But suspicion is clouding his thoughts. Something is very wrong.

If he agrees to this, and fails, he can’t backout. A deal is an agreement and is just as binding, magic wise.

But he’s so tired. So tired of putting everyone he loves in constant danger, so tired of keeping them in the dark.

And so, he makes a decision.

“I accept on one condition. I will take your tests, and pass without fail. But in the event I do, you only take me. You leave everyone else alone. This is my one offer, so you better take it or leave it!”

Grian spits out those last words, malice coating his tongue. The formal tone he’s been using drops away, replaced with cold rage. He hates them, hates their games and their tricks. And he is done with it all.

The figure lifts its hands, which hide beneath the folds of it’s cloak. And for a moment, Grian swears he can see a toothy smile beneath the mask, dripping with purple blood.

“We accept your offer”

The purple world begins to fade into white. Everything is fuzzy and hazy, just like before. Grian fights it, fixing his eyes on the blurry grey shape in front of him. He shouts at it, panic and anger mixing together. “Wait! What do I need to do? How do I complete your task?”

For a moment, a strange symbol flashes between them. A glowing square, but with the edges strangely cut off, leaving dashed corners.

“When you wake, you will see.”

The voice is growing fainter, the world lighter, and Grian feels himself slowly slip away.

“But Grian… you forgot one thing.”

The voice is barely a whisper, nearly vanished into the pressing white. Grian has to strain to listen.

“You never said we can’t use your friends against you.”

Chilling horror spreads through Grian’s chest as the words sink in. He thrashes desperately, fighting against the haze.

“No!! No, I take it back, I take it back! Don’t hurt them! Take me instead!!” He screams, pounding at the walls of white mist enclosing him, weakening him. But his words fall on deaf ears, and it’s then when the white overtakes him.

The world fades out into nothing.

And Grian is gone.

The cloaked figure stands in the empty space for a few seconds more, staring at nothing. It turns, cloak swishing behind it, and slowly fades away, leaving the strange, empty world.

Only a whisper is left behind.

“A deal is a deal, Grian.”

….

All around the server, 11 players vanish.

….

A new world opens, receives, then locks.

…

And Scar opens his eyes to a world of sand.

| Next |

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

#Desert duo AU #Hermitcraft season 8 #Grian #Grian watcher lore #Goodtimeswithscar #platonic soulmates #Minecraft #Life series #Third Life SMP #Desert duo fanfic #Fanfiction

[happy-hermit]

LAST LIFE SCAR ANGST PART TWO BABY :D

Thank you everyone for your enthusiasm with this fic akdkjdh it really kept me going. ( @stiffyck this is still for you)( @hopepetal here’s the tag u asked for I love your writing by the way I’m so happy you like this fic alskjdjd)

Part One

———

A few days pass where nothing and everything happens in equal measurements. The returned hermits work on settling back into normal — well, relatively normal — life, and they tend to only see each other in passing. They get caught up in old and new projects, filled with an urgency that came from being away for so long.

Scar himself spends most of his time gathering items. It’s mindless, repetitive work. Time consuming. Calming, almost. It’s boring enough that he doesn’t think anyone will bother to bother him. (He ignores the way his chest pangs at the thought. It doesn’t matter. It can’t.)

Jellie follows him around most of the time, even if he can’t always see her. She’s a comforting presence, and he knows that she’s only there because she wants to be. He doesn’t have to write up a contract to convince her to stay. She’s there for him. It’s just… nice, is all. To know that.

Scar wanders around with shulker boxes full of wood and leaves and sand and he pretends that he’s not avoiding everyone. It’s not like he doesn’t see them at all, and in fact he always grins and waves when he happens to run into someone. He just — doesn’t stay long. Doesn’t want to overstay a welcome he isn’t sure he has.

Daytime is easier. He can be busy during the day. He can forget. At night, though, he lays in bed and he hurts. His chest aches, and he’s cold, and he’s alone, always. Jellie is there, sure, and she counts, of course, but—

Well. Jellie can’t hug him. She can’t talk to him. She doesn’t know why he’s sad.

More than once, he finds himself outside of a Boatem member’s base in the dead of night, hand poised to knock and heart tugging him forward. He can’t do it, though. He doesn’t really know why — doesn’t want to think about it for too long. He’s pretty sure his mind would lead him back to an isolated mountain with a single bed set haphazardly in a corner. Thinks he would only be reminded of the way people had only ever visited if they’d wanted something from him.

He never knocks, those nights. He instead demolishes frankly absurd amounts of land for resources he doesn’t yet have plans for. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s fine.

He manages to believe that for two weeks before it all falls apart.

———

The nights have been getting colder, since they all got back. Maybe it’s the season changing, or maybe it’s whatever has started happening with the moon; either way, Scar is thankful that he’s wearing a jacket. The fact that he’s soaked through to the bone is a little less ideal.

It’s a well known side effect of glow squid hunting, though, so he can’t really blame it on anyone but himself. It certainly ensured that he wouldn’t be falling asleep on his feet anytime soon. Of which there was a very real danger, if the cotton stuffed into his head and the lead weighing down his eyelids is any indication. The glow ink splattered on his hands and sleeves is starting to look a little blurry, and he instead focuses on just making it back to the Swaggon without keeling over.

The universe has it out for him, though, so when the first phantom crashes talons-first into his back, all he can do is fall.

He hits the ground with a strangled yelp, his sack of hard-earned glow squid ink flying out of his hand and splattering across the grass. It’s pretty. And heartbreaking. He supposes he hadn’t really needed it for anything…

The phantoms screech angrily overhead, and his back throbs and he scrambles to roll over onto it anyway, because he can’t stand up just yet and he at least wants to be able to see what’s coming—

He lurches to the right as another phantom dives towards him, and the talons only connect with his upper arm as opposed to his chest. He’ll call that one a win.

“Oh geez— Ow, come on, you can’t kick a man when he’s down!” Scar scrambles backwards across the grass, voice high and eyes wide as he resorts to attempting to reason with things that don’t understand him.

There are three of them circling him, and he scrambles to his feet just in time to catch a set of razor-sharp teeth in his shoulder. He yells and swats at it blindly, somehow managing to hit its eyes and smear glow ink across its wildly flapping wing. The phantom detaches itself from him, and he doesn’t even have time to be relieved before another is diving towards him.

He runs.

His shoulder hurts and his arm hurts and his back hurts and he’s cold and wet and no one has touched him gently in months, and he runs.

He doesn’t mean to go to Grian’s house. He had wanted to go home. (Maybe it’s telling, that he’d ended up here instead.)

A phantom bites at his leg as he reaches the alleyway, fake stars shining above him and horrifying undead creatures punishing him for his insomnia close behind him. Pain ricochets up his calf and down his ankle and he frantically tries to shake it loose, crashing to the ground again and crying out when the impact aggravates his other wounds. He knows without looking that his health is getting low. Dangerously low. And he hates respawning, he doesn’t want to, and maybe it won’t even work, maybe he’s used up his last life and he’s going to die alone just like he lived alone, and all he’ll be is a ghost haunting a world that barely notices his absence.

(That’s maybe too dramatic, but he’s dying and he’s tired and every night he holds his own hand and pretends he’s not alone. He feels entitled to a breakdown.)

He curls up against the ground with his eyes shut tight, resigned to the fact that he’ll have to get up and pick up his scattered items in a few minutes, resigned to the body aches that will follow him around for the next few days, resigned to the jokes that will pop up in chat after his death message goes out.

All he can hear is his own heartbeat in his ears, phantoms screeching and injuries stinging in a way that feels distant. Any second now. Any moment.

A hand lands on his shoulder, distinctly and painfully human, and he gasps, eyes flying open as he scrambles into a sitting position. His leg throbs angrily and his arm sends shocks of pain throughout his entire body and Scar tries his best to stay quiet — no one can know he’s hurt, they’ll kill him, they’ll make him give up a life — but a high-pitched sound of pain escapes his throat anyway. The blurry shape of a person kneeling in front of him freezes.

“—an you hear me? Scar?” The voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater, but it’s familiar. It feels like safe and danger at the same time. It sounds worried. “You’re hurt, please—“

“‘m fine,” Scar manages to get out, strained and quiet and mostly on autopilot.

“Wha— Scar, you are not fine, you absolute…”

The voice trails off into grumbling and Scar blinks slowly, looking down at himself. He’s covered in glow ink and his own blood and torn clothes. The clothes don’t look like the right color. He’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be purple.

“Wrong…” Scar mumbles, poking at his clothes. It seems important.

“Maybe because you’re bleeding all over it, Scar, just—“ The figure huffs, just a blob of red and tan, and something is moving behind him. Scar squints. The person seems angry. His weak heart rate picks up.

“D’ you… want a life?” Scar asks, confused and hurt. He can’t think. “I won’t… not for free. Let’s… A deal?”

The blurry person makes some sort of noise that makes Scar think he said something wrong. It sounds like it was punched out of them. Something’s wrong, he said something wrong. Scar’s eyelids are starting to droop, but he forces them open with a whine. The person lurches forward a bit, like they’re trying to catch him, but he’s not falling. Is he?

“D… Don’t go,” Scar pleads, mind scrambling to put together a sales pitch on why they should stay. “I can… I have— if you…”

His vision goes darker around the edges, as his own voice starts to echo in his head. The figure is saying something again, sounding frantic, scared. He wonders why. He hadn’t meant to be scary. He doesn’t think he’s in a condition to even try to be.

The last thing he sees before the darkness takes hold is a hand reaching out.

———

The first thing he’s aware of, when he wakes up, is not pain. It’s the gentle touch of a hand on his arm, lifting it and wrapping something around it. It still stings, but less so; most likely he’d been given a health potion. He feels warm. Sleepy. He opens his eyes.

The last thing he remembers is phantoms chasing him into Grian’s alley, and then someone finding him. Now with a slightly clearer head, he can only assume it had been Grian himself.

Slowly, he turns his head against the pillow he’s resting on, and he blinks sluggishly at the person currently bandaging his arm. It is Grian, with lines of worry in his face and his wings folded right against his back in that way that meant he was scared. Scar’s brow furrowed.

“…G?” His voice is hoarse, quiet, but Grian’s head still snaps up as if he’d shouted. “What’s wrong?”

Grian’s wings fluff up a little, something like angry disbelief swirling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Grian repeats, half-hysterical. He drops the roll of bandages onto the bed and gestures wildly at Scar’s body. “You keel over in my alley dying of blood loss and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“Well, you do seem to be taking it harder than I am,” Scar jokes half-heartedly, attempting to sit up. Grian immediately pushes him back down, and Scar is too shocked to protest.

“Nope, you don’t get to deflect,” Grian says, and somehow it’s as gentle as it is stern. “I know what phantoms mean, Scar, and — and you didn’t even know who I was when I found you. So— so get talking. I know you know how.”

Nerves flare in his stomach, and he breaks eye contact to stare at the wall, inspecting all the random knick knacks on the shelves. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain what he’s been feeling since the games, especially since everyone else seems to have moved on already. It feels silly, suddenly, for his biggest problem to be that he’s lonely. That he doesn’t think anyone wants him around.

“Scar,” Grian says, and it’s softer now. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

There’s a lump in his throat and a burning in his eyes, and for just a moment Scar pretends that his heartbreak is anger. He sits up, ignoring Grian’s protesting, and he points an accusing finger at the avian.

“Now you want to stay?” Scar says, powering through even when his voice cracks. “Because last I checked, all— all you wanted to do was leave.”

“Scar, what—“

“No, you wanted me to talk! I’m talking!” Scar’s chest hurts, and his hands are cold, and something in him has been breaking for a very long time. “You— you couldn’t wait to tell me that any alliance from the last games were over. And then when I— When I thought I had Mumbo you came and took him away, too.” Scar cradles his shaking hands close to his stomach and looks away, anger slowly draining. “And then Joel— and then I had no one. And no one wanted to— I tried, Grian, but no one wanted to—“

He closes his eyes tightly, trying to stop the inevitable. “No one wanted to stay,” he finishes quietly. “I… I don’t know what I did. I don’t know why no one…”

Scar trails off, laughing a little and rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they fall on Grian’s blanket. “I’m sorry. I don’t— I’m just tired.”

“Scar,” Grian says softly, and something about his voice is strange. “Please look at me.”

Scar looks. Grian has asked him, and he looks.

Grian is looking back at him — a small, sad smile on his face — and he’s crying. Scar blinks in surprise, staring, and Grian laughs quietly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. Scar doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

“Grian?” Scar says uncertainly.

“Scar,” Grian says, and he sounds both intensely fond and profoundly guilty. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Scar’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he swallows hard. Grian keeps going.

“And I’m so sorry,” Grian says, voice cracking. He reaches out a hand and grabs Scar’s, squeezing it tightly. Scar’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching. The touch feels foreign. It almost hurts. He never wants to let go. Grian tugs on his hand, gently, and Scar looks back up at him. Grian looks heartbroken, but focused. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone,” he says.

“Then why did you?” Scar blurts, unable to help it. He feels a little bit pathetic. He can’t care anymore. “Why did everyone—“

“I don’t know,” Grian says, sad and frustrated and desperate. “I know why I did, I— We didn’t end well the first time. Scar, I couldn’t— I couldn’t kill you again. I looked at you and all I could see was…”

(Bloody knuckles. Sandy clothes. Only one gets to win.)

“I know,” Scar says, quietly, both an apology and forgiveness. And then, softer, “I was alone.” His shoulders curl forwards a little. “Everyone had someone and I was…”

Grian puts his other hand on Scar’s uninjured shoulder, and Scar meets his gaze. The avian’s eyes are full of fire, intense determination mingling with stubborn care.

“Never again,” Grian says, like he’s stating a fact of the universe. Like he’s challenging some malevolent god. Then he softens. “You’re not alone, Scar. Not anymore. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Scar opens his mouth to say something eloquent and thankful and graceful. Instead, he bursts into tears.

Grian pulls him into a hug by the hand he’s still holding, wings coming up to surround them, and for the first time in a long time Scar feels warm. The ache in his chest is fading. His hands aren’t cold. Grian is breathing shakily next to his ear, and he’s being so very careful as to avoid Scar’s injuries, and he’s hugging him.

Scar tucks his face into Grian’s shoulder and cries.

———

In the morning, Pearl busts down the door with soup and a vendetta against apparently unwelcomed emotions.

(“I heard someone was sad. I’m here to beat it up.” She’s grinning, and Scar can’t help but laugh.)

Impulse arrives a few minutes later and drops Jellie into his lap, smiling softly.

(“I think this one missed you somehow more than we did!” Jellie curls up by his injured leg, and if Scar tears up, no one mentions it.)

Mumbo bursts in last, the salvaged remains of the glow squid ink he’d collected gathered into a little bottle.

(“I tried to get you the fresh stuff, but there wasn’t really a way for them to— to ethically sacrifice themselves. Sorry, mate.” Mumbo is covered in glowing ink, looking genuinely apologetic, and Scar laughs until his ribs hurt.)

And he is not alone.

#this is three times longer than the first part KAKSJDHJD I think I was possessed /j #I hid in a basement all day to write this #I’m sick and on vacation. this is all I have /hj #anyway I hope you like it!! I’m not too sure about the comfort and the ending but I hope it’s fine #anyway enjoy!! #j writes #jay’s journal #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #grian #desert duo #last life smp #last life

[tibby-art]

OH BOY ALRIGHTY time for brainrot (long ass ask incoming) im basing this off like. nothing but yk <33 assuming scars crew is boatem, i refuse to believe hed let them die in ANY universe. (death games and worlds with respawn is a different story) so like. what if it was flipped? what if boatem was alive, but scar was the one who "died" there was probably some altercation, he went overboard, somehow managed to dimension hop before going back on the boat, boatem thinks hes dead because impulse checked and hes very much NOT THERE meanwhile, scar (and jellie. cant forget jellie) ended up in an altered season 8. moon big doesn't happen, seasons longer, its not a simulation, so on and so forth. tycoon scar (who im dubbing tycoon for ease) greets scar, is sort of aware that its another one of himself, introduces scar to his "tycoon emporium" (swaggon) and makes an offhand comment abt how he didnt know there was a new member, and how he found that odd scar isnt having it, he just wants info on his family, and get out. plus cool hat. uhhh murder, servers a bit glitchy and fucked bc theres two scars so whoever leaves/dies first gets permadeath, yippie angst, moving on (scar jumps in the boatem hole, and next universe) this sort of thing continues, scar can't control universe hopping, but like. he can actively do it via dying in a vast space/clearing (the void, drowning and falling are. surprisingly reliable) he ends up at psmp, it reminds him of home (it's not home. he knows because everyone except him are humans. pure humans were a rarity in his universe. yes this is an excuse to make scar some sort of parrot (who cant fly, dude has no tail feathers and his wings are itty bitty)) scar does this thing where he lies with mini truths in it. or he lies and you have to just 180 the meaning. so that's what he does with his backstory. safety and survival baby, he can trust basically no one. uhhhh silly detail: he WAS rich in gold coins in his universe, but uhh currency is translated differently in psmp so now hes dirt poor lmao sucks for you buddy

something something the universe said i love you -tn (in no world this is canon but it feeds the brain worms so it does its job. im normal about him)

OOOOOOOH this is so so true.... the reason he seems kind of unbothered about losing his crew could be because he thinks they abandoned him, not realizing they think he's dead the thing about him telling lies with mini truths in it is also so true, it think he'd do that a Lot, it's the easiest way to lie and keep track of your lies ALSO THE GOLD THING WOULD EXPLAIN WHY BRO WAS FLABBERGASTED AT THE INFLATION OF THE PSMP ECONOMY LOL

#pirate scar #anon

[tunastime]

hiiii beloved mutual uhm... for the fic prompts.... scarian and 18... sorry.. sorry im ill... sorry (im not sorry)

18. didn't know you cared / never said (x) (980 words)

The words I love you are never said. It is always an implication. When Scar sees Grian for the first time in a world where they do not have to bleed or kill or lie or steal to live, he can feel the blood rush into his ears. His heart is a thing that lives in his throat, beating so frantically that, if he doesn’t swallow, it may just leap into his mouth and he will be forced to clamp his jaw shut. 

There are many versions of this story. In this one, Grian apologizes.

He doesn’t see Scar the same time Scar sees him, standing outside his house in Boatem, cutting back vines overgrowing the awning of the stairs. Scar watches him tear out long strips of the stuff with rough looking gloves. His wings are wrapped in places; the bandages look clean and white. He’s flushed pink with (sunburn. It was the desert after all) exertion, face scrunched up in concentration. It’s not then that he sees him, even as Scar watches from the wheel rim of the Swaggon. Not watches, stares. Tries to remember a version of Grian that wasn’t gritty with sand and hungry (for what? For him? For power. For him. It’s hard to forget that).

Grian apologizes when it’s raining outside. He takes up Scar’s offer for tea (one he offered when they first got back, one to say ‘we’re normal again’), but he hosts. He brings Scar in under an umbrella—he fetches him. Scar leaves his tailcoat behind so he’s a half suit and worries about tracking in mud to Grian’s porch with his new shoes. Grian’s wearing a sweater that looks familiar but it has yellow patches sewn in on the elbows. The stitching is neat but wobbly. Thin black lines.

They sit near the fireplace in a pile of blankets and pillows. Scar props himself up against the arm of the chair instead of sitting in it. He lets his socks dry off. 

Grian hands him a cup of tea. He sits diagonal to him, just within reaching distance. The cup is red and white. There are no tea leaves in either cup and just over Grian’s shoulder, right next to the burner with the kettle, is a strainer. He drinks. It’s. He knows the flavor of it (besides the sugar). He sighs and doesn’t force down a smile. Grian’s mouth quirks up over the lip of his cup.

“Any reason you brought me to tea?” Scar asks when his cup is about halfway empty.

Grian shrugs. He lets his shoulders sink forward.

“It’s my apology.” He stares into the cup in his hands. It rests in the cradle, like he might drop and spill it.

“Apology?” Scar tilts his head. “What for?”

“For killing you. I’m sorry it was you ,” Grian swallows. Then he snorts, some sort of laugh, as he knits his eyebrows together and stares holes into the area rug instead. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. But I’m sorry it came down to it. I should have let you win.” 

Scar isn’t sure if he’s surprised or not that the words don’t shift the blame to him. Not...he knows Grian doesn’t blame him. But words like: you should have fought me back. You shouldn’t have let me kill you. I wish it hadn’t been you. They’re not said. Not this time.

So he says (curious, unsure):

“You had my permission.”

“Scar.” Grian looks up at him. His eyebrows are still furrowed. “It doesn’t make it better.”

Scar frowns.

“Are you apologizing to anyone else?”

There’s a flush shading Grian’s face. It starts at his cheeks. It’s a trick of the light. Grian casts his eyes away. He stares into his teacup and finishes it.

“No.”

Scar laughs.

“Then why are you apologizing to me?” Then, as a realization. “Oh.”

Grian doesn’t swallow his words—words Scar only remembers faintly, like on the edge of a dream, like the sensation of feathers tickling his face and shoulder. Like the oppressive heat of dry sand.

“I love you, y’know.” 

The words I love you aren’t often said. It is always implied. 

“I do, I do know.” He sets down his teacup, on the cushion of the chair. Then he shifts forward on his hands and knees and sits to where his knee bumps Grian’s. His joints don’t protest when he moves, but they do when he folds his legs to mirror him. “Did you know I love you, too?”

Grian snorts, looking up at him. Scar smiles. He holds his hands out for Grian to take, turning them palm up in invitation. Grian’s hands are cool when he takes them. Grian runs his fingers over the backs of his hands, over the knuckles and his palms and the pads of his fingers, turning them over and over. There’s something buzzing under Scar’s skin, across his hands and each one of his fingers. Grian is smiling.

“Did you know that we should’ve seen this coming from a mile away?” he asks, still smiling. This, in this sentence, means confession. It means death. It means Grian being sorry and apologizing. This is one version of the story. There are other versions. This is the version where things get better sooner, rather than later.

“Did you know that I love you,” Scar says. His bones feel hollow. He feels full of helium. “Despite the warning signs?”

“I did.” Grian ducks his head, shaking it. He squeezes his hands, once, hard. “How do I make it up to you?”

(Make what up? Taking everything and giving nothing back? Silly. It was always yours to take. Otherwise I wouldn’t have given it. Who else would I give it to?)

“Let’s figure it out later, okay?”

Grian leans forward, but Scar kisses him.

There are many versions of this story.

Nobody leaves first.

#oh man. oh man ghost oh man. #its so funny that you rushed to my inbox and i delivered in record time this idea CONSUMED me #desert duo #scarian #gtws #gtwscar #grian #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #mcyt #mcyt fic #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft fanfic #text #fics #i care them so much you have no idea #this is based off of the richard siken quote 'somebody always leaves first. there is no other version of this story' #this is a universe where grian apologizes in hc8 right after 3rd life #can you imagine #oh wait #3rd life smp #3lsmp

[stiffyck]

hello hello! this is the third time ive tried to make this coherent so. it might not be that but oh well

i imagine that, after scar gets help for his trauma, he starts to realise just how touch starved hes been this whole time because like. he was on his own for years, of course hes gonna want a hug

but, he has been on his own for years, and so he isnt quite sure how to ask for a hug. of course, he knows that he can just say it but. what if they think its weird? he hopes that someone will just hug him without him having to ask, but everyone is being annoyingly considerate and doesn’t want to make him upset by doing something he might not want (he’s not actually annoyed, he loves them all to bits but if they would stop being so nice for ten seconds-)

however! whilst most of the hermits have the general fact of scar’s trauma at the forefront of their minds, as they were the ones to help him, a couple new arrivals don’t always remember

so, of course, when you make a village like boatem with: - everyone so close together, you swing a cat (or boatem inc. company horse) and you’re bound to hit someone - two siblings who seem to be physically attached to someone at any given moment, and are not as familiar with scar’s trauma as the rest of them -two people who are very happy to have said siblings attached to them -and scar himself, who is frankly hoping he is attached to at some point

you’re bound to have an instance like this

scar hums to himself as he bonemeals the ground outside his swaggon. he wonders how it would go if he started to search for more rare flowers—he’s sure the only orange flower can’t be the tulip. maybe he could find some kind of orange poppy, or- ooh! maybe he could find some tiger lilies! although they are poisonous to cats, so-

“hi scar!”

scar yelps, dropping his pile of bonemeal on the floor. the dandelion he drops it on swells massively in size.

before he has time to register this, a heavy weight lands on his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders and legs around his waist. scar freezes. it’s grian. grian is on him. grian is..

grian is hugging him.

slightly embarrassingly, scar starts to tear up. grian seems to notice, and immediately his grip slackens.

“oh- shit, scar, i’m so sorry-“ he jumps off, and makes to step backwards. “I should have thought-“

“could-“ scar turns quickly, he doesn’t want grian to leave. “um. could you do that again?”

grian blinks. “are you sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.”

“no, no that’s- that’s not it.” scar steps towards him, nervous. “I, um. I just haven’t had a hug in a while.” he admits, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure how to ask.”

“oh, scar.” grian’s mouth splits into a relieved grin. “do you want me to hug you?”

“yes please.” scar says.

what scar learns: grian gives good hugs. he pulls scar in and holds him tight and close, and scar feels so warm and happy and safe. he presses his face into grian’s sweater, grinning like an idiot, wishing he’d asked sooner, because this is possibly the best thing he’s ever felt.

“g,”

“yeah.”

“there’s an issue.”

“are you okay?” grian tries to pull away but scar keeps him close, and he laughs.

“i’m not gonna be able to work on the swaggon.” scar says. “‘cause I just wanna do this forever.”

scar gets hugs he deserves it

CRYING WAILING THIS IS SO GOOD OH MY GOD SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA PASS AWAY SCAR GOT HIS HUG

#stiff talk #asks #gtws #tcd scar #grian #gtws comfort

[made-nondescript]

when scar commits to a new bit, he commits to it FULLY, including having themed pajamas that fit the Vibe. a beautiful flowy nightgown for his elven moment and a classic but refined sleep suit for the swaggon era, and so on. you never know when you might be woken unexpectedly and pulled into shenanigans in the night! this habit makes him the prime person to steal clothing from because he has so much in reserves.

#nondescript post

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

Season Switch (Really Just Means Floating In The Void For Months On End)

(Cross-posted on AO3)

part one | part two | part three | part four (you are here)

It's the end of the world.

All the Hermits' builds, their animals, their farms… the bases and shops and everything that's been done, all the impossibilities that had become possible with some redstone and spite…

Grian's Midnight Alley that he never got to finish the back of…

Scar's Swaggon that would certainly have even more wagons if he'd had the time to build them…

Mumbo's redstone machines that he'd spent hours upon hours tinkering with…

Impulse's factory that was almost completely empty on the inside…

Pearl's own tower, and her upside-down animals, and Padllama Co….

The Boatem Pole.

It was all gone, and it was all her fault.

She couldn't even reign in her powers for one whole season.

Could she get any more useless?

And even though she ruined their world, their hard work, their home… no one is mad at her.

No one has yelled. No one has glared. No one has disconnected her tethering cable and allowed her to drift off into the Void.

No one is mad, and Pearl doesn't understand.

She is the daughter of the Moon. She is a demigod. She's supposed to be better than this.

And yet, the Moon still fell from the sky.

She still failed.

…

Pearl wishes they would untether her; let her drift away, never to be seen again.

It'd be better that way.

Scar belts out the lyrics to Wellerman as loud as he can, clapping to the beat as he does. Mumbo and Impulse have joined in on his shenanigans, Mumbo hesitantly – almost shyly – and Impulse with reckless abandon. Grian rolls his eyes, but fails to hide his fond grin.

Pearl, though… hm.

Pearl seems bothered. Her knees are tucked up to her face, arms wrapped around her legs, and wings obscuring as much of her as they can. She's been like that ever since they jumped into the Void.

Scar knows the others have noticed, based on the worried looks they keep sending her, and they've also tried to snap her out of it. Nothing has worked so far, though.

The last lines of the song fade out, echoing out into the empty expanse around them.

It's quiet for a moment. A ringing makes itself known in Scar's ears.

"Are you actually done this time, or are you gonna start singing Drunken Sailor again?" Grian asks, arms folded over his chest, still smiling fondly. Scar laughs in turn.

"I could sing A Whole New World instead?"

"The last time you sung A Whole New World you dropped us both in the Boatem Hole."

"And what a fun time it was," Scar sighs wistfully.

He doesn't miss that, just on the edge of his vision, Pearl curls up tighter, tensing up.

But why?

She doesn't have reason to be tense at the mention of the Boatem Hole, at least, Scar didn't think so. Maybe something had happened near the end of the season relating to it…?

…

Wait.

The moon crashing into the server! That's why she's upset! She's a moon demigod, isn't she? She must think that the moon crashed because of her powers!

…Well, Scar has no evidence that it didn't. But in the event that it was her powers that had done it, he was sure it wasn't intentional, let alone malicious. It was obvious how guilty she felt from her disposition alone.

Scar decided he wouldn't let her feel guilty all on her own.

He just needed to figure out how to help…

Grian is worried about Pearl.

She's been… distant, lately.

Not physically distant, not at all - their tethering cables keep them connected even as they float through the endless darkness that is the Void - but emotionally distant.

Even when Scar went through what must've been his hundredth time singing one of the two sea shanties he knows, she didn't smile, or grimace, or emote at all. It was as though she turned into a brick wall.

Something is wrong.

Grian had tried talking to her. A few times, actually. The only result was her closing off more.

Does she still think that she's at fault? He thought they'd drilled it into her head that none of them blamed her for the whole moon thing. Maybe she's worried about what the other Hermits would think?

Grian shifts his wings, inadvertently pulling the sleeping forms of Scar and Mumbo closer, as they're using the feathery appendages as makeshift blankets. Impulse is also asleep on Scar's other side. And on the other side of Mumbo…

Pearl is curled into the same ball she has been for the past two weeks. Grian thinks she might also be asleep, but then again, the tense, coiled position her body is in would indicate otherwise.

Grian wants nothing more than to pull her out of the shell she's encased herself in, but she's been putting up one hell of a fight.

A sigh escapes Grian, and he wishes – not for the first time – that he could sleep while out in the Void. Something about his Watcher side absorbing energy from the endless expanse of nothing dashes any chance of him getting any shut-eye. 

In contrast, the others are rarely fully conscious. Mumbo and Impulse have been asleep practically the whole time they've been out here, and Scar has been awake only about half the time.

And Pearl… well, she's barely interacted with anyone aside from a few nods and the occasional murmur, so Grian's not entirely sure how often she's slept.

Grian licks his dry, chapped lips, and swallows down the painful lump that had grown in his throat.

"Hey, Pearl?"

At the sound of his voice, she only ducks her head down impossibly farther. Every muscle he can see is tense. She says nothing back.

"...Nevermind."

Grian closes his eyes, and lets his mind wander.

Pearl lifts her head from her knees, stretching her sore muscles for what must have been the first time in days. Grian's eyes are closed, his head is tipped back in a facsimile of sleep. She knows he can't sleep out here, the Watcher in his blood wouldn't allow it.

He looks peaceful, she can't help but think, with (his friends? partners?) Mumbo and Scar wrapped in his multi-colour wings, drifting in the endless nothing.

She wonders, passingly, why he'd called out to her. What had he been going to say?

Was he finally going to get mad at her? Finally, was she going to be untethered from Mumbo and Impulse, allowed to float away like the garbage she's sure she is? Or would he have tried to lie, say that no one blamed her for her own mistake? Left her to wonder when the other shoe would drop?

Well, it's not like it matters, anyway.

She resolutely ignores the stinging behind her eyes. It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

She repeats it like a mantra.

It doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter.

She doesn't matter.

Pearl closes her eyes and feigns sleep, hoping that it would claim her soon.

She knew it wouldn't.

The Void is pretty boring, if Impulse is honest.

There's nothing to do but talk to the others and sleep, and sleeping all the time was getting dull.

There wasn't even any redstone for him to tinker with! How's he supposed to keep his hands occupied?

Mumbo seems to be feeling the lack of redstone just as much as himself, based on the way he's always wringing his hands together and looking stressed. Impulse has to catch himself from doing the same thing absentmindedly.

The only real source of entertainment is watching Mumbo and Grian blush and stutter whenever Scar decides to tell them they're cute completely unprompted. And even then, that's only when everyone is awake at the same time.

Impulse can't help feeling like a fourth wheel whenever that happens, though. The three of them are very cute together, of course, but when they all get caught up in their own little world together, Impulse ends up on his own.

Well, not completely on his own. There is Pearl.

He glances over at her, and like usual, she's got her head tucked against her knees, face hidden from view.

So, in other words, he's basically completely on his own.

He turns his attention to the three lovebirds and finds them, predictably, curled up together.

Grian's wings are wrapped around the other two, and he has one hand in Mumbo's hair. Mumbo himself is out cold, drooling a bit on the inside of his helmet where it rests on Grian's shoulder, and Scar is resting his folded arms on Grian's stomach as he blathers on about something inconsequential. He's kicking his legs back and forth in the air the way those high school girls in movies do.

They're good for each other.

Impulse shuts his eyes, and hopes that they'll be out of the Void soon.

"Um, guys?" Mumbo speaks up, staring off into the distance with furrowed brows. "I think I see something…"

There's a speck of… something, way off in the Void. Barely noticeable, but it was strange to see much of anything out here, so Mumbo had latched onto it, squinting and turning his head in an attempt to make sense of… whatever it was.

"What? Where?" Grian asks head swivelling around to try and spot it.

Mumbo points a finger between Scar and Impulse, who both turn and look in that direction as well. He even sees Pearl look up from the corner of his vision.

All five of them stare into the Void, searching for the thing – that looks somewhat like a star, now that Mumbo thinks about it.

It's green, or maybe blue? It's hard to tell, with how small it is, but it glitters and sparkles in the blackness like a lone star in the night sky.

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Scar pipes up. His wings sprout from his back, and he flaps them a few times. "We'll never know what it is if we don't get closer!" He flips around and starts flying toward the sparkle, pulling the rest of them along with him.

Mumbo catches Grian rolling his eyes before flying up next to Scar and pulling some of their weight himself.

As they fly closer, the sparkle gets bigger, and bigger, and bigger until Mumbo can clearly see green grass and trees, grey stone, and blue water and skies inside of it. Because it's not just a random sparkle…

It's a portal.

It's a portal back to the overworld!

The others also seem to realise what it is, because Impulse is grinning from ear to ear and Grian and Scar are flying them all at a breakneck pace directly at the portal.

Pearl, when he looks, has finally uncurled from her ball. She looks to be in shock, eyes not quite seeing.

At least she's not curled up like she was before.

Scar and Grian shoot through the portal, the rest of them careening through after them.

Gravity takes hold the moment they're out of the Void, the combined weight of Mumbo, Impulse, and Pearl weighing down the two fliers too much to stay airborne.

Boatem falls into a heap of bodies and wings and tethering cords onto the stone ground.

Mumbo ends up landing on top of Grian and Impulse, Pearl having landed on top of him, and Scar laying face down a short distance away. The space suits seemed to save them from most of the fall damage, but the now-unfamiliar weight of gravity made it hard to move.

"M-Mumbo…! I c- I can't breathe!" Grian wheezes somewhere beneath him. Mumbo gathers all the strength he can and rolls off Grian, making Pearl topple off him in the process.

They all lay there for a moment, reacclimating to the force of gravity.

Scar, still face-down, starts to giggle, and it doesn't take long for the rest of them to join in.

Even Pearl, who's been out of it since they entered the Void, lets out a wet chuckle or two.

Mumbo can't help but think they'll all be okay.

Grian is the first to stand. He disconnects the cords tethering him to Scar and himself, and then removes his helmet.

Impulse is next, cracking his back as he stands, and Mumbo follows suit.

"Uhm, guys? I don't think I can stand on my own," Scar says from where he's managed to roll onto his back and get his helmet off. His wings have disappeared and he's sprawled out on the stone in a way that just can't be comfortable.

Impulse, his helmet now removed as well, pulls Scar to his feet and allows himself to be used as support.

Mumbo detaches his own helmet from the rest of his spacesuit, and is instantly hit with what must be the freshest air he's breathed in forever. The way the spacesuits recycled air made it livable long-term, but it got stale fast.

He vows to never take fresh air for granted again.

"Wonderful of you guys to join us," a new, but familiar voice butts in.

Mumbo turns, and just a little ways up the stone hill is Xisuma. He's got his admin control panel open in front of him and is typing almost frantically. There are seven different portals open around him, just like the one he and the rest of Boatem had come through.

There are also several other hermits wandering about. Zedaph is pacing around and writing things on a clipboard (where he got that, Mumbo doesn't know), Ren, Doc, Keralis, and Iskall  have begun deforesting the nearby birch forest, and Beef, Stress, and False are mining the exposed coal and copper from the stone hillside.

"You're the first ones to come through a portal," Xisuma says, "So at least I know that will work for everyone else as well."

As though on cue, Gem steps through one of the open portals, stumbling slightly, most likely unused to the much more powerful gravity here than on Season Eight.

"It's taking quite a bit out of me to generate the server, keep it stable, and keep all these portals open, though," X says, condensation fogging up his visor. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up."

"I can help," Grian, who had at some point made his way to Mumbo's side, pipes up. He makes his way over to X and his admin panel. "I've been an admin for three servers before, I know what I'm doing." Xisuma nods in thanks.

And that is the moment when Mumbo completely loses track of what's happening.

X slides the panel over to Grian, who, instead of typing like X had, he sticks his hands directly into it. The panel changes from glowing Xisuma's signature green to a purple similar to that of a nether portal.

X immediately slumps like the weight of the world was just lifted off his back – which is basically exactly what just happened, actually – and Grian's eyes start glowing the same purple as the panel.

"Who are we missing?" Grian eyes flitting back and forth, but looking at nothing.

Weird.

"Tango, Cleo, Joe, Wels, Cub, and Jevin. Everyone else is here already."

"Alright then, here we go…" The panel glows brighter than before. It hurts Mumbo's eyes, but he can't seem to look away.

And then, there's code on the panel, moving so fast Mumbo couldn't ever hope to read any of it, let alone understand it.

"Holy moly," Scar says, and Mumbo can't help but agree. Holy moly, indeed.

All at once, there are figures falling out of the portals. Every missing hermit Xisuma had mentioned were now there, in heaps on the ground.

"That's everyone, right?" Grian asks, sweat building on his brow. X, who'd been staring wide-eyed, snapped out of his stupor and nodded.

"That's everyone."

Grian rips his hands out of the admin panel, and it turns back to it's normal green and closes. His eyes stop glowing as well.

It's quiet.

"I think I'm gonna pass out now."

Xisuma manages to catch Grian before he hits the stone ground.

Grian knocks on the door of Pearl's starter base, wringing his hands together nervously.

It had been three days since they'd arrived in Season 9, or so he was told. He'd been unconscious the whole time, recovering from the huge amount of energy he spent pulling hermits through portals and helping Xisuma keep the server stable.

Y'know, the typical stuff that happens at the beginning of a season.

The door opens to reveal Pearl, bags under her eyes and hair clearly unbrushed under her jacket's hood.

"Oh," she says, clearly not expecting to see him, "hi, Grian."

"Hey, Pearl. Can we talk?"

"I-" Her eyes flit back and forth, never landing anywhere for more than a tick, and never meeting his gaze.

She's looking for an excuse, he realises.

"Pearl," Grian says, desperate, "please."

She huffs, and continues to not meet his eye, but she opens the door wide enough for him to enter.

He follows her inside, and she leads him to an oak table set under an azalea plant with two oak chairs to match. Grian's head is on a swivel taking in every little detail of her base. The floors are spruce and stone bricks topped off with a moss carpet, the walls are sandstone, terracotta, and jungle and birch wood, and the ceiling is made of oak and warped wood.

It's made of so many different woods and stones that it should clash, but Pearl somehow found a way to make it work.

Pearl sits down at the table, and Grian takes the remaining chair.

Neither of them speak.

"So…" Grian says after a while.

"So," Pearl repeats, "what did you… want to talk about?"

"I think you know."

She pulls her legs up onto her chair, pulling her knees close to her chest and obscuring half her face. It's reminiscent of how she was while they were in the Void.

She's closing off.

"And if I do…?"

Grian ponders his next words carefully.

"Well," he licks his lips. His mouth is dry. He fixes his eyes onto the table as he begins to speak. "If you did know… I'd say that it wasn't your fault, even if you think it is. And- and no one blames you, because the season would've ended eventually anyway. And yeah, maybe it was your powers that did it, but you can't be sure! There are a load of other factors that you had no part in! And… nobody could have stopped it."

He hears a small sniffle and a shaky exhale, and Grian looks up at Pearl to find her on the verge of tears.

His heart tightens in his chest.

"Oh, Pearl…" Grian stands from his chair and wraps his arms around her neck. Pearl leans her full weight into him without hesitation. He feels her arms wrap around his back and clutch at his sweater, and she buries her face in his shoulder.

She lets out a broken wail, muffled by the sweater. Grian gently pulls off her hood and runs his fingers through her hair. There's a wet patch forming on his shoulder.

Grian's not sure how long they stay like that. He eventually devolves into braiding Pearl's hair while she sniffles and cries out the last of her tears.

"...I got snot on your sweater…" She pulls away from the hug, seemingly to inspect the damage, but Grian waves her off. 

"It'll wash out."

Pearl looks like she wants to protest, but lets it go. She doesn't say anything more, but seems to have something on her mind still. Grian stays quiet, letting her sort out her thoughts.

Finally, she speaks.

"You're sure no one's mad?"

"Positive."

"You promise?" She says. She leans forward. Grian can see the desperation in her eyes.

He takes her hands in his own, and gives a light squeeze. She squeezes back, and Grian knocks their foreheads together.

"I promise."

#hermitcraft s9 #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #gtws #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #xisumavoid #rain writes #rain speaks

[mochiwrites]

About the new au, does scar live with bdubs or something? Or does bdubs just work at the swaggon?

scar lives by himself :D

bdubs works in town at a clock making shop, and when scar came to town, bdubs met scar and kinda took scar under his wing? they’re good friends with each other

#mochi speaks #necromancy au

[aurabird]

A Search For Belonging

Chapter 10: Shenanigans

In which Xornoth finds himself roped into more pranks and activities

Ao3 Link | Masterpost

---------------  

The next few days were mostly uneventful for Xornoth aside from the occasional antics going on in Boatem that he bore witness to.

There was now a dirt structure Scar had built spiraling into the sky and ending right above the Boatem Hole and a strange-but-nevertheless-mind-blowing flying machine in the sky between Mumbo’s base and Midnight Alley. Both new additions being the result of messing with Grian while the avian was in a meditative state.

On top of that, Xornoth had watched Grian remove several black banners placed by the Big Eye’s crew advertising their iron shop, an establishment apparently sponsored by Mumbo himself.

There really was never a dull moment in Boatem.

Today, however, would hopefully be more eventful for Xornoth personally as he made his way over to the Swaggon by Scar’s request. Apparently, his fellow Hermit had something for him, a hat to be specific.

“So I didn’t exactly know what you’d like but given what you have told us and the plans for your base I managed to make something that I really hope you enjoy.” Scar explained as they entered the hat shop.

“If it’s anything like the hats I’ve seen on the others I’m sure it’s amazing, Scar.”

It was true, the hats that every other member of Boatem now wore had been beautifully made and Xornoth was excited to see what Scar had made for him.

“Well, if there’s anything about it that you don’t like I’m perfectly fine with changing it. Are you ready to see?”

“I am.”

At the confirmation Scar grabbed something off a hook behind him and turned around with a dramatic flourish, presenting the hat in question.

Xornoth had expected it to be a crown of some sort as a throwback to the fact Empiria was a land of monarchs. Instead, it was modeled after a sheep wearing a silver circlet on its head, a dopey look in its beady eyes that made it absolutely adorable.

A smile crossed his face at the sight, “Scar…I love it.” 

“Oh thank goodness!” Scar sighed in relief as Xornoth took the hat from him to get a closer look, “I was so nervous that I would trigger a bad memory or something with the crown on its head and all! I hope it fits, it's a bit hard to design something for a person with antlers, you know?”

“Only one way to find out.” Xornoth said before turning to a mirror on the wall and putting the hat on, finding it fit perfectly between the growths on his head and making his smile grow even wider at just how perfect it seemed to match him.

After leaving the Hat Shop and making his way back to the central area of Boatem Xornoth noticed the giant sign that read ‘Octagon’ that was now a part of the long-legged monstrosity that was selling things on Boatem’s coast.

The voices of Grian and Impulse then reached his ears, the former sounding very annoyed compared to usual.

As the two Hermits in question came into view Xornoth was able to see why. The Octagon sign wasn’t the only advertisement in Boatem, every other establishment with the exception of Horse-Head Farms had left something in the village square.

“...advertise and bring people here. Oh look, it's Xornoth!”

“Hey you guys. What are you two up to?”

“First off, I love your hat.” Grian began with a smile, “And secondly, I’ve got a really good idea for marketing! We just have to decide who we’re going to do it to”

“Is this…aggressive marketing?” Impulse asked.

“It is very in-your-face marketing.”

“Oh I love it.”

“Oooh, so we just have to pick someone then right?” Xornoth questioned.

Grian nodded, “Well we’ve got Octagon, Rons, the Evil Emporium, and Cleo who all think its fine to advertise here so we can definitely advertise there.”

After several minutes of back-and-forth chatter and Impulse darting off to gather several shulkers of logs Xornoth and Grian found themselves over at the Octagon atop a platform the latter Grian had constructed above the shop.

“I don’t exactly know if this is going to work the way I think it’s going to work.” Grian admitted as he began to build.

“Yeah, how exactly do you have this in your head?” Xornoth questioned.

“Redstone.” Grian finished as he placed two observers and a dispenser down; the latter component beginning to activate as it got a signal. “There. Stage one is complete.”

Impulse arrived with the shulkers of requested logs and Grian was quick to explain how his plan would work as he began to craft several boats, shrinking them to a smaller size and then tossing them into a hopper that had been placed above the firing dispenser.

Xornoth laughed with Impulse as he watched the component spit the boats back out at full size, instantly dropping them down into the shop below and causing several stacks to begin forming.

“Now we just take this to the extreme!” Grian cackled with devious glee at the flawless execution of his plan.

The trio went on to ‘boat bomb’ Big Eyes Bay, this time letting the boats all occupy the same spot as opposed to letting them spread out. Once finished, they settled down on the nearby mountainside and waited for one of the residents to investigate the prank. It wasn’t long before Tango showed up and proceeded to cause all the boats to explode in every direction.

Roaring laughter resounded from the three members of Boatem at the display, “That was SO MUCH faster than I expected it to be!” Grian exclaimed.

After they had managed to compose themselves they flew down to greet Tango, the half-blazeborn now thoroughly flustered. “Buy at Boatem!” Grian laughed before proceeding to hop around on the many boats in the water, Xornoth and Impulse following suit.

“I will remember this!” Tango threatened with a grin, caught up in laughing himself as he joined in on the boat-hopping antics, everyone getting stuck between the wooden vessels occasionally.

After a farewell to Tango the trio took off, returning to their original plans for the day. Xornoth landed in the center of New Rivendell with a massive smile on his face and was more than energized to build the storage building he had planned so that he could finally move all his resources from his house and various other random locations strewn about the mountain, into one dedicated place.

-

Xornoth had spent most of the following morning preparing for the long, arduous process of moving and sorting his items into the now-finished storage building and decided to take a break to check the Boatem group chat to see if he’d missed any messages while he had been working. Scrolling up to the last message he read, two Mumbo had sent earlier caught his eye. 

<MumboJumbo> errr guys

<MumboJumbo> the boatem hole has bedrock in it

Xornoth looked at the image sent in the chat and was confused. He knew bedrock didn’t simply regenerate, be it through magic or otherwise and it prompted him to go check it out for himself after putting all his gear and supplies into his enderchest.

Even if bedrock had once again sealed up the hole into the void, Xornoth wasn’t going to take any chances. He wasn’t procrastinating, that would be nonsense.

Upon his arrival to the scene Xornoth dared to look down into the Boatem Hole and, just like Mumbo had said, the area that normally led to the void was once again covered in bedrock.

Curious, he decided to descend into the depths to investigate the strange phenomenon, setting his feet down on the layer of bedrock…

…and falling through immediately after.

Xornoth let out a panicked yelp as he tried to stabilize, but to no avail as his wings did not react fast enough. The inky blackness of the void filled his lungs, suffocating him; waves of pain flaring through his entire body as he was pulled further down into the abyss.

Xornoth fell out of the world

He jolted awake in his bed with a gasp, panting heavily as he took in fresh air. His communicator pinged multiple times in quick succession as he recovered from the traumatic respawn, no doubt Hermits worried about him. He quickly shot a message in the chat saying he was fine and that he didn’t lose anything except a bit of pride.

Once the post-mortem effects had worn off Xornoth got out of bed and figured that he already decided that he would not actually move everything into his storage building today so, he may as well just fly around and see what the other Hermits were up to.

Again, definitely not procrastinating at all, he just needed to interact more with his fellow Hermits outside of Boatem.

His flight took him to various locations to try and find Hermits to interact with and Xornoth found himself roped up in a game he’d never heard of before known as Leaf Spleef with Cub, Joe, and Cleo, getting to know them better in the process. It was nice, to be able to just goof around and have fun without any real responsibility or a kingdom to eventually run.

The sun had begun to set by the time he had begun to make his way back to Boatem, flying over Big-Eyes bay and seeing it still covered in boats.

As Xornoth passed over the Evil Emporium, the one shop he never really visited often since most of his supplies were easy to harvest himself, he took notice of the individual pacing in front of the stairs, red armor contrasted against a deepslate and blackstone building with a glass orb atop it.

Curious to talk to the one Hermit he knew so little about, Xornoth descended, landing a bit away from Exiel before approaching.

“Um…hi?” He began in greeting, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was just passing through on my way back to Boatem and saw you pacing; thought I might as well take the chance to speak with you since you’re like, the only Hermit I have had no interactions with at all.”

Exiel turned to him, red eyes meeting Xornoth’s own and causing the elf to freeze up. He could almost picture veins of crimson marring the voidkind’s skin under the armor, pulsating with dark power that drove the corrupted individual to madness and…

“Oh, you're the elf they recently adopted.”

The blunt remark snapped Xornoth from his spiraling thoughts and back to reality, “Uh….yeah. That’s me, I’m Xornoth.”

“Well, Xornoth. Welcome to my humble abode I suppose. And no, I’m just frustrated at my stupid brother installing a machine at Octagon that completely ruins the entire point of the Hermits buying derpcoin from the Emporium!”

Xornoth let out a chuckle, “Brothers, am I right?”

The comment made Exiel give him a quizzical look, “You have a brother too?”

“I do. We aren’t as close anymore though, not like we were before destiny and fate tore us apart for the sake of prophecy.”

“‘Suma and I weren’t as close as we are now, you know. I resented my brother and what he had so I found myself aligned with a malicious individual who convinced me that the solution to my problem was to embrace it and destroy everything that Xisuma knew. I tried for many years but deep down I had started to grow fond of the band of misfits and runaways he surrounded himself with and began to realize that what I was doing was wrong. After everything I’d done though, I felt I had no chance at forgiveness so I banished myself to wallow in my own pity. When I came crawling back to Xisuma I was desperate for purpose, I never expected forgiveness from him, let alone the invitation to join the Hermits…but here I am, I suppose. If there was hope for me to redeem myself, then there’s probably hope for you and your brother as well.”

Xornoth gave a bittersweet smile, “It’s a nice thought, but Scott probably thinks I’m dead and after everything I did to him and those he called his friends, redemption and forgiveness are no longer an option for me.” he paused a moment before continuing, “But it’s fine, I have all the Hermits now. After decades of being a pawn of destiny, I am finally free to do whatever I want, to be my own person with my own choices.”

A sly grin crossed Exiel’s face at Xornoth’s words, “Well, how about you use that freedom to make your own choices and buy something with that Derpcoin my brother gave you a while back?”

A laugh escaped Xornoth at the comment, “I blew it all buying wood at Octagon for the boat bomb prank we did there and at Big-Eyes Bay.”

“You realize that you buying the wood from them is a win in their eyes, right?”

“Yes, but it was hilarious all the same. Grian is debating hitting up this place next you know? Perhaps, if you give me some derpcoin I can convince him to spare you guys?~”

“You’ve been hanging around with Scar too much. You’re picking up on his marketing habits.”

Xornoth smiled, “I’m only joking, we will probably hit Big-Eyes bay for the bedrock fiasco next.” he tossed two of the diamonds he’d won from Leaf Spleef earlier to Exiel, “How much derpcoin will that get me?”

A few derpcoin richer, Xornoth bid farewell to Exiel and continued to make his way back to Boatem, landing on the balcony of his house and going inside to freshen up as the moon began to cast its glow on the land below. 

Before he settled down for the night he checked to see what he’d missed in the main and Boatem chats.

<Grian> Who’s up for getting back at Big-Eyes Bay tomorrow?

<ImpulseSV> I’m in!

<MumboJumbo> Same

<GoodTimeWithScar> Can’t, was invited to test the horse course with Bdubs and Etho.

<Grian> No worries. Xornoth, are you up for more pranking?

Xornoth, feeling bad he’d missed most of the conversation typed out his response

<Xornoth> Sorry for the late reply, I was busy most of today. Definitely in; dying to the void this morning was the worst.

With his message sent, Xornoth silenced his communicator and called it for the night, looking forward to the pranking of Big Eyes bay…

…and still denying that it was an excuse to get out of moving everything into his storage building.

#empires smp #hermitcraft #hermitcraft x empires #empiresblr #hermitblr #Xornoth #empires xornoth #grian #impulseSV #goodtimeswithscar #evil xisuma #a search for belonging #My writing

[spacecatdet]

PLEASE give me the rundown of Scar's Moving Swaggon oh my goodness

HI BLUIE SORRY I TOTALLY DIDN'T FORGET THIS ASK I totally did

I wanted to draw some stuff to this but haven't gotten there, aha But here are some links that explain a bit of it! Here and here So it follows somewhat of Howls Moving Castle but not exact. Scar is Howl and has his Swaggon that is controlled by Jellie. Unlike Calcifer she can move around the swaggon and take a form of just a regular cat if she chooses. Touching her or having her in your lap you will notice she's much warmer than a normal cat. She never leaves the Swaggon Grian owns a shop that has random items he finds and sells. Some of them are normal, some are magical which is what gets him in trouble So the start would be he gets a hold of a magical item but doesn't know just how important/desired it is. As he's traveling back to his shop, he gets heckled by the king's guards, and they want the item for the king. Which Grian says no and is about to get into a scuffle with them when Scar appears. Once the guards are off, he takes Grian back to his shop instead of taking him to Pearl at the bakery. They talk along the way, or mostly Scar talks, behind his charming self. At the store, Scar buys the item that Grian got a hold of. He's not sure why this item that doesn't seem that important is so desired. But Scar pays him handsomely, so he honestly doesn't mind Before leaving, Scar gives him a little peck on the cheek and leaves. Leaving Grian absolutely flustered by this. Only to realize after he's left, he's the infamous Scar. So he makes his way to his sister's bakery to talk for a while. Where she scolds him for being so reckless and picking a fight with the king's guards, of all people. He mutters that he can take care of himself, but shares the rest. She tells him to be careful he's messing with things that could get him in trouble And trouble he does, when he's back at his shop/home he's confronted by someone, that someone being Cleo. They ask for the item that he sold to Scar and he tells her as much. She's not happy about this and wants her item back, Grian tells her to take it up with Scar. She's not able to get close to Scar, so she gets an idea. Mind you, I don't think Cleo is evil here, she's just doing what she can to get what her's back So, Grian gets turned into an avian and is told if he wants to change back, he needs to get her item back. So after having a bit of a freak-out, knocking a bunch of stuff over with his new wings, he finally packs up and heads for the waste to find Scar. Along the way he meets a scarecrow with a dapper mustache that seems to like to follow him. Not knowing this is Mumbo But he finds the swaggon similar to how Sophie does, and meets Bdubs in the morning, who's surprised that this random avian has shown up. But also that Jellie has made herself comfortable in his lap. Since Jellie doesn't do that for just anyone, so he must be special if she's happy with him here This is Grian's first taste of actual magic since the items he sells. He doesn't know what they do or have any use for them. But getting to watch Scar and Bdubs work fascinates him. Even if Bdubs annoys him with how often he tries and finds something to poke fun at Grian comes out and tells Scar the next time he sees him that he needs that item back, and he has the money he gave him. Scar tells him flat out no, which Grian is frustrated and tries to beg. He'd love to stop being half bird sooner than later When Scar looks him up and down he flusters, he doesn't like the look he has. Scar offers a deal, if Grian completes the deal, then they'll talk about the item. Not knowing that Scar has a plan for Grian, Grian lets out an exasperated sigh and agrees. Even if it's less than ideal, but at least he has a chance to get the item back from Scar sometime He just didn't expect to be working with or for this guy Of course feelings happen along the way, that's about as far as I've gotten. I think when it comes time to meet with the King, Scar convinces Grian to go for him not as a family member but like his boyfriend or husband and Grian is beyond flustered at this thought

#scar's traveling swaggon #scarian #hermitshipping #ask

[raichett]

Scar getting turned into a cat for a few days and explores boatem or any other hermitcraft season

Time to get back on that flash fic grind -

Content warnings: dying (and intentionally causing death) in a world where death is both temporary and funny, vague mentions of friendly cannibalism, and Grian and Scar being Grian and Scar.

This flash fic can also be found on AO3.

–

KITTY CAT

Just what, Scar wonders, not for the first time, is in the Boatem Hole?

He observes his new paws – little white socks fading into a rich brown fur – as he wriggles out from under his duvet, leaping down from his bed. He feels that he should be less sure of himself, transformed as he is with a glitched respawn after taking yet another unplanned dive into the void beneath Boatem, but it seems that something out there is taking a small sliver of pity on him, and walking with four legs and a tail is instinctive.

Sadly, Scar is still very much not meant to be a cat, no matter that the humour of the situation is obvious, and Scar isn’t even that bothered. Weird things happen all the time – and weird things on Hermitcraft happen very frequently indeed.

Scar pads his way out of his Swaggon, the ladder the scariest part. He considers asking someone to build a temporary ramp of some kind for him, if this is to last more than a day, but then the idea of a long sleepover at one of his friends’ bases takes root and he discards the question in favour of constructing a spiel in his head that would get him what he wants. (Scar is quite good at using his words to get what he wants.)

Grian and Mumbo are standing by the Boatem Hole, filling a chest with Scar’s scattered items like the good friends they are. Scar, mischievous, starts winding his way between Mumbo’s legs, purring, no small part of him hoping to overbalance the tall man and send him flailing into the Boatem Hole.

“Hey, hey, kitty!” Mumbo says, wavering in place but unfortunately remaining stable enough to step away from the edge. “Where did you come from, fella?” He reaches down to pet Scar’s head with long fingers, redstone dust thick under the nails like always.

Scar grins as best a cat can. “Oh, you know, from the Hole,” he says, taking great pleasure indeed in Mumbo’s yelp and Grian’s noise of surprise. “Hey, guys.”

“Scar?” Grian splutters, dropping the stack of oak planks he was holding to the ground. His eyes fix upon the small cat doing its level best to send Mumbo over the edge. “Oh, goodness, what a respawn glitch!”

“Yeah, mate,” Mumbo adds. “I know you love cats, but this is going a bit far if you ask me.”

“It’s not like I decided this,” Scar rebuffs. He leaps up into Grian’s arms, knowing his friend will automatically open them and catch him – Grian does – and starts to knead his claws into Grian’s chest. “But it’s kinda fun. Vex can cast illusions, but actual shapeshifting isn’t really in our power, so this is new. Unlike Mumbo.”

“Hey, it wasn’t in my power either ‘til this season,” Mumbo protests. “And it’s not in my control.”

Grian taps a finger against his chin, considering Mumbo with a thoughtful gaze. His hold on Scar shifts as he rearranges his friend into a more natural position, making the pair of them comfortable. “If you ate him, would you turn into a cat-hybrid or a vex-hybrid?”

Mumbo’s eyes widen, head darting to Grian, to Scar, back to Grian, back to Scar, and then he wails, horrified, “I’m not going to eat Scar!”

“Not even in the name of science?” Scar asks, a bit disappointed. His ears droop a little.

“Not even in the name of science!” Mumbo flaps his hands, wiggling in place. He steps backwards, nearer to the Boatem Hole. Scar’s eyes sharpen, and he knows, knows without looking, that Grian’s mind just fell onto the exact same track.

“You know, you’re really very soft, Scar,” Grian says, stroking Scar’s fur.

“Thank you,” Scar replies, pride fluffing it up a little. Grian’s fingers feel lovely – he can see why Jellie begs for cuddles all the time. Scar looks up at Mumbo. “Come on,” he entices gleefully. “Your duty as a friend is to stroke my head and tell me my fur is soft.”

“I mean, um…” Mumbo’s squints at them, wary. He’s been their friend too long to not suspect a trap.

Grian exchanges a grin with Scar before he says, “Come on, Mumbo-Jumbolio,” and thrusts Scar out, holding him like an offering in Mumbo’s direction.

Mumbo instinctively steps backwards – and tumbles off the edge of the Boatem Hole with a shriek, Grian and Scar’s laughter echoing in his ears.

MumboJumbo fell out of the world

“Oh, that was great,” Grian says, bringing Scar in for a cuddle again, seemingly unconsciously. Scar doesn’t call it out, nuzzling in happily. Grian’s communicator buzzes on his hip and he pulls it out, holding it so both of them can see the screen.

<MumboJumbo> dangit scar

<MumboJumbo> now im a cat too

<Grian> wait really?

<Tango> ?? what’s going on over there?

<Grian> don’t worry about a thing :)

<MumboJumbo> dont even ask mate

#flash fic #ask #my writing #sorry this took a hot minute to get out!

[happy-hermit]

WAKE UP BABE NEW LAST LIFE SCAR ANGST JUST DROPPED !!!

Basically the premise of this one is that once everyone returns to hermitcraft from last life, Scar’s hair starts turning white as a side effect of isolation and loneliness :) I have made this man very sad. Enjoy!

Part Two

( @stiffyck @hopepetal )

———

Scar sleeps for maybe three hours that first night back on hermitcraft, a combination of residual respawn pain and an endless supply of nightmares keeping him firmly trapped in that hazy state between awake and asleep — not to mention the added feature of a pretty much permanently elevated heart rate. But he’s home, so. Maybe that still counts for something, even if it doesn’t feel all that different. Just another place that he’s alone.

(He’s always known that he can be a lot to handle. He knows that he’s loud and excitable and takes up space. It just— didn’t used to feel like a problem before. Now he knows better.)

Pale rays of muted sunlight are filtering through the window behind him as he sits up in bed, groggy and still sore. Jellie is having no issues with her own sleep schedule, still curled up by his leg with her eyes closed. She looks content, and if only one of them gets to sleep well, Scar is glad that it’s her. She deserves it.

Probably the only reason he notices it as soon as he does is because it falls right in front of his face. Literally.

Hair is tickling at his eyes, and Scar has a hand halfway raised to brush it back before it registers that something is… strange. He grabs the chunk of hair by the ends and tries to focus on it, eyes crossed and vision blurry as he attempts to figure out what his sluggish mind is telling him. It’s just his hair. It’s a little longer than he usually has it, sure, but he’s been putting off a haircut, and— Wait.

Scar throws back the covers and scrambles out of bed, pajamas twisted and limbs like jelly as he makes a mad dash to the mirror on the opposite wall. He’d checked last night, he knows he did, and it had been back to normal, it had all been brown again, he’d checked—

His reflection is staring back at him, wide-eyed and horrified. At the front of his hair is a single streak of bright, stark white. His heart skips a beat and then trips over itself to make up for it, pounding in his chest. He exhales shakily, hand coming up to brush over the section but dropping before it makes contact. Scar blinks. It’s still there when he opens his eyes.

Okay, don’t panic, he thinks, absolutely panicking. It’s just a little bit, it doesn’t mean anything. Just— don’t jinx it.

Mechanically, he gets dressed for the day, donning his Swaggon outfit and pretending that everything is normal, that it’s just another day, that the last few weeks never happened. Pretends that there aren’t bags under his eyes. He tucks the white streak of hair into his top hat and pretends that that doesn’t exist, either.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do today. All he really feels like doing is hiding. Not a very Scar thing for him to do, but maybe that was what everyone wanted. What did it say about him, that the first time everyone had a choice on whether to be his friend or not, he ended up alone?

Maybe it was their gentle way of telling him they didn’t want him around. Maybe they’d been trying to tell him for forever, and he’d always just been too stupid to notice.

It’s just an opportunity to be better, he tells himself, forcing an optimism that tastes bitter on his tongue. He just has to be someone new, is all. He has to become someone that they’ll want to stick around. And if that means being around less in general, then— Well. He can do that.

He can be better.

First, though, he has to be someone that they don’t feel obligated to worry about. The white hair is not helping.

(He doesn’t even know where it came from, in Last Life. One day he’d pulled back the hood on his cloak and his hair had been white. Maybe it’s a vex thing he isn’t aware of. He’d ask Cub, but he’s supposed to be trying not to be a nuisance. He can figure it out himself. It’s not a big deal.)

He checks the mirror one last time before he leaves his base, making sure that nothing obvious is out of place. He gives his reflection a weak grin in an attempt to hype himself up, and drops it when it doesn’t work. It had looked hollow. Fake. It hadn’t reached his eyes.

Huffing a little in morose irritation, Scar turns around and looks down at Jellie, sitting on the edge of his bed and gingerly licking her paw. His smile comes a bit more naturally, this time.

“What do you think, Jellie?” Scar asks, voice a bit hoarse. He clears his throat and hums in thought. “What should we do today…”

Usually, on a day where he had nothing better to do, he’d find the other hermits and bug them. Maybe even play a prank, or ramble about various build ideas, or help them with their block palate. Now the thought of doing so is enough to tie his stomach into knots. It makes his heart beat a little bit faster. He can’t.

He used to think that they didn’t mind his company. Now, he just— Well, he’s finally noticed, is all. They’d been too kind to tell him. It’s his turn to be kind and give them space. Even if it hurts.

He’ll work out what he’s been doing wrong — what he did to make them leave him alone on that mountain. He just has to figure out what exactly would make them want to stay. Maybe he just has to be less… himself.

“How about we start with some fresh air, huh?” Scar pets Jellie on his way by, rifling through his desk for his worn notebook and a semi-sharpened pencil. He puts them in his inventory and turns back to his cat with a smile. “We’ve got a brand new project to work on, Jellie! And I think everyone will like it. Or— Well, I hope they will.”

It’ll be a bit like a present. A gift from him to everyone else. He’s going to make it the best he possibly can. He can fix things, he can. He has to.

With a new sense of purpose, Scar stumbles into his shoes and slides down the ladder out of the Swaggon, Jellie tucked safely in her little messenger bag. His body aches sharply when he hits the ground, the old injuries from the game making themselves known; an arrow wound to the chest, burns down one side of his body, lungs still sore from drowning. The injuries aren’t actually there anymore, of course, but he’s always had a tough time on respawns. The pain tended to…linger, for a while. On rare occasions, the injuries even scarred.

Regardless, he ignores the pain, adjusting his hat and setting off down the path to find somewhere to brainstorm. It’s a nice day today, with clear skies and a gentle breeze sending wildflowers swaying in the grass. The Boatem Pole is still standing, even though the village had been empty for weeks as they played Last Life.

(It had been Mumbo and Pearl’s first game. He hopes they’re doing okay. He would check, but… )

New idea striking him, Scar changes direction and starts towards the Boatem Pole, smiling a little up at it, remembering that first day. (They were kind enough to let you stay, and look at what you’ve done. Nothing but make them regret it.) His smile drops. They probably wish they’d turned him away. His chest aches, and he twists the strap of his messenger bag in a white-knuckled grip. Jellie meows, quietly, confused, and Scar is guilty of so, so much.

“Sorry, Jellie,” Scar says softly, and pets his cat even softer. She rubs her cheek against his hand. There is so much that needs to be fixed.

He exhales shakily, walking to the edge of the Boatem Hole and peering down, making sure that no one else is there. All he can see is the void, and so he equips his elytra and jumps. He holds carefully onto Jellie as he glides down, eventually landing safely on the floor of the meeting room with the hopping minecarts. The machine is turned off, currently, and the minecarts are still and silent. He could learn a thing or two from that.

Scar lets Jellie out of the bag and watches for a moment as she explores, chasing and swatting a nearby bat. He giggles a little, then sighs softly and sits down, pulling out his notebook and pencil, flipping to a blank page and folding down the corner to keep his place. He chews absentmindedly at the eraser on his pencil as he thinks. Where to start?

Well, any good project needed a name.

At the top of the page he writes it, tongue poking out between his teeth as he focuses on making it neat.

‘Operation: Be a Better Scar :)’

He adds the smiley face on a whim, and it makes him crack a little smile of his own. This is supposed to be a good thing. This is one project he can’t back out on.

Underneath, he starts a checklist. His brow furrows, biting at his pencil again. What first?

(There’s too much to fix. You might as well just leave.)

Forcibly, he shakes his head. That’s the last resort. Maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t want to go. Redirecting his focus, he puts his pencil to the paper.

1) only be somewhere if I am invited

There, that one should be easy enough. Seeing someone out and about was not an invitation to just walk up and start talking. Not anymore, anyway.

Feeling a bit more confident, Scar gets to work on writing more rules.

2) don’t doth bother busy hermits

(No one wanted to listen to him talk while they were trying to build, he figures.)

3) no pranks! unless helping someone else’s prank

(Grian came up with better ones anyway, and he could still have fun!)

4) no rambaling

(Self-explanatory, even if it’s hard to spell. He talks too much.)

5) build less stuff

(Grian had been teasing him about how big his starter base is. Maybe it had been real irritation. He takes up too much space.)

6) no shady deals

(Annoying, he was sure.)

7) be more help

(The hermits always needed more materials.)

8) less dying

(He knew that thought it was funny sometimes, but it had to get irritating, right? Picking up his stuff and having to wait for him to come get it.)

9) no mobs around bases

(He’d blown up part of Grian’s alley, that one time. He can’t do it again.)

10) be happy

(Pretend to be. They shouldn’t have to feel obligated to help him. They shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable just because he is.)

Finally, Scar rereads what he’d written, wracking his brain for more. He can always add stuff later, but he’d rather have it all done now so he can get started.

He doodles in the margins as he thinks: a cartoonishly angry bdubs; Jellie peeking over one of the numbers; Mumbo with a lopsided mustache; a tiny desert with a single cactus; a few sketchy flowers. Eventually, he gives up on coming up with anything else, closing the notebook and tucking it back into his inventory.

“We’ve got a good start, Jellie,” Scar says happily, looking down at his cat where she sleeps on his lap. He scoops her up and puts her back in the messenger bag for the flight home. “I’m feeling good about this.”

Or at least, he can pretend he does. The ache in his chest and the twisting in his stomach and the white in his hair doesn’t have to matter.

(Rule number ten. Be happy.)

#having one of those days where I don’t like my writing that much but akdkdj wanted to do this anyway so hopefully it’s fine #also wow I sure hope no one else finds that list later ;) #how embarrassing would that be #goodtimeswithscar #last life smp #last life #gtws #white hair fic #jay’s journal #j writes

[normalcoric]

Desire Path - Prologue

decided it’d be fun to share the Hermitcraft fic i’m working on so here’s the prologue.

Chapter Summary: A new season arrives, but the Boatem Crew is still stuck in the Void with nothing better to do. Life gets boring when you’ve been falling for months. That is, of course, until Grian has a nightmare unlike any he’s had before.

Characters: Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Pearl, and Impulse

Warnings: Panic attack, temporary character death (he comes back to life in the next chapter)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He’s been falling for months now. He saw nothing but an endless void for months, burning into his eyes. Stars trace the inside of his eyelids, reminding him that he falls even when he sleeps, when he dreams of touching ground, feeling soft grass beneath his talons. 

He doesn’t even think he’s falling anymore. He feels stagnant. He feels nothing through the suit he wears to breathe in this vacuum. He wraps withered wings around his form in hope of comfort. Mumbo offers him a reassuring smile as they fall endlessly into nothing. 

Scar attempts humour as he always does, telling stories of seasons long since passed. Pearl talks about how much she’d enjoyed the season, despite the horrors of… that thing. 

(Even the thought of the moon makes him sick.)

Impulse speaks of his factory, how successful it was, and his deal with Evil Xisuma.

Months pass with growing boredom. They could only reminisce for so long. Grian falls asleep during most conversations, unable to keep heavy lids open for long.

He dreamt of something strange once, while trapped in that endless void.

He dreamt of something speaking to him in tongues he couldn’t yet understand. A shapeless being looming over him, whispering sweet nothings to him. He dreamt of an open wound, bleeding golden ichor onto the earth. Creatures from within spill words of warmth and protection, drawing him in as he reaches with a shaking hand. He can almost see what lies on the other side. He feels lucid as he moves closer. 

And he sees it. 

He sees something he cannot understand. 

He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand he could NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT THE FU–

His eyes shoot open as he screams, claws scratching at his visor with a new, primal fear he’s never felt before. He repeats words so fast he can barely make them out. His vision blurs and he can hardly hear anything other than nails carving scars into the glass of his visor. He can’t breathe. He can’t remember how to breathe. He doesn’t know how to breathe he doesn’t understand he doesn’t understand he doesn’t–

Mumbo grabs his wrists, pulling them from his head. He stares dead into Grian’s eyes, expression stern but worried. 

“Breathe, Grian,” Mumbo says in a gentle voice. It’s like molten honey.

“Nonononononono you don’t get it, I can’t breathe, there’s no air, it took my air–”

“Nothing took your air. You need to breathe, Grian.” 

Scar pipes up, “Very true! These are certified Swaggon air ta–” he quickly cuts himself off when he finally sees the frantic look in Grian’s eyes. “Ahhh… never mind, bad time?”

Grian slows his breathing the best he can. His hot breath fogs up his visor. He squeezes his eyes shut so he can’t feel any more trapped than he already does.

Stars trace the inside of his eyelids. 

He is falling.

(Is he?)

He can breathe.

(He thinks he can.)

He opens his eyes. Stars frame the faces of Boatem in glittering halos. 

“Are you okay?” Mumbo asks quietly, tired eyes glinting with fear. 

Grian lets out a shaky breath, and nods. “Yeah. Just a– just a bad dream.”

Mumbo lets go of Grian’s wrists and floats away gently, maintaining eye contact for a moment longer. 

There’s another long silence as Grian comes to his senses. Scar glances at each member of Boatem, trying to get a feel for the room.

“So, wanna bet on how much longer you all think we’ll be falling before we hit ground?”

There’s a collective groan. Pearl buries her face in her hands. Impulse mumbles something to himself about this being the twenty-eighth time Scar’s said this. Mumbo laughs quietly while complaining about them all being broke. Grian simply rolls his eyes.

“I mean, last time I checked, it’s been a lot more than a week…” Scar says, throwing a glance at Impulse.

“How are you checking the time?” Pearl asks with a laugh. “Where is your clock?” She adds, spinning around with her arms out for emphasis. 

“I’m just saying! I have an impeccable sense of time, you know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Impulse snorts.

“Oookay, that’s it. C’mere–” Scar reaches for Impulse, who easily dodges the very non-fatal blow.

Mumbo gasps, appalled. “No fighting in the void! These are even grounds!”

Grian lets out a huff of a laugh, “Even ground? You’re higher up than everyone else here!” “I’m just tall, that’s all.”

“You’re literally the same height as Pearl.”

“I am not! I’m incredibly tall. I’m almost two and a half blocks, you know.”

“As if! Come here, we’re comparing height,” Pearl says, grabbing Mumbo’s leg.

“Hey hey hey! Hands off! I paid for this!” Mumbo sputters, trying to shake Pearl off as she pulls him closer.

“Well, actually…” Scar drawls as he’s put into a headlock. “You’re the only one that didn’t have any diamonds for payment, Mumbo…”

“Why, you..! I’d never.”

Pearl hooks her arm over Mumbo’s shoulder with ease. “You’re, like, three pixels taller than me! That’s nothing!” she laughs, punching him gently.

“Well, at least I’m taller than Grian.”

Grian lets out a loud gasp, wings opening defensively. He pushes himself toward Mumbo, who barely has time to react as Grian sends them tumbling. Fake-fights break out across the void, with the only bystander laughing her head off. Of course, Scar is a man of fair trade, so he wiggles out of Impulse’s grasp and tackles Pearl. Impulse only eggs them on. 

That is, of course, until a new light glows at their feet.

“Hey, wait, guys…” Impulse says nervously. 

The fights stop, if only for a moment. They all turn their gaze to the demon staring wide-eyed downward. 

“Does… does that look like an actual sky to you?” Impulse continues, pointing down. “I think I see clouds… oh my gods…”

Impulse laughs like a madman. Everyone else looks down. 

Feathery clouds slip by, painting the blue sky beneath them with pastels. They can see hints of green grass peeking through the gaps in their vision. 

Everyone starts laughing, cheering, wooping, hollering, shouting. Everyone lets their joy scatter across the void. Grian hugs Mumbo as tears fill his eyes. Mumbo laughs hysterically into the crook of Grian’s neck. 

Grian looks up. He feels himself changing as the wind strikes his suit, whistling past the cracks, slipping down his wings. His wings shrink, frantic patchwork fixing itself. He turns to face everyone else. 

Scar pulls off his helmet, breathing deeply. His ears are longer, flicking happily. Gold sprouts from his growing hair, braiding itself as gravity finally takes hold of them. 

Grian pushes off Mumbo, pulling off his helmet. 

Cold wind strikes his face, flooding all of his senses. He pulls off the rest of his suit, much like the other Boatem members, letting the pieces fly away. Grian twirls happily as the wind rushes through his hair, seeping into his bones. 

He feels free. 

He opens his small wings, nearly sobbing as the wind pounds against them. He smiles. He lets the wind consume him, rushing through his veins, wrapping around his very soul, sinking deep into his lungs. 

He looks up, watching the void fall away into the overwhelming blue. 

He smiles and closes his eyes. 

Stars trace the inside of his eyelids. 

He falls forever into nothing. 

He barely makes a sound as his ribs shatter with the impact.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #hoo boy main tags that's scary #um! anyway! enjoy! #chapter 1 will probably be out in a few days #keep in mind that uploads for this will be very sporadic bc this fic is meant to follow Grian's season 9 episodes very closely #but yeah um (:> hope you all like it lolz

[ethotv-archived]

i would very much love to hear more about she/he etho

ARE YOU NEW THIS IS AWESOME she has been the light of my life for like 8 months glad to spread the word. the Most transfem character of all time forever 2 me like she just IS... look at him. look ath im!!!! but like she does it her way.. the most cringefail woman of all time but hes having fun with it. putting on nakeup snd intentionally smudging it vibes. putting on way too many layers ala early 2010s disney tv shows for young girls. her and cleo and bestfriends in this btw theyre holding hands and taking swaggon estrogen together i know i was the estrogen

#mailing list

[prismadog]

I wrote another thing. Not great, again, but not bad. It's also gotten a bit long so I'm gonna have to do this in parts otherwise you'll end up reading a fic that's like several "do you love the color of the sky" posts combined.

So, there's at least going to be two parts to this, maybe three if part 2 gets too long, but hopefully it won't.

I should probably also say that this is another Dragon Mom Grian au fic, idk where in the timeline it takes place exactly, but who cares. I was gonna do another Babysitting the Tegg fic but decided to do this one instead. then I'll work on part 2 and maybe something for a new au idea I had where Hermitcraft Grian and 3rd Life Grian swap places.

Making a Nest - Part 1

There’s something wrong with Grian.

All of Boatem could see it. 

He’s quiet, reserved. He’s distracted, absent from any present conversation. He wanders around his cave or he stays cooped up in his house. He doesn’t really go out, not even to prank people.

The only time he ever really seems relatively close to his usual self is when he’s coming to his friends’ rescues or stalking a visitor to the village. But even then, it just isn’t the same.

Grian just isn’t himself.

It is…worrying…to say the least.

So.

So four out of five of the Boatem Crew hold a meeting, a secret meeting, one that doesn’t include their favorite gremlin.

They meet up in Pearl’s mountain basement - Pearl, Scar, Mumbo, and Impulse. Pearl had set up a little area away from the entrance ahead of time, and brought out drinks and snacks - milk and cookies - when the others arrived.

“So…” she starts, not really sure what to say, “Uh, we all know why we’re here, right?”

“Because Grian isn’t Grian?” Mumbo asks.

She nods. “He’s been quiet, more quiet than I’ve ever seen him.”

“I noticed that he’s not making as much progress on his base,” Impulse says. “I thought it was burnout at first but when I talked to him, he just seemed…distant.”

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much. I’ve seen him from the Swaggon just wanderin around and carrying the egg,” Scar says through a mouthful of cookie. “Even in the middle of the night.”

“He has been carrying it around a lot, and talking to it sometimes,” Mumbo agrees. “I expected that after tag ended, but uh, he’s not as chipper as he was. He’s just, well like Pearl said, quiet.”

“Do we know why he’s like this?” Impulse asks.

They all look at each other, just as clueless as the next.

“Well, it’s not burnout,” Impulse says. “That much I know from when I talked to him.”

“I tried talking to him the other day when he was stocking the train but he didn’t really say much,” Pearl says. “I wanted to do a prank with him but he said he “wasn’t up for it”. That’s weird in of itself so I asked if he was feeling alright and he just shrugged.”

“I thought that too! He almost flew into one of my houses a few days ago.” Mumbo munches on a cookie. “I asked him if he was all right and he just brushed me off.”

Scar hums, taking another cookie for himself. “It’s gotta have something to do with the egg.” He mutters ‘oh shoot’ when drops the cookie in his glass of milk. “Maybe if we all go over and ask, he’ll tell us what’s wrong?” He fishes the drowned cookie out of his glass and shoves the whole thing in his mouth before it falls apart.

“Is that the right thing to do? What if he shuts down on us?”

“If talking to him one on one didn’t work, then we need to go together,” Scar tells Impulse. “Unless we want to ask someone else to talk to him?”

“That’s an idea, I’m sure Xisuma wouldn’t mind talking to him,” Mumbo says, “but maybe we try fixing this ourselves first?”

“Should we go over now?”

Pearl sets down her glass of milk and stands. “Let’s do it and do it now before we chicken out.”

The other three members stand as well and head out of Pearl’s base, discussing quietly on how to approach Grian once they find him.

They still don’t really have a plan when they come across him in his cave, after several minutes of searching.

Grian is sitting near the cave wall on top of one of his buildings - the Magical Menagerie. He has his arms folded on top of the dragon egg in his lap and his eyes closed. His wings, now a dark grey with spots of violet, drape over the tiles of the roof.

“Hey, Grian,” Pearl calls out, landing several feet away. “You awake?”

His dark eyes blink open to look at her. “Yeah,” he replies quietly.

“Mind if we join you?” He only gives her a shrug in response - as good an answer as any, she supposes. She turns towards the alley below, “Hey, guys, up here!”

Seconds later, Impulse joins her on the roof, then Scar who barely misses the glass ceiling, and then Mumbo who stumbles to a landing and almost falls back off. He would have too if Pearl and Impulse didn’t grab his arms.

“So what’s up?” Grian asks, still sitting in his spot. He sounds, and looks, tired.

The rest of the crew looks at each other for a long moment, then Scar steps forward. 

“Well, Grian, glad you asked. We’ve been having a meeting - I know, I know, we didn’t invite you, but there’s a very good reason for that - it was about you. You see, my fine feathered friend, we’ve been worried about you.”

“O…kay?” 

“You’ve been a bit off, Grian,” Impulse says. “For a while now I’d say.”

“You also seem tired, mate. And we’re just, uh, really worried.”

Grian’s wings shift a bit behind him, the feathers fluffing up the smallest amount. “I’m fine, guys,” he says though his voice is low and almost scratchy, as if he’s been sick or hasn’t been talking much. “Maybe a bit tired but I’m fine.”

Pearl takes a step forward, her moth wings unfolding partially behind her, “You’re not fine!” she says, her voice louder than normal but not shouting. “You’re not fine one little bit. You’re not talking to us, you brush us off when we try to ask you what’s wrong, Scar’s seen you up at all hours of the night, Mumbo says you almost flew into his houses, and you don’t want to do any pranks with me.

“We’re really worried, Grian, and we just want to know what’s wrong,” her voice quiets as she says this.

“Please just tell us what’s wrong,” Mumbo says.

“Whatever’s bothering you, we can help,” Impulse says, “We’ll do everything in our power to help you fix whatever’s wrong.”

“Just talk to us, Grian. Please?” Scar asks.

The hermit looks away, at the roof maybe, and his arms encircle the egg, hugging it close to his chest. “I…I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Nothing’s really wrong…exactly…everything’s going well - the train’s making sales, I finished the night sky, I made the buildings, and I’m even starting to fill them.” 

The dark wings shiver behind him and cover his shoulders, almost like a cape. “Everything’s progressing wonderfully,” his voice is still quiet, “Everything’s going great.”

“But?” Impulse asks gently.

He hugs the egg tighter, his wings shift to cover his sides. He doesn’t look at them, at his friends, for a long long moment. “It should’ve hatched by now,” his voice is barely a whisper, barely a breath of air.

The cave is silent again, aside from the mobs that fill the Menagerie of course. 

“Uh, mate, you do know it’s just a, uh, an item right?”

“Mumbo, you can’t say that,” Pearl says. They all know how Grian’s been with the egg, all motherly and protective of it since he got it. They all know that it’s not exactly a normal reaction from their friend, but they can’t just say that or that the dragon egg is just another item of their world, even though it is.

“It’s not,” Grian says over the top of Pearl’s voice. “It’s not just an item,” he says this with absolute certainty, dark eyes almost glaring at the redstoner. “It’s not just an item, it’s not just a trophy, it’s not just a decoration, it’s not just an achievement to be made.” His wings flare slightly, the feathers puffing up. “It is an egg, Mumbo, and it’s supposed to hatch. Eggs are supposed to hatch - the dragon egg is no different.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Mumbo chuckles nervously. “R-right, my bad. You’re right.”

Grian stares him down for an uncomfortably long minute, then huffs and turns to look away from everyone. “Of course I am,” he mutters.

“Uh, have you tried making a nest?” Impulse asks. “Birds usually make nests, right?”

At that comment, the hermit practically deflates, and his voice is quiet again, “I tried but I’m no good. They all turn out terrible. I tried making them like birds do but they fell apart. I tried using blankets and pillows but that fell apart too.” He sighs, “no matter what I try, it ends up falling apart and feeling cold and boring and lonely anyway.”

“Maybe we could help?” Scar asks.

“There’s no point,” he mutters, “it’s impossible.” He pulls his wings closer, wrapping them around his body and almost completely blocking the other Boatem crew members from view.

“Well, that sounds like a challenge if I’ve ever heard one,” Pearl says. “If we can break bedrock, then we can build a nest that won’t fall apart or look boring.”

There’s a scoff from behind the dark wings. “Good luck,” Grian mutters with a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“C’mon, boys, we’ve got work to do.” She leaps off the roof and soars away, straight out of the cave.

“We’ll see ya later, G!” Scar follows after Pearl.

Impulse gives him a quiet, “We can figure this out,” and at the same time, Mumbo tells him, “You’ll be chuffed to bits when we do,” and they both drop off the roof and fly after Pearl and Scar.

Grian just sighs heavily once they’re gone. He doesn’t believe them.

*

#hermitcraft au #dragon mom grian au #grian #pearlescentmoon #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #impulsesv #this fic was inspired by the one art i made where grian is laying on the ground holding the egg and asking it why it's not hatching #i was gonna do a tfc babysitting fic but felt like doing this instead

[welsknightenjoyer]

Prefacing this as this is not a campaign i see no point campaigning for someone who may very well win (#voteclownpierce actually). But. Reasons Scar is a tumblr sexyman (onceler type), actually.

1. Look at his season 8 skin. Look at the onceler.

2. If you are a follower of hermit-crimes you will know how much deforestation Scar does. You know who else does deforestation? Known tumblr sexyman, the onceler.

3. Scams. He's a scammer, hes a business man, do not trust him. Case in point: frienship points in 3rd life, magic crystals in last life, his ability to salesman anything really. ("Its a good day when you encounter scar and still have all your items")

4. Hes silly. He gets a little silly w/ it :3

5. He likes to kill for the sake of killing. See: rentheking arc, hotguy went around killing and maiming very enthusiastically

6. He dies a lot and people find it very funny

7. He was a corrupt mayor. I think corruption makes a better tumblr sexyman. Yes king. Overtax your citizens.

8. He gets shipped a lot. He's in the biggest ship in the heritcraft fandom at this point in time. He's a shippable guy

9. This point in the sexypedia "If the sexyman does something morally wrong or questionable, fans defending them or simply ignoring what they did." Because lets be real. If c!scar (i think at this point its clearly not cc) did something fucked up, like say, eat his friends (canon), we would just go 'oh yknow, hes just a silly guy'

10. He eats people. Its a little fucked up. I think that gives him sexyman points [op never recovered from season 5. Op never left the jungle]

11. Vex!Scar

One argument for scar not being the onceler:

1. He isnt shipped with himself. With your help, we can change that. New otp: mayor scar/swaggon scar [op is promptly taken out back and shot]

Anyway. Consider, scar is the onceler. But still vote clownpierce

#I'm so sorry for this #fucken #cannibalism tw #for the s5 related points 9 and 10 #no one look I'm being weird again