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zacharyleigh316 · 2 years

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the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix

Suptober Prompt: Day 9 - Vintage | the ghost of you is burned in every tape I mix | Word Count: 2.3K | Teen and Up | Read here (or below cut)

Feelings were never Dean's strong suit-much to his brother's chagrin, he's sure. But some things are just too painful, too fresh. And some things...just don't stay dead.

Me, posting in the year of our lord and savior 2022? A true surprise, I know, I mean, seriously who would’ve thunk? But alas, the cryptid (or hermit, whichever suits your fancy) emerges at long last with a little treat for Suptober 2022. I can’t do every prompt, unfortunately, because y’know ‘life’ but, if all goes accordingly, I’ll have some more to post throughout the month, opposed to my first, and only, submission last year. Anyway, I hope you enjoy ‘the ghost of you’, which, technically, shouldn’t exist since I swore to myself I’d never write anything post the latter half of s15...so you’re welcome. And I’m sorry (lol)

“Jesus, Dean, it’s like a cassette graveyard in here.”

Sam fixed the box in his lap with a glare, the sound of plastic on plastic making Dean’s chest ache. He refused to even look over at Sam, didn’t dare turn his head in that direction, couldn’t bare to watch him sift through the collection of mix tapes, jaw clenched and knuckles white on Baby’s steering wheel.

“Do you even listen to these anymore?” Sam asked, pulling one from the box. “I mean, this one looks like it hasn’t seen the light of day in years.”

Dean said nothing, but swallowed harshly at the wave of emotion building up. Sam looked over, a series of emotions flickering across his face, too perceptive for his own good.

“Dean-“

“They’re vintage.” He managed, finally, cutting off whatever Sam was about to say.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s part of my aesthetic. Can’t just ‘get rid of them’, Sammy. Who do you take me for?” He lied, chancing a look over at his brother.

Dean flashed Sam a grin; deflecting to humor was what he did best. He could tell Sam didn’t buy it, not for a second—they knew each other too well for that—but it didn’t stop Dean from putting on that thinly veiled mask anyway.

Fake it till you make it, right?

Sam huffed, and rolled his eyes, clearly tired of Dean’s bullshit, but too smart to dig any further. Dean reckoned Sam was right; knowing him, he was probably seconds away from clamming up at any mention of…feelings.

Sam shifted his attention back to the box of cassettes, the movement drawing Dean’s own eyes down to the tape still in Sam’s hand, which in turn made the older Winchester’s breath catch. Feeling the hot sting of unwanted tears well up, Dean quickly looked away, and glued his focus back onto the road, an endless inky black river of asphalt that stretched on for miles, absorbing Baby’s headlights as she urged forward. Much to Dean’s chagrin, it didn’t provide any of its usual comfort—quite the opposite, in fact.

“Anyway, vintage isn’t the word I’d use, Dean.” Sam added after a while, breaking the silence. “I’m just saying, you could stand to lose some of these.”

“And I’m just saying you could mind your own damn business.”

Sam sighed, “Dean,” and Dean rolled his eyes, hating how exasperated his name on his brother’s tongue sounded.

“Not in the mood, Sammy.” he warned, through gritted teeth. Too close.

“Do you even remember what’s on most of these?”

“I’m serious, Sam, drop it.” Dean snapped, body tensed and wired, looking for a fight.

“What happened to the you of a few minutes ago, the version of my annoying little brother who wasn’t this nosy? Who knew when to stop poking the bear? Can I get him back?”

“I wouldn’t have to poke the bear, Dean, if you just talked to me, and answered me-“ Dean opened his mouth, “-without being a smart ass.” Sam quickly added, effectively shutting whatever smart ass remark Dean was about to make, up.

“I haven’t even seen you listen to most of these.”

Because they’re too painful, he didn’t say.

“They’re basically clutter, at this point.”

But they’re not, they could never be, his mind screamed.

“I get it.”

No you don’t, you can’t, Sammy, and his heart broke all over again.

“Being sentimental over the past, or whatever, but this just makes you a hoarder Dean. Sometimes it’s better to just let things go.”

But can’t you see, that isn’t an option for me, because it’s the only thing I’ve got left of-

Dean made a sound that had Sam looking over from the passenger seat in concern, a sound neither of them knew Dean was capable of making, and Sam dropped the tape back into the box.

“Um, okay, alright, we’ll just…I mean, I’ll just…” Sam trailed off, and swallowed thickly, placing the lid back on the box, and the box back into the glove compartment.

“Right.” He muttered awkwardly, almost missing the broken, whispered ‘thanks’ that came from Dean.

That alone was surprising enough for Sam to shut up for the remainder of the trip back to the bunker.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the entrance and shifted her into park, but kept the engine running, making no move to get out. Sam furrowed his brows in worry, feeling that there was a lot unsaid between them, but undid his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car.

“Are you coming?” He asked, despite knowing fully well that Dean wasn’t.

“Nah, you go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Sammy. ‘S’all good. Just gonna go out for a drive.”

Sam hesitated, standing just outside the passenger side door, before nodding and heading off into the bunker without another word. Dean let out the breath he was holding, and put the Impala into drive, pulling her back out, and away from the bunker entrance just as quickly as they had previously arrived.

He didn’t drive for long, unable to stand the silence just as much as he hated the noise. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t who he really wanted beside him on the bench seat. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t the same.

Dean stopped the car upon a nondescript field, empty aside from acres of tall grass. He figured it was as good a place as any to have a moment to himself, where he intended to let out all the pent up emotion that had been steadily brewing since Sam brought out that box full of tapes.

Before he could stew any longer, or second guess himself, Dean leaned over and retrieved that very same box from the glove compartment. It didn’t take long for him to find the one he was looking for, the white plastic yellowed, and the sharpie faded, with age, but he knew what it said. How could he forget? He remembered the day he gave it to Castiel, after the many grueling hours he had spent painstakingly adding each song; all the things he could never find the words to say, so he put them into a mixtape instead, just as his dad had done for his mom all those years ago. How Cas tried to give it back, and how Dean had refused, picking it up off the edge of the table where the angel had placed it, oh so gently, as if giving it up was the last thing he wanted to do, and returned it with a gruff, “it’s a gift, you keep those”.

Dean’s hands shook as he put it in, and stopped, just short of pressing play. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering whatever little resolve he had left, and jabbed the button, the intro to Zepp’s Ramble On coming through Baby’s speakers.

The second he heard Plant’s voice, the air inside the Impala suddenly became stifling, thick enough to choke on your own breath. Dean stumbled out of the driver seat, knees and palms hitting the ground as he dry heaved into the grass. Bile burned the back of throat, and tears spilled steadily from his eyes, blurring his vision. A mangled gasp wrung itself up and out his mouth as he cried, his fingers digging into the soil for purchase, and the dampness soaking into his jeans went ignored.

No matter how hard Dean tamped down the hurt, the pain of watching the one person, your person, die in front of you, knowing this time was real, this time was it, it was always still there. It never left. Because Cas was gone, lost to the Empty, and Dean was left behind with only the ghost of a memory, and some ‘vintage’ cassette tapes.

Tapes that he hadn’t listened to, not since he made the damn things, not since it happened. Where Castiel confessed his love, something Dean didn’t even think was possible—not for them, certainly not for him—and then fucked off to wherever with Billie and the Empty because it was his true happiness or whatever.

Whose true happiness was making this big speech about how the (supposed) love of your life changed you so irrevocably, and being okay with dying without reciprocation?

“Stupid.” Dean croaked, body shaking. “You were so fucking stupid, Cas.”

He looked skyward, face streaked with tears, and screamed up at the heavens. “Fuck you, man. Seriously, Cas, fuck you!”

He didn’t know where Cas was, where the Empty was, or if he could even hear him.

“What about my happiness, huh? Did you really think I’d ever be happy if you-“ he swallowed, “-if you weren’t here? After everything? After…what I said in purgatory?

“C’mon, man, you know me better than that. Probably better than anyone. Even Sam. So why-“ his voice cracked.

Dean could feel the exact moment his heart split in two, opening like a fissure, a weeping wound reopened, just as fresh as it was the day it was created.

“Why’d you leave? Why’d you leave me, Cas I-“ he dropped his voice, and whispered the last part, like a secret spoken only to the wind. “-I need you.”

Dean closed his eyes at the new onslaught of tears, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit he was feeling.

“Fuck man, I need you, so friggin much, it hurts.”

How years ago in days of old…

When magic filled the air…

“You gotta know that right? Even if I didn’t say it? If I couldn’t say it?” He pleaded, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

'Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor…

I met a girl so fair…

“Fuck, Cas, I don’t even know if you can hear this, wherever you are, but please…come back.” He pulled his hands away, and blinked his blurry eyes back up to the sky.

Come back home, to me, he didn’t say, but it was heavily implied.

But Gollum, and the evil one…

Crept up and slipped away with her…

“I was so angry, at first. You just fucked off, just like that, man, after telling me about the deal, and then saying you love me…who does that shit? I didn’t-I didn’t get to process shit, Cas, didn’t even get to tell you…and then I blink and you’re gone.”

*I guess I keep on rambling…*

“You know I sat on that floor for hours after it happened? Wouldn’t even answer my phone. Sam kept calling and I couldn’t even be bothered to care, because I just lost you. It hurts so freaking much, Cas, you gotta know. You gotta know how I feel.”

Doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo…

I gotta keep searching for my baby…

Dean looked around, the meadow still just as quiet and still as it had been when he first arrived. He was still just as alone as he was when he first arrived.

(Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby)…

I gotta keep-a-searchin' for my baby…

“Yup. Figures.” He muttered, wiping the tears off his face. “Don’t even know why I thought that would work.”

(My, my, my, my, my, my, my baby)…

Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…

“Fuck,” he laughed, the sound both bitter and hysterical, “what am I even doing? This was stupid…I feel like crap.”

He got up, wincing at his popping knees, and turned back to the Impala, just as Plant’s vocals started to fade.

I can't find my bluebird…

Cas was gone, his brain supplied helpfully.

As if he didn’t already know.

I can't find my bluebird…

His bluebird was lost to the Empty forever, that much was clear.

Dean let the song finish, using the last few seconds to collect himself, fists clenched down at his sides. He couldn’t help but think how wrong Sam was; he didn’t feel any better after letting his emotions take over. Hell, he just had a chick flick moment with himself, and he still felt like ass.

He unfurled his hands when the next song on the tape rolled over, crescent shaped marks from his nails tattooed on the skin of his palms. He welcomed the pain, reminded him he wasn’t completely numb, yet, after everything.

A small breeze made its way through the meadow, faintly rustling the grass, and sending shivers down Dean’s spine. Thinking nothing of it, he sniffed, and reached out to pat Baby’s roof, deciding now was a good as time as any to start heading back to the bunker; it would just get colder as the night went on.

Just then the tape stopped abruptly, and Dean cursed, but just as he reached in to take it out, the radio popped and crackled to life, rapidly scanning through static. He furrowed his brows in confusion, only to stumble backwards in surprise when Baby’s lights started to flicker.

“What the-“

The flutter of wings behind him effectively cut him off, and Dean’s eyes widened, heart skipping a beat. He whipped himself around, and let out a sob of relief at the angel standing there, his angel standing there, trench coat and all.

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

He didn’t even care how it was possible, not yet, not when Castiel was right there. Dean ran toward him, and wrapped Cas in the biggest embrace, starting to sob proper when Dean felt Cas hug back. And, in a complete turn of events, Dean found he was done waiting.

He pulled away, just enough to see Cas’ face, before joining their lips together. Cas made a pleased sound, and pulled Dean closer, Dean letting himself melt into Castiel like it’s where he belonged.

”I know. I heard you, Dean, I heard you.” Cas whispered breathlessly against Dean’s lips.

“I’m home.”

#suptober22 #suptober day 9 #supernatural #supernatural fic #post 15x18 #canon divergent au #fix it fic #finale what finale #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #deancas #Destiel #destiel ficlet #my work #my writing

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trashbins-stuff · 9 months

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Incorrect quotes

Ppl involved: @mochablogger @moonmxple @blairdrawzstuff @mirkodoesstuff @winterwrxter @harpjustexists @rubixcubix

1.Blueberry: What time is it?

Mocha: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out

Mocha: *BLASTS the saxaphone*

Harp: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

Mocha: It’s 2 am

Bin: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Hazel.

Hazel: I hate myself.

Bin: Alright, square up.

Rubix: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit

Winter: So what are your political beliefs?

Bin, awkwardly trying to impress her: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Rubix: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Blueberry: Um, murder???

Hazel: Adventuring!

Bin: Tuesday.

Rubix: Everyone synchronise your watches.

Hazel: I don't know how to do that.

Winter: I don't wear a watch.

Harp: Time is a construct

Harp: Good morning.

Bin: Good morning.

Blueberry: Good morning.

Rubix: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Mocha, barging in from the window: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

Everyone: AHHHHHHHH

Rubix: Rules were made to be broken.

Winter: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Blair: Uh, piñatas.

Mocha: Glow sticks.

Bin: Karate boards.

Hazel: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Rubix: Rules.

Winter:

Rubix: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!

Mocha: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!

Bin: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!

Winter: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!

Hazel: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!

Blueberry: Throw a brick at someone to kill them.

10.

Hazel: Stressed.

Rubix: Depressed.

Mocha: Possessed.

Winter: Obsessed.

Blueberry: Impressed.

Bin: Chicken breast.

Everyone: ...What?

Bin: I just wanted to join in.

11.

Rubix: What if people had food names and food had people names?

Hazel: Hey, spaghetti, we’re having Rubix for dinner.

Blair: What is wrong with you people?

Bin: Shut up, orange.

12.

Mocha: I haven't seen Harp and Blueberry for fifteen minutes now.

*Outside a nearby window, a car without a driver inside is seen rolling down a driveway, with Harp and Blueberry running after it in a panic. Mocha doesn't look outside at all.*

Mocha: That probably means they're getting into trouble.

13.

Blueberry: Hello all, it is I, your favorite person.

Bin: Actually, Galaxy Journal is my favourite.

Blueberry: Okay then, it is I, that bitch

14.

Rubix: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

15.

Fae au Blair: Hello friends!

The Squad:

Fae au Blair: You might be wondering why I’m hanging from the ceiling

16.

*after the Squad has been separated for a few years*

Harp: So what have you been up to recently?

Rubix: Leading a revolution with Bin.

Harp: Good for you two! Me, I've joined the mob.

Rubix: *nods* Oh, how cool! That's awesome!

Harp: I know! Anyway, have you heard from the others? Mocha?

Rubix: Happily living as a hermit in the woods. Blair and Hazel?

Harp: Wrongfully locked up in an asylum, which reminds me, we need to break them out later. Blueberry?

Rubix: Cult leader.

Harp: Yeah, that sounds about right.

17.

Rubix: I CAN'T DO IT!

Mocha, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Rubix: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Harp: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Rubix:

Rubix: I appreciate it,

Rubix: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Hazel: Rubix-

Rubix: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Winter: Rubix we gotta-

Rubix: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Rubix: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Rubix, motioning to Bin: NOT FUCKING THIS

18.

Blair: Wait, hold up, why you draw yourself like that?

Mocha: Uh, like what?

Blair: Like with gorgeous, muscular legs.

Mocha: Uh, this is what I look like.

Blair:

Mocha: THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE!

Blair: Okay, then I want big beefy arms. Hot ones.

Hazel: I wanna have a cowboy hat!

Mocha: Okay, arms and hat. *draws them*

Rubix: Ooh, give me a cowboy hat too!

Mocha: You can't just take Hazel's hat idea, Rubix! He thought it up all by himself like a good person! Come up with your own thing!

Rubix: BUT I WANNA LOOK COOL!

Bin: Put Rubix on one of those stupid baby tricycles.

Rubix: NO!!

Mocha: Tricycle, done. *draws it* Winter, want anything?

Bin, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Mocha: A blaster?! No, that's not really our style, Winter.

Winter, making finger guns: Pew pew.

Mocha: You know what, okay. *draws it* But it's just for holding, not for shooting.

19.

Winter: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Harp: No.

Hazel: I did not.

Rubix: I may have actually forgotten one.

Blueberry: *shale head

Bin: Also no.

Winter: Oh good, neither did I.

Blair: *Exhausted sigh*

20.

Winter: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Mocha: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents.

Winter: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you.

Hazel: Actually I did the math, Mocha would have $225, not $0.15.

Mocha: Fam I’m right here....

Harp: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Winter: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Harp: Sorry I only have a dollar.

Winter: :(

Blueberry: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Mocha would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent.

Harp: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice.

Hazel: You can buy anything you want with $22,500.

Bin: Yeah and she want soda and apply juice.

Hazel: Apply juice to what.

Bin: Directly to the forehead.

Rubix: Great chat everyone.

21.

Blueberry: Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we barely know each other?

Bin: Idiots to lovers, 20k words, angst with a happy ending.

22.

Harp: Yesterday, I watched Blair try to eat a decorative rock from Hazel's potted plant. Blueberry caught her, and told her she can't eat rocks. Blair started whining something about no food being in the house before walking away.

#tw cult mention #the traumatized cup #ttc #incorrect quotes #ttc hazel #ttc mocha cuppy #ttc blair #ttc blueberry donut #ttc bin #ttc winter #ttc harp #ttc rubix

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loveyourlovelysoul · 5 months

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What help would you recommend for someone trying to survive ongoing trauma? I’m going through emotional abuse from my father and there is no way I can change the situation. I’m trying to mentally get better but every time I try it all gets knocked down again. What do you recommend to go hermit mode but in a healthy way? If that makes any sense. Thank you so much for your time I love your blog ❤️

Hey :)

I am very sorry you have to go through such a painful experience. This is something I am still going through in my life as well and I may not be the best at giving advices cause I'm still figuring things out myself. Emotional abuse can happen in different ways, and since I don't know what is really going on for you and I don't know you (and I am not a professional figure of any type), I... don't know exactly what to suggest you that can really be of help to you.

In my case, I personally tried to realize that I had no fault in what was/is going on and tried to imagine why he was acting like that with me (his own personal story speaks of immense lack of patience, perfectionism, a huge loss and possible emotional abuses as well, which never helped him deal with his own emotions the correct way -his mother wasn't able to deal with that either- but simply pour them out whenever he's overwhelmed through some repressed anger -which shows up in different ways-). I'm not saying I forgive him, but understanding his "hidden reasons" behind his behaviour, made me at least recognize and understand his triggers and kinda foresee (most of) his reactions, so that when they happen I feel a bit more ready/in control and remind myself it isn't directly on me even when he's having it against me and telling me bad words (mostly cause in the heat of the moment). With time, I realized it helped me to get away from him when he wasn't talking with me but overreacting for other things, or (if I couldn't physically move away) simply try to disconnect and then come back to myself once the "danger" was over. I also tried to distract myself by doing things that helped me relax any time I could, even right after an event like that (from a walk outside under the sun, to watching kitties' vids or drawing and writing -journaling in particular has helped me-, for example). I have always been a pretty sensitive child so I had a tough time bearing with shouting and anger when I was a toddler, and trying to take care of that child-side of me by showing I can afford things on my own now, that I can get away or simply not accept/reject that abuse (even just in my mind, without having to reply to him and make him notice, but explaining myself what's happening and distancing myself from it) and stand up for myself (since it's not on me but it's his own problems speaking), has made it better. Basically I learnt to try staying more in control of the only thing I could control: my own reaction about his abuse. And what I made it mean about me: objectively nothing much anymore (once I used to *unconsciously* make it mean I wasn't good enough, I was a bad child, I was unworthy, I really was that terrible person he told me I am... but I have never been so, I was just a child and a teen and... a common flawed person as he is too, nothing that would support/validate such an overreaction). I tried to learn how to be my own safe place while outside there's a storm. To shield my younger self in any way I could/can.

But again, I don't know exactly about your abuse, so really... I hope you don't mind if this doesn't resonate. I think out of all the abuses, emotional abuse and neglect are very very though to confront and each of us deals with them in their own personal way. Not sure what you mean by "healthy hermit mode", maybe not dealing with him? Or maybe what I use/d to do as well, by distancing yourself... I hope it's that.

If you can, please refer to a professional figure that can guide you through in a better way or at least give you hints on how to work on yourself more accurately than me. All the best, take care as you can (and remember, any copying mechanism that you think and find out works for you atm, is valid. You'll get out of that anyway, try to stay strong).<3

#asks #tw emotional abuse #tw family trauma #i also wanna say that my father isnt just this #and im being objective #hes not just his trauma as anyone of us is not just their own trauma #he just hasnt learnt to recognize and deal with his own triggers and issues #we can be good-hearted people and still have triggers that make us bad in specific situations/moments #we have our own demons and everything comes down to how we deal with them when/if we learn to see them

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duckmumbo · 2 years

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tell us about plant powers mumbo if you have any specific thoughts!! -mnd

I have so many thoughts you don’t even know

- I think Mumbo spent more time in the s8 world than the actual irl break was. There’s the almost 3 months that the actual break took place, but in my au I think Mumbo tried for the first month or so to contact them through his communicator, but he couldn’t reach them (bc void interference) so after a while he gave up and either lost it or broke it in a fit of rage. He spends the next two months trying to figure out a way off of the server, but he can’t leave because a part of him is still so reluctant to leave since as far as he knows, he’s the only hermit still alive, and he doesn’t want to know if that’s true or not, so the plants don’t let him leave.

Meanwhile, on the s9 server, boatem has arrived and they’re frantically trying to convince the hermits with admin powers to let them go back to the s8 world to see if mumbo’s still there, but they don’t let them go for at least another month because plot and safety concerns. Eventually, they get to go, and they bring Mumbo back and they all live mostly happily ever after <3

- When the moon crashed into s8 with Mumbo still on it, he panic grew a giant canopy of trees to protect him (think that scene in guardians of the galaxy when Groot sacrifices himself to save everyone else). It works, but he can’t figure out how to get them to go back, so this means he spends the next 3 months living with no lighting other than the torches and lanterns left behind by the hermits and some giant glowberry vines that he grew

This also means that when he gets to s9, he’s not at all used to the sun anymore, and he ends up taking refuge in Scar’s tree because it’s darker in there and he can’t relax if he’s not surrounded on all sides by the humming of plant life

- His vault. His main regret after s8 is spending so much time on the Mooners that he never thought to prepare for the worst, to have a safe place for his family friends to go if worse came to worst. So he builds a vault. He hides behind jokes of being the richest hermit, behind saying that nobody is allowed to enter the vault and it’s for his eyes only, but really he’s preparing a huge underground bunker for them to ride out anything he can possibly think of. It starts out as just for the members of boatem with his starter base, but then as he settles in more and spends more time with the other hermits he starts to draw up plans for a bigger one, one that all the hermits could fit in comfortably with room to spare

- I’ve been seeing a lot of aus recently where people invade hermitcraft and attack them (shoutout to test tube Zedaph au it’s a major source of brainrot right now), so I think Mumbo would also worry about that alongside the rest of his doomsday preparations. He sets up an elaborate network of modified plant seeds underground, including stuff like buffed wither roses, Venus fly traps, and other dangerous plants (shoutout to the Stepping Stones series on ao3 and how they wrote Tubbo with plant powers for the inspo for this) that are just lying dormant, waiting for him to activate it and let them grow in case of people coming to hermitcraft to hurt them.

- I’ve just realized there’s a bit of a plot hole with Bdubs and some other hermits canonically still being on the s8 world when the moon hit so I’m just gonna say the other hermits weren’t going to let this happen so they forced them to leave with everyone else. No hermit left behind (except mumbo but that’s not his fault) <3

#me making that last post: yeah I wanna talk about it but idk what I feel like I need a jumping off point or something #me getting this ask and it unlocking my brain somehow: haha words go brr #thanks for the ask hope this was what you wanted gksbkfbdjf #roy talks #peace love and even more plants au #answered #mnd my beloved #I’ve just decided you get a tag #mumbo #hermitcraft

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codgod-moved · 2 years

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We'll go on then. What piercings would the hermits each have

okay i’m gonna be writing these in the same order i’m drawing them on my lineup thing because it’s easier. it’s up in the air whether or not i’ll incorporate all of these into my designs for them but some of the more specific ones Are already part of my designs lol

mumbo has his single earring in his left ear, ofc. no idea when/why i started doing that but it’s a thing. i wanna say a lip piercing too just for fun because i don’t actually draw him with a mouth. he has no lip to pierce but he did it anyway

grian has something similar (single earring on the left) but i DO know the reason behind that, it’s the same reason he has the pointy ears in the first place; link legendofzelda :3

impulse i feel would have just regular lobe piercings that he doesn’t wear anymore, and they’ve mostly healed over anyway so he couldn’t even if he wanted to

tango: spider bites. just the vibes

zed would have a BUNCH of ear piercings and nothing else. all studs and like one industrial piercing, he wants to observe SOME lab safety, but he’ll get out the dangly ones occasionally for special occasions. i think he collects funky novelty earrings too. dragon tendencies and all that

beef gets a septum piercing. cow :3

pearl has a few ear piercings but mainly only wears the lobe ones. maybe a nose piercing too she feels like the type

keralis has those cheek piercings that make it look like you have dimples. you know the ones. plus some fairly small gauges just for fun

bdubs has an eyebrow piercing, both lobes pierced, and two *googles* helix? piercings on one ear + a cuff on the other (not a piercing but it’s connected to one of his earrings). also a septum piercing he doesn’t wear anymore

etho has a tongue piercing just because i think it’d be funny if he had one u can’t see

doc doesn’t have any, he’s worried he would accidentally explode if he tried to get one because of the pain so he hasn’t bothered

ren has one piercing in his right ear. nobody has told him it’s the gay ear yet and nobody intends to (he does know he just doesn’t care #AllyForLife 🏳️‍🌈)

cleo has pretty much the same as bdubs’ ear piercings but the cuff is on the opposite ear and she has two lobe piercings either side instead of just one. she didn’t get her ears pierced herself they just came like that when she found them

joe has two lobe piercings on one side and one on the other

stress just has regular lobe piercings, she tends to accessorise in other ways

iskall i think would be the same as impulse but he’s like me where his ears have been pierced for so long that they don’t heal over anymore, so he still has the option to wear earrings if he wants

cub i think would just have one helix earring that he probably got on a dare

scar doesn’t have any actual piercings but he does own a large collection of those magnetic/clip on ones. i don’t know why i think this suits him but it does

jevin does not have any because he is slime. one time he did shove a diamond in the side of his face and called it an earring though

wels i don’t think would have many because they’d clink against his armour and the sound would get annoying. maybe like one of those nose bridge piercings idk what they’re called. the ones that go in between ur eyes

xisuma has just regular lobe piercings and exclusively wears plain black studs EXCEPT when he was a bee. then they were little flower studs

false i think wouldn’t have any or she’d just have like, an eyebrow ring

gem doesn’t have any, she just uses her antlers to dangle shiny things off of

aaand idk about hypno, xb, and tfc

thank u all for coming to my ted talk

#.asks #hermitcraft #piercings #i would’ve specified what kind of earring everyone wears but it’s mostly #studs or plain hoops of various sizes #i’m open for criticism on these btw

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redorich · 3 years

Note

First of all I really love your Hermit Canyon au and have read throughathe posts multiple times. Secondly I think Tango deserves to open up a bedrock service to trap the unsuspecting dsmp members. And thirdly I'm a bit sad that this au is going to be coming to an end but it's been lovely to read.

There's a problem on the Dream SMP that needs to be addressed. None of them realize that canon lives are gone, because they don't lose them often enough to notice. The Hermits wrack their brains trying to come up with a solution, some way to prove it.

Grian suggests a death game, like Demise. The idea is immediately vetoed. They're trying not to traumatize these people further, thank you. Joe suggests a treatise on the fleeting nature of life and how embracing it in order to reject humanity and become primatial will allow one to achieve a higher state of being which can then be conflated with the concept of immortal life. Just as Joe is really hyping himself up, getting ready to write and mass-distribute a pamphlet like Thomas Paine's Common Sense, Cleo bluntly informs him that that's too many words. Next option.

Some ideas are thrown around of Hermits killing each other in fun games to show the other players that a little bit of death is harmless, a fun treat.

Meanwhile, Scar, who forgot to show up to the meeting, is up on the surface wandering around as he surveys the land for a good spot to put a megabase. This would be much easier with an elytra; however, when he asked Xisuma why they can't go to the end here Scar was bombarded with a slew of confusing admin words. He's sure Xisuma will explain later.

There's a little shop down the road that Scar hasn't seen before. He's certain that it has Hermit written all over it-- not literally, of course, but the structure, size, and blocks used make it obvious. There's a group of native Dream SMP players huddled around the entrance, which grabs his attention.

"Well hello there," he says, channelling his inner Obi Wan Kenobi as he always does when he says that.

The other players, who he recognizes as Foolish, Tubbo, and Ranboo, whisper among themselves and immediately straighten up when he addresses them. It's as though they're attempting to say with their body language, Hello! No shenanigans here, nope, none at all.

"Hello," Foolish says. "Would you happen to know who built this store?"

Scar makes a considering noise in the back of his throat, pacing around the side of the build and back as he tries to guess. "Definitely a Hermit," he says. "and probably one of the redstoners. This doesn't look like Mumbo-- or Etho for that matter... Maybe Doc, or possibly Tango or Impulse? That would be my guess."

The nervous-looking ender-boy (Ranboo, Scar believes) leans down to Tubbo's height to whisper in his ear. Tubbo nods, waits a second, nods again, and Ranboo stands back up.

"Are they trustworthy?" Tubbo says.

Scar's brows draw together slightly at the question, wondering what the group is getting at. "What do you mean?"

"Jack went in that shop half an hour ago, and he still hasn't come out yet," Foolish says plainly.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Scar says with a relaxed smile, opening the door. "I'll go check on him, see? There's nothing dangero--"

The others watch as a piston triggers and Scar immediately plummets into a hole far below. The piston fires again and covers up the scene of the crime as though nothing ever happened. Tubbo snorts a laugh, and Ranboo and Foolish look at each other over Tubbo's head.

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

Jack bashes his forehead against the bedrock in front of him like he has been doing for the past half-hour. He's absolutely stuck, and the only way out is death.

All of the sudden, another man's voice comes screaming toward the bottom of the hole, and before he knows it the piston has activated and two people are stuck in this bedrock box.

"Hello there," the other man says. "My name's Scar."

"Jack. It's a pleasure. I don't suppose you have any ender pearls?"

Scar considers. "No, but you can punch me to death and I can come back with some."

What? Hello??? Is this man not worried about canon death??? Jack expresses this to the man in vulgar detail, and though the man winces at the language he seems otherwise unperturbed. With a sigh, Jack acquiesces and punches the man to death. Scar apparently had full saturation when he fell into the hole, so it takes quite a while.

Scar explodes into a shower of items and Jack can't help but feel a little bad for killing him, even if it's what he wanted... Until he sees one of the man's items. A trap door. Quickly, he uses it to escape, scooping up all of Scar's items and climbing a tower of scaffolding to the surface. Up top, he's greeted by Foolish, Tubbo, Ranboo, and a red-faced and huffing Scar who must have run the entire way back all the way from the canyon.

"Oh, how did you get out?" Scar says curiously.

"You had trapdoors on you, you dumb shit!"

"Huh. I forgot about those. Aw man, my levels!"

Jack sputters in his anger. "Wh-- Do you-- How are you not bothered by this?! What if that was a canon life?!"

Ranboo watches the conversation go back and forth like a tennis match.

A look of realization comes across Scar's face. "That's right," he says, "I forgot you Dream SMP guys have that whole thing about dying-- Xisuma fixed that."

Everyone goes dead silent. Finally, Jack utters, "...Huh?"

"Yeah, no, dying isn't permanent anymore," Scar says.

Jack, who literally crawled his way out of Hell at one point in time, knows with a sinking feeling in his soul that Scar is telling the truth. Fuck the Hermits, he thinks. What the fuck.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #grian #joe hills #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #xisuma #tubbo #ranboo #jack manifold #foolish gamers #me.cpp

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quaranmine · 3 years

Text

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #grian #pearlescentmoon #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft season 8 #quara fanfic

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

All my knowledge is of hermitcraft and the stuff people have written for the Hermit!Tommy Au but I kept having this idea and needed to write it. I also think i got a bit out of character halfway through because it was supposed to be short, but i vibed with it too much so now it’s long and maybe not 100% accurate but it’s still angst followed by fluff.

also @petrichormeraki wanted me to tag them when i posted this.

Tommy had been with the Hermits for a while now. He hadn’t really kept track of when he first arrived, but it had at least been a few months. Otherwise, time was a mess. The Hermits has all but legally adopted him and all the joy that came from them caring for him made time seem to fly by.

Doc was fun to be around because while Tommy was perfectly fine never going back to the SMP, the way the man acted gave Tommy a small bit of familiarity in a good way to his past life.

He likes hanging out with False, mainly for sparring. Never anything deadly, but even if there wasn’t a need for Tommy to constantly look over his shoulder, it was good to keep from getting too rusty.

He doesn’t really hang out with Zedaph as much as Zedaph hangs out with him. Normally the Hermit would come out of the blue with something new for Tommy to try. Flicking levers over and over for something that would normally be as simple as using a furnace just became fun for Tommy, especially if he had energy pent up.

Xisuma is someone Tommy doesn’t run into much, but the fact that he doesn’t is something Tommy finds comfort in. Even as the server admin, the man is very down to Earth. Nothing like Dream ever was.

And then there’s Grian. Tommy got along with all the Hermits fine and of course there were some he preferred over others, but Grian took the cake for him. When he first showed up, Grian was the one to give him a place to stay at his old hobbit hole. Professor Beaks had been left there and still used to the SMP and scared for his life, Tommy hid the pet bird as leverage for his own safety. When Grian found out, he mostly shrugged it off, but the tens of chickens in the hobbit hole the next day was proof of retaliation.

Tommy didn’t understand the underwhelming response at first, but responded in kind, using the eggs from the chickens Grian had left to egg the Hermit’s base. When the builder nearly broke the door to the hobbit hole, Tommy grabbed his axe, ready to fight for his life, but was taken aback by the cheerful look on Grian’s face.

After that, Grian had practically taken Tommy under his wing. He showed Tommy how to build more effectively with cobble, eventually managing to get the teen to have some variety. Grian also brought Tommy along on his various chaotic endeavors, leaving behind chickens, mycelium, and possibly some missing doors.

The two chaotic red wearing Brits got along so well that they sometimes spent entire weeks together. Because of that, Tommy was all too aware that the Hermits participated in MCC as well.

It made sense. A few of the Hermits vaguely recognised him when he showed up in Hermitcraft and a few of them looked familiar to Tommy. That had made him feel a little safer since now these people weren’t complete strangers, but it did complicate things. Every so often, the portal to MCC would open and the Hermits participating would go through. The closest Tommy would get to the portal was just before the Hermits left, occasionally giving a ‘Good luck Grine!’ or something similar to Grian as he went through. But after that Tommy stayed as far away as he could manage.

The portal there led to MCC. And from there, there was a portal that led to the SMP. If Tommy could get to Hermitcraft, others could too. And that idea was terrifying, no matter who it was. Dream was a worst case scenario, but even if it was Tubbo. Tubbo had exiled him, and even if they were still on good terms after that, Tommy could have visited at some other MCC, but he didn’t, and that idea likely wouldn’t go over well, especially since otherwise, people probably thought he was dead and Tommy didn’t care to correct them.

But compared to all those other times, today was very different. Today Tommy wasn’t at the sidelines to help send off the other Hermits, he was one of the ones being sent off. They had taken every precaution. Mumbo had rebuilt his Spookification chamber for Tommy with some alterations, specifically removing the firework method of alteration. The teen was also dressed for being on a team with Grian as the Cyan Creepers, so his familiar red and white shirt was missing. But under Tommy’s costume, he still kept the chain necklace holding his compass. He refused to part with it, though made sure he would be hard to access to keep from glancing, knowing at the championships, it wouldn’t be spinning wildly anymore.

With a comforting pat on the back from Grian, he and the other Hermits walked through the portal. The crowd of people that were on the side almost immediately overwhelmed Tommy, making him think that it was a bad idea all over again, but the sight of the two other team members for the Cyan Creepers reassured them, especially as they lined up for the cameras for some fun and silly times. Then once the games began, he was too focused on winning to think of much else.

Before long, the championships were over. They had come in fifth, which was a bit disappointing at first, but on the other hand, it was still pretty good and kept the spotlight off of him. When dodgebolt began, Tommy stood next to Grian, but with a crowd of people, a good game, and no perfect place to sit, the both of them wandered for a better vantage point.

At one point, Tommy managed to push his way right up to the edge of the viewing ledge. It was the perfect place for a while until the action moved, causing everyone to decide it was the perfect place. Enough people moved nearby that Tommy was worried about falling into the pit below, and he almost did before someone pulled him back.

Tommy was ready to thank whichever Hermit or even other player helped him but the words died in his throat when he faced the person who grabbed him. He knew that mask and neon green color. And there was no reason for him to help Tommy unless-

“I finally found you!” Dream spoke. He raised his voice to be heard over the crowd, but not too much to draw the attention of others. Tommy froze as he definitely heard the words. But there was no way for Dream to know, he didn’t look at all like normal.

“I-I’m sorry.” Tommy tried not to stutter, hoping just the situation of being grabbed would excuse it. “But I don’t think I’m who you’re looking for. I’m new here. Unless you’re greeting me for being new.” It was something he prepared before in his mind after Grian brought up the possibility, but it felt sloppy putting it to use.

“Oh don’t lie Tommy. I know it’s you. I guess you got lost, but it’s okay, you can come back now. I got rid of the exile for you. Aren’t you glad?”

Tommy was glad for the mask that covered Dream’s face. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see Dream’s actual expression. “How did you-” He started to speak, but Dream cut him off, poking Tommy’s chest, right where the compass was.

“Weren’t you paying attention to the teams? Tubbo got put with me. And between games he just happened to glance at his own compass. And wouldn’t you know it, it led me right here.” Dream held up the compass that belonged to Tubbo. It looked damaged, and it was recent. Tubbo likely didn’t want to give the tyrant admin the compass, but lost it to Dream anyway.

“Give that back to Tubbo!” Tommy shouted at Dream, trying to snatch it from him.

“Feisty now, aren’t you? We can take care of that when you come back. I’ll also give it back to him if you come with me.”

Tommy froze. There was no way he was going back, but what could he do? Everyone was focused on dodgebolt, and he didn’t want his appearance to have caused more trouble for Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at the crowd one last time before reluctantly nodding. Dream grabbed his hand in a painful clench and dragged him out of the crowd towards the SMP’s portal to leave. However, just before reaching it, Dream stopped. Tommy, who had been looking back at the crowd, hoping someone would see what was going on, turned towards the portal to see Grian standing in front of it.

“Heya, where do you think you’re going. MCC isn’t over yet. Dodgebolt it still going on.”

Tommy expected Dream to just push past Grian or even give some sort of retort, but the actual reply was shocking. “Uh, n-no, just… have to head back early. Th-the game delays made things run over. A-and we’ve got to get b-back for… something else. Don’t w-want to be late for that.”

Dream’s words made Tommy so shocked he forgot to breathe. Dream was scared, no he was terrified. And he was terrified… of Grian. Tommy looked back at the Hermit who stood unflinching in front of them.

“Really? I could have sworn that you were here when I arrived, and that kid wasn’t. And he definitely came from a different portal. I know since I was keeping my eye out for my teammates. So why’s he going with you?”

“I uh…” Dream struggled, struggled, to give an answer, letting Grian continue. “That’s what I thought. C’mon kid, let’s go back to the crowd. You can stay with me until it’s over then I’ll help you find your portal back.”

And Grian took Tommy away without any retaliation from Dream. Tommy was left in awe. Grian wasn’t even an admin in Hermitcraft but Dream was terrified of him. It was amazing! But at the same time, it made Tommy spiral a bit.

When everyone returned, Grian had made sure Dream left before the Hermits and Tommy did so Dream couldn’t watch Tommy leave. Tommy stuck to False’s side as they walked through the portal, Grian being the last to come through as he continued to act as a guard. When he tried to comfort Tommy after his run-in with Dream, he understood when the teen responded he just wanted to go home. The championships were exhausting enough without a scare like that.

The next day, Tommy hung out with False. And then Zedaph, and then Doc. Grian noticed immediately, but didn’t pay much mind to it. He noticed since Tommy had spent a full week only hanging out with him, so the sudden absence of the boy was noticeable, but it made sense that he would want to hang out with the others.

After that, Grian didn’t pay too much attention to the lack of Tommy until he ran into him while stocking the barge. Tommy had been buying something at the store when Grian flew in. He nearly dropped his diamonds in trying to leave in such a hurry that it finally concerned Grian. The builder started visiting other Hermits Tommy tended to visit and ask about him. No one really noticed much other than Tommy dodging any questions about him possibly going to hang out with Grian.

Grian decided to leave it alone, and he was definitely going to, but after another run in with Tommy, he threw that decision out the window. Grian normally wouldn’t have done this, but after trying multiple times to just talk to Tommy and being unsuccessful, the builder had to essentially corner the teen.

Immediately, Grian regretted it. Tommy was trembling, obviously scared, holding a sword in his hand. He carefully tried to point out that Tommy didn’t need to have his sword out, but instead of just putting it away, Tommy just threw it on the ground, also throwing down his other gear. Grian had heard of Tommy doing this before with the other Hermits, so he immediately recognised what was going on and dived to grab the gear. It scared Tommy more, but Grian wanted to make sure nothing ended up destroyed.

“Tommy, calm down, I just want to talk. Did I do something wrong? I mean, obviously I must have, you look scared out of your mind every time I’m around you. But I can’t think or anything I did and I don’t want this to keep happening. So can I know what’s going on?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a while. He just looked defeated and terrified. Grian called in some of the other Hermits to come help Tommy calm down, though at first it didn’t help. But over time, Tommy finally did stop looking so terrified and they moved to somewhere he would feel less cornered. It took more coaxing after that, but finally, Tommy explained himself.

“He’s scared of you. Dream is… actually scared of you.”

“Yeah, I’ve killed him once or twice. Plus my full name is Lord Grian Dreamslayer, so it’s kind of in the name.” The builder tried to say it as a joke, but it didn’t seem to lighten the mood.”

“He’s the admin and he’s scared of you. And you… I’ve been hanging out with you.”

Grian nodded. “Well yeah, we do fit together well. ...Did he say something at MCC to make you think I didn’t like you?”

Tommy shook his head. “N-No. You’re right, you’re fun to be around. But dream likes… liked messing with me. And tried to train me. And I hang out with you more than I had with him, and I’m more like you. I-If you’re somehow more powerful than him-!” The rest of the words stopped in Tommy’s throat, choking him up. Stress was nearby and gave Tommy a careful hug for comfort, which helped him a little.

Grian waited a little bit for the tension to calm slightly before he spoke. “I don’t know exactly what Dream has done to you. You’ve told us a lot, but you obviously haven’t told us everything, and telling us isn’t the same as experiencing it. But let me tell you that I’m not going to do what he’s done to you. I remember how you were the first day we found you. And I see how you are now- well, how you were a few weeks ago- and I’m happy. Happy because you’ve been happy. You’ve been safe and cared for here and it shows. I don’t want to force you to be anything, I want you to be you. Sure, I’m powerful enough to kill Dream, but I’m not going to use that power on you. I’m only going to use it around you if it’s to keep him away from you.

“And! And! It’s just because of how your server is. Here we can go to the end. We don’t have a set amount of lives. We build massive structures and sell totems for a single diamond each. We fight Withers for fun and make farms with them. We farm just about anything you can think of. And Tommy.” Grian paused, making sure Tommy was paying attention. “You may be from somewhere far off that none of us old Hermits have seen, but now you’re here. And new home or not, that makes you a Hermit too. Sure you can be like me. Or you can be like False or Doc or Scar or Mumbo. But so far, you’ve been pretty you. And that you is a Hermit.”

Tommy took a few moments to process it, but the message seemed to get through to him. With that, Grian stood up with a smile. “Now I get that you probably don’t want to hang around me much right now. It makes sense. Maybe hang out with some other Hermits and learn some new stuff to get your mind off of things. Plus, I also did some talking around looking for you, and got you this.”

Tommy’s eyes practically sparkled as Grian placed down some music discs. He greedily grabbed the treasures and stuffed them in his inventory, looking up just to see Grian flying off. Taking on Grian’s idea, Tommy decided to go with Cleo and try to wrap his head around those armor stands again. While he wasn’t a pro, he did manage to make one scene of the hermits all holding weapons and surrounding an armor stand in lime leather armor. Grian was right. He was a Hermit. And he wasn’t going back. At least, not permanently, he thought, clutching his compass. Maybe, there would even be another Hermit like him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermitcraft #hermitblr #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #grian #mcc #docm77 #falsesymmetry #zedaph #xisuma #dreamwastaken #stressmonster101 #angst and fluff #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 2 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 12.1

Quackity respawned with a gasp. He sat bolt upright in bed, the tingling from the harming potion slowly dissipating. He was alive. It wasn’t cannon. He let out a shaky breath and got out of bed. He was in his office in Las’nevadas. A desk stacked with papers and contracts stood in front of a large ceiling to floor window that overlooked the plaza and the fountain. A bed sat tucked against the wall among shelves and file cabinets. He spent so many all nighters here, this way he could take power naps between meetings, drawing up contracts, reviewing building plans, ordering more materials, and now the hermit problem. As things were he barely even had time for naps anymore.

“Damn it,” Quackity muttered, pulling out his phone and walking over to the desk. He leaned on the edge of the desk facing the window and began typing.

[you whisper to Awesamdude: Where are you?]

[Awesamdude whispers to you: I respawned at my island base.]

[you whisper to Awesomedude: get yourself to Las’nevadas.]

[you whisper to Purpled: meet me and Sam in the hotel lounge]

[Purpled whispers to you: What about the hermits?]

[you whisper to Purpled: they’ll be long gone by the time we could get back there.]

[Awesamdude whispers to you: I’m here. Where are you?]

Quackity glanced up from this phone out the window. He could see the small figure of Sam in netherite armor by the fountain. That was fast. And he already had a new set of armor. Sam always did over prepare, it seemed to be coming in handy this time.

[you whisper to Awesamdude: Meet me in the hotel lounge.]

Quackity pocketed his phone and headed out of his office and down the spiral stairs that opened up on the hotel lounge; A large space with inset square seating areas, potted plants, large windows and even a pool table. Quackity walked over to the windows and looked out at the plaza again.

He heard someone on the stairs and glanced over his shoulder. It was Sam. Quackity turned his back to the window.

Sam came to a stop by the corner of one of the seating areas “... so what now,”

“Ahg, we were so close,” Quackity threw up his hands and started pacing. “Every time. They get away every fucking time. We need to find out where the hell they’re disappearing to. Doing patrols isn’t working.” Quackity stopped pacing as Purpled came to the top of the stairs. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just a normal death, nothing to worry about.” Purpled shrugged coming over to join them and sitting on the back of one of the couches, his hands tucked in his hoodie pockets. “Though they got a lot of good stuff.”

Quackity pursed his lips and pressed his palms together and pointed them at Sam, “I hate to ask you this Sam but you wouldn’t happen to have spare armor lying about that prison.”

Sam sighed, “That’s for the prison, you know I can’t give you that.”

“But wouldn’t you consider these Hermits a threat to the prison security? For all the fuck we know they’re here to break Dream out. You could consider us temporary guards. Fuck, for that matter you could get the prison guards to help us out here. At the moment we’ve counted the Hermits at five and without foolish and Punz that puts us at an even five. If this keeps up we’ll be outnumbered.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll talk to Bad and Ant about taking on some extra shifts to help out. But more bodies won’t help us if they can just run off and hide.” Sam said.

“If we can find their base we’d have them in the bag,” Purpled said.

Quackity started pacing again, rubbing his chin while he thought “Your right, We need… we need someone on the inside. Someone who they’ve met before, who they might learn to trust.” He snapped his finger and turned on his heel heading for the stairs, “Sam you go talk to Bad and Ant, I have someone I need to talk to.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Sam called after him.

“Snowchester.”

—

False’s room was more of an underground garden than a room, a bed stood on a raised platform of spruce with flowers planted all around it. Leaves and vines hung from the ceiling along with shroom lights, and a small waterfall flowed from the back wall into a little pond with two tropical fish in it. Small rocks were placed aesthetically about the space and a bench stood against the wall opposite the bed. Cleo sat down on the bench with the book in her lap and False sat down on a nearby rock pulling one of her knees up to her chin as she eyed the book in Cleo’s lap. Etho didn’t sit. Just stood casually by the bench, the three of them forming a triangle, all staring at the book.

“Alright, I guess I’m reading it then,” Cleo said, opening the book.

“Hello from X and the other Hermits on Hermitcraft. We are aware of your predicament and we are doing everything in our power to find a way to get you back. We hope that with the information in this book we might be able to coordinate our efforts better.

“So far we know that members of the DSMP have been swapping with Hermits. The server itself is unaware of the change and assumes that the DSMP members are still their hermit counterparts. Here are all the swaps we are aware of, Etho and George, TFC and Skeppy, and Cleo and Foolish. At the time of writing this False is unaccounted for but we were unable to find a DSMP member if she did swap.”

False spoke up, “We’ll, we know that was Punz.”

“We can add Ren and Tango to that list now too,” Etho said.

Cleo nodded and continued reading “In addition to the swaps we are having trouble leaving our server. There has also been an increase in glitches but it is difficult to tell if they are being caused by the tear or by the server magic that some DSMP members have been using on the server.

“We think that these swaps are being caused by a tear between the servers created when Grian tried to get onto the DSMP using the 1.17 update as a boost. Grian says that the DSMP is the one place Watcher’s can’t go freely.

“Grian says that there is a Watcher on the DSMP server named Philza, if you can get in contact with him he might be able to help you.

“We hope that with this information you might be more successful than we are at finding a solution.”

Cleo looked up from the book “The rest of the pages have letters from specific hermits addressed to each of us.” She handed the book to Etho

“Dear Etho,

Hey there man. I hope you are doing ok wherever you are. I am keeping up the base for when you get back. I made a proper storage system. I’ve also been getting villagers set up. We have so much cod from my guardian farm. We’re absolutely swimming in cod. And infinite cod means infinite emeralds. I’m also planning on building a proper bedroom so we don’t have to keep sleeping out by the wheat farm… the base is lonely without you. Come back soon.

Your base buddy,

Iskall”

Etho stared in silence at the words for a long time before quietly handing the book to False. “The- the next ones for you,” He muttered.

“Dear False,

We don’t know if you are even really missing yet but whatever’s going on we hope you're safe. X is doing everything he can to bring everyone back, and we’ll do everything we can to help find a solution. Don’t worry, we'll wait until you get back to start the group terraforming project. Neither of us could dream of doing it without you. We are doing ok so don’t worry about us. Just take care of yourself, and we’ll see you soon.

Love,

Gem and Stress”

False smiled and looked up from the book meeting Cleo’s eyes. Cleo raised her brows. “It’s Stress and Gem. We’re going to find a way out of this,” She said, filled with a new confidence. Cleo tilted her head and gave False a weak smile.

False glanced back down at the book. The next letter was addressed to Cleo. She handed the book over to her “The last ones for you.”

Cleo took the book and leaned back on the bench.

“Howdy there Cleo,

I hope you're doing well. I mean, it's you, you’re Cleo, I know you can handle yourself no matter what situation you find yourself in. I just hope that your mental well being is also a factor in your overall health you know… can’t forget that. Me and X X and I, are doing everything we can to figure out what is going on. Server magic is also wrecking havoc here… havoc is a funny word when you think about it. From what I hear the DSMP isn’t any better… just be careful. And stay safe.

- Joe Hills”

Cleo bit her lip. She felt a pinch behind her eyes. She was glad she didn’t have working tear ducts anymore. “Well,” Cleo sat up straight and dismissed the book to her inventory. “Guess we’ll keep looking for a way out of this place.”

False nodded “The book mentioned that someone named Philza might be able to help. Do either of you know where we might find him?”

Cleo shook her head “Sorry, I’ve never heard of him.”

They both looked at Etho. It took a moment for him to notice they were staring at him, “Oh sorry, what were you saying?”

“Do you know of a Philza?” Cleo repeated.

Etho looked off to the side as he thought. “Hum… the Hardcore guy? Yeah.” He shrugged “I’ve heard of him. Don’t know why he’d be on this server though.”

“The book said he had something to do with Grian and Watchers,” False pointed out.

Etho shrugged “like I said. I don’t really know the guy, just heard of him.”

Cleo groaned and leaned back rubbing her face “Why does this have to be so difficult? Why is everyone here a problem? This would be so much easier if we could just walk up to people and ask them basic questions and not get stabbed… it isn’t that hard of a concept to grasp, you wouldn’t think it would be that difficult not to stab people. But nooo.”

False let out a snort, stifling a laugh.

Etho shrugged again, “I’ll look around some more, maybe head a bit farther this time, see what I can find out.”

—

Tango pulled the new shirt over his head wincing. His old clothes were too torn up to be worth saving. TFC had given him one of Ethos extra black quarter-sleeve shirts. Etho’s shirts were fitted on him, and Tango was a good bit stockier than Etho so it was a snug fit. But he would have been swimming in one of TFC’s t-shirts, so this was the best option for now.

Tango followed TFC out of Ethos room and back into the hall. TFC headed back into the main room and started cleaning up the Med kits and blood stained rags. Tango grimaced. He hadn't needed too many stitches and many of his injuries had already healed from the healing potions but the scars still ached and his wrist was sore, clicking funny when he moved it.

Tango glanced down the hall as Cleo left what he assumed was False’s room followed by the others. Cleo met his eyes and gave him a reassuring smile. “You look a little better,” She said.

Tango smiled back “Yeah, still a little nauseous but I’ll live,” He shrugged, and immediately regretted it. Many of the cuts had healed but he was still bruised pretty badly, all across his ribs, his shoulder and there was a nasty green purple mark on his jaw.

Cloe noticed his shirt, a look of recognition crossing her face. Etho also noticed, his brows rising, but he didn’t say anything. “Oh right, you’re going to need some new clothes. If you let me get your measurements I can make up some new clothes for you.” Cleo said.

Tango nodded “Sure,”

Etho spoke up “Alright, I’ll be heading out now. It's almost dark and I have a Watcher to find,” He muttered squeezing his way past Cleo and False.

“I should probably go with you. We probably shouldn’t travel alone after…” She glanced at Tango.

“I know what happened, you don’t need to dance on eggshells,” Tango scoffed.

False grimace “Sorry,” she muttered.

Etho shrugged “You can come, Just make sure you can keep up.”

The two of them left and Tango turned back to Cleo who had headed into her room across the hall from False’s. “Come on in, I’ll get your measurements,” She said.

Tango followed. Her room was more like a workshop crossed with a living room than a bedroom. Cleo moved some fabric aside on the couch and rummaged through a sewing basket for a bit muttering to herself. She pursed her lips and glanced up looking around the room, then her eyes fell on her workbench. She leapt across the room and scooped up the tape measure.

“Alright, this will only take a minute.” She said turning back to Tango. Tango stood still as she took his measurements. Tango raised his arms carefully as she took his chest measurements, staring vacantly over her shoulder through the open archway and into the hall. Not thinking about anything in particular. Trying not to think about anything. His gaze faltered as someone passed in front of the arch, pausing to look in at them.

“Ren?” He breathed, staring at the other man’s transparent skin.

“Hey there dude, how's it going?” He replied with an echoy lilt to his voice.

Tango felt a pit in his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out at first “What- What happened to you man?”

He shrugged. “I died,” He chirped.

Cleo stopped working, glancing between the two of them.

“W-what- what do you mean? What do you mean you died? You can’t…” He trailed off feeling Celo’s hand on his arm. He looked down at her. She gave him a reassuring smile, concern in her eyes.

“We found him like that. But I came back from the dead so we’re going to find a way to bring Ren back too. That’s a promise. And I don’t break my promises.”

Tango took a shaky breath. He knew she kept her promises, so why did his chest still feel so tight? Everything was happening too fast.

“Oh, don’t be sad for me.” Renghost said coming into the room “Being a ghost is the best. You don’t have to worry about anything, and there’s all my friends here.”

Tango choked back a gasp. He couldn’t look at him. His jaw ached from clenching so hard. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Cleo squeezed his hand. He looked at her, his shoulders relaxing a bit and he unclenched his jaw.

“Why don’t you go lie down, there is an empty room at the end of the hall for you.” Cleo said.

Tango blinked then nodded. He was exhausted. Maybe sleep would help clear this fog from his brain. Maybe he would be better able to process this in the morning.

—

Tubbo leaned on his hoe and breathed out a sigh watching his breath hang on the air before getting pulled off by the wind. He returned to his work tilling the trampled crops back into the soil to prepare for new plants. Zombies had come through the wheat field outside his house in Snowchester and trampled the crops. It wasn’t like he needed the wheat but it made the village look too abandoned if he didn’t at least try to do a little upkeep.

He pulled his fur lined mitten off with his teeth and reached into his pocket, leaning over and planting the seeds before moving on to the next patch of earth. He heard footsteps approaching as he struggled to pull his mitten back on. He glanced up and raised his brows as his eyes fell on Quackity, shivering and chronically underdressed for the cold, only a scarf over his usual shirt and suspenders. You would think the man would have learned to dress for the climate after going after Techno in the arctic.

Tubbo grimace, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. “Big Q, what brings you here?”

Quackity smiled. His smile was a bit tight but that was probably to keep his teeth from chattering. “Lovely place you got here. I see you’ve really done well for yourself.”

Tubbo smiled and nodded, glancing around at the familiar terrain, “Yeah, it’s nice and quiet here, I like it.”

“I wanted to apologize for earlier… you know, the whole wall thing.”

“Nah, nah man, t’s all water under the bridge. Don’t worry about it… I may have overreacted a bit.”

Quackity nodded, clutching his arms and shivering. Tubbo glanced at the house. Quackity was probably too proud to suggest they go inside but Tubbo wasn’t even sure he wanted him in the house. Ranboo and Michael were inside. He might have forgiven Quackity but that didn’t mean he trusted him around his son.

“I- I actually came here to ask you something.” Quackity chattered.

Tubbo raised his brows. Ok so Quackity was really underdressed for the weather. Tubbo pulled off his coat, he had a fur lined vest on underneath he’d be fine “Here bossman, your gonna freeze your ass off,” He said tossing it.

Quackity caught it, blinking at it and then pulling it on. Ok, so no protest, he really must be cold. “So what do you need?”

Quackity shrugged to adjust the fit of the coat, “I wanted to make sure you were doing ok. You know how I warned you about that zombie woman a couple weeks ago.” Tubbo nodded in acknowledgment and Quackity continued, “turns out it’s not just her. There’s a whole bunch of people. They’ve taken Foolish, Punz, and now Ponk, there’s probably more too that we haven’t figured out yet.”

“Taken?” anxiety welled up in Tubbo’s throat and he punched it back down, squaring his jaw. “What do you mean, taken?”

“They’re using some kind of hack to get on to the server by swapping places with us. I’ve got Sam and Purpled helping me try and track them down but their numbers are growing.”

“Wh- what does this have to do with me though?”

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to,” Quackity assured “It’s just, we’ve been around the block once or twice together. I know when it comes down to it I can trust you.”

Tubbo looked up at him, “What ever happened to ‘trust no one, not even me’?”

Quackity faltered, he pulled himself back together, his brow furrowing, “I trust you more than I trust them.”

Tubbo considered this, “Alright,” he nodded “What do you need from me?”

“The Hermits have a secret base somewhere. Every fucking time we get anywhere near them they use a invis pot and hide. We need to be able to weed them out but we can’t do that if we can’t even fucking find them.”

Tubbo nodded, still unsure what this had to do with him.

“I was wondering. You already had some interactions with the Zombie-” Tubbo opened his mouth to protest but was cut off “Don’t pretend, I know she stayed here for a while. You can’t lie to me Tubbo. Fuck, we were in the same cabinet together during two presidencies. You might have gotten away with that with Schlatt and Wilbur and everyone else, but not me.”

Tubbo Grimaced “Alright…” he nodded encouraging Quackity to continue his request.

Quackity took a deep breath “I hate to ask you this, and like I said, you can say no, but I need someone to gain the Hermits trust and find out where their base is. As far as I know they haven’t had any negative interactions with you and you’re already familiar too at least one of them.”

Quackity wanted Tubbo to spy for him? Tubbo remembered the sickening smell of tobacco. his collar felt too tight, he reached up to loosen his tie. No, wait, he wasn’t wearing one. He took a shaky breath and shook his head.

“Tubbo?” Quackity’s voice came through the fog. Tubbo looked up at him. He had been there at his execution. Tubbo was painfully aware of every inch of his scarred skin. But now Quackity was asking him to spy for him. He didn’t trust Quackity…

“I…” Tubbo started and looked away “I don’t know.”

Quackity smiled softly. How could a man with so many sharp edges look so soft? “That’s ok, just… think about it. If not for me then for the people you want to protect.” Quackity turned to leave then paused pulling the coat off and turning back, “Oh right, here. Thanks for the coat, Bossman.”

Tubbo caught the coat and watched a smile flash across Quackity’s face before he turned back to the road again. Tubbo watched in silence till he rounded the corner out of sight, and even then he stood there for a while till a cold wind passed through the green flannel of his shirt and he shivered.

He tucked his coat over his arm and sent the hoe to his inventory before heading back to the house.

The inside greeted him with a warm rush, his fingers and cheeks turning pink with a burning tingle as they adjusted to the warmth. Tubbo flung the coat over the back of a chair and stomped the snow off his boots just inside the door. He headed to the back of the room and climbed the ladder.

Ranboo looked up from where he was sitting with Michael on the rug, Michael in his lap and a picture book held out in front of them.

Ranboo, smiled. Tubbo gave a weak smile back climbing up from the ladder, not bothering to stand to full height before crawling onto the carpet next to Ranboo. Ranboo shifted to put an arm around Tubbo and he rested his head against Ranboo’s side.

Tubbo didn’t miss the concerned look that Ranboo gave him, but Ranboo didn’t say anything about it and Tubbo was grateful. He’d told Ranboo about his execution a little over a month ago, but he hadn’t really explained to him why he’d been executed and he didn’t really feel like talking about it now. Hell, he’d been saying that for months. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel ready to talk about it. But that was ok.

He listened to Ranboo’s voice drone on as he went back to reading and Michael's contented grunts as he pointed at the pictures. It was grounding. Tubbo smiled, slipping his arm around Ranboo’s waist.

These were the people he wanted to protect.

43 notes · View notes

heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Feeding the Weary Traveler

Mitsuri Kanroji x She/Her Reader

A/N: Warnings for this one are homophobia and a mention of physical assault. Let me know if you think I should mention anything else. It’s a relatively light story considering. I usually like to keep the sexuality of the reader undiscussed so it could be anything, but this time around reader doesn’t seem to be interested in men in the slightest. It’s only a couple of lines but just a heads up. Hope you like it! Sorry if there are more errors than usual. My internet is painfully slow and it makes uploading a chore and a half. Word Count: 6,388

Mitsuri hummed happily to herself as she surveyed the various food stalls lighting up the night around her. She wasn’t sure where she should begin, it all looked so good! She was so lucky to have stumbled upon this bustling little village, and during a festival no less! This dinner was going to be legendary! Hopefully there would be an inn nearby where she could rest between missions and take some time to enjoy it all.

Mitsuri decided that the sweet dango stall was calling her name so she made her way over there first and purchased four skewers. She chewed happily as she walked around and tried to decide what to try next. The dango tasted so good she had half a mind to go back and get a couple more.

The Hashira was about to approach a yakitori stall as she finished her last dango when her crow landed none too gracefully in the dirt beside her. She flapped her wings frantically, her little clover shaped crown slightly askew.

Mitsuri whined as she chewed the last bit of dango before swallowing it down. It looked like dinner was over before it really even started. Well, when duty calls...

She cast one last longing glance at the sizzling meats and followed after her crow out of the village’s well lit valley and into the dark mountains above. Lives could be on the line, dinner could wait.

Mitsuri scaled the rugged terrain, hopping from tree to tree. Her crow flapped erratically just ahead, guiding her to whatever demon was wreaking havoc tonight. Her fingers wrapped tightly over the hilt of her blade as the air became heavy with an overwhelming dense dread that could only be brought on by the demon’s bloodlust.

Mitsuri unfurled her blade and kicked off of the next tree branch particularly hard as a scream ripped through the craggy boulders. A few more leaps and bounds.., she did not slow, a scream could mean many things, it wasn’t over yet. They could still be alive!

Her crow cawed in alarm just as Mitsuri’s eyes locked onto a struggle in the brambles below. Almost on instinct, she cracked her whip-like blade over the demon’s grotesque form, causing it to shriek. The Hashira twirled in the air to land in front of the beast and the young woman trapped and writhing beneath it.

“Get off of her, you miserable fiend!” Mitsuri commanded, readying her blade to lash at the demon again.

The demon wailed again in anger, crushing the dirt beside its hostage’s head before tearing off into the forest in an attempt to get away from the powerful newcomer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mitsuri called after it, cracking her nichirin blade over its retreating form. The blade sliced into the tendons in the back of one of its legs, causing it to tumble to the ground. Before it could skitter off to heal, Mitsuri swung her blade around again. The specially forged metal curled around the demon’s neck and with one clean yank, it’s head came clean off.

The slayer stayed alert, scanning the area for any other nearby threats. An exhausted caw from her crow alerted her that it was safe to let her guard down. She quickly turned on her heel to asses the young woman’s condition, observing her as she shakily got to her knees.

Her kimono was ripped and dirtied. Blood seemed to be seeping through her cloth of her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and frightened while her breath came shallow and quick.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuri spoke gently, slowly moving into the girl’s line of vision. She didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already had been tonight.

“I don’t know,” she said between gasping breaths, “I, I’m alive. That’s something.” She tried to get to her feet, but something twinged in her ankle and she fell back to her knees.

Mitsuri knelt at her side in concern.

The girl would need some medical attention. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri. What’s your name?”

“(L/n) (Y/n).” She shakily replied.

“Let me help you home, (L/n)-san. Do you live in the village down below?” Mitsuri asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet, carrying most of her weight for her.

“No,” (Y/n) answered quickly, almost as if the insinuation pained her, “no, I don’t. I live here, in the mountains. My cottage isn’t too far from here.”

“I’ll help you get home, (Y/n)-san. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.” Mitsuri assured.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Mitsuri eyed the young woman sympathetically. The poor dear was still shaken, but managed to direct Mitsuri in the direction of her home while the Hashira carefully held her up, guiding her through the tough terrain.

Mitsuri frowned at the sight of the worn down shack as it came into view, this couldn’t be it, could it?

“There, I live there.” (Y/n) proclaimed, her voice laced with exhaustion. She must have been able to feel the shift in Mitsuri’s mood at the declaration because she then added, “It’s not much, but it’s home. I built it myself even.”

“Do you live here alone?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but ask, slightly horrified.

“I do.” (Y/n) affirmed, missing Mitsuri’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed shock when she stumbled towards the weathered door. “Thank you again, for saving me and bringing me back home.”

“You’re welcome but...” Mitsuri tried to find words but none would come finally she just shook her head and followed (Y/n)’s stumbling form to the door. “Do you have any medical supplies? Let me help patch you up.”

“I have some things. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be. You needn’t concern yourself. You’ve done so much for me already, Kanroji-san.”

“Your shoulder could get infected without proper care and your ankle looks sprained or even broken. Let me see what I can do. We might need to take you to the village, there’s got to be a doctor down there.”

(Y/n) shook her head furiously, wincing a bit and grasping her head soon after, “I’m not going into town for anything. I’ll invite you to do what you can here, but that’s where I draw the line.”

Mitsuri was concerned by the girl’s reluctance to go to the village, but she took (Y/n)’s offer and entered the small shack. She was surprised by how homey the inside looked once (Y/n) lit a few lanterns. Not only that, but it smelt heavenly inside.

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as she hobbled over to some kind of makeshift oven and carefully peaked inside before sighing in relief and opened it fully. “It didn’t burn! Thank the gods for small favors I guess.”

“What have you got there, (L/n)-san? It smells very good in here.” Mitsuri said, holding a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet its rumbling.

“Bread. Please, help yourself. It’s the least I can offer for all of your help tonight.”

“Really? Thank you!” Mitsuri was practically glowing at the invitation before she remembered why she was here in the first place. “Later! First, let’s check you over.”

(Y/n) gestured to another corner of the space to a wobbly, rustic shelf next to a futon so flat it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on. Mitsuri’s heart went out to this girl. She couldn’t be too far off from her in age, this was no way to live, and alone no less.

Mitsuri recovered the tin sitting atop the bottom shelf and motioned the girl to sit on the ground as she noted there were no chairs. She kneeled beside (Y/n)’s injured shoulder. A pained grunt rumbled at the back of the hermit’s throat as she painstakingly loosened and lowered the fabric around her shoulders, baring the bloody claw marks to the Hashira.

“Oh you poor dear...” Mitsuri cooed as she gently probed the torn flesh. At least it wasn’t too deep.

“It’s fine,” (Y/n) shivered and looked away, “could you wrap me up now please. Try to be sparing with the bandages if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitsuri frowned. She disinfected and wrapped the wound as Shinobu had shown her during her first aid training and managed to only use about a third of the already meager roll. “There,” she gently patted (Y/n)’s shoulder, “that’s all set. Now I just need a look at that ankle. Oh my, it’s swollen pretty bad. We’ll need to elevate it and you should really lay down.”

“I am pretty tired,” (Y/n) sighed wearily, pulling her kimono back up over her shoulders. “Could you help me up?”

“Of course!” Mitsuri eagerly replied, easily scooping (Y/n) up in her arms and standing to her full height.

(Y/n)’s hands scrambled for purchase on Mitsuri’s uniform from the sudden movement. Once she realized Mitsuri’s hold on her was solid and unwavering she relaxed a bit before pulling her hands back to her own chest and jerking her head outwards away from the pale expanse of the demon slayer’s chest. If at all possible, she was sure steam would roll out of her ears like active geysers.

Mitsuri didn’t notice anything amiss and took the few steps needed to lay (Y/n) down in the sad little bed. Then she paid careful attention to (Y/n)’s leg, tilting and rotating it while getting feedback from the girl.

“Well, I don’t think it’s broken, but you should definitely stay off of it for awhile.” Mitsuri informed, feeling anxious. “So you know anyone nearby? Someone that can assist you with your recovery?”

“I’ll be just fine, trust me.” (Y/n) had said.

“That um, didn’t really answer my question.” Mitsuri smiled a bit tightly as more worry settled in her heart. “Do you have family nearby, friends, close acquaintances?”

“If you must know,” (Y/n) weakly spat, “there isn’t anyone. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly two years now.” She finished bitterly.

Mitsuri flinched back at (Y/n)’s tone and the bedridden girl immediately felt bad. She was only trying to help after all. (Y/n) would have been dead without her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a hard night,” Mitsuri patted (Y/n)’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll just have to watch over you then.”

“Cawww!”

Mitsuri looked over her shoulder at her crow, flapping and comically sweating buckets from her uneasy perch on the windowsill.

“I can take care of myself,” (Y/n) voiced her stance once more, “besides, it looks like your work isn’t over yet. Take a couple loafs for the road as thanks. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“I couldn’t.” Mitsuri shook her head. The girl already had so little, it would be a crime to take advantage. She was already paid plenty as a Hashira, she could hold out for a few more hours.

“I insist. I make more than I know what to do with. Quite a bit gets thrown to the wildlife.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Mitsuri’s resolve crumbled like loose gravel. She was hungry, and the bread smelled really, really good. If (Y/n) was going to insist, how could she say no? Then Mitsuri straightened as an idea formed in her mind. (Y/n) startled as Mitsuri loudly smacked her hands together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tomorrow before the sun sets!” Mitsuri said with conviction.

“What?” (Y/n) blinked, watching Mitsuri pack three loafs of bread into a rucksack before giving it back to her crow to fly off with.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Mitsuri said before taking a bite out of a fourth loaf of bread. “Mmm, this is so good!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have to get going now, but I’ll be back! Keep your weight off that ankle and don’t strain yourself!” Mitsuri called as she opened the front door.

“No, wait, Kanroji-san!”

But she was already gone, the door closed tightly behind her before she ran off headlong into the dangerous night.

“And she’s gone,” (Y/n) sighed, “just who is she anyway? She’s practically superhuman,” she covered her face in the crook of her good arm, “and she’s really pretty.”

***

By morning Mitsuri was halfway through her last loaf of bread and standing before the familiar sight of the Butterfly Estate. After seeing the state of (Y/n)’s medical supplies, Mitsuri thought it prudent to visit Shinobu and procure a kit for the girl.

“Mitsuri, hello.” Shinobu greeted upon looking up from her microscope. “What brings you here today?”

“Shinobu, you have to help me,” Mitsuri immediately started in, “I saved a girl last night and she got a roughed up a bit before I got to her. Can you help me make a medical kit for her?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Shinobu smiled, “but I must ask, why not just take her to a civilian doctor? Surely they would be able to provide the help she may need.”

“She lives alone in the mountains. She seems to have a bad relationship with the village in the valley below, but I don’t know why.”

“Just be careful then,” Shinobu warned, “who knows, you might be dealing with a criminal.”

“No way!” Mitsuri gasped, waving the last couple bites of bread in front of Shinobu’s face, “Could a criminal make bread this good? I think not!”

“Please stay vigilant regardless,” Shinobu giggled before switching gears, “now, tell me what happened last night.”

Mitsuri explained the situation the best she could, detailing (Y/n)’s injuries and what supplies she had left. Shinobu helped her pack up a new med kit that would not only replenish (Y/n)’s supplies, but give her some other helpful medicines that she didn’t have initially. Mitsuri thanked Shinobu with a tight hug that forced her fellow Pillar to dangle in the air for a few moments before being lowered to the ground once more. Then she made her way off the property, running off into the woods. She had a lot of ground to cover before sunset.

After a few hours of travel Mitsuri was feeling peckish. She had unfortunately finished the last loaf of bread before leaving Shinobu’s estate and didn’t have time to replenish her snack sack that her crow carried for her. If she was lucky, maybe the festival she had stumbled upon last night was a multiple night event and she could stalk up once she checked on (Y/n).

With an excited hum, she practically flew up the mountain, making her way in the general direction she knew (Y/n)’s shack to be.

“Oh dear, was it a left at this boulder or a right?” Mitsuri mumbled to herself. The forest was more inviting in the evening light but it looked so different. Cautiously, she tried the left path and scoured her surroundings for anything that looked familiar.

Mitsuri had begun to grow a bit anxious, worried that she had taken a wrong turn. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself which was quickly followed by a few more testing scentings of the air. Something smelled delicious. She couldn’t be sure, but it was the best lead she had so far. She followed the hearty aroma and cheered to herself as the rundown, misshapen hut came into view.

The Hashira wasted no time hopping up to the door. She gave a courtesy knock and announced herself before letting herself inside. She smiled to herself as she imagined how happy (Y/n) would be to have such an arsenal of medicinal goods. That smile quickly became a shocked, open mouth of light horror upon seeing (Y/n) up and moving about her small home.

“Ah! I thought I told you not to put any weight on that ankle, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mitsuri worried. She quickly went up to (Y/n) with her arms out in front of her like (Y/n) would collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t just lay in bed all day.” (Y/n) tried to reason. “You said you were coming back so I felt the need to make dinner for you. You know, to repay you for all you’re doing for me. A little ankle pain can hardly keep me down.”

Mitsuri was touched by the gesture, it made her heart flutter with appreciation, but (Y/n) needed to follow her instructions or who knows what long term damage she would cause herself.

“It smells wonderful, (L/n)-san and I thank you endlessly, but please, lay down right now!”

“I’ve been taking breaks. I’m fine—ah!“

Ah, swept off her feet by the strong and beautiful demon slayer once again. As embarrassing as being doted on in this manner was, (Y/n) was definitely going to revisit this tender care in her dreams. Gods, she was touch starved.

“Really (L/n)-san, don’t be difficult. Let me check on your shoulder, okay?” Mitsuri didn’t even sound strained as she slowly placed (Y/n) down on the futon.

“Oh, okay.” (Y/n) fought through the fuzzy tingles, shaking them from her body as she slid her sleeve off her shoulder.

“Aw, it looks a little infected,” Mitsuri whined as she softly prodded the tender flesh, “but don’t worry! I paid a visit to a dear friend today and I’ve got everything you’ll need!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much.” (Y/n) gaped in awe at the tightly packed tin Mitsuri presented to her.

“Not at all! Now, hold still while I apply some of this cream.” Mitsuri beamed before swirling the cool salve over the cuts. (Y/n) flinched a bit but the numbing chill soon soothed the pain.

“Wow, that feels really nice.”

“Right? I can always trust Shinobu for the best!” Mitsuri proudly proclaimed as she finished re-wrapping (Y/n)’s shoulder. She then took care of (Y/n)’s ankle the way Shinobu had suggested and looked at her handiwork with pride. “There all done! Shinobu said you’ll want to keep it elevated and free of strain for at least two weeks.”

“Okay, I’ll rest where I can. Thank you.”

“No no,” Mitsuri made an ‘x’ with her arms and pouted, “none of that, you have to rest!”

“I can’t afford to rest. It’s not easy living in the mountains alone.” (Y/n) informed, her eyes shifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder at the burning embers in her ‘kitchen’, “Could you take that off the heat please?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mitsuri shot up and stole to the dingy pot, her eyes shined upon witnessing the rich, golden broth up close. “Wow, this looks amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so, the mountains are harsh but there are plenty of resources if you know where to look. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you so much! Here, let me get you a bowl as well. Food always tastes better with company after all.”

Mitsuri tried to prepare another bowl for (Y/n) but quickly discovered she only had one. It seemed like the more she looked at the place, the sadder it made her. (Y/n) seemed to notice the sudden downtick in the slayer’s mood and spoke up.

“Hey, I’ve got a tea mug I’ll happily drink from if you don’t mind my bad manners.” She laughed, provoking a smile from Mitsuri.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They ate the broth and fresh bread together as they made small talk and Mitsuri was having a great time. It was rare to get to know someone she rescued like this and being able to see (Y/n) while the sun had not yet fully disappeared she got an opportunity to have a really good look at her.

Mitsuri’s face heated as (Y/n) laughed at something she said and she silently praised the forces at hand that allowed her to make it to her in time. It felt good, so very rewarding, to know such a beautiful soul’s time was not cut short by a cruel end. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Something on your mind, Kanroji-san?” (Y/n) asked, breaking Mitsuri from her thoughts with a start.

“Oh! I, um, I was just thinking about how good your food is! You know, the village down below was having a festival yesterday. I bet you could sell a lot of what you make really quickly if you set up a stall there.” Mitsuri exclaimed before diving back in.

(Y/n)’s face soured a bit at the thought, though she sighed wistfully and a sad smile crossed her lips.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She said before taking another sip from her chipped cup.

“Why don’t you go down to the village, (L/n)-san?” Mitsuri asked, her pastel-green eyes gazed at (Y/n)’s downcast face.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a few moments, debating with herself if it was worth delving into her strife with a girl she had only just met the night before and probably wouldn’t see again. At least, she definitely wouldn’t see her again if she were to explain her situation.

“It’s not something I’d really care to discuss. Sorry.” (Y/n) curtly replied.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitsuri frowned, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It was an innocent question.” (Y/n) assured, giving Mitsuri’s knee a friendly pat before withdrawing once more.

They continued to talk about anything until the sun disappeared and the stars lit up the night sky and the lanterns were lit to illuminate the hut.

Mitsuri needed to go. The Hashira was reluctant but she wasn’t going to leave (Y/n) completely on her own just yet. She told the mountain dweller she’d come back to check on her in three days time, giggling at the girl’s surprise at the declaration. Mitsuri reasoned that (Y/n) would still need help while she recovered and although she was busy with her duties, she couldn’t in good conscious leave (Y/n) completely on her own. Especially when the girl had a tendency to skip out of much needed rest.

Mitsuri filled her rucksack to her heart’s with (Y/n)’s blessing and set off into the night. She hoped to see improvements in (Y/n)’s health when she returned in a few days.

***

The next visit went well. Mitsuri still had to scold (Y/n) for moving about, but she still, albeit a bit guiltily, heartily ate the meals (Y/n) would prepare for her upon her arrival.

Even after (Y/n) had completely healed, Mitsuri didn’t stop visiting. (Y/n) would always laugh when Mitsuri would show up unannounced, joking that feeding Mitsuri was like feeding a stray cat, she’d always come back for more. (Y/n) was happy for the company though. Very happy.

Mitsuri would also bring little things to make (Y/n)’s shack more bearable, starting with an extra set of dishes so they could properly enjoy a meal together. Before long, they considered themselves close enough to be real friends.

One night Mitsuri came by so late, she had awoken (Y/n) when she knocked on the door. (Y/n) let her in and Mitsuri nearly toppled them both over in her exhaustion.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered both shyly and with great exhaustion, “sorry for coming by so late. It’s just been a really long night and I think I’m about to crash any minute now. You were the closest to where I was so...”

“You know better than to think you ever need have an excuse to stop by.” (Y/n) lightly scolded. “Come lay down, are you hungry?” She asked, laying the Hashira down on the new futon that Mitsuri had brought for (Y/n) a couple visits prior.

“I could never say no to anything you make.” Mitsuri smiled, causing a prickly heat to swirl over (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) heated up her leftovers and presented them to Mitsuri who ate them with the same vigor she would have if it was fresh.

“So good,” she sighed happily, “really, if this is what you can make in this little hut, I would die of happiness to see what you could do in a proper kitchen.”

“You flatter me, Mitsuri.” (Y/n) smiled shyly. It still gave her butterflies to speak to the demon slayer so familiarly, but it was a good feeling.

“I’m serious, (Y/n)!” Mitsuri swore, “I still maintain that I think you would do very well in the village.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, which Mitsuri noticed straight away and mirrored before fidgeting with the now empty bowl in her hands.

“Are you ready to talk about that yet? It’s alright if you aren’t.” She hesitantly asked.

(Y/n) would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of telling Mitsuri her history with the village, but she found herself wanting to share that part of her story with the sweet woman. Mitsuri had never done anything to hurt her, but that’s what made the aspect of sharing so much more frightening. What if Mitsuri became disgusted with her? Accused her of befriending her with alternative motives? But when (Y/n) met her eyes those doubts quieted and she took a deep shutters breath before blowing it all back out in one harsh breath.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to listen? It might be better if you sleep for the night first.”

Mitsuri seemed more alert already, sitting up fully in the bed and giving (Y/n) her full, undivided attention. “No, I can listen! I want to be able to understand you better and support you in anyway I can! Tell me whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) took another breath, taking a moment to decide how to proceed.

“I was born and raised in that valley, actually. My family owns an inn that doubles as a restaurant to boot.”

“That explains a lot.” Mitsuri commented with a small smile, patting at her full stomach. That earned a chuckle and a nod from (Y/n) before she continued.

“Yeah, my mom started teaching me almost as soon as I could stand on my own. She was strict, but with food that good, she was entitled to that attitude. My father took care of the inn side of things and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking his weight in saké.” (Y/n) took note of Mitsuri’s concern and patted her hand while flashing her a reassuring half smile.

“It wasn’t ideal, but that was just life. Incredibly, the business didn’t suffer and he never treated us badly so we saw no need to address it. I didn’t know of any other way of life so I was content where I was. Until...”

“Until what, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri cocked her head to the side.

“Until my parents arranged a marriage for me to be wed to the blacksmith’s son. The union would have brought a large sum of money to my family. The whole village seemed to know about it before I did.” (Y/n) chuckled humorlessly and shook her head while Mitsuri listened, holding herself back from jumping in to ask questions.

“They would talk over me about what I’d wear, who would be invited, even as far as when I should bare a child. I felt like everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. I hadn’t even talked to the blacksmith’s son before. Even now I don’t recall his name. All I knew was that the idea of marrying him terrified me.”

“Did you tell your parents this?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but blurt, her eyebrows had upturned and creased her forehead.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s eyes shadowed over as she peered down at her lap, “I admit, the middle of town wasn’t the best place to air my reservations, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They would tell me it was just cold feet or that I was overreacting. Then I had finally had it, and two days before the wedding, I screamed at my mother that I didn’t want to be married to some boy I had never talked to and made a big scene.

She had said then, since I was making such a fuss, that I must have been handing myself out to some other boy while her back was turned and it just made me so mad. I told her there was no other boy, that I didn’t want one.” (Y/n) sighed and pressed her head back against the wall.

“I told her that the only people that I had ever thought of marrying were either the grocer’s eldest daughter or the seamstress’ apprentice who had helped me at my fitting the day prior and then my mother slapped me in front of the whole village.”

Mitsuri gasped, covering her mouth. She was no stranger to the disappointment of a parent, but her parents had never laid a hand on her for any of her failed engagements.

“She was disgusted with me and word traveled fast. The blacksmith called off the arrangement, not wanting his son to have anything to do with my... perversions I think he called them. The grocer refused to sell his produce to my family and kept his daughters inside.

My father, once greatly respected, was humiliated by me and shunned by the whole village. He was furious and drunk which made for a very bad combination as you may imagine. I was severely... disciplined and locked away.

Later that night, I could hear him and my mother discussing selling me to a brothel to be trained as a courtesan. Needless to say, once I believed they were asleep I tore through the paper wall of the room I was trapped in and packed up what I could carry before I escaped into the mountains. I’ve been surviving here ever since.”

As (Y/n) finished her story, Mitsuri sniffed loudly and hiccuped, startling (Y/n) from her memories to try to comfort the demon slayer as she cried for her. Mitsuri pulled (Y/n) into her chest with such ferocity that it cracked the poor girl’s spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve such treatment!” The Hashira blubbered. “It was awful of me to ever suggest you go back to that terrible place devoid of love and compassion.”

(Y/n) struggled to breath and patted Mitsuri’s back. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t know. It’s okay.”

Getting all of that out there, having someone to listen and not judge her for her tale, it made (Y/n) feel so much lighter. Mitsuri kept her close and rocked their bodies side to side and how was (Y/n) not going to cry when she hadn’t been treated so tenderly since she was little. Before long, they were both sobbing messes in the corner of a dingy shack in the middle of the mountains.

By the time their bout had subsided into the occasional sniffle or the loud, gross honk of mucus being sucked back up someone’s nose, the girls had migrated to spooning on the futon with one of Mitsuri’s arms wrapped securely over (Y/n)’s side while the the other alternated between lightly scratching at the nape of (Y/n)’s neck and between her shoulder blades. The fit on the futon was tight, but neither seemed to mind.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed, “the night you saved me I was out because there is a cliff that you can see the whole village from. I knew the festival lights would be up and I really wanted to feel the warmth I used to feel at festival season. Figures I’d be attacked by a demon before I even got there.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Mitsuri said, her voice coming out a tad nasally because of her stuffy nose.

“I didn’t mean for that to make you sad. I was just going to say I was glad for that night for nothing else other than I got to meet you. Thank you for sticking around, Mitsuri.”

“Now you’re being so sweet I’m gonna cry again!” Mitsuri sniffled, weakly batting at (Y/n) and making her laugh as she apologized.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Mitsuri whispered softly once they calmed down again. Then they finally went to sleep as the sun was rising.

***

“I just— mm! I don’t want her living in that rundown shack anymore. I never did! But now, I think about it all the time and I just can't stand it!” Mitsuri complained to Shinobu as the Insect Pillar tried to concentrate on the medicines she was measuring out.

“I see.” Shinobu answered simply, making a note before giving Mitsuri her full attention, “Well, if she’s as good of a cook as you keep telling me, I’m sure Aoi would be happy for another pair of hands in the kitchens.”

“What?” Mitsuri blinked.

“You know me, Mitsuri. I have a history of taking in young girls who have nowhere to go. I assume that’s why you have been telling me all of this.” Shinobu smiled mischievously, “besides, you make her sound so cute, how could I say no?”

That got a rise out of the Love Hashira.

“You—! You already have a girlfriend!” Mitsuri sputtered her face as pink as her hair at the possibility of Shinobu trying to woo (Y/n). Worse yet, the very real possibility that it would work! Mitsuri knew just how charming Shinobu could be! But thankfully, Shinobu laughed and diffused the state Mitsuri had worked herself into.

“I was only teasing, but she really can live here. I have plenty of room. I just figured you would want to keep her closer. I didn’t realize your estate was operating at full capacity.”

“Wait, say that again.” Mitsuri said, the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work backwards herself.

“(L/n)-san can live here?” Shinobu tried.

“No, after that.”

“I didn’t realize your own estate was running at full capacity. I thought you would want (L/n)-san to live with you.” Shinobu reiterated.

“Ah!” Mitsuri shrieked, making Shinobu wince ever so slightly. Then Mitsuri roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her around a little bit, “You, Kochou Shinobu, are a genius! I can’t believe I hadn’t realized sooner! Thanks for the talk, bye!”

“Take care!” Shinobu saw Mitsuri off, fixing her tousled fringe as she watched the blur of pink, green and white run out of sight around the corner. Deciding she was due for a break, she wandered down the opposite end of the hall to find out what her girlfriend was up to at the moment.

***

By now, Mitsuri knew the mountain like she knew the back for her hand. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and meats never hurt either of course. She didn’t even bother to knock before letting herself in.

“I had a feeling you’d come by today.” (Y/n) smiled as she checked over her shoulder, “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad it proved true because I definitely made too much food.”

“(Y/n), live with me.” Mitsuri blurted before shyly hiding her face in her hands. How could she ask that so suddenly? Never mind ask, she definitely didn’t even phrase it as a question!

“Huh?” Was all (Y/n) could get out before she forgot how her voice worked.

“Would, would you maybe, possibly consider maybe living with me?” Mitsuri tried again, her voice raised almost to the point of cracking with every word.

“...I wouldn’t want to impose.” (Y/n) nervously replied after a few moments, busying herself by stirring a pot that was in no need of attention.

“You wouldn’t be!” Mitsuri said with more conviction. “I really want you to come with me. I know you are proud of what you have managed to do for yourself, it’s better than anything I could ever make, but the more time passes, I can’t help but hate how you still live in this rundown, rickety, shack that I can clear in four strides!” Mitsuri demonstrated her point by walking from one wall to the other before turning back to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Please, come live with me. I love you and you deserve more than this.”

“La, la, lalala, lov, love... love me?” (Y/n) quickly turned back to her cooking as the fire cracked so loud it made her jump. Why was she acting like this? Mitsuri loved a lot of people, she obviously meant a friendly, platonic kind of love and now she had just made it even more awkward!

But then (Y/n) jolted again when Mitsuri’s strong arms wrapped around her middle and her chin rested against her shoulder. The Hashira hummed an affirmative as she slowly began to rock them side to side. Between the heat of the low fire and the heat of Mitsuri’s front pressed against her back, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out.

“Please (Y/n), live with me?” Mitsuri asked softly. She kissed (Y/n)’s jaw as she moved.

“?!??!!” (Y/n) short circuited, lost in Mitsuri’s softness. Mitsuri merely giggled and rested another to (Y/n)’s cheek, then her ear, her temple, until—

“Oh dear!” Mitsuri gasped as (Y/n) fell limp in her arms. “(Y/n), are you alright? Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t be up!”

“I, I’m not sick,” (Y/n) mumbled, smoke rolling off of her like a steam boat, “It’s just a lot of touching that I’m not really used to yet.”

“Oh! Should I stop?”

“Gods no.” (Y/n) sighed and gripped onto Mitsuri’s haori so she couldn’t back away.

Mitsuri beamed brightly before resting a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead and rubbed her back. “Come with me?” She asked again.

“I’d follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked.” (Y/n)’s eyes slipped shut as she enjoyed Mitsuri’s scattered kisses.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends! Iguro-san and Kabumaru will love you, Kyoujirou-san too! He’ll love your cooking. Just watch out for Shinobu though, she’s flirty.”

“Okay, I’ll stay vigilant.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Good girl,” Mitsuri nodded, “now let’s pack up all that you hold dear. We should be able to make it to my estate by dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (Y/n) nodded excitedly in return. She took the little pail of water from the floor and doused the low flame, “maybe you’d like lunch first though? I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

“Yes! Lunch first and then the beginning of the rest of our lives!” Mitsuri amended, skipping over to the meal (Y/n) had prepared.

As they are together (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin. Mitsuri was right, food really did taste better when sharing it with people you love. The kisses and nuzzles throughout the meal didn’t hurt either.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #kny x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri kanroji x reader #mitsuri x reader

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arts-and-drafts · 3 years

Text

Linger (Hermit Tommy AU)

(A discussion about scars. This one has been in the bucket for a long time, and it's finally done! Enjoy!!)

TW: Permanent injury, bodily harm, scars, overdose mention

Tommy's in pain.

The hermits mistook his ever tense posture for wariness, his pinched expression seeming only a front to those Tommy distrusted. They hope it will ease with time, and they are patient.

They turn out to be right. Slowly, Tommy gets used to them, relaxes, smiles more and yells less.

But he's still tense, and his face still twists occasionally in what the hermits start to realize is hurt rather than intimidation after completing simple tasks like lifting shulker boxes.

It's False who notices Tommy's not right handed.

He's a damn good fighter, as dirty as his shots are and as rough his technique is. Tommy fights like his life depends on it, and in that situation there's no room for fancy footwork or skillful swordplay. But looking impressive is not a requirement for being good at PVP, and the scuffed up teenager is a prime example of that.

Tommy's scars are evidence that he just encountered someone better.

Besides his crude offensive, False notices he's also clumsy. Tommy always draws his weapon with his left, and yes, he switches to his right as soon as it's in his hand, but as sporadic as Tommy likes to be, that doesn't add up.

False sees him get jumped by a creeper, once, and in the miniscule time alloted to attack, Tommy drew and swung with his left. Instinctually.

False then sees him grimace when the creeper explodes, and he drops his weapon to knead his left shoulder. That is when it clicks.

"Tom." False tries to sound casual on break from sparring with the kid the next day, watching him carefully from her periphery while she feigns busying herself with her water bottle.

Tommy grunts in acknowledgment, and False takes a breath.

"How come you always switch to your right when you're fighting?" She treads carefully. Tommy doesn't like it when the hermits pry, and he definitely doesn't like it when they're as observant of him as False is.

Thankfully, it doesn't look like Tommy reads into the question too much. "I'm right handed." He says simply, and False knows it's a lie, but his nonchalance would absolutely fool her if she didn't know the truth.

Now is when False would normally nod, and change the subject. But Tommy's hurting, and a part of her just can't let that go.

"See, you're not." False says lightly, abandoning all pretense. Tommy tenses next to her, more than he already is.

"You draw with your left. You wouldn't do that if you were right handed. Why don't you fight like that?" False asks. She doesn't grill him on how he got hurt, or why he hides it. She's being risky enough as is with her flat-out asking, and she's not certain she'll get an answer from the kid if she pushes any further.

Tommy swallows, and his left hand flexes unconsciously. "It, uh. Hurts." Tommy says. False waits patiently.

"I got hit. There. By a Wither, y'know." Tommy continues, and False finally feels a different emotion than calm worry. Sympathy and slight horror twist in her chest, and she's thankful she doesn't need to speak so Tommy can keep talking.

But he doesn't talk, and instead pulls off his shirt in the most difficult way possible since he moves his left arm as little as he can. False's eyes widen as blackened skin is revealed, spreading over the poor kid's entire left shoulderblade and down his arm and chest, dangerously close to his heart. If False were to touch it, she'd know the skin would be cold and dead, barely hanging on to Tommy's body anymore.

False lets out a horrified breath instead, feeling as if the wind got knocked out of her lungs.

There is no cure for being withered, if you don't have milk on hand directly after a hit. Those marks stay with you for life.

But Tommy is 16. Tommy has barely started his life, and he's already bearing an injury that will last with him until the end of his time. False feels bile rise in her throat. Whether it's cause of grief or anger, she can't tell. All she knows is that Withers aren't made on accident. There is a story here.

A story she has no right to know.

"Gods, Tommy, I'm--I'm sorry." False utters helplessly, because she just doesn't know what else to say. Tommy stiffens.

"Not your fault." He says curtly, his words edged with a familiar tone of sharpness that he takes when he feels someone is taking pity on him. False scrambles to save the situation.

"Scar's had some run ins with a Wither. Impulse, too." False comments, and pretends not to see Tommy's face flicker in surprise.

"I'm sure they have some tips, if you're interested." False continues, holding back the desperation she feels with every drop of willpower she possesses to not scare Tommy off. "You'd be a much better fighter if you could use both hands." She adds gently, and a wave of relief crashes over her as Tommy's eyes light up with recognition of opportunity.

Tommy utters an eerily mischievous laugh that False can't help but smile at. "Ohhh-ho, I'm gonna be so fuckin' powerful--they call me dual blade Innit!! I'm gonna dual blade your ass!"

False laughs out loud at that, the icy horror in her chest loosening for only a moment. "Void help us." She comments sarcastically. "Go on then, see Scar first. He's got magic crystals that I hear are good to help pain."

Tommy's face flickers, so quickly that False barely sees it before it's gone. But the expression was bare exhaustion, a kind of weariness that False has never really seen before.

False could guess that Tommy's been in pain for most of his life. No wonder he's tired. No wonder he nearly overdosed on gapples for the absorption they provided when exposed to the hermit's infinite supply. No wonder he doesn't move quickly unless he has to.

Several things click into place as Tommy pulls his shirt back over his head, and the conclusion leaves a lead weight in False's gut.

It's not her business to know what happened to this boy barely old enough to attend MCC that gave him lifetimes of scars both inside and out. She knows her fellow hermits who have been her friends for years have secrets they will never share, and she's made her peace with that a long time ago. For Tommy, it's no different.

But as False watches him gingerly make his way down from the top of her base to the portal, she just wants to know why that fate was seemingly a deserving one for a child to bear.

END.

#meraki post #hermit tommy au #tw drug mention #tw injury #tw scars #fond of this one #hermitcraft fic #dream smp fic #kind of

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t4tpolypd · 3 years

Note

What about Hermit!Tommy au where Dream comes to take Tommy back to the Dream SMP and the hermits get very protective when Tommy says no

Tommy knew he couldn’t hide forever. What he didn’t know, is that he wouldn’t be the one to decide how long he stayed.

He had healed quite a bit. He wasn’t afraid of the hermits anymore, he was more used to the end and the like. He could fly quite gracefully as well.

He had a nice little cottage, with building habits courtesy of bdubs and grian. Everything was happy.

___

Tommy was in the process of building a cobblestone shop, when he got a ping on his old communicator. The old one. From the dream smp.

Hesitantly, he opened it up and saw a message from Dream.

“I know you’re alive, Tommy.”

His hands started to shake at seeing just dreams name, and it took him a moment to even process what dream had said. And when he had? Well. He ran to Grian first, and stumbled over his words. He was scared. He didn’t know if Dream even /could/ come to hermit craft, but he needed to be prepared either way.

“GRIAN. GRIAN YOU HAVE TO FUCKING HELP ME!”

“Uhh, ok, what is it?” Grian said, slipping the diamonds he had just collected from the barge into his pockets.

“D-DREAM HE KNOWS,.... HE KNOWS IM ALIVE,.. HE HES GONNA- H-H-HES GOING T-TO” Tommy continued to ramble, yelling too quickly for grian to even be able to process what he was saying.

“Calm down, I can’t understand what you’re saying!” Grian exclaims, handing Tommy a bottle of water.

Tommy breathes for a moment and takes a sip of the water, before being calm enough to choke out two small sentences.

“He’s coming. Dream- dream is coming grian.” Hes says, with a look of terror in his eyes.

Grian did know much about dream. But what he /did/ know, was that he had traumatized Tommy to the point that even the word dream not referring to the man made Tommy hyperventilate.

He was bad,

He was powerful,

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to take Tommy from their grasp.

___

Dream arrived in hermit craft, bringing tubbo, techno, and philza with him. He had tried to coax ghostbur into coming, but he was afraid of becoming Alivebur. He brought techno, who only agreed to come because he had a debt to pay off, and because these so called “hermits” had apparently brainwashed his brother. Or so Dream had said to the dream Smp.

When he arrived, he was surprised to have spawned in a cage of obsidian. He was surprised to see, through small cracks in the obsidian, that everyone was armed.

Tubbo grabbed his pickaxe and dug through the obsidian.

“Tommy! You’re okay, we’re going to get you away from these disgusting hermits!” Tubbo said, walking up to Tommy.

Tommy took a step back, leaving Tubbo confused.

Philza just sighed.

“He’s been brainwashed, Tubbo, what did you excpect.”

“Brainwashed? What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Tubbo seemed relived to hear that.

“Come on Tommy, let’s get you home!” Tubbo said with an outstretched hand.

Techno stood at the back with dream. He wasn’t sure if he should draw his sword, the hermits had their weapons drawn, why should he?

“What..? No, this is my home now? I’m happy here, there’s no war or fighting! Everyone is nice just to be nice! I’m not giving up all my progress, Tubbo.” Tommy said with something between a snarl and look of sympathy.

Tubbo sighed.

“Sorry Tommy, we need to get you home.” Tubbo said trying to grab Tommy.

“We’ll find a way to get you unbrain-washed there.”

Tommy tried to get out of Tubbos grip, but soon Techno, Dream, and Philza were trying to grab him too.

The hermits tried their best, but they weren’t strong enough against a literal god, a children who’s been through multiple wars, a war criminal, and some dad guy with wings.

Tommy knew what he had to do. He had never used rockets on his elytra, to traumatizing, he thought, but they would be way less traumatizing than the dream smp would be.

In one swift movement, he clasped on his elytra, grabbed his rockets, and blasted off.

Philza was the only one who could go after him in the air, seeing as Dreams flying abilities had faltered coming here.

Philza flew after the boy with the rockets, trying to shout things like

“Just come on! We’re gonna help you!”

Until he felt a sharp pain in his wing as he started to fall.

He had been shot.

Tommy breathed a sigh of relief and settled upon a large building.

Joe , only appearing now, had recruited a large army of dogs and sent them out to fight,

It was a whole server against 4 people. You can guess how it ended.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #dream smp #hermit craft

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redwinterroses · 3 years

Text

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

#The only reason I'm even posting this is for my own remembering later #and i guess if fluffy or solar want to see my mindless ramblings -- go nuts #long post #redwinterreacts #redwintertalks #dog at the door

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

Note

Hi there!

I finally have an idea for the sequel to the angst! By the way, it really did help. Less strong emotions :D

Anyways, idea. Woot woot-

Wels, as a kind of revenge for the death of Hels, wants to save some other helsmits from the world that is Hels. Because it sucks there. He ends up secluding himself from the server to try this. When somebody goes to check on him, they find an obsidian portal frame with a firey red portal contained within. Queue Wels and another Helsmit conveniently coming through, and Wels having to quickly explain before the Hermit tells X-

this is a long boi!!! lol

first part here

...

This is it. This is the moment Wels has been waiting for. After weeks of hiding out in his house, doing experiment after experiment, he’s finally managed to create a portal directly to Helscraft. Now he can finally start on his mission.

He steps through the portal and finds himself facing a bridge across a gigantic ravine with lava at the bottom. On the other side is a mountain made of netherrack and magma blocks, some of which are on fire.

Shivering, he crosses the bridge slowly, one step at a time, keeping a wary eye out for any helsmits around. There doesn’t seem to be any.

Until he steps off the bridge, glances up, and happens to spot a familiar person sitting in a “tree” made of soul sand and bone blocks. Familiar except red eyes, red streaks in his hair, a much shorter stature, and black-and-magenta dragon-like wings.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

“Helsknight…?” The person narrows their eyes. “Why do you look different?”

“I’m not Helsknight, I’m his hermit counterpart.”

The helsmit blinks in surprise. “Welsknight? What are you doing here in Helscraft?”

“Are you Grian’s helsmit?” asks Wels, avoiding the question.

“...surely you can tell,” the helsmit scoffs. “Yeah, I’m Xelqua, Grian’s helsmit. Why’re you here? Where’s Helsknight?”

Again, Wels tries to avoid the question. “Were you… close to Helsknight?”

“Not really.” Xelqua again narrows his eyes. “What do you mean by that? Where IS he?”

“He’s…” Wels hesitates and bows his head. “I’m really sorry, but he… he passed away.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath from Xelqua.

“I’m sorry,” he says uselessly.

“Why are you here?”

Wels looks back up at Xelqua. “What?”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” demands Xelqua loudly. “What, is it not enough that we exist here in this HELLISH place?! You wanna come here and take it over too?! Drive us out AGAIN?!”

“I- No!” Wels hurriedly shakes his head. “No no no! I came here to invite you back to Hermitcraft.”

A flash of shock flickers over Xelqua’s face. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because Helsknight wanted all of you to be free. He sacrificed himself for me, so I’m carrying on his dream.” Wels offers his hand to the helsmit. “Xelqua, come with me to Hermitcraft. I can get you a better life there.”

“Wow.” Xelqua appears not to know how to react to this unexpected offer. “What do you get in return?”

“Nothing.”

Xelqua rolls his eyes. “SURE.”

“No, really,” Wels insists. “I want to help you, all of you. I’m not asking for anything in return. I just want you guys to have a better life.”

Xelqua regards Wels with a half-suspicious look. “Why me, of all the helsmits?”

“I want to save all of you at some point. You seem like a good place to start.”

The helsmit doesn’t appear to have a response to this.

“Please, Xelqua,” says Wels softly. “Give me a chance.”

Xelqua is silent for a while as he processes this in his head. Finally, he says, “Okay. I won’t turn down a chance to go to Hermitcraft.”

Wels can’t help an excited smile. “Great! You won’t regret it.”

When Xelqua hops down from the “tree”, Wels is surprised to discover that the helsmit is only just half his height. The height of a child, despite looking almost exactly like Grian.

“Okay, come this way,” he says.

He leads Xelqua back down the bridge and over to the portal. “Will you be able to come through?” he asks.

“I dunno, you’re the brainiac hermit,” Xelqua responds. “Will I die if I go through?”

“Not inherently, but…”

Xelqua shrugs. “Whatever. Death is better than another day in Helscraft anyway. YOLO.”

Wels blinks as Xelqua steps through the portal. Did he just say… YOLO?!

He hurriedly follows Xelqua. As soon as he steps foot in his house on the other side, however, he sees Xelqua frozen on the platform. When he steps forward, he sees why.

One of his friends is standing at the bottom of the staircase, staring at him in shock and horror.

Wels blinks, his heart starting to pound. “...J-Jevin. Hi. You’re in my house.”

“Of course I’m in your dang house, Wels!” snaps Jevin. “You haven’t been seen on the server for WEEKS! And now you come out of a demonic nether portal with a DEMON?!”

Wels quickly pushes Xelqua behind him. “He’s not a demon, Jev. His name is Xelqua. He’s Grian’s helsmit.”

Jevin’s eyes widen and he steps back.

Wels sees his friend’s muscles bunching. “Jev, no…!”

Jevin takes another step back.

“JEV.”

“Somehow a demon would have been BETTER!” yells Jevin, before taking off running.

Wels sprints after him. He’s a lot faster than Jevin so he’s able to tackle his friend to the ground at the top of the stairs.

“Jev, wait!” Wels grunts, trying to hold his squirming friend down. “Hear me out!”

“Are you INSANE?!” Jevin shrieks back. “WHY would you bring a helsmit here?!”

As Wels is about to respond, a dry voice comes from behind them. “Now I know why you said you wanted to avoid this guy, Wels.”

Wels twists his head upwards to find Xelqua standing over them, arms folded. “I didn’t say-.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” demands Jevin, disentangling himself from Wels.

The hint of a smirk is visible on Xelqua’s face. “He said you were pretty close-minded and quick to jump to conclusions.”

“I never said-!”

Wels is cut off as Jevin jumps to his feet and jabs his finger at Xelqua. “You shut your mouth. You’re not even supposed to be here!”

“I’m not the one judging someone I just met based on their nature of birth, Slime Face,” retorts Xelqua.

“If you call me that again, I’m gonna ram my fist in your eye,” Jevin growls.

Xelqua lifts his chin challengingly. “Go for it. I’m not afraid to fight an old man.”

As Jevin moves suddenly, Wels gets between them and holds his friend back. “Okay, STOP it! Both of you! Jev, be the bigger person here.”

“I AM the bigger person!” Jevin snaps back. “Literally!”

“Wow, a short joke,” Xelqua says expressionlessly. “Original. You proud of that one, Slime Face? You feel funny? Clever?”

Jevin’s hands curl into fists. “Wels, you better explain yourself before I punt this obnoxious kid straight into the goddamn sun.”

“Your stupid slimey foot would go right through me,” Xelqua responds immediately.

“Right, that’s it.”

Wels has to strain against Jevin to stop his friend from physically attacking Xelqua. “JEVIN. STOP.”

“Explain yourself, then!”

Wels quickly draws Jevin aside into the next room. “Look.” He takes a deep breath. “I spent months befriending my helsmit, learning about how he dreamt of freeing his siblings from their torturous existence, only for him to die before even being able to start on his dream. Helsmits aren’t inherently evil, Jev. Helsknight grew as a person right in front of me. With the right environment and people surrounding them, they can become good.”

He pauses, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Even if I can only change one helsmit’s life for the better then maybe Helsknight’s death didn’t have to be meaningless.”

Jevin gazes back at him, an odd expression on his face.

“Just…” Wels sighs quietly. “Please don’t tell Xisuma until I’m ready. If he finds out about this before Xelqua makes any noticeable improvements, he’ll have him thrown back to Helscraft and all this will be for nothing. Helsknight’s dream can’t die like that. I can’t… I can’t lose him all over again.”

A short pause follows his words.

Finally, Jevin unfolds his arms and says, “Okay. How can I help?”

“By not treating me like a stupid kid,” comes Xelqua’s voice.

Jevin turns to find the helsmit poking his head through the doorway. “Wasn’t talking to you, Parrot Boy.”

“I’m not a parrot,” Xelqua says. “I’m a dragon.”

“Sure.”

Scowling, Xelqua extends his jet black and magenta wings. “My wings are dragon wings.”

“Whatever you say, Parrot Boy.”

Xelqua glares at him and doesn’t respond.

Jevin raises an eyebrow. “Nicknames hurt, huh?”

“Jev,” sighs Wels. “You’re the adult here.”

“Why AM I the adult here?” Jevin demands. “If he’s Grian’s helsmit, why is he still a kid?”

Xelqua stomps his foot. “I’m not a kid!”

Ignoring him, Wels replies, “Helsmits are only born once a person becomes a hermit. Grian’s only been a hermit for a few years, so Xelqua hasn’t had a chance to grow up yet.”

“Hey, I’m PERFECTLY grown up!” snaps Xelqua. “I already know how to kill things without spilling much blood and how to steal stuff from a chest from right under someone’s nose.”

Wels and Jevin exchange a slightly concerned look.

“But you never had a normal childhood?” asks Jevin.

“I’M NOT A CHILD!” yells Xelqua angrily.

Jevin persists: “Have you ever even seen grass?”

Xelqua scowls. “...what’s grass?”

“Okay…” Jevin pauses for a moment. “Come up this way.”

As he goes to the door, Wels starts to speak: “Jev-.”

“I’ll be careful,” says Jevin reassuringly. “Come on, kid.”

Clearly deciding not to argue anymore, Xelqua follows Jevin out of the house. As soon as he gets outside, he glances up and immediately jumps almost a foot in the air. “What is that?!”

Jevin quickly identifies where he’s looking. “The sun.”

“That’s not the sun,” scoffs Xelqua.

“It is.”

Xelqua shields his eyes from the sunlight and squints up at the sky. “But it’s not hurting my skin.”

“It will if you stay out in it too long.” Jevin pauses. “Why, what’s your sun like?”

“Volatile,” Xelqua responds. “If it’s in a bad mood, it’ll set you on fire as soon as you step out in it. Which is almost every day.”

Jevin blinks. “Your sun is sentient?”

“Trust me, that’s not the weirdest thing that’s sentient in Helscraft.”

“Do I wanna ask?”

“Nope.” Xelqua lowers his hand. “So what’s this grass thing you mentioned?”

Jevin gestures at the ground. “What you’re standing on.”

“Really? This is grass?” Xelqua hops up and down on it a few times. “I thought it’d be a bit more interesting.”

“Lie down on it.”

Xelqua shoots him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

After a moment, Xelqua lies down flat on the grass. “Okay, now what?”

“Look up at the sky,” Jevin responds. “See those clouds?”

Xelqua frowns up at the sky. “The grey things?”

“Yeah. Do you have clouds?”

“Not like those. Ours are spikey and red and rain lava.”

“Oh jeez…” Jevin shivers. “Well, these ones won’t hurt you. Just watch them for a while.”

“Okay…”

The two fall silent. Jevin watches the clouds himself for a while, before turning back to Xelqua, whose expression is almost completely blank. “So?”

“Weirdly, this is nice,” admits Xelqua. “It’s a bizarre concept to not be afraid of every single thing around me.” As if on cue, a few raindrops start to fall from the sky. Xelqua hops up as the rain gets heavier and dives between Jevin’s feet, clutching Jevin’s leg tightly. “WHAT IS THIS?!” he shrieks.

“It’s just rain!” Jevin reassures him, gently stroking his wings. “Don’t worry, it’s just rain. Just water. It won’t hurt you.”

After a moment, Xelqua sticks out his hand and lets some raindrops fall on it. When it doesn’t hurt him, he carefully emerges from his shelter and hovers just above the ground, closing his eyes against the rain falling on his face. A smile appears on his face and he shoots upwards, his beating wings scattering raindrops everywhere.

Shielding his eyes from the rain, Jevin laughs as he watches Xelqua shoot up through the clouds and dive back down several times. It’s like watching a foal discover how to run for the first time.

“How’s it going out here?” asks Wels, emerging from the building. Immediately, he lifts his arms to shield his head from the rain. “Oh! It doesn’t rain often on this server.”

Jevin continues to gaze up at Xelqua far above him. “...Wels?”

“Yeah?”

“This kid really needs a better life.”

Wels nods. “He does. They all do. This is what Helsknight wanted: for the helsmits to have the same opportunities as us. The same expansive resource-rich world to explore, not the barren hellscape they’re forced to live in year after year. To be able to live and grow without worrying about being robbed or hurt or attacked or murdered by the world and people around them. They have so much potential that’s not being realised because they’re stuck in literal hell. I won’t rest until they’re all as free as Helsknight almost was.”

After a brief pause, he glances over at Jevin and finds his friend smiling at him. He chuckles. “What’s that look for?”

“I’ve never seen you this passionate before,” says Jevin softly. “It’s nice.”

“It IS nice,” Wels agrees. “I haven’t had a cause like this to fight for in a long time.”

Jevin pats his friend on the shoulder. “If you ever need help with Xelqua, lemme know.”

Wels glances at him in surprise. “You want to help with Xelqua?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Why?”

As Jevin starts to respond, Xelqua suddenly lands on the ground in front of them, soaking wet. “What are you two nattering about?” he demands. “Come fly up here with me!”

“We can’t fly when it’s raining this heavily, Xelqua,” responds Wels. “It’s too wet for our elytras to work properly.”

“Oh.” Xelqua rolls his eyes. “You guys are lame.”

Wels raises an eyebrow back. “Mhm.”

As Xelqua takes off again, Jevin says, “To answer your question Wels, I want to help because I can tell Xelqua has the potential to be a good kid. He’s got some problems I wanna help iron out.”

“Wow, I…” Wels smiles gratefully. “I’d love the help. Thank you.”

At that moment, Xelqua reappears through the rain and holds out a shovel to the two. “I stole this from a chest in that guy’s house over there,” he says proudly. “He didn’t see me.”

“That’d be Beef’s house,” Wels sighs.

As Wels reaches for the shovel, Xelqua sharply steps back, hugging the shovel protectively.

Wels shakes his head. “You don’t have to steal things here, Xelqua. We’ll help you get your own stuff.”

“Oh…” Xelqua reluctantly relinquishes his prize to Wels.

“Thank you,” says Wels gently. “Do you want your own shovel?”

After a moment, Xelqua nods.

Wels smiles, feeling strong paternal instincts towards the kid.

“Okay, let’s get you a shovel.”

#hermitcraft #welsknight #helsmits #hels hermits #ijevin #vaunna’s requests

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