#i'm very normal about cub's dyed skin

[convexicalcrow]

Cub didn't care that his clothes were getting increasingly covered in dyes. That was to be expected. He had so much testing to do of the fireworks his factory created, to make sure he was only selling his best quality work. Did some occasionally explode in his face and shower him with dye? Sure! Came with the territory. It's why he'd figured out how to enchant his glasses with mending, so they didn't break completely when a firework went off too close to him. They didn't break anymore.

He couldn't really smell anything else these days except for gunpowder, flowers, and redstone. Did that matter? Not really. It was too much fun to play around with explosive fireworks. It was all he thought about. All he dreamed about.

So of course he didn't notice that that small patch of cyan dye on the back of his lab coat wasn't just cyan dye mixed with a little black. He didn't notice the little shimmers of light, the places where it was clear that it wasn't dye but skulk. Cub had other things on his mind. he wasn't thinking about skulk.

But of course he was always thinking about skulk. It had never really left him, just gone dormant, waiting for the right moment to reappear. He'd felt it in his bones towards the end of last season, as he was tending to the museum. Was he afraid of it? Maybe a little, in the same way he was a little afraid of the Vex when They decided to possess him. It never stopped him going to ancient cities though.

That said, it had felt strange to be in the deep dark on a new world. The skulk felt both familiar and not. It had been like that when they'd visited the Emperors too. The skulk there was particularly vicious and possessive in a way it hadn't been on other worlds. Perhaps it's why he was possessed. He was stupid enough to go into the fog and get himself possessed.

But the skulk back on Hermitcraft was...

Cub didn't really know how to describe it. It had still sunk its tendrils into his brain, he had willingly obeyed it when it had need of him, but it lacked something. And the skulk on this new world was... pensive. Curious. It clearly recognised the dormant skulk within him, but didn't know why it was there.

Cub sensed it when he touched the skulk, walked over it slowly, hoping not to disturb the place. He knew how sacred this place was to the skulk. How he shouldn't disturb the Mourner. He understood now. He knew now. Wordless memories, pictures of ancient times that Cub couldn't really interpret properly, floated into his mind. The time before. The time before there was mourning and sadness and a need to isolate. A time when there was light, and life.

Whenever Cub found himself down in the deep dark, he always wanted to sink his fingers into the skulk, making contact, even if the skulk didn't seem to care about possessing him this time. It seemed to think him... not tainted. Sacred? Chosen to host the skulk and give it a body? Cub didn't quite know how to interpret the feelings.

No. It wasn't quite that. It was more... a feeling of kindredness. Was that even a word? Cub didn't know. He just knew the skulk didn't seem to see him as an enemy. As long as he was respectful in the deep dark, as long as he didn't awaken the Mourner, made no sound at all, he felt safe there. Which was both a familiar feeling, and also a strange one.

Sometimes, he felt he was always in the deep dark when was working in the factory. It wasn't his fault that the skulk really showed off the fireworks really nicely. It was like a substitute starry sky, but he couldn't deny that having the skulk close brought him a little comfort. It wasn't whispering to him, wasn't really doing anything other than just being there, but it was nice to have. Could he have just used black concrete? Sure. But why use black concrete when skulk was right there and available? He didn't need to craft that.

And maybe, every so often, when he was cleaning out the testing chamber, maybe his lab coat got a little more skulk stained, and maybe it was hidden just as quickly by all the dyes he was surrounded by as he got back to the work of testing fireworks and seeing just how many different combinations he could make and sell. And maybe that was for the best, somehow.

#hermitcraft #cubfan135 #skulk cub #hermitfic #fanfic #750words #i'm very normal about cub's dyed skin #it's fine #i'm so fine about this

[salemoleander]

This was inspired ages ago by a post from @briseise about rebel leader Impulse gifting Bdubs a clock, and rather than edit it for the 15th time I'm just going to post it + beg forgiveness on the rougher bits.

(This also spawned fics from Ren and Scar's perspective, which I'll be adding to this post bc they're concurrent.)

‐-----------------------------------------------------

Ren lounges at the head of the Square Table, having just read the Perimeter Empire’s Declaration of Independence aloud. His laughter booms, and he thumbs through the booklet as one clawed foot taps a nervous tempo under the table.

“Well, my noble dudes, it looks like the goatman has finally made his move.”

To Ren's right, Bdubs shifts in his seat. He has nodded emphatically and smiled along with every rambling word the king has said throughout the meeting. 

He has absolutely not heard a word of it. 

Under the table and inside a mossy pocket and clutched in his hand, so very safe and hidden, is a clock. 

Earlier, Bdubs had walked into his quarters in the Crastle, and discovered a present boxed up and sitting on his bedside table. A small shulker box, dyed a beautiful mossy green and tied shut with golden wire. There hadn’t been a note, but a scrawled signature on the top of the box left no doubt that it was from Impulse.

When he’d opened it at first Bdubs had been… surprised? Not disappointed, not disappointed! That wouldn’t make sense at all, when his not-disappointment was that this clock was too beautiful, too delicate. It wouldn’t survive- 

He’s not sure what it wouldn’t survive. (He knows exactly what it wouldn’t survive.)

Its gold shines and it ticks perfectly, and he feels terrible keeping it hidden from light in his cloak. He holds it like a fragile creature in his palm, mechanical pulse keeping time with his own. 

A lull in the conversation draws his attention momentarily away from the barely-there feeling of each second ticking. Still, Bdubs doesn’t look up until someone kicks him under the table.

“Hey!” Bdubs yells, indignant. 

He looks up, and his outburst is immediately doused as he realizes that almost everyone was already looking at him. Ah, a helpful kick, then. 

Bdubs quickly appraises the table: Ren stares at him with an eyebrow raised. Cleo’s mouth is twitching in amusement, while Joe takes notes and draws geometric designs on his arm in the gaps of his lime green gloves. Scar, seated as far from the King as the table allows, is checking his communicator. (Bdubs tries not to be smug about that, then tries to decide which direction of that situation to even be smug about, and fails at both.) Iskall and Cub seem to be running a heavily modified version of Tic-Tac-Toe on a scrap of paper hidden from the King’s sight by the massive dragons-head hat. 

Circling back to Cleo, Bdubs assumes that’s where the helpful kick came from. Probably. (Scar has long legs, and Bdubs is never sure when he’s really distracted, or pretend-distracted. And Cleo and Joe are both prone to dubiously helpful shin kicking.)

Skin prickling at all the direct attention, Bdubs sighs loudly and sweeps one hand up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. “Alright, you caught ol’ Bdubs sleeping with my eyes open! So what! I’ve been up late working on- on Royal builds, and quests, and I’ve been missing my Zs.”

Cub and Scar laugh, and Cleo smiles, and he relaxes his grip slightly on the clock.

He turns to his left, waggling his eyebrows at the King. Normally the flattery came quick and easy, but that was because it was real. Sure, he likes to play up his obsequiousness, earn some laughs, but at the end of the day he’s loyal. He’s loyal, except that loyal hands of the king don’t hide gifts from their number one enemy under the table. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth and tries to mimic his usual enthusiasm. 

“Your Majesty, o illustrious King Ren… What was the question?” And Bdubs thinks he’s done a pretty good job, until-

“I asked, actually,” Cleo says from their spot across the table. She’s toying with half of a broken arrow, spinning and idly twirling it between her green-tinged fingers. Bdubs has a sense of vertigo watching her do this, adoration and fear welling up in concert with each turn of the arrow. He feels like he’s falling, breath coming shorter as some internal process hits an unexpected barrier and goes flying in a new direction.

Cleo is terrifying. She’s immediately the most important person in the room. 

“Ah, of course, classic Bdubs mistake. What do you need?” He pauses for a moment, can’t resist tacking on- “Anything.” His heart sings, blood eager and ready to fall. Anything for the Crastle. 

“Careful, Bdubs, wouldn’t want to seem overeager.” Her voice holds a note of warning, honesty cleverly wrapped in mocking. Cleo was a master of saying exactly what they meant, but using such a sardonic tone about it that everyone assumed they were joking.

Bdubs nods, frantic, but it must come off as comedic because Cub chuckles. He knows it doesn't fool Cleo, though.

Cleo’s eyes stay on him, one eyebrow imperiously raised and one chilly ankle knocking against his in reassurance, well-hidden under the table. That ankle stays throughout her request, and his response, and a good half the meeting after that.

He doesn’t know when he stopped, but Bdubs isn’t holding the clock anymore. It’s still there, tucked into a pocket, but the idea of holding it right now makes him nauseous. 

#bdubs #impdubs #cledubs #hermitcraft fic #s9 #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #implied at least #altho im more interested in everyone being weird neurotic messes i will leave proper ship writing to the professionals #ren the king #3lsmp #salem tag #idk this is very rough but im so tired of it sitting in my edit stack

[rosaliesea]

TASK ⦂ THE INSPIRATION BEHIND.

TRIGGER WARNINGS — mentions of depression, car accident, and the death of a child.

I initially dreamed up Rosalie as a muse for another (now closed) group; at the time, I was writing the prickliest porcupine muse who was absolutely disastrous at interactions with other human beings. While it made for incredibly fun angst and heavy threads, it was also hard to go with the flow and let threads carry themselves the same way they would with a muse who was open to anything from the get go. I also really wanted to play an older muse, as I'm not really up to date with the "new" faces floating around the RPC that are under the age of, like, 27. I grew up with most of these 30+ faces, so that's who I tend to write for. I also almost have to have some kind of attachment to the faces I write, because it makes it a hell of a lot more fun for me to write them. Hilarie's a face I've been dying to use ever since I met her, so that was, essentially, the foundation of how Rosalie came to be. And then, the typical life cycle of any Tumblr roleplay completed itself and the group closed, so I had some time to somewhat sit on this character that I'd started but had yet to develop.

Something that's really important to me whenever I create characters to write in a roleplay setting is that I try not to expend all of their "moments" in a backstory. Meaning: I've been in places with partners who have all of the interesting meat of a character in their character's history, and they don't expound on any of it whenever they write them in present. Obviously, I think you can absolutely have well-rounded and interesting characters without a dramatic backstory or future plots lined up, but the fun of writing for me is what's to come and what I can create with other writers. I'm a dramatic bitch. I live for angsty threads, I live for solid development. It's how I keep the excitement in writing a muse alive and fresh. One theme I knew I wanted to dig into with Ro's character was the idea of closure and new beginnings, the idea that a person's life is split up into many different lifetimes categorized by the things that they go through, the places they go, the people they become. I don't think I've ever written a character that doesn't also share depression with me, mostly because it's something that is so personal to me and one way that I choose to deal with it is by exploring it in the many faces it takes. And, of course, I very easily could have written depression into Ro's backstory in a very "normal" manner, but again... hi, I am dramatic, so it had to come about in a different way. I've written a few stories before that deal with the grief of losing a child and for Ro, it almost made sense to give her as a piece of her story. She's the mama bear without a cub, and I felt it explained so much of the way she nurtures those around her, the way she takes time and intent to nourish her relationships and make sure that the people she loves know she loves them. I also loved the idea of her constantly shedding her skin, becoming someone new in each chapter of her life while also staying the same to some degree. It's probably my favorite Taylor Swift quote of all time: "I'll never change, but I'll never stay the same, either."

Ro's a muse that is a lot unlike myself, which tend to be the muses I enjoy writing the most, because I learn more about the other joys in life. Ro's certainly taken a few things from me, like her love of making little gifts for other people for no reason at all, our irrational dislike of birds, and how she loves her people with everything she has. I'm not one who will immediately go outdoors when the weather's beginning to warm up, I'm not a fan of beer in the slightest, and I'm nowhere as good with my hands as Ro is, but she brings me a new appreciation for those things. She's also really fun to write because she has quite a bit of history, but tons of possibility for the future, even if I don't decide to do anything major with her character. She was an A+ fit for this group because her way of life is perfectly suited for the vibes I get from Merrock as a whole: laidback, take it easy, comfy and cozy in that cottage core type of way (if you know, you know!). Ro's my hippie witch baby, so when I took in the rural countryside area of Merrock + The Garden, it was almost as though they were waiting for her to step into frame :')

And yes, I've built her based off of a few of my all-time favorite characters in media ever: Leigh Shaw from Sorry for Your Loss (Elizabeth Olsen is a marvel in everything she does but her performance in SFYL is literally unreal), Izzie Stevens from Grey's (before the writing went downhill and she started having ghost sex), Michelle Simms from Bunheads (my favorite show of all time if you have yet to watch it, it's a MUST), and Piper Halliwell from Charmed. I'm always inspired by the things that I consume, so it's not really a surprise that I see echoes of them in Ro.

#merrocktask #𓂅 if one thing's the same it's that i'm subject to change ⦂ 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚 . #depression tw #child death tw #death tw #car accident tw