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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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The Red Witch

“That’s not true, she thinks, I haven't done anything good, I became a villain because my coworkers wouldn’t recognise my efforts.”

Written by: Featheredenby

Word Count: 1,803

Spin off of: Show Your Fangs

A Superhero AU of Empires SMP/Hermitcraft/The Life Series

The Red Witch wakes up finding that she’s in a cell at the GFHA headquarters and that despite having a spellcraft suppression collar on her spell that hides her face in a void is still on. The small room that she’s in has a flat bed attached to the wall with a small room attached that is presumably a bathroom. The second thing that she notices is the person sitting on a chair outside of the cell, Hotguy. She pays him no mind however and looks at herself as she’s now in a basic orange jumper.

Someone takes a step and she whips her head around seeing that Hotguy is now standing at the bars of the cell. Another person walks up too but The Red Witch doesn’t recognise them, they have pale skin and their white hair is tinted red. They’re wearing a light green overall skirt with a black sweater with red splatters on it. Aside from that the person has a red mask on and brown moose horns and legs covered in a similar reddish white fur and brown hooves. They say something that she doesn’t catch to Hotguy and turn to stare her dead in the eyes as if they’re analysing their soul. A chill runs down The Red Witch’s spine and she pulls her wings, antenna, and the wings where her ears into her body.

The Red Witch walls back over towards the bed from where she was standing in the corner and sits down looking at her shoes. Plain white slip on shoes. Thump, thump, thump. She looks up, the person who was talking to Hotguy is now sitting down on the floor in front of her. “Hello,” they greet her a bit too cheerily, “How are you? You took a pretty big hit to the head.”

What- How did they know that? They don’t look like anyone who was there. Maybe the people who were there told the GFHA how they stopped her. “I’m assuming that you’re curious, how do I know?” They ask, “Wait- I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Slay.”

She attempts to speak but nothing comes out.

“Why am I being so kind to you?” Slay asks, “You might not have done good things but I looked at your file and despite not knowing your identity I think there’s good in you. There aren’t any civilians who match your descriptions who have done very bad things.”

That’s not true, she thinks, I haven't done anything good, I became a villain because my coworkers wouldn’t recognise my efforts. The person sitting across from her looks shocked, “Hotguy, can you leave for a minute?” They ask.

“Sure,” Hotguy says, “Just call if you need me.” He walks out of the room attached to the cell. Slay’s eyes dart around and they mutter something under their breath and their hands glow purple as they flick their wrists. They then take a key card from their pocket and stand up, “Can I trust you not to do anything rash?” The Red Witch nods. “Okay then.” They slip the card into a scanner next to the door and when it doesn’t let them in they snap their fingers, glow purple, and walk into the cell.

The Red Witch presses herself up against the corner of the cell, well this person clearly has large spellcrafting powers. This normally wouldn’t be an issue but this person is probably gonna try to interrogate her and The Red Witch can’t talk. She talks via spellcraft and this person doesn’t know that. This person can’t force her to talk but they don’t know that, maybe they know sign language. “Can I sit down next to you?” They ask, the Red Witch nods at them. They sit down facing her, “So, I work as a therapist when not in costume. The GFHA wants to try and do a villain reformation program and wants me to work things out with you. Does that sound good to you?”

She moves to start to say I guess in sign language the person starts speaking again, “You use spellcraft to speak right?” she nods, “Okay then, I’m gonna cast a spell on you that should allow you to speak. You don’t have to talk if you want but it will make things much easier.” she nods again, “ꖎ𝙹ᑑ⚍╎”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, so are you okay to talk?” They ask.

“I can’t really not talk to you, can I?” She inquiries.

“You don’t have to, I won’t force you.”

“I don’t care about talking. Go ahead and ask me questions.”

“Okay. Well I normally work as a therapist. What field do you work in?”

“I’m a doctor.” She admits, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Almost everyone deserves kindness, some people don’t but those people are few and far between,” they explain, “plus you remind me of a friend.”

“I do?” She asks.

“Yeah, her name’s Pearl.” Shoot! How did they figure that out? It’s fine as long as I don't give it away. Also I don’t know anyone who looks like them.

“Hm-” Pearl hums awkwardly, Just act normal, “Soooooo, do you have any other questions for me?”

“Why did you do it?” Slay asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you start helping the dogwarts duo?”

“I’m not answering that.” She says.

“Please. I just want to help you.”

“No.”

“Look, Witch if you just let me help-”

“I. Said. No!” Pearl yells and then the spell stops its effects and she can no longer speak. She realises that she’s clutching the edge of the bed wings flared out behind her. And the person sitting next to her, well they look scared. Not very scared but at least a bit nervous.

“I’m sorry,” Gem says before starting to cast a spell, “⍊ᒷ∷⚍ᒲ ↸╎ᓵ𝙹. Why did you start to help the dogwarts duo?”

“It’s a long story.” The Red Witch admits.

“Tell me about it then.”

“When I was a kid I saw a dead guy near my school. I've always had spellcraft powers and one of the most prevalent ones is seeing other people’s vitals.” She explains, “It was a weird feeling to feel his ora, I wanted to help people so I went to medical school and became a doctor. They hired me in my hometown and then again when I moved away, people liked me back then. What can I say?”

“Then what?”

“I started working at a nearby hospital but I was under-appreciated by my patients and colleagues. I was originally planning to go out as a vigilante but then I saw Hotguy and Canary Call fighting the Dogwarts duo and realized that I could make it so they appreciate me. I caused issues for people and then when they went to the hospital I helped them recover with spellcraft.” What the. Gem can’t believe it, first of all it’s a ridiculous reason. Second of all that’s just a bad way to go about it, it’s a much better idea to just infiltrate corrupt organizations and crumble them from the inside.

“What’s your name?” Gem asks.

“Pearl, what’s yours?”

Gem’s shocked, it’s her Gem’s best friend. The person that she’s known her whole life and gone through so many ups and downs with. The person who Gem has recently become roommates with. She looks up and down analyzing her friend if she can even call Pearl that anymore, Gem can’t say that she’s done the best things ever in her life after all isn’t she only at the GFHA to undermine their authority and learn their secrets. Somehow Gem feels bad though she didn’t expect it to be anyone she knows and Pearl is really nice to, but Gem understands her and starts to cast a spell again. “↸╎ᒲ╎ℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ╎ᓭ.”

Alarms blare in Scar’s ears as he runs down yet another corridor. All he knows is that this is the alarm that sounds if a prisoner escapes and currently their only prisoner is The Red Witch. He turns the corner and swipes a keycard on a pad next to a door and bursts through it and into the room in front of the cell. When he enters he sees the broken glass that was clearly launched when she broke out of her cell and twisted bars. The spellcraft suppression collar that she had had on sits on the floor on the other side of the room. The Red Witch is nowhere to be seen but Slay lays on the floor with blood streaming from a cut on her forehead. She’s still awake though, mumbling under her breath and making circles with her hands. Slowly sewing up the wound with purple magic. Scar walks up to her and offers out a hand but all she does is glare at him, as if he’s the one who did this. “Do you need any help?” He asks her.

“I never have,” she snaps, “I never will.” With a groan she stands up and draws her hand in a stitching motion across her head, sewing up the cut.

“Are you-”

“I am fine. The person who isn’t fine is the one who just escaped from her cell and is clearly under emotional distress!” She yells.

“Look, we can just figure this out, it will all be just fine.” Scar says.

“No. It won’t.” Slay responds, “I used my magic and I pushed someone too far. I’m done with this agency and in fact, I quit.” With that she casts a spell, “Tᒷ ╎ʖ╎ ᒲ𝙹∷ᔑℸ ̣ ⚍∷.” keeping him stuck in place, and strides away.

Gem has to be quick as she runs out of the GFHA headquarters and around the corner to her car as her invisibility spell wears off. She reaches the vehicle and opens the door jumping inside and grabbing her crystal elytra. She throws it over her back and leaves the car. She calmly walks back towards the headquarters, when she arrives she casts a quick spell to push her off of the ground. Once in the air Gem flies onto the roof of the building and walks back inside. She descends to the main room where the few people who know the heroes' identities work. She walks into it and is greeted with surprised looks but before they can do anything she binds their limbs as well. “↸╎ᓵ ᒲ╎⍑╎ ᑑ⚍╎ᓭ ᔑꖎ╎⚍ᓭ !¡∷╎リᓵ╎!¡ᔑꖎ╎ᓭ ⍑ᒷ∷𝙹ᒷᓭ ᓭ⚍リℸ ̣”

One of them starts stuttering out the list, “Hotguy is Scar Goodtimes, Canary Call is Jimmy Solidarity, The Wolf Spirit is Shrub Evermore, and The Huntress is Katherine Elizebeth.”

“Hm…” She smiles, “⊣ᒷᒲ ℸ ̣ ᔑ|| リ⚍ᒲᑑ⚍ᔑᒲ ⍑╎ᓵ ꖎᔑʖ𝙹∷ᔑ⍊╎. リ⚍ᒲᑑ⚍ᔑᒲ ᒷ ̇/ ⍑𝙹ᓵ ᒲ╎⍑╎ リᔑ∷∷ᔑᓭℸ ̣ ╎.” Gem walks out of the room. Then she goes back onto the roof and flies away.

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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this started as a little drabble for an au and suddenly it's 2k words oops

in summary, scar is a wizard who was cursed into a statue for millennia, and eventually became the 'secret keeper' because everyone would confide in it. gem was the first to ask scar how it was doing

gem must not have been paying nearly enough attention to where she was walking, because she has somehow found herself in the secret keeper's grove. not that she minds, but- she could have sworn she started walking the complete opposite direction when she left her house. either gem is way worse at directions than she thought she was, or.. well, okay, she can't actually think of another reason, but she wanted to sound spooky. maybe there's some magical fate that has led her to this very spot- or she just doesn’t know her lefts from her rights.

well, whatever reason it ends up being, gem is stood awkwardly beneath the face of the statue, its eyes shut and face relaxed as if asleep. the cracks and vines across its body looks almost like scars, and gem has to appreciate its beauty. she has, of course, heard all the myths about this statue being some- evil wizard who went around killing people left right and centre, and was eventually turned to stone as punishment. whilst she doubts these stories are anything more than fairytales, gem has to admit that it'd be pretty cool if that was actually the case.

resting against one of the stone pillars in front of the secret keeper's statue, gem looks into its face. centuries of people confiding their deepest thoughts to this stone monolith, decades of fears and secrets and accomplishments all told to the resting face of what may or may not be an evil wizard from millennia ago. it's another very interesting thing, gem thinks, about how people will reach for any sense of attachment they can get. maybe that's why the statue was created in the first place; there is something about its face that draws gem to it, in an odd kind of way.

"you know, I don’t suppose many people have asked how your day is going." gem says aloud, almost startling herself—she hadn't expected to actually say that.

unsurprisingly, the statue doesn’t respond, but something in its face looks- almost curious. is she making that up? she's probably making that up.

"I hope it's good." gem keeps talking anyway, because she honestly doesn't have anything much better to do anyway. "and if it's not, I hope it gets better."

she shifts a little on the earth, getting comfortable. in this new position, gem is instead facing another stone pillar rather than the keeper itself. "you’re a very lovely statue. I imagine it gets boring around here, but I suppose you have a lot of gossip to keep you going."

there's a kind of rustling from beside her, and she chalks it up to a bird of some sort—she is in the woods, after all. although- it might be someone else on the way to the secret keeper. that might be a little embarrassing, if they stumble across her asking a statue questions about its day.

"were you really an evil wizard, or is that just a story?" gem says idly, picking at imperfections in her nail polish.

"oh- i’d say greatly exaggerated." comes an unfamiliar voice.

gem looks up and shrieks in surprise, jumping to her feet. she immediately stumbles, almost falling flat on her face as she processes who just spoke. "you- how the-"

a figure is now across the glade from her, looking somewhat bemused as it brushes its white hair from its eyes. the shawl over its shoulders is embroidered with sunflowers, and looks as if it'd been worn for quite some time—what with the tears and holes in the fabric. scars run across every visible part of its skin, some akin to the cracks in old stone, and some resembling battle scars.

the secret keeper blinks at her from where it (he?) sits on the grass, underneath the empty gap where the statue used to be. "oh- yeah, long story." it grins, brushing itself off. "I don't suppose you've seen a pair of crutches around here?"

"I- definitely not." gem says, practically frozen in place. what in wrath- how the- the secret keeper is a person now?? "it's- are you-"

the secret keeper scoffs, and gem can’t tell if it's playful or frustrated. maybe both. "oh- they'll have taken them again, no doubt. that's fine- i'll have my revenge!" it calls to the sky, before turning back to gem. "thank you for helping me out there- they've always enjoyed playing tricks on me like that."

"what- no, I didn’t-" gem starts to say, but the secret keeper interrupts.

"how long was I stone, by the way?" it asks, offhand.

"oh." gem hesitates. "I- I don’t know how to tell you this. um- it's been a while."

the secret keeper pouts, brushing some stray stone dust from its shawl. "has it been a month again? I have things to do, y’know!"

"it's, um. it's been a thousand years, I think." gem says softly.

she expects a huge reaction—after all, if someone had told gem that she'd been stuck as a statue for millennia, she'd be pretty upset. god- she can't imagine what that would make her feel; losing everything and everyone you know to time, whilst you stay exactly the same.

the secret keeper blinks, drops the pout and shrugs. "could have been worse." it says, voice surprisingly cheery. "oh- I bet my crutches will have disintegrated, or something." it's grinning like this is funny and not just cause for an existential crisis.

"I imagine so, yeah." gem says, as if she's not about to start freaking out over literally everything that's happening right now. "you- what are you gonna do now?"

the secret keeper pauses, and gem feels a little worry in having actually stumped it. "I, uh. that's a good question."

"if you want, you can stay with me and my friend for a while?" gem suggests, hoping that joel won't mind her bringing home a reincarnated statue to live with them. in her defence, he’s done weirder.

the statue in question snorts. "I hope you're ready to be killed several times over." it grins, and gem's stomach drops. it seems to notice the look on her face and tacks on, "you guys can kill me too."

gem probably looks like she's seen a ghost, based on how the secret keeper frowns a little in concern. "I- how am i supposed to kill you if i’m dead?"

"wh- 'cause you’d come back?" the secret keeper looks as confused as gem feels. "why wouldn't you?"

"what do you mean, come back? if I die that's it." gem grins. "you’re joking, aren't you?"

the secret keeper shakes its head, less confused and more concerned. gem cannot seem to understand what's happening here. "did you- were you not given the blessing?"

"I.. don’t know what you’re talking about." gem says, smile beginning to slip from her face. "what blessing?"

"you don’t- the one that lets you regenerate?" the secret keeper says, almost frantic. when gem doesn’t show any recognition, it continues. "from- when you die? is that- how do you not know?"

gem blinks. "is that a story from when people thought magic was a thing? i’ve never heard of it before."

the secret keeper stares at her. "magic is a thing. i’m- i’m magic. I just got turned into a human from stone- what do you mean magic isn't a thing?"

"that's- yeah." gem pauses. "so- wait, why would we not have that anymore?"

"wh- I have no idea!" the secret keeper throws its arms out. "it's such a simple thing to do- you give the blessing to your baby, and then it grows with the kid! it's perfect! you don’t have to worry about exploding them with too much magic, because it's always just the right amount!"

"that is smart." gem says. "that's so weird- how has that gotten lost?" she tilts her head to the side. "I suppose it has been a thousand years."

"okay, so- I won't kill you." the secret keeper says, and gem remembers what started this whole conversation. "since apparently you guys are mortal. would I still be allowed to come with?"

"'course." gem grins. "I did suggest it. uh- how will we do this?"

the secret keeper looks at her blankly. "well. I assume we'd walk. do you not do that anymore either?"

gem snorts. "no, we do, I just- you said you had crutches. which I assume you would need."

"ohh." gem suppresses another laugh as it seems the secret keeper has apparently completely forgotten about the crutches. "yeah, that's a good point actually."

"I could try carrying you." gem says, and the secret keeper quickly covers its mouth. "what?"

"nothing!" it says, unconvincingly; gem can hear the smile in its voice. she raises an eyebrow. "well- you’re quite a bit smaller than I am."

"wh- I can carry you!" gem says, mildly offended. "i’m strong!"

"I don't doubt that!" the secret keeper says. "but I could just use my magic."

gem pauses, processing. "wait- so why do you need the crutches?"

the secret keeper grins, and it's almost uncannily sharp. did it just laugh? for some reason, it sounded too high pitched. "it's a little exhausting." it says, and suddenly the smile looks normal again. huh. "I can’t do it all the time, or i’d just- pass out. for a short time though, i'll be alright if I rest."

"you can do magic? still?" gem says, suddenly excited to see it happen. she's sure joel can make crutches for it when they get back—that won't be a problem. "how does that even work?"

the secret keeper seems a little flattered by her interest. "i can’t see why I wouldn’t. I might look a little weird though—my skin goes blue, my hair goes white, that kind of thing."

gem tilts her head. "isn’t your hair already white?"

"what?" the secret keeper's eyes widen a bit, pulling a strand of hair in front of its face to inspect. something shifts in its expression. "oh."

there's a stab of worry in gem's chest. if magic makes its hair go white and also exhausts it, what's going to happen right now? does- is there something that could happen? man, she does not know nearly enough about magic to answer any of those questions for herself.

before she can actually ask, the secret keeper just shrugs. "weird! anyway-"

it closes its eyes, apparently concentrating hard on something. the air in the grove seems to solidify, crackling with unseen energy, and gem can’t tell if she's holding her breath or if she simply can't breathe anymore. the secret keeper doesn’t react as it begins to rise off the floor, a blue sheen spreading from its fingertips throughout its whole body—scars whitening until they're essentially translucent. tattered wings unfold from its back, skin spread so thin, gem thinks a strong wind could tear them into pieces.

the secret keeper opens its eyes, and grins sharply, wings supporting its entire body. "ta da! how's that for magic, huh?"

gem laughs in delight, applauding it. what else is she meant to do in the face of that? "that was incredible! you can fly?"

"too right I can." the secret keeper beams, swelling with pride. "now, lead the way- uh. I don’t know your name, do I?"

"gem." she smiles, gesturing for the secret keeper to follow her as she begins to walk out of the clearing. "I don’t know your name either."

"well, gem, I am the one and only scar!" it announces, floating next to her. "named after my many- oh! oh- what!"

gem looks over, slightly panicked, and sees it inspecting its arms. more specifically, the scars on its arms that gem had likened to cracks in stone. "are you okay?"

"I didn’t have these before." scar says, tracing them with its finger and nearly floating into a tree as it does so. "they look like-"

"cracks?" gem suggests, and scar nods. "yeah- I think, with how long you’ve been stone.." she trails off, a better explanation escaping her.

scar seems to understand regardless, nodding. "I guess. hey, that's kinda cool." it looks back up at her, grinning again. gem has to wonder why (and how) it's so pointy. "that's a story to tell at parties!"

"I- yeah, I suppose." gem says, slightly unconvinced. she's not sure how scar has managed to completely accept everything she's told it without a single panic attack, but she isn't sure if that's a good sign. she hopes that people from a thousand years ago were just way better at processing their emotions. "I think the whole stone thing is also something to tell at parties."

"oh yeah, you guys don't have magic." scar says. it scoffs. "you must be so boring."

gem makes an indignant noise, and scar laughs. "excuse you! we're not boring. you were stone for millennia- if anything, you’re the boring one."

scar is still laughing. "you say that like you didn't just stare at me while I transformed. i’m so cool."

"okay, i'll admit, you are cool." gem grins, and scar pumps its fist.

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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live

[for the mcyt summer of yuri 2024, gift for @ski89 ]

“Gem, you don’t want to do this, right?” Pearl’s voice would sound so collected to the untrained ear, but Gem knew better. She seemed confident, leading, like she was weaving psychological warfare, but Gem knew the undertones of anguish. They bubbled just under the surface, turmoil and fear and conflict.

She knew Pearl didn’t want to kill her. But she also knew that Pearl wouldn’t betray her teammates. Pearl was loyal until death. Her Pearl. Her everything.

How had this gone so fucking wrong? “No, I don’t,” Gem said, and she didn’t bother to disguise the pain. Her eyes pleaded with the woman she loved. She so badly didn’t want to do this. But she had teammates to care for, too. If it was just her, she would have laid down her sword. She would rather Scar slay her than have to raise her weapon against Pearl.

But she wasn’t alone. They’d ended up on opposing sides, somehow—how—and it was the end of the line, now. The end of this sick fucking game.

Pearl raised her chin, a stoic goddess, but Gem didn’t miss the slight quiver of her bottom lip, even from so far away. “So maybe you should be over here.”

Tears sprung to Gem’s eyes, because if only it were that simple, if only, if only. It wasn’t, and they both knew it. This was a dance they were doing simply to delay the inevitable because fuck, it was inevitable, and it was horrible, and she just wanted to be back home. Home. It felt so far away now.

“Maybe you should be over here,” Gem said, her voice strained, her heart aching, wanting to throw everything away and fling herself into Pearl’s arms, and fuck it all.

But they couldn’t. They had to finish this. Finish it fighting. Finish it to the best of their ability, to appease the sick entities that had put them here. It was her first time in one of these death games, and after apologizing profusely for the sick fate that had brought her here, Grian had given her a rundown on how it all worked.

Gem had thought she’d understood the level of PTSD her friends had when they returned from these things. She hadn’t. But she thought she did now.

She gave it her all. And when Scar struck her down, the only other option having been her and Pearl crossing swords, she was glad for the small mercy.

She opened her eyes on Hermitcraft, gasping, ghosts of wounds still pulsing along every nerve ending in her body. Pearl’s cry of anguish as she’d fallen echoed in her mind, but it was okay, it was okay and there were only two of them left so she would be here soon too.

Gem wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, bury herself in blankets and safety and just ride it out, but she didn’t want Pearl to wake up alone. She didn’t want her to feel empty and abandoned and all of the nasty emotions that swelled despite knowing that none of them had a choice.

She picked herself up, head feeling heavy. Her antlers felt like home, but it was almost a foreign feeling. Her ears twitched, and she reached up to run her fingers over the soft fur, as if to reassure herself they were there.

Gem opted to walk to Pearl’s. It wasn’t far and she couldn’t handle flying at the moment with her mind reeling like this. Walking was safer, through the warm and welcoming woods she’d built with her own hands. Across the bridge carved from stone as a symbol of friendship between her and Impulse and Pearl.

She checked to see if he was home, but he wasn’t. He tended to spend time with Tango after these games, and she hoped that they were doing okay, that they were coping together.

Gem approached Pearl’s gorgeous landscape, the clopping of her hooves sounding like gunshots in the still air. She didn’t know how long it would be. Or who would be back first.

---

As Gem’s body fell, lightning striking the ground where her bloodied form had been, Pearl’s heart shattered. It was the best she could have hoped for, she knew, she hadn’t wanted it to be her and Gem at the end, but it still wrenched her to see it.

She hadn’t wanted to win. And it was a sweet release when she plummeted towards the ground, leaving Scar the victor.

Guilt twisted her guts, because she knew it was selfish. ‘Winning’ wasn’t really winning. It was hell. Double Life had been the worst experience of any of them, and being the last alive had been a torturous curse.

Now it was Scar. Now he was condemned, and she was free, and she hoped that he would forgive her.

She opened her eyes and sat up in her bed, and it smelled like home and it was home and—

“Pearl,” Gem choked out, and her voice was so small and watery.

Pearl blinked a few times before her death-addled brain registered that the woman she loved was curled up at the end of her bed, knees against her chest, eyes brimming with tears, pale and shellshocked and in agony.

“Oh, Gem,” Pearl breathed, and pulled her close, Gem’s face into her chest, resting her cheek atop her fluffy orange hair, nuzzling against one of her soft ears, breathing in the scent of her.

Gem’s sobs wracked her body, and she clutched at Pearl like she was the only thing anchoring her to this earth. She released everything and Pearl held her, whispering soft noises of comfort, running her hands up and down her back.

The first time was the biggest shock to the system. Being the winner was harder, but the first time you didn’t know what to expect. It all came crashing down so hard after.

Pearl hurt, too, but she’d been around this block many a time. Nobody could ever get used to this, but she knew what it was like to have it worse than this. And it could have been so much worse. She could have had to fight Gem head on.

Her intrusive brain wondered what it would have been like if Gem had killed Scar. There had to be a winner, always, so Grian said. She didn’t know what the Secret Keeper would have done if they’d have refused to do it. If they’d have just decided to live in that war torn world together, forever, embracing instead of fighting.

Would they have been in for a worse fate? Had there been a time limit on the final task? Could they have smashed the fail button together, died together?

They would never know, now.

Eventually Gem’s violent sobs subsided into sniffles, and Pearl waited patiently for her to be ready to pull back, sitting up and wiping furiously at her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Gem hiccuped. “I came here to comfort you when you spawned, and—” Her words choked off.

“No, no,” Pearl cupped her cheeks in her hands, pressing their foreheads together. “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet girl. I’m just so happy you’re here, that we’re both here.”

Gem nodded, lower lip still trembling. “You said it’s easier,” she said thickly, “to be on different teams…so we wouldn’t end up having to turn on each other if we made it to the end.”

Pearl swallowed hard.

“But nothing is really easier ever there, is it?” Gem whispered.

“No,” Pearl admitted. “We’re all just doing the best we can. Then we get out. Then we heal.”

Gem took a deep breath, looking up into her love’s eyes, her own big and round. “How do we do that?”

Pearl kissed her softly, taking in the brightness of her, the wholeness, the feeling that everything was okay in the world. “We live.”

[read on ao3]

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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part twenty-two: where's your humanity?

Martyn wants to go home.

The warmth of the sun passed through the lands with its soothing heat. Autumn always brought about the chill breeze of the winter to come, but at least the sun was still out. Baby blue filled the vastness of the sky, dotted with specks of clouds as birds flew to warmer islands. All of them.

Martyn sat on a bench, lazily admiring the ships that docked on the port. He wasn’t scheduled for a hunting trip for a few days. He could afford to relax a while, resting his head back against the bench as he watched the clouds roll by in the sky until they slipped behind the line of the sea wall. It was a huge wall made of concrete and iron, designed to keep any of the monsters away from humanity. They were safe.

“Hey.”

Martyn flinched at the sudden voice. He looked to see Scott standing beside the bench, smiling softly at him. Martyn patted the spot beside him.

“Still sleepy?” Scott asked as he sat down next to him, tilting his head.

Martyn often found himself staring at Scott longer than he intended to. He was always a warm, welcoming sight to see. Now was no different than before. Scott’s braided ginger hair, his piercings, his comfortable work clothes, his eyes….

Scott was enchanting to look at.

Martyn smiled. He always did when he was with Scott. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I have days off, you know,” Scott rolled his eyes and gently leaned against Martyn’s shoulder with a small huff. “I’m not there all the time.”

“Wouldn’t you want to be doing something else with your day off, other than sticking with a boring guy like me?”

Scott glanced at Martyn with his eyebrows raised. “I can leave if you really want your alone time.”

“I’m not saying that! I just–,” Martyn raised his shoulders and looked at Scott with wide eyes as he frantically shook his head. Was the sun getting hotter, or was that just him? Martyn felt like he was on fire. His words stumbled out of his mouth faster than he thought of them. “I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

Scott let out a snort as he moved his head away from Martyn’s shoulder, laughing as he covered his mouth. His laugh was infectious. “Of course I am.” He pulled his leg up, crossing his arms to lay them on top of his knee as he tipped his head to the side, giving Martyn a warm smile. “I like being with you.”

The two shared a serene, quiet silence as they looked at each other. Martyn subconsciously placed a hand on Scott’s cheek and rubbed it, feeling his soft skin with a rugged thumb. Scott put his hand on top of Martyn’s and hummed, closing his eyes and smiling with delight.

“Are you going to say something,” Scott cracked one of his eyes open, staring at Martyn with a wry smile, “or are you just going to keep messing with my face?”

Martyn looked away, his face turning red with embarrassment as he started to withdraw his hand. Scott giggled and shook his head, clutching Martyn’s hand tighter. “I don’t mind it, really,” he leaned his cheek against Martyn’s palm with a dreamy sigh. “It’s nice that you’re still here.”

Scott’s words lingered in Martyn’s head as he absentmindedly hummed, breathing in the salty air coming in from the port as Scott’s presence filled him with warmth. It was a perfect moment, staring out into the sea with Scott, enjoying the lazy day ahead of him. What was there to worry about?

Martyn closed his eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the passive sounds of villagers passing by, the wind that blew against him, the roll of thunder–

Roll of thunder?

Martyn forced his eyes open as the once sunny skies overhead were shrouded with darkened clouds.

They had to get inside.

“Scott, get up,” Martyn nudged Scott awake as he stared up at the sky. “It’ll rain soon.”

“But I just got comfortable…,” Scott whined. But then he sighed. He followed Martyn’s gaze and stood up, motioning to the buildings nearby. “Let’s go.”

Martyn held out his hand to Scott, the other taking it as they walked through the port town together. Scott shouldn’t get caught in the rain, otherwise the monsters might get to him. That’s what the legends said, right? At least, that’s what he remembered….

That must never happen.

Martyn removed his black coat and handed it to Scott as protection from the rain that was due to fall at any moment. Scott looked at Martyn and smiled softly, putting it over his head as they made their way towards the tavern.

Except, the more they kept walking the more the world shifted around them.

The clouds above them grew darker and heavier as flashes of lightning struck the sky, buildings became misshapen and abandoned, and lights from lantern posts flickered out with the sound of haunting winds. All sounds of life disappeared, gone with the warm sun as a chill ran up Martyn’s spine.

No. No no no. Martyn panicked, whipping his head around. This isn’t right- we’re not supposed to be here!

“What’s happening…?” Scott looked up at Martyn with wide eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not sure,” Martyn shook his head. They needed to get out of here. Where would be the safest place to go? They had to go somewhere. “Stay with me. We’ll find a way out.”

Scott nodded, looking around the misty isle as Martyn pushed forward. This wasn’t right. They were just at Crowned Isles- near the Golden Apple. They weren’t on Crescent Bay. Crescent Bay was cold, creepy, and nowhere near as inviting as the Crowned Isles.

Scott shouldn’t be here.

“Have you been here before?” Scott whispered, leaning closer to Martyn’s arm as they continued to walk through the desolate streets.

“I have,” Martyn sighed. Everything was quiet. Martyn should feel some reassurance with Scott there, but if he were honest, it made the pit in his stomach worse. They needed to get out of here. Scott needed to be out of here. “Let’s keep going–”

“Maaaartyn,” The two froze. Pearl. Her tone was sadistically playful, accompanied by a hideous steady scratching sound. Martyn could imagine the gleeful smile on her face as her sickles ran against the wooden walls of a building. “I know you’re here. Come on out!”

“Who is she–”

Martyn made a shushing motion as he shook his head. “A lot to explain, very little time,” he forced a grin as his grip on Scott tightened, “we have to go.” And they began to run.

Just keep moving, Martyn told himself. There should be somewhere to hide away from–

THUD.

Pearl landed right in front of them, the ground shook as she collided with the earth. She slowly stood up and gripped the sickles at the sides of her belt as she breathed in the air. She loomed over them, her eyes glowing from the darkness of her face, illuminating her wicked grin and odd scar.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pearl hissed. “You or your pretty little friend.”

Martyn pulled Scott’s hand.

“RUN!” Martyn screamed.

The two of them ran in the opposite direction, Pearl’s haunting laugh echoed off of the dusty old buildings as mist swirled on the streets. Martyn kept running, glancing at Scott every so often to make sure he was still there. Martyn gripped Scott’s hand tighter. There was no way he was losing him. Not now. Not ever.

Martyn wasn’t sure how long they spent running.

Everything around them shifted again, buildings turned to tall trees as they passed by large boulders and bushes. Any presence of a town was gone as the whole area turned into a huge forest. Martyn looked up. He could barely see any sky beyond the canopy. The trees were big and eclipsed the area with their shadows.

Martyn and Scott kept running, into the mist, into the darkness, finding somewhere safe.

“Over there!” Scott pointed to his side, some hope in his eyes. “A cave!”

Nestled in a large rock formation and covered by foliage, was a cave. It looked hidden, and probably their best chance in escaping Pearl. Martyn couldn’t hear her anymore, but he couldn’t risk being out in the open. It was best to stay hidden.

Martyn nodded as he looked at Scott, running inside and collapsing on the stony ground as soon as they arrived. Martyn’s heartbeat was loud and fast, his breath barely keeping up with it as he tried to calm it down. He composed himself, sitting up and leaning against the cave wall as he saw Scott put a hand on his chest, likely regulating his own breathing too.

“Are you alright?”

Scott blinked. “I’m… I’m fine,” he shook his head. “Are you okay?”

“I feel my legs are about to collapse on me,” Martyn sighed, pulling his legs up and pressing his head in his hands. There was a sore pain in his legs that he could feel burning all the way up his calves. His hands were sweaty, and likely the rest of his body was as well. That didn’t matter to him. Scott was fine. “But you’re alright. That’s all that matters to me.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows and leaned on the opposite side of the cave wall. It had an odd glow behind him, probably something weird underneath. “You have to care about yourself too, Martyn.”

“You’re more important than I am.”

“No I’m not,” Scott crossed his arms. The two sat in relative silence, their once adrenaline fueled state leaving the longer they remained quiet. But Scott spoke up, his voice a whisper. “Focus on yourself first, alright?” he looked at Martyn with concern all over his face. “Breathe.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Here they were, on an island with a mad witch that would probably hunt them down for the fun of it, in a woods neither could likely navigate, but they were here. They were breathing. Sharing some peace and quiet. Martyn closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the buzzing in his head. Maybe some rest would do him good. After all that running, he’d need that time to recover from everything. Together. They were together.

But the moment he cracked one of his eyes open, his skin paled.

Those eyes.

…The sea prince.

The once golden light of the room had switched to a faint blue light that haloed Scott and covered the rest of the cave in shadows. Martyn couldn’t hear its heartbeat, couldn’t feel its breath waft over the room. But he could see the sea prince’s massive glowing eyes… less than a stone toss away.

And Scott didn’t even know it was behind him.

“Scott….” Martyn kept his eyes glued on the beast. Its head tilted as it looked at Martyn with cynical, eager hunger.

“Is something wrong?” Scott tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. He still hasn’t noticed it–

“Scott, it’s behind you!”

“What’s behind–”

The last thing Martyn saw was the sea prince opening its yawning maw as Scott turned his head around.

—————

“SCOTT!”

Martyn’s eyes shot open with his scream. He could hear his own ragged breathing escape him as his vision began to focus. clear. He attempted to move, but he felt the bite of ropes tied around him, restraining him from doing anything.

Wait. Ropes?

“Where… am I…?” Martyn muttered to himself as he looked around the room. He wasn’t in that cave. Scott wasn’t with him. He should be far from Martyn and the rest of the Canaries, safely far away from Crescent Bay. Martyn blinked, shaking his head as he tried to recall how he might have ended up here.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the room, helped slightly with the faint glow from the moon streaming in from the broken window behind him.

There was a small sitting area with an empty fireplace in front of him with a long, dusty red couch and a table with several big shells littered across it. He could see a cased opening to his right, the doorless doorway allowing him a glimpse of another room, but it was so cloaked in shadow that he could barely see anything recognizable through the darkness. Martyn craned his neck to see a bookshelf behind him, spiderwebs strung across it and the rest of the room. And when he looked up, he could see wooden beams, some chipped and with visible cuts on them. Martyn attempted to move, but the rope still had him bound, his hands tied behind the chair’s back and his legs tied together.

At least he knew now that he was tied to a chair. An uncomfortable one.

Whoever was living here must not enjoy cleaning very much. It was cold. It was very dusty. The place was very old.

Martyn sneezed, his nose irritated from all the surrounding dust. Whoever wanted me here must not think very highly of me.

Then again, considering the attitude he'd gotten when he'd managed to garner Pearl's interest, he had an inkling of who had caught him.

What was he even doing?

His memories were still a bit hazy, but Martyn could mostly remember walking into the forest. He snuck by Pearl, and that other person, then found an odd cave. An odd, gigantic cave with an equally as gigantic pool of water that should definitely not be there. And the water definitely hadn’t been normal. Something weird was going on in that pool.

Did it have anything to do with that sea prince?

…Maybe that was why it had been in his nightmare.

Martyn snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a creaking noise from above.

Someone was here.

He looked up the wooden beams to see a pair of eyes staring back at him. Those familiar, blue-green eyes poked out of the darkness as it looked at him with manic glee. Pearl. Why was he not surprised?

“Ah,” Pearl spoke in a teasing tone, barely hiding the excitement in her voice. “It seems like the little bird is finally up from his beauty rest!”

Pearl jumped down from the wooden beam with a soft thud and stood, the light of the red moon illuminating her front in all of her haunting glory as she approached him. The first thing Martyn noticed was the dried red patches on Pearl’s sickles as it glinted in the moonlight. He looked up at her, her smug grin and relaxed pose was all too familiar with him.

It was different this time, however, with the dry blood on her weapons.

No, he had to stay focused.

“Where am I?” Martyn glared at Pearl, gritting his teeth. “What do you want from me?”

Pearl shook her head. “I’m not going to entertain your questions,” she leaned down and moved her face near Martyn’s as she raised her eyebrows. “But you will answer mine.”

“What makes you think I’ll answer you?”

“Hm,” Pearl moved her head back. She unsheathed one of her sickles and pointed it at Martyn, “I tossed around your little friends earlier. I could always go back and finish the job.”

The blood on her sickles. That couldn’t be…! She hadn’t killed… one of the Canaries, had she? Her wording– she didn’t sound like she killed anyone, but there was blood on her sickles. Red blood could even hide itself in her red cape and hood. Her domineering stance, her readiness to strike Martyn down…. She could kill if she wanted to, couldn’t she? She had killed before…, hadn’t she?

That must have been the price to pay for bargaining with the sea princes. Powers beyond any comprehension… for her humanity, for human lives.

At least when Martyn killed, it was the beasts that threatened human lives. Not other humans.

“It’d be a shame, though,” Pearl shrugged, tilting her head as she spun the sickle around. “Using these blades isn't nearly as fun as tearing your ship apart.”

Martyn struggled, hoping to break through these ropes, to feel for something– anything to get him out of here. He couldn’t allow Pearl to slaughter his friends. He didn’t want more dead friends to mourn. Two were already too much. Pearl’s eyebrows raised as she noticed Martyn’s struggles and shook her head, sighing in amusement as she watched him.

“Don’t even try to wriggle out,” Pearl smirked as she sheathed her sickle back to its holder. “The ropes are too tight to loosen, and it isn’t like I’m stupid enough to leave anything sharp nearby.”

Other than those sickles, Martyn thought bitterly.

“So, are you going to behave, or should I pay your birdie friends another visit?”

Martyn looked at the ground, eyes narrowed. If he had no chance of escape now, he just had to wait until Pearl left to do something. Maybe entertaining her could give the others a chance to find him. Gods, he felt like a damsel in distress. The others better get him out of here. Martyn sighed, resigned, and glared up at Pearl. “What do you want?”

“I want to entertain myself a bit with a little songbird,” Pearl crossed her arms, leaning against the couch behind her. “Keeping you in this cage means you can leave my friend alone.”

Friends? She had friends? Or, one at least….

Martyn had never heard of Pearl until he arrived on this island with his friends and those Kites, who was she friends with? Martyn tried to recall any incidents where he was being rude or insulting others, but- the islanders all hated her, he'd thought. They were scared of her, not friends. What was she talking about?

Martyn raised an eyebrow. “Why would I want to do anything to your friend?”

“You already have,” Pearl’s expression soured as she glared daggers at Martyn, a low, inhuman growl escaping her throat. “Making him feel for you, feelings of attraction, of care,” she shook her head and sneered at him, “for some human like you.”

Martyn blinked. Pearl wanted to keep him trapped here because… her friend had a crush on him? What was the problem with that?

It sounded incredibly petty– it was incredibly petty.

“Well, I don’t know your friend, but if he’s in love with me, that’s his business, not yours,” Martyn shook his head. Did he really need to tell her that? That should be obvious. “We’re human, not beasts! We catch feelings sometimes. You can’t control how he feels about others.”

Silence.

Pearl’s expression was unreadable. Her eyes widened and tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand what he was saying. It looked like rage slowly boiled over her as her hands balled up into fists, tightening as the ground faintly shook around them with a rumble.

Finally, Pearl let out a sigh and shook her head, releasing her hands. “...Right,” her eyes narrowed, her voice a low hiss, “because only us humans ever feel anything.”

Martyn did not know how to respond.

What was he supposed to say? She was human. Sure, she was a horrible monster that threatened to kill people and likely had killed people for making her deal with a sea prince, but she was human all the same. She had feelings, just as everyone else did and so did her friend, whoever he was. What else could feel the way they do?

The two stared at each other, unsure of when the other would look away. It felt like agony as Martyn counted the seconds that passed by. He hoped for something. A rustle in the wind, something tapping the window, the door knocking–

He froze as soon as he heard a distant knock on a distant door.

All of Pearl’s anger quickly subsided as she perked up. “Ah, looks like my friend is here,” she smiled, stretching her arms as she began to walk away from Martyn. “I’m sure you can handle being alone for a little while, won’t you?”

“Where are you going?!”

“A short walk. A breath of fresh air, if you would,” Pearl shrugged. She held the wooden frame of the cased opening as she glanced at Martyn with a smug look on her face, “So be a good little canary and stay quiet for me until I get back, okay?”

Martyn tried to utter a response, but Pearl had already walked out. He could hear her footsteps on the creaky old floors until it became distant. He shut his eyes as he cringed at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut, leaving Martyn alone in this dusty old house.

Martyn struggled against the ropes again. There had to be a way out somewhere, right? If this place– a cabin, likely– was abandoned for so long, maybe the chair was so old that he could wiggle some pieces of it loose. Or he could try to break the rope by force. Or, and likely the more realistic option, he could wait until the others found him. They must be worried sick. He knew he would be too if one of his friends just vanished one night.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone outside. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in bed despite not being able to sleep. Maybe he should stop thinking about that sea prince. More and more thoughts filled his head and his gut twisted in guilt.

I hope the others are okay….

Martyn looked up at the wooden beams and grit his teeth. He looked down at the ground.

And he shouted in frustration.

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

Note

some fic titles (some are song lyrics hopefully they still count)

waiting to meet you in heaven

a prophets masquerade

11 pm swing sets and seesaws

dear doppelgänger

to see the world again

enlightened windows to the mind

all eyes are on you (i’m sorry)

Song lyric fic titles are a long, time-honored fanfic tradition. Including for hypothetical fic concepts that only exist in tumblr asks XD

waiting to meet you in heaven - Third Life, the in-between Jimmy dying in the desert and Scott’s epilogue, from Jimmy’s pov. The process of building up the flower valley and just. Waiting for people to die. If we want it extra angsty he can also watch the ongoing games that are still happening.

a prophets masquerade - Empires S1, Pixlriffs the Copper King in his self-imposed exile after the death of the dragon. Featuring lots of nightmares and guilt and depression on his part. And eventually returning to Pixandria…only to leave once again when the pretense seems too much to keep up.

11 pm swingsets and seesaws - Life Urban Fantasy AU, probably in the same universe as either Gone Fishing or Adventures in Grian-Napping. Someone gets to have a serious late night conversation on an abandoned playground…hmmm. Feeling The Roommates for this. Etho and Cleo with Grian running around in the background.

dear doppelgänger - Marriage of State AU Sausage meets Canon Empires S1 Sausage in the multiverse. Shenanigans Ensue!

to see the world again - season 9 is complete (Decked Out 2 is complete) and Tango Emerges From the Hole. He is free of the dungeon and like, half a dozen people are all lined up waiting for their turn to take him on a vacation. Includes but not limited to; Team ZITS, Ranchers, Mrs Tango, Scar, and the rest of the Deepfrost Court

enlightened windows to the mind - Watcher!Grian and all his eyes. (Thats a lot of eyes)

all eyes are on you (i’m sorry) - atla au, Grian and Jimmy, a brief moment of melancholy in the middle of all the chaos and comedy. (Jimmy is the avatar and that comes with…a lot of things)

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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Can you guys recommend me Evil X centric fics? And provide a summary and major spoiler to convince me to read them? I listed the ones below that I discovered/read so far, so you don't need to recommend them again. It also functions as me recommending stuff to EX enjoyers :D

Asking for Nothing by mayflowers fr "i can be the one you call" series (Evil X redemption saga after traumatizing Keralis w/ Zed's help; you need to read everything for context since it has diff events and has continuity) ✨

Anthophobia by residentevilxisuma (Evil X has platonic Hanahaki disease) ✨

Make Me Hurt, Make Me Bleed by residentevilxisuma (Reaper Evil X got tortured by Mumbo but doesn't have physical scars due to his regeneration, but it's been hiatus/discontinued since 2021 😭) ✨

residentevilxisuma's Reaper AU by residentevilxisuma (collection of Evil X reaper au)

Another Chance by Ronin_Resistance fr "Void Medic EX" series (Evil X is in charge of respawn while in the void)

Homesick by Inquillitory (Evil X redemption arc after being indirectly responsible for s8's doom)

Can't Even Hear My Own Sobs by GoodTimeWithCip (EX has meltdown after being ripped fr the void)

Here is Home by Shrug (Icynightsky) (not centric but major role; Evil X rescues Impulse fr the void who was banned due to Imposter Syndrome)

The betrayal of brothers doesn't mean the betrayal of others. by JustAnotherMutantKid (Evil X was banned by Xisuma for not doing what he wants but got help by Team ZIT + Wels)

The Road to Hell (Is Paved with Good Intentions) by Random_Reviewer (not centric but antagonist; Evil X tortures Etho and streamed it for the Hermits to see)

this is about a stuffed bird by Bee_4 (downloaded it but didn't have the motivation to read since MCD)

The Hermits And The Mystery of How Evil X Eats by thatgirlfromasgard (not centric; like the title suggests)

it takes two to play (the game of mutual secrecy) by kiwinatorwaffles fr "the hermitcraft hero au (VDHAU)" series (Evil X vigilante due to admiration of a hero, not knowing it was his older brother Xisuma, and those two were just oblivious to each other's identity when all their friends already figured it out a long time ago) ✨

Late Night Visits by Lackyducks (not centric but major role; Evil X sends a stressed Xisuma to Scar since he can't shapeshift back)

Family Revelation series by PickleGirl23 (Exil X found and adopted Grian as his son; didn't continue the series tho since they crossover w/ DSMP)

Iron Bleeds Green by MawoftheMagnetar (not centric but major role; X and EX were formerly the same person but separated due to a tech fr their home planet, and an individual fr there was hunting both of them down)

Cat Among Pigeons by qvill (Evil X was spit out by the Rift after being void banned, shapeshifts into a cat so no one will know it's him)

Love Me Like I'm Dead by Dani_ofCrows (ongoing; major role; X and EX were secretly some kind of creature but X keeps it a secret fr the Hermits until this was forced to be discovered, Hermits shortly realized that both siblings have Hanahaki disease)

I'll Take You By The Hand by ScarletHalo (Evil X was captured by the Watchers but Grian helped w/ his injuries until Xisuma comes to theit rescue)

Words Are Hard by BDbSafe4U (BlueDblue62) (depressed Evil X can't communicate how much he was hurting to X until he tried to off himself in Decked Out)

voidfishing, the new sport that nobody regretted partaking in (eventually, anyway) by kiwinatorwaffles (major role; Xisuma fishes out kid Evil X out of the void)

Well well, look who's inside again by rorythewriter (ongoing; Evil X is freed fr the void but has amnesia and is suicidal due to the pain fr sensory deprivation/overload, EX and Zed friendship for the win)

Cold and broken and hurt (Warm and healed and protected) by Moonflowers24 (EX disappeared in s8 and was stuck in the void until s10, assumed X hated him since he banned him to the void again and never responded to their texts)

A Nether Return by Sharo (EX glitch spawned in the 1.16 Nether after being banned, got sick but was taken care of by team ZIT and Zed got pissed after discovering X banned EX)

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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Grian's Unfortunate Moment.

Desert Duo Drabble Prompt: "A full-on panic attack." TW: panic attacks

Grian's day could have been better. He'd been struggling with a build, the texturing stressing him out as he desperately tried to make a pallet that would work. He used all the resources and tried his best... But nothing worked for him. He didn't know how long it took him to go from bad to worse. Time felt stretched out and going too fast for him, almost making him dizzy.

The dirty blonde could barely hear the sound of rockets firing nearby as he panicked. He looked at the blocks as he trembled. Hearing the blood and heavy breathing in his ears more than anything else around him. He thought it was silly to worry about, trying to urge himself to calm down. But his thoughts only made the situation worse.

The sudden touch to his shoulder made him flinch, and he looked back to the other with such a panic that he almost didn't register it was Scar trying to calm him down. He tried to listen to the other's instructions, but it was difficult initially, and the struggle to do so felt overwhelming.

"G? Breathe, just focus on me and my breathing," he ushered, trying to make overexaggerated breaths for the other to follow. Scar did cough once or twice, but it only helped Grian calm down a little more from laughing despite the panic still fresh in his mind. Scar had a skill that brought a smile from the smaller in more peculiar situations.

Once he'd calmed down, Scar was still sitting next to him, breathing with him and waiting for the other to speak. He wanted to comfort and not leave him alone the moment he'd taken the time to breathe correctly again. Grian felt thankful, but it was also as though he was taking up too much time for Scar.

"Thanks for helping. I wasn't expecting such a violent response from my body," he laughed dryly, glancing briefly at Scar before returning to the mess of a gradient he'd been trying to make. "G, don't worry, it's easy to get stru- sa- stressed," he finished awkwardly, forgetting the word for a moment.

He nodded, glancing at the other, wondering whether he should ask for help or try to give himself a moment longer to ignore his problems. Scar didn't seem to have a plan in mind, regardless. He stood up and turned to the other, who quickly followed suit.

"Want to go mess with Joel?" He asked absent-mindedly, knowing the other was currently online. Scar only gave him a light grin. "What are we waiting for?" He asked, watching the other with the vex-like eyes. Grian strained a grin, turning to the other's base.

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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Updated!

Mr. Etho is back

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hermitcraft-fanfic-reservoir · 7 months ago

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Tell Me So I Say | Read on Ao3

—☾—

The landscape has shifted again.

False doesn’t remember what it was before, lines of white and smears of purple and blue already fading from memory. The harder she tries to hold on, the faster it slips away. Her fist doesn’t listen when she tells it to let go.

Today’s terrain feels as though it’s determined to swallow False whole.

The sky hangs high above False’s head, framed by the lip of the enormous chasm she’s trapped within. Smooth, dark walls make up each side and reach far enough down to hit the bedrock layer and the shallow pool of stagnant water that covers it.

To one side is a city of oranges and whites, neatly contained upon platforms of stone built over the water, separated by the canals that run between each one. To the other is a cylindrical tower that reaches as far upwards as False can see, flanked by covered roads that continue through the semicircle of smaller towers that flank the horizon.

False stands upon a walkway suspended between the tower and the city, gripping the glass handrail hard enough to turn her knuckles white. An uneasiness she can’t name settles along the bottom of her gut; heavy. All is silent save for her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

It’s eerie. Something tingles at the back of False’s neck. She aches for her elytra; some grasping sense of control; anything. Her back remains bare of her wings, as it has for longer than she can recount. For all her time spent here, flying has never worked in False’s dreams.

Initially, she didn’t realize she was dreaming. The real world and her own brain are both confusing enough—who can blame False for the mix-up? A landscape that refuses to remain unchanged; pulsating; restless; hungry. Home is murky liquid slipping through False’s fingers, and her mind is left scrambling for the image it left behind. She can’t wake up—she’s tried, over and over again. No matter what she does, she remains stubbornly asleep.

Being trapped within your own subconscious is a terribly fickle thing.

False walks. What else is there to do? She follows crossing paths down to the city, rows of office buildings and apartment complexes, neon signs advertising non-existent businesses and, inexplicably, a mayoral candidate, to empty streets. Perfectly manicured hedges sit within rectangular planters that line the sidewalks. Every interior behind the white-stained windows False glances into is bare.

False walks until the footpaths become wider roads and the roads lead into the central tower. Looking up at it from the city hadn’t done the tower’s sheer scale justice; False has been shrouded in its long shadow for what feels like forever—time is a logical artifact of the real world; it has no place here—and the sun is entirely invisible behind the tower’s looming silhouette. She steps inside.

If the outside had made False feel small, she feels positively miniscule within it. Sunlight pours through the topmost dome and each of the tall windows that run down the sides of the tower, catching against the glass of each of the higher levels’ balcony railings before hitting the mirrored floor beneath False’s feet; the effect is dizzying. Four different wings, accented by harsh blue lights and soundless water features branch off from the main room. Something about it puts False on edge.

False casts her gaze sharply downwards, a shield against the kaleidoscope above her, an old habit that still clings, and mistakenly catches a glimpse of herself at her feet before flinching away. She doesn’t recognize the stranger in her reflection with features so similar to her own.

Suddenly desperate to be away from the mirror, False strides into the wing closest to her—a pair of elevators. The thought of being confined within such a tiny space sets panic prickling at her palms. The promise of the higher vantage point found on the upper levels leads False to finding a set of emergency stairs and climbing them until the back of her shirt collar is damp and her breaths wheeze from her lungs.

The highest level of the tower is a circular hallway, with doors spaced evenly around the glass-floored center of the room directly beneath the domed roof. Storage rooms filled with strange mechanical parts and offices with desks piled high with mostly indecipherable paperwork blur together as False riles through them. The windows whose ledges she climbs to see through them overlook views of unmoving robots upon bright cyan land; blank hexagonal plates laid out over a calm blue sea. Where is she?

The last of the doors, the one furthest away from the elevators and stairs, is locked. Its mechanism appears to be a surprisingly simple key lock, not at all what False would’ve expected amidst such a space. Curiosity and dread gnaw at her core in equal amounts. She makes quick work of picking the lock open.

The light of the hallway pours into the pitch-black space. False feels for a light switch along the wall; when she flicks it, hanging lights flare to life one by one along the center of the ceiling, casting the room in a cold white. The onslaught of a headache casts its accusing finger behind False’s eyes.

Half-filled shelves line the walls and metal pipes run along the ceiling above them. Empty racks on wheels lay abandoned on the floor in front of a long, stark-white counter. In the back corner is a tube-like chamber, large enough for False to stand in, the last remnants of its glass walls clinging to its copper frame in wicked shards. Leaves of crumpled and torn paper litter every surface of the room. A clock ticks on the far wall.

False doesn’t know what to make of it all. The answer feels so close. Acrid foreboding curdles in her stomach.

She bites her tongue in frustration and approaches a corner of the counter, upon which an askew clipboard rests. With unsteady hands, False picks it up and squints at the shred of paper still caught beneath its clip.

The words are unintelligible, a hasty scrawl written with a heavy hand, but the sliver of blonde hair and pale skin surrounding too-bright blue eyes is unmistakable. False’s face, for once her own, stares back at her.

She drops the clipboard and runs. All but stumbling back down the stairs, she skids across the mirrored floor and sprints blindly for the nearest exit. The clock’s ticking rings in her ears.

False flees back to the hollow city and drops into a crouch in the middle of the road. It’s not familiar yet, but she’ll become acquainted enough with the landscape until it morphs into its next iteration, and then her memory will melt away with it and she won’t have to think about all of this anymore. She’ll sit right here while she waits, away from the tower and its mirrors and its unsettling rooms. It’s not real. It’s not real.

The ticking finds her even down here, echoing through the barren streets, maddingly loud against the silence. False ignores it until she can’t take it anymore. The sound of her boots hitting pavement as she wanders another lap around the city is a blessed respite. By her third loop around the block, something green and impossibly animated on the corner catches False’s eye.

An explosion of foliage blooms in the alleyway between the buildings at the edge of the intersection. Long, curving vines climb the orange and white buildings on either side of the alley. Colorful flowers tucked between lush leaves sway in a breeze False can’t feel, collected around a dirt path that leads up to a silver metal gate, left invitingly ajar.

It’s a trick. It has to be, right? The garden is just something her brain’s thought up and put in place to torture False with some new, fresh horror. It’s not real.

Despite every instinct screaming at her to run, False tentatively takes a step towards it. What’s there to lose at this point, right?

When nothing leaps out of the bushes and attacks her, she inches forwards again. With every step closer, the stillness of the city falls away. The ambrosial freshness of foliage fills False’s senses, and she swears she can hear birdsong. Even False herself changes; when her feet touch the dirt, feeling floods her limbs, connecting them to her body in a way False hadn’t even realized she’d missed. Her vision glows sharper, the world more vivid. The ticking of invisible clocks falls away entirely.

False touches a single hand to the gate. The world goes dark as she’s pulled through.

—☾—

Warmth. The first thing False notices is warmth, beaming down upon her and pooling in the places her skin meets itself. Blinking open bleary eyes, False squints against the sudden, harsh light, and quickly shuts them again. Everything aches.

Awareness comes back to her all at once, and False registers that she’s sprawled on hard ground. Her eyes flare open—ow, right into the sun, that’s what the warmth is—and she almost falls scrambling to her feet, so False settles on sitting upright, digging her fingers into the earth around her. When she brings her hands to her face to pass them over her cheeks, the dirt clings beneath her fingernails.

After giving herself a moment to come fully to, False slowly rises to her feet and takes in the space around her. The path she stands upon is dark dirt, accompanied by wooden steps where the land slopes upwards, continuing on beneath what looks to be a cave, its underbelly leaden with hanging vines and ripe glowberries.

False’s stomach, she realizes with a jolt of shock, grumbles at the thought of them. It’s been so long since she’s felt hungry. Maybe she could investigate the rest of her surroundings and come back to them—who knows what could lurk beyond the vines? She’s not even sure if she’s dreaming anymore.

The cave turns out to be more of an arch, and the other side of it is breathtaking, bursting with bright, undeniable life. Sepia-toned buildings stand proud between fields of wheat and patches of trees that all dance in the same wind that lifts the ends of False’s hair. Low stone walls line the path and contain the fluffy foliage present throughout. A cat perches upon one of the ridges, regarding False with vague interest. There are sunflowers everywhere, all facing towards where she had just come from.

It feels terribly, frighteningly safe. False never wants to leave. It’s not real. It can’t be.

Soft chatter floats through the air, its source a group of people in vibrant shades of green and yellow, laughing as they work near the edge of one of the fields. False freezes. Of all the things she’s had to deal with, people haven’t been one of them. Should she go to them? No, definitely not, right? But they could at least tell her where she is…

Her dilemma is interrupted by the soft crunching of dirt under foot. A playfully musical voice calls out, “You alright there?”

She’s intimidating. The broadness to her shoulders and solidness of her stance speaks to a strength that worries False. She’s beautiful. Golden feathered wings fan out on either side of her, the same color as the petals of the sunflowers that adorn her rich brown hair. Her green dress falls to her knees, and freckles dance across her bare skin. Sweat streaks dirt lines along her forehead as it drips. She feels real.

At False’s lack of response, the woman in green tilts her head. “You’re looking a little heat exhausted there, mate. Can I take you to the tavern for a drink and some rest?”

What does she do, what does she say? Social niceties have never been False’s strong suit, but they fail her completely now. “Um…”

The woman’s brow crinkles with concern. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No! No, I’m alright. Erm.” False wishes she had her elytra. Perhaps a pit conveniently beneath her feet to fall into. “…A drink sounds great, thanks,” she finishes lamely.

Looking unconvinced, the woman shrugs. “Right this way, then. Are you from around here?”

Does False lie? Admit that she’s completely at this woman’s mercy? She decides on, “Not from here, no. I’m a… traveler.”

“A traveler! Well, welcome to Gilded Helianthia, mate. I’m Pearl, and I don’t believe I caught your name?” Pearl starts forward in what False hopes is the direction of the tavern.

“False,” she supplies, falling into tentative step behind her. She’s never heard of Gilded Helianthia, certainly never Pearl. Pearl doesn’t seem particularly inclined to hurt False, at least.

“Nice to meet you, False!” Pearl’s voice is as warm as could be. “It’s nice to have visitors. Tourists tend to go for Mythland, y’know? I don’t blame them, it’s very pretty this time of year.”

“Mythland?” False echoes without meaning to, then winces.

Pearl gives her an odd look. “Mythland? Ruled by King Sausage? Has that whole blood sheep thing going on, but really quite lovely. You really aren’t from around here, are you?”

False gives a nervous laugh. Her head throbs.

Pearl waves a reassuring hand. “No worries at all; nothing wrong with being new! Mythland is a neighboring empire, and one of our allies. Sausage has had some… weird stuff going on lately, but he’s friendly.”

“Got it,” False says, if only to keep moving. Sweat prickles at the back of her neck. Discomfort itches at her gloved palms. Empire?

“Gosh, I’ve been rambling, haven’t I?” Pearl gives a slight shake of her shoulders and picks up her pace.

“No, it’s okay, I like explanations,” False says awkwardly. “Learning how things work… yeah.”

“You do strike me as the type,” Pearl says. “Are you at all interested in magic? Crystal Cliffs’ magic academy will be opening soon, open to all students!”

Magic? False isn’t so sure. “I like… making things. Machinery and such,” she says, hoping Pearl doesn’t take offense.

Pearl brightens. “I get that!” Leaning closer, conspiratorially, she says, “This empire’s rooted in magic, but between you and me, I’ve always preferred getting my hands dirty.”

“Your dress is an interesting choice for that,” False says, the words slipping out before she can stop them.

“I’ve got to look queenly in some regard!” Pearl laughs. “You ought to give The Grimlands a visit at some point. Inventor-types, the lot of them. You with your goggles would fit right in,” she says, her tone teasing but not insincere. False reaches up to touch her goggles. She’d forgotten she has them on.

The conversation flows uncomfortably well between them as they walk. Pearl notes the purpose of each structure as they pass them and in return False tells her a bit about the inventions that sit upon her workbench back in Cogsmeade, trying to ignore the pain in her chest when she speaks of it. In another life, Pearl would’ve been a good ally.

The trek to the tavern is a reasonable one. The tavern itself is a large, inviting building with a wooden sign out front that labels it The Golden Sunflower, its namesake planted by the handful around it. The scent of meat pies and warm pastries that wafts from it fiercely rekindles False’s appetite.

“And finally, that’s the…” Pearl falters, stopping in her tracks entirely. She glances at False, and for a split second, all familiarity falls from her face. False takes a step back.

Pearl opens her mouth as if to speak when her entire form flickers. Her beautiful wings smolder and the end of her dress charrs, scattering ash upon her now-bare feet. Her eyes glow bright; burning. False almost stumbles over her own feet in her hasty retreat, and hits a stone wall hard enough to force all the air from her lungs. The ticking starts anew.

“Pearl?” False hesitantly calls out. She feels like the floor’s disappeared beneath her when she’s only just started to find her footing.

White-hot eyes meet False’s own; it’s hard to hold them. She looks away.

“False. I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances,” Pearl says. Her accent is the same, shaping her words into something strong, but her voice almost seems to echo.

“Pearl?” False tries again. She’s not sure what else to say.

“We don’t have much time.” Pearl clasps her hands together. Bewildered, False stays silent. “Listen, False, you’re not as alone as you think you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That’s not comforting, if it’s supposed to be.” It’s a miracle False can hear anything through the damn clocks.

Pearl continues, “You’re stronger than you know.”

How could False be strong? These hands of hers wield a sword she doesn’t remember picking up; her mind is something to be escaped.

“And you’ll make it through, okay?” Something in Pearl’s fiery eyes shifts.

“Through what? Make it through what?” False thinks she may be pleading. The clocks’ relentless drum multiplies.

Pearl draws closer, stopping squarely in front of False. She regards False with a firm line of the mouth and soft set to her eyes. Raising her hands, she places two calloused fingers on each of False’s temples. False finds herself too shocked to move.

“It’s time for you to wake up,” Pearl says gently.

As the world fades into darkness, it changes, lightning-fast: Gilded Helianthia in flames, the sky above shrouded in storms. The rubble’s smoke reduces to wisps and the ruin disappears into the ground, reclaimed by the earth once more as soft green grass and tiny saplings grow tall in the blink of an eye. Right before it all goes black, the ash dissipates from Pearl’s form and the damage to her dress and wings is undone, and False swears the light around her head forms a halo.

—☾—

In her own bed, tucked away in a corner of Cogsmeade, False gasps awake. Morning sunlight pours through the window behind her, and the cat that's been asleep at False’s feet lifts its head and meows. The docked airship outside hums its mechanical tune as the iron farm contained within churns away. False’s headache is a dull throb. The faint scent of sunflowers lingers in the air.

Somewhere deep within the cavern of her empire, a lone clock ticks away.

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