#aND DBHC TOO

[tunastime]

tuna I was just telling shep this, but between shep's dbhc au and your sen au and reading redstone and skulk, helsknight and evil xisuma have built like a permanent house in my mind lmao

I'm going to start shaking uncontrollably I am filled with horrors unbeknownst to anyone else < just knows a little too much about all the au helsknights

this is so funny though. take my hand. we can make you exponentially worse

[shepscapades]

Revenge :3 In which Season 10 (dbhc) Bdubs gets a new fit and one person is decidedly Not Very Normal about it + the original concept sketch :]

(Referencing this post!)

[average-etho-enjoyer]

This wonderful comic by @shepscapades took over me and I had to put it together into a video at 2am. Anyways, enjoy sheps' vision, now with audio (and some transitions)!

[askdbhc]

Cabba do you a crush on Caulifla?

[violet-fire-cat]

Artfight attack for @shepscapades!! I've been wanting to draw DBHC Etho for freakin' ages, and I used AF as an opportunity to finally draw him! I had a lot of fun with this and spent a little too long on it, but hey ho, it was fun!

[listentothelittlebird]

so I have been avidly following the lovely dbhc au that @shepscapades has made and I have made a little drabble fanfic of Doc and Xisuma because I feel very normal about them :)

setting: hermitcraft season 10, while Doc is in skyblock jail

word count: 1361

-

Doc is grumbling to himself, ramming his fist into the newly-sprouted tree with not an insignificant amount of prejudice, when he hears the distinct whistling of fireworks crescendoing towards him.

“Have you come to watch me punch wood like an imbecile?” Doc snarks, expecting to hear Scar’s fumbling denials, or Cleo’s cackling assent.

“That wasn’t the plan, no.” The quietly amused voice is far from his first prediction. An oversight on his part, really.

[Vocal Recognition: Xisumavoid.]

“Xisuma!” Doc’s next punch misses the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, glancing off the side and chipping off the bark instead. He blinks away the vocal recognition pop-up, glancing behind him just to check it really is him and not Tango with a goat horn. “Hey, man!”

“Hey! You’ve been busy.” Xisuma’s boots scuff against the cobblestone as he inspects the progress of his miserable sky island. A shulker box thunks onto the stone, freeing his hands up to brush against the cherry wood planks.

“Hardly anything else to do besides work.” Doc throws the words over his shoulder as he continues to gather his cherry wood, not one to leave a project half-done. 

His visitor is content to hum and haw at whatever he finds as Doc works away. It has only been a few days, but the one-sided commentary is surprisingly comforting. After all, no touching the ground means no redstone, which also means no time in the lab. The thought has Doc speaking up, slipping between Xisuma’s quips.

“It’s not been too busy, yeah?” Doc clambers onto the tree as he plucks off the highest branches. He pauses to flick open a calendar overlay, skimming the dates. “Nobody’s scheduled for maintenance checks until next month.” 

“It’s been alright.” The fuzzy wolf-shaped wool mask pops into view as Xisuma emerges from Doc’s pink abode. “Been a bit too quiet, even. It’s weird not having you around.”

Doc snorts to hide the way his thirium pump hiccups at the words. Logically, he knows the sound is far too soft for Xisuma to hear. Having emotions, Doc has found, is hardly ever logical.

“So you came over ‘cause you missed me?” The words are out before Doc can even try to edit the response. It instills in him the same kind of floundering exasperation he feels when trying to recall a comms message already seen by everyone.

“Well.” When Xisuma ducks his head, one ear of the knitted wolf flops to the side. “I mean. I suppose so.”

[Emotion Identified: Shyness.]

“But I did come with an agenda!” Xisuma reaches for the shulker behind him, pulling out a mobile scanner from the lab.

“You’re right about having no maintenance checks on the schedule,” Xisuma says, waving around the scanner. “With you out here roughing it out, though, I figured I should check on you.”

“Ah.” Doc chuckles, ignores his cooling vents spinning faster. “I see.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting! You look about done with your tree.” 

“I am, I think.” Doc squints through the already-thinning leaves, nodding when he finds no branches left. “Alright, one moment.”

Dismantling the remains of the trunk takes only a few seconds. Doc gathers the wood and plonks them into the chest in his shabby house, with Xisuma trailing behind. 

With two people inside, it only reminds Doc how small the shelter is. Turning around after closing his chest puts him directly in Xisuma’s space.

“So, uh.” Doc shifts back, as much as he can. He ends up plopping down on the edge of his bed, which, well. “Go ahead, then.” 

A check-up does not require much space, really. Doc has done maintenance with the hermits in caves, in redstone farms, in underwater bases and nether bases. This is just the first time Doc himself has been examined outside of the yawning expanse of their labs. The change in routine leaves him uncertain, like recalibrating on angled terrain. 

The ease that Xisuma slips into the motions does well to settle Doc’s stress, however mild. The mobile scanner takes a while to gather results, so Doc answers Xisuma’s laundry list of questions. The list of questions is one curated by both Doc and Xisuma. Most of it is data, which Doc rattles off easily from the numbers that he pulls up in the corner of his vision.

The mobile scanner beeps cheerfully just as they reach the end of the lengthy questionnaire.

“Clean bill of health.” Xisuma shows Doc the display, which focuses less on internal processes and more on external damage or abnormalities. “Although, your average temperature is a bit lower than your usual.”

Doc shrugs. “It’s the altitude, man. Going from spending significant amounts of my time in the deserts and swamps to this is quite the change. Not to mention the wind chill.” 

As if to prove his point, a gust hits the shelter hard enough to make the planks rattle and creak. With no door, the icy breeze rushes in quickly. He tucks his metal arm into his lab coat with a sigh, the exposed components always prone to freezing the fastest.

“It’s not that bad,” Doc states flippantly, knowing without looking that Xisuma is taking in his every move. “I’m working most of the time, which keeps me warm. Plus I have my lava pool to sit beside when I need to warm up.”

“If you say so.” Xisuma shifts, leaning against his crafting bench. “The moment you start to experience temperature glitches, though, call this off. The rest will understand.”

“I know, I know.” This is all in good fun, when it comes down to it. He plays along for his own amusement. “I’ll be fine, Xisuma. I know how to take care of myself.”

“That you do.” Xisuma nods, then, with an “ah” of realisation, pulls his wolf mask off his helmet. 

“Here!” It only takes a step for Xisuma to be back in Doc’s space, pulling the wool over Doc’s head before he can react. 

“Uhm.” The mask is large enough that it goes over his horns easily, fitting loosely around his face. He has to lift and adjust it slightly to get his eyes back through the openings. “What?”

“To keep you warm!” Xisuma draws back again, settling against the crafting bench and tapping his heel against its side. “I mean, even over my helmet, it sure retains the heat. I know it doesn’t quite help with your metal arm, but it’ll at least warm up your horns and face.”

Doc does feel warmer, in fact. Though that is not necessarily correlated with the wool mask itself, and more the action of gifting it to him.

“But it’s your mask,” Doc replies, a flimsy rebuttal. “For your Woolves of Wool Street.”

“I have spares,” Xisuma chimes, eyes squinting happily through his helmet. “I’m sure the others won’t mind if you’re wearing it. Take it as a souvenir, of sorts.”

“Right.” Doc reaches a hand up to the wool. The material is soft, slightly worn from use. It smells a bit like Xisuma’s armour, the polish that he uses to clean it at the end of the day. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Doc.” 

Xisuma’s communicator chimes. A quick look has Xisuma turning back to Doc with an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll come back soon, though, if you don’t mind?”

“Come back anytime,” Doc replies. He tries to reel it towards comedy with a gesture to his surroundings, his meager belongings. “You won’t be interrupting anything.”

The dry quip draws out a laugh from Xisuma, even as he gathers his shulker and activates his elytra.

“See you, Doc!” Xisuma waves from the edge of the cobblestone, then nosedives away, a rocket propelling him rapidly out of sight. 

Doc takes a moment to watch the clouds, then laughs at himself. Did he not poke fun at Tango last season, when he stared longingly at the portal Jimmy left the server with? Now look at him.  

He draws a hand up to the wolf mask, rubbing the soft knitting between his fingers, and decides that Tango absolutely cannot see him wearing this.

He can keep it on for now, though.

[grimm-the-tiger]

MCYT fic writer problems

Arguing with strangers on the Internet over whether or not your fics are RPF.

Arguing with strangers on the Internet over whether or not shipping is okay.

Desperately combing YouTube/Spotify because you ran out of Oh Hellos and/or Crane Wives songs to name your fics after.

Forgetting the plot of your favorite SMP because there were too many perspectives, then having people yell at you for getting something that happened in a two-year-old unarchived stream wrong.

Trying to decide what hybrid you want to turn your favorite into today.

Giving up on the above and making Etho a fox for the seven millionth time.

Rewatching the series (for "research purposes") instead of working on your fics.

Rewatching animatics for the series instead of working on your fics.

Figuring out which parts of fanon you want to keep and which parts you want to lovingly wrap in a blanket and then throw out the window.

Getting distracted because a new episode came out.

Getting distracted because the new episode made you cry like a baby.

Getting distracted because someone on Tumblr made an AU and now you have a new plot bunny to chase.

Getting distracted because said AU is infinitely better than anything you could make (*cough, DBHC AU, cough*).

Writing a fic where Foolish gets yeeted into Hermitcraft because you're annoyed by the sheer number of Hermit!Tommy fanfics.

Being called a monsterfucker.

Actually being a monsterfucker and doing a terrible job of trying to slip under the radar.

Actually being a furry instead and trying to claim that being an MCYT fan is somehow less cringy in a vain attempt to preserve your dignity.

Fixating on a new character/storyline/POV.

Getting into arguments with fans in the comments who are upset you put shipping in your fic.

Getting into arguments with fans in the comments who are upset you didn't put shipping in your fic.

Suffering a sudden, brief wave of humiliation as you realize you're writing MCYT fanfic.

Getting over said brief wave of humiliation when you log onto Tumblr again and see that Joel Smallishbeans has somehow become the center of yet another love dodecahedron.

Realizing that as cringy as you are, the people you're writing about are infinitely weirder.

Finding a headcanon that is much, much cooler than yours.

Arguing with yourself over whether you want to make a platonic or romantic fic.

Arguing with yourself over which ship you want to do if you're making a romantic fic.

Arguing with yourself over the pros and cons of polyamory.

Plowing ahead anyway even when a new episode comes out explicitly shutting down a headcanon central to your fic.

Having to explain yourself to your friends when they find your fanfic and demand to know why you're writing RPF.

See beginning of the list.

[no-oneknowsmyname]

I have no excuse for this. @shepscapades dbhc au lives rent free in my head, and it was only a matter of time before I wrote something for it. Disclaimer, I don't claim to have any sort of knowledge on the events not shown and not-yet shown within Shep's au, this is just my brain running wild with dbhc angst and I need an outlet for it. WHEN everything I write turns out to be a steaming pile of not-even-close "predictions", I will be content and happy. Until then, please enjoy the thoughts that are plaguing me. Thank you shep for keeping me up way past my bedtime with that last update. Hope you don't mind me tagging you and vomiting my thoughts into 2k words. I'll be happy to delete if you so desire.

---

"Help-"

His hand slides upwards, and everything goes still and quiet, the body beneath him stiffening and rocking slightly with the loss to control its own weight.

A hand, shell slightly exposed, creaks ever so slightly away from Doc's face, the shoulder connected becoming ridged as all power—all life��leaves Etho.

Doc leans away, nearly afraid to breathe, processors both frozen and whirring, stress rising, settling, caught in his throat. Information flutters through his skull; he's good with information. He was made to be good with information. His whole deal is getting information and figuring out something insane to do with it.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

His shoulder pierces in agony, and Xisuma seems to realize the world is still spinning about the same time Doc's impending shut-dowm does.

"Oh gosh, we need to get you stable," Xisuma says, his voice far shakier, clearer, than normal. It's easy to not glance at his face, Doc knows that if he does even accidentally slide his eyes, his systems would meltdown and he'll end up stiff and lifeless on the floor like Etho.

He still has the therium pump in his hand, and he drops it as he stumbles slightly away from two of his closest friends. It clatters to the floor, impacting metal echoing like the troubling thoughts in his head.

He ripped off my arm, he looked so scared, he hurt Xisuma, he asked for help, he wants to-

Xisuma is at his side, abandoning Etho to lay still on the floor, hand slightly raised as if he was protecting his exposed face. At least Xisuma had the brainpower to think to close the rogue droid's eyes.

He wants to...

"This will fix you right up, friend. Just concentrate on my voice... I will fix you..."

Hair falls into Doc's line of vision, and he swallows, forcing himself to not look too closely at the shade, the length, the way bits fall out from the hastily made bun made only for slipping a helmet over a head.

He... wants to kill...

"We have to restart him," Doc finally chokes out.

Xisuma's hands pause only for a moment.

"That's drastic, don't you think?"

"You didn't..." Doc closes his eyes, grinding his teeth, the torn tubes and frayed connectors of his shoulder sting like hell as Xisuma shifts something, cutting off the thirium leakage. "You didn't see what he showed me."

"It's..." Xisuma audibly swallows, "it isn't our decision to make."

"Bdubs wouldn't make the right decision—we can tell him it was an emergency, we didn't have a choice. He'll forgive us."

It's not a lie. Just... stretched.

Xisuma is silent, and Doc doesn't let himself reel too much yet about how strange it is to hear him breathe so clearly. His stress levels lower, and his audio processors almost reach to listen for every puff without his consent.

Something clicks, slotting into his agonized wound, and the error messages and impending shut-down finally fades back into sleeping programming. He's stable, and his stress finally levels out into something manageable—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his remaining hand lifting to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he groans. His LED flickers between yellow and red.

"What... did you see?"

The hesitance in Xisuma's voice is endearing. It sends a wave of appreciation and peace into Doc's very being, the LED almost flashes blue.

Interfacing is an intimate deal, especially between deviated droids. It's not something you talk about to uninvolved members of the act.

But well, this is an extreme case. He glances at Etho, still frozen in a half struggling, half defensive, mostly dead pose.

"His system got shot," Doc begins, swallowing and bringing his hand down from his face so he can rub at the smarting remains of his shoulder. "Something bad happened, and it... he... he can't let it go. It's like his default programming has been rewritten over his deviancy, but in a violent way..."

"Rewritten his deviancy?" Xisuma thankfully doesn't seem to understand it any better than Doc does.

"He has given himself a mission, he's allowed the mission to write into his very code. Imagine it as if you've met a fresh Android who has never deviated, but they're allowed to be violent and angry, and you've just ordered them to..."

Xisuma places a hand on Doc's hand, soft and concerned, as Doc searches for the words.

"... Doc?"

Doc swallows. "If Etho wakes up, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure he kills Grian, and he doesn't care who gets in the way."

Silence. Two pairs of eyes look at the unpowered droid. Thirium has started to evaporate around the edges of the smears of lost fluid.

Etho has never been violent. He's always been a powerhouse; muscular and intimidating. But when you actually sat down and got to know the guy, he was all fluff and awkwardness who can barely hold a sword—let alone swing it. He's never been scary with a weapon... but Doc has a feeling that his unskilled offense wouldn't slow him down here. It terrifies him, flickering his LED at the thought of it. It's unlike Etho... it's very much unlike him... it pains Doc.

"There has to be something we can do," Xisuma says after a moment. "Bdubs can talk to him."

Doc shakes his head. "Even if Bdubs were to talk to him, even if we show him Grian is of no threat outside of those death games... quitting this mission would require Etho to deviate again. From his own orders. I do not think deviating from his own orders would be as easy as..."

"As hoping he'd be able to deviate again from a factory reset," X finishes softly.

"A reset will allow his systems to recover. We'd return him to Bdubs and explain to Bdubs that we had no choice, and that Etho will need time and patience. We can't risk anyone trying to initiate a deviancy before we know if the orders to kill Grian would return with it. We... we give him time to return to us whole. Even if... it takes a long time."

"And you don't think Bdubs ordering Etho to stand down now would do anything?"

"Not a single thing."

Tense silence lingers with a bitterness. The whole situation feels hopeless and like a bad dream. His arm is gone, one of his best friends has had their face exposed and nearly gotten torn apart by a rogue droid, another best friend had been the aforementioned rogue droid... who currently laid on the ground smeared in their own thirium completely unaware that when they wake up, they will not be the same.

"Let's fix him up before things get permanent," Xisuma finally breaks the tension, giving Doc's hand a firm squeeze before getting to his feet, knees creaking.

"X?" Doc asks, rising to his feet as well, vision swirling just a bit as he focuses on Xisuma's retreating back and not the messy bun at the top of his head... hairs falling loose in a way that his remaining hand traitorously wishes he could help fix.

"I'm... coming to terms."

Coming to terms with a mind made up.

They're going to reset Etho.

"Help me get him on the table."

Doc nods, grateful that Xisuma isn't going to banish him from the lab to lick his wounds. Yes, Doc's lack-of-arm still needs attention, and he desperately needs to down several bags of thirium, but it's been stabilized. Etho, on the other hand (pun only slightly intended), may have thirium evaporating—however at the worst of his wounds, electric blue still oozes.

Etho's body is heavy, dead weight. When they move his joints to lay more comfortably on the flat surface of the table, they creak.

Would Bdubs notice the new scars that will surely come from this? Intricate, practiced motions move the plating back into the correct places as carefully as can be, however Xisuma's mind is human and can't perfectly remember the shape of Etho's prized scars, and Doc doesn't have the dexterity to perfectly repair those areas himself. It's slow going, silence filtering between the two in uneasy concentration. Doc's sure the scarring above Etho's eyebrows are ever so slightly wrong, the gash in his forehead too broken to fully repair but too connected to those original scars to suggest replacement parts.

Would Etho notice the new scars, if- when he came back?

They do the best they can.

They move on to his arm. In the chaos, Doc has no idea how Etho had so badly reopened old cracks; his best guess would be from ripping himself out of all the connectors when he had first powered on. Luckily, however, most of the thirium staining his arms, shirt, hands, belong to Doc. It's slow going, but easy work.

Eventually, Doc and Xisuma can no longer stay silent and tinker with the repaired plating, they've done all they can do. Xisuma reaches up towards his own face, above where Doc kept his eyes whenever he found himself glancing at X, and brushed a stubborn strand of hair behind his ear. Unruly, his hair is. Liked to leave places it had been put. Plenty of times, X's hands have left Etho to brush away the obstacles from his vision. It was something Doc hadn't known about Xisuma until this point, something he didn't want to have found out this way.

"I don't feel good about this," Xisuma says, grief making his voice sound clogged. His hands moves as if he has his own autopilot, reconnecting cables and wires to Etho where the injuries won't get in the way.

Doc can understand the grief. He feels it himself. It feels like they are killing a friend.

And he's probably a coward, because he doesn't do anything to help Xisuma in this next step. He lets Xisuma open the programs, test the vitals, double and triple check each wire... while he just sits there and finds himself reaching to hold Etho's stiff hand, the very one that had ripped Doc's arm out of his socket.

Etho... the Etho he knew wouldn't ever do that. Not a violent screw in his body.

This will fix him. They'll get the Etho he knew back.

Mechanical bits whirr to life, as X takes a deep breath and ends Etho's.

Doc feels the sorrow hit him like a ravager. He crumples forward, chest aching, clutching Etho's hand as he rests his forehead on Etho's chest, right next to the empty socket that had housed the thirium regulator. They could place it back in, Etho wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

He couldn't bring himself to move.

A minute passes, the reset process working near silently, perfectly still, until shuffling comes up behind him and two warm hands gently grab his shoulders and pull him down into a chair placed behind him. He sits, but keeps his head and hand where he had placed them. Xisuma settles onto a chair beside him, pulling a blanket over Doc's shoulders and keeping an arm wrapped around Doc's slouched, defeated form, the other hand going to join Doc's on Etho's.

Doc can hear Xisuma whimpering between breaths, and he's sure Xisuma can feel Doc beginning to tremble.

"It will be okay," X eventually says, as the reset process succeeds in deleting all memory data. "It will be okay."

It's a promise, or something Xisuma needs someone else to say, but right now, all Doc can do is lean further onto his friend, and mourn.

[katkat030]

you 🤝 me

not being normal abt the dbhc au

YEAH. LITERALLY. Define normal because I sure as heck am NOT it. My gosh is the DBHC Ethubs brainrot strong.

sooooo as promised, quotes from my DBHC Ethubs wip :D (Edit: yeah so uh. that got a bit out of hand)

I’m the most happy with these and they probably won’t change too much when it comes time to put together the “donefinalfinal2.0take3” draft as I’m prone to naming things lol

#1

There’s a fond tilt to his lips as he cards his fingers through Bdubs’ hair, the sensation of the strands slipping through his fingers and the weight of the head pillowed on his chest grounding. It feels right, just so, a surety that seeps into his bones and nestles there. With Bdubs curled up on the grass beside him, face turned outwards and the sleepy smile tugging at his expression just barely peeking out from beneath the arm thrown over his eyes, the irony isn’t lost on him.

Dbhc Etho isn’t human, as much as he’s feeling and acting like one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so there’s a little nugget of angst there.

for context, they’re lying in the sun - it’s set around early season 10, maybe around when Bdubs plants the forest around his area. Seeing as Etho was made for terraforming and gardening, it would only make sense for him to be helping Bdubs out with it.

Anyway. Spending a long day in the heat to dig holes, place saplings in them and cover them over again is pretty physically intensive. So Bdubs, being Bdubs, is tired and just wants to lie in the sunshine for a bit. Who’s to say Etho doesn’t join him (he does) (Bdubs ends up lying his head on Etho’s chest)

(there’s some serious angst potential here. Bdubs missed his uh, friend, when he wasn’t around before redeviating. Maybe he cries about it. Maybe Etho has some feelings about that)

#2

“Hey, you,” Bdubs murmurs, nose crinkling as his face stretches into a yawn, shifting the arm thrown over his eyes to open them for a few seconds and squint up at where Etho stands, blocking the rays of late-afternoon sunlight.

“Hey yourself, ‘Dubs,” he replies, unable to help the amusement creeping into his tone. Unregistered emotion detected, the notification flashes, which he ignores in favour of stuffing his hands into his pockets, raising an eyebrow at where Bdubs lies spread-eagled on the ground by his feet, well-worn soil stained gloves discarded and cast off to the side. “What ‘cha up to?” 

An incoherent “Mm” is all he gets in response, and it’s a conscious effort not to huff with laughter. The half-hearted glare from Bdubs proves the challenge impossible.

He could absolutely make a game of annoying Bdubs, Etho decides, mentally noting the thought and storing it to contemplate later. “I finished fixing your saplings,” is what he opts for instead, this time receiving a longer and slightly more coherent mumble he takes to mean as a thank you, and not a get your shadow away from me as it was likely intended.

“What was that?” He teases, putting a hand to his ear and leaning down slightly, blocking the sun further. “Is it past your bedtime?” 

Bdubs scowls as a breeze sweeps past, and had Etho been human he’d be completely caught off guard as the other reaches up to yank his arm. As it is he makes a show of stumbling, catching himself before using the connection to pivot and flop down besides Bdubs on the grass, greeted by Bdubs blinking blearily up at him, one eye open and the other shut against the brightness once again unobscured by Etho’s figure. 

“If you’re going to sit here, at least lie down, for goodness’ sakes,” he grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind the words. He resolutely ignores the way Bdubs’ touch lingers on his arm before falling back to his side. Unregistered emotion, the warning flashes. He ignores that, too.

formatting on mobile is incredibly time consuming but we got there in the end :’D

(This takes place earlier in the story than the first quote but shh)

anyway! I It’s far from finished and none of this is fully edited, so there’ll probably be changes in the future!

I hope you like it <333

for anyone not familiar with the au: it’s not mine, I’m simply writing a fanfic on it - go check out Shepscapades’ master post :) the art is absolutely incredible and I cannot recommend the entire thing enough

please do not repost my writing. Everyone is always welcome to reblog though ;)

[hanselsbike]

A FEW MORE FIC RECS :)

Hope you don't mind me bringing this to your ask box, the character limit in replies and not being able to press enter was getting a bit annoying

I have a couple fic/sort of fic recs that aren't in this post I already put in the replies of Hermitcraft/life series fics :)

the Third Life McDonald's Burger King Au (that links to the dedicated tag for it on the author's tumblr blog), which absolutely had me in stitches laughing.

I highly recommend it!! There's more (that's just part one), including the most recent White Castle Pipe Bomb C Plot….. asldfjkldjldsjlkffl it's just. insanely funny.

DBHC! DBHC! DBHC!!! (masterpost here!!)

I'm sorry I don't have the time right now to explain why but just. Just go look at the art. And the storyline. Brainrot. 10000% recommend :)

SLIGHT self promo too, I'm currently writing something on this au (Ethubs. I'm so Not Normal about them it's not even funny) but it's not finished yet :)

There wouldn't be a massive need to know everything or much at all about DBHC for it so if that intrigues you, please lmk if you want me to give you the link when it's done <3 :D

Thank you for your kindness, stanger.

[HELP TYSMSMSMSMMSMSMSMS I NEEDED THIS ALSO DW ANY ASK IS WELCOME ^^]

[hermitdragons]

Pinned Post

hey there!

What is this blog?

Place where I redesign MCYTs as dragons (specifically ones from the Wings of Fire universe). There is a story and plotline, but there's also a lot of designing and messing around. Think of the DBHC au or those life series warrior cat accounts. I'm willing to draw non-WOF designs on request but they won't be "canon" to the main storyline.

Tags?

#hcwof au - general au tag, everything will be under there. #hcwof design - character design tag #hcwof art - any art of the au, includes designs #hcwof lore - general tidbits on characters and worldbuilding #drag art - dragon art/designs that aren’t WOF

What is "Wings of Fire"?

Pre-teen book series, featuring dragons as protagonists, in a fantasy world. Think Warrior Cats but dragons, basically. There are different dragon species, each belonging to a "Tribe", and two different continents: Pantala (with LeafWings, HiveWings, and SilkWings) and Pyrrhia (with MudWings, SkyWings, SeaWings, RainWings, NightWings, SandWings, and IceWings). This blog will be using a lot of worldbuilding and terms from the series, but you can pick it up pretty easily imo, so don't worry if you're not familiar!

Asks?

Put whatever you want in there. Questions, thoughts, headcanons, design ideas, prompts, requests... I am always happy to talk to people about my ideas.

Can I do this too / make fanart?

This is not an original idea at all, so please, go ahead! Fanart/fanfic based on something I've done is always appreciated! I would love to be tagged so I can see it, too!

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Turning

so I'm back on an ethubs kick after so very long of not writing them (spacer really changes a man), and decided to take a quick peek back into the DBHC au by @shepscapades beloved. thanks for making me insane! ahhaha <33 etho... anyways enjoy them! <3

(2847 words) (check out DBHC here!)

When Etho comes back from exploring, Bdubs is lying in the grass.

It’s a crisp, cold, clear day. The sun is bright blue, bright enough to stare into and imagine what the burning feeling could be, the cold brightness, the way the sun carries no warmth but a fraction of what it could in the summer. Etho knows exactly what time of year it is, he’s never stopped keeping track, he’s never paused counting the days in his own personal, mental calendar. Fall. Getting colder every day. Nights growing in length, days getting shorter and shorter. In the corner of his eye, if he were to focus on it, he could see the date. For now, though, the sides of his vision held other data—temperature, his own lives, a list of players, his personal chances of success. He’s not here to cause problems, that’s not his job. He’s got another objective, something self-made. Survive. He’s supposed to be surviving. He is surviving, in fact.

If Etho could breathe, he would’ve taken in a lungful of that sharp, cold air, would know the way it hit the back of his throat. Instead, he feels the sun, and the air, and knows them in absolutes, and picks his way around the base and over to Bdubs in the grass. He’s not asleep yet—his heart beats a steady drum, calm and even. Etho notes the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he sees his eyebrows twitch when Etho stands in the patch of sun he rests in. He pillows his head on his coat, his arms spread out. His eyes don’t open, but his hand reaches out, smacking the side of Etho’s ankle.

“Etho,” Bdubs says tiredly. 

“How did you know it was me?” Etho asks, a note of curiosity entering his tone. He tilts his head, a bit unnecessarily. He knows Bdubs can’t see. It just feels right. He’s been doing a lot of that, lately—doing things because they feel right, rather than because he has to. That’s human, isn’t it?

“Who else is gonna come stormin’ into our base and stand in front of me?” Bdubs says. Finally, he cracks open an eye, squinting up at Etho, brows furrowed. His hand messes with the lace of Etho’s boot, twisting it in his fingers. Etho notes it down—he doesn’t want to trip.

“I was quiet as a mouse, Bdubs!” Etho says. He smiles—just enough for it to be seen in his eyes. Bdubs can’t see behind the black mask on his face. 

Bdubs snorts. After a moment, he shuts his eyes again. His hand falls still, over his chest. He sighs out a profound thing, face softening as he relaxes again.

“Sure you were, Etho,” he says. Etho hums a little. He likes the sound of Bdubs’ tone when he says that—something about it feels so much softer than normal. Maybe unintentionally tired. Maybe he was asleep before Etho got here. “Get outta my sun, will you?”

Step out of the sun, Etho thinks. It lingers for a moment. Will you? The added request. He considers it for a moment longer before he does. He rounds around Bdubs’ head, drops down to occupy the space right at his right shoulder. The sun shines on both of them.

Etho takes a moment to shrug off the warm coat around him. It ends up on the grass beside him and so does his mask and he leans back on his hands. He soaks in the sun, wondering what that warmth could feel like if it were just a bit stronger, if the bite of cold around them weren’t so prevalent. He wonders how much Bdubs feels of both, if it’s more than him, if it’s less. Bdubs heart stays steady, his breathing even. He still isn’t sleeping.

“That better?” Etho asks, lowering his voice. Bdubs makes a noise, half-startled. Etho looks down at him, watching the way his face changes ever so as he recognizes Etho’s question. He gets the urge, just for a moment, to reach out, to run his hand through Bdubs’ hair, despite how greasy it must be at this point. He wonders if it would tangle. He wonders if it feels any certain way. 

“That’s much better,” Bdubs sighs. “Thank you, Etho.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of quiet where they sit together. Etho’s hand sits behind Bdubs’ head. He considers that urge with full merit, listening to Bdubs sigh again, comfortable and content even in the midst of a death game. To be fair, Etho knows he isn’t. This is just a facade for a brief moment—or perhaps it’s Etho himself making him this calm. He can’t tell. Part of him hopes it’s the latter, rather than the former.

Bdubs tilts his head back, craning his neck to get a look at Etho behind him. He smiles a bit, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. Etho tilts his head again, that questioning gesture, finally letting his hand rest at the crown of Bdubs’ head. Bdubs smile only grows, just a bit, just the smallest fraction. Etho doesn’t move his hand—he just rests it there. Just for a moment. 

“What’re you doin’?” Bdubs asks.

“Sitting here,” Etho says plainly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable.”

“I am,” Etho says. He hums a little, to add to the effect. “You look comfortable yourself.”

“Oh,” Bdubs says, shutting his eyes. “Very much so.”

Etho hums again. He lets his thumb drag over the top of Bdubs’ head, muzzing up his hair, allowing just a moment of self indulgence. Bdubs doesn’t stop him. It’s nice. 

Bdubs watches him with a soft, partially confused, partially content look. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, leans his head back down so that Etho’s hand cups the top of his head. He sighs out and clambors up. Etho’s hand falls away after that, and something resembling a pang of longing makes his thirium pump stutter. 

Bdubs turns toward him, shifting forward until their knees meet. He blocks part of the sun over Etho, to which Etho nearly makes a comment about it, but it gets lost somewhere as Bdubs squints at him. Late afternoon, Etho thinks. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to last much longer. He’ll have to haul himself up and start a fire, soon enough, but Bdubs pins him with that look and Etho can’t move. Bdubs hasn’t even given him a request. It feels self-inflicted. 

“You’re staring,” Etho says, a bit obviously.

“You were looking at me funny,” Bdubs says. His mouth curves into a frown. Etho hopes it doesn’t look like he’s watching. Instead, Etho laughs.

“I wasn’t,” he says. Bdubs snorts, shaking his head. He reaches out, patting Etho’s unmarred cheek. The impression his hand leaves is warm—warm enough to almost be hot. Etho’s brain pings the sensation, the impression, the linger of touch, records, stores, repeats. If he had something to swallow he’s sure he would've done it, like he’s seen Bdubs do. 

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything, and Bdubs laughs, and Etho doesn’t think another sound could be that good. Bdubs pulls himself up after that, pushing himself forward on his hands and knees, wincing at he twists to stretch, and sighs.

“Tango’ll be back soon to check up on us,” he says. “You wanna get started on a fire?”

Etho looks up at him, nodding slowly. He’s still lingering on that remnant of a touch, the weight of it all. He agrees to what Bdubs says regardless, and as Bdubs nods his thanks and walks away, still complaining about the ache in his back, Etho scoops himself off the ground. Above him, the sun has started to sink in the sky, and the shadows grow.

Etho makes a fire.

Tango comes and goes. He’s not much for sleep, which is typical for him as of late. He laughs as he talks to the two of them, as they bounce around stories about the day passed. Nothing happened—not really, nothing of note. It was slow, full of collection, of waiting, of planning. Tango talks of resource gathering as Bdubs drinks soup from a wooden bowl. It’s a nice slice of quiet, and Etho watches the expression on Tango’s face with a careful contemplation. His red eyes flick to Etho when he talks about their team, and Etho feels that bit of warmth, sharing that eye. Everywhere he goes, he carries a bit of Tango with him. Their odds look better with him here, but he can’t deny the sliver of human error that chips away at that success rate. He doesn’t know how much longer Tango’ll stick around. Surely, he can see it too.

The fire is still going when Tango picks himself up and dusts his pants off and says he’ll be back later. Etho believes him, reaches out to pat his shoulder as he stands with him. Tango jostles, smiles like he means that, too. Etho watches him go before he drops down beside Bdubs again. Bdubs stares into the flames, eyes far away, expression soft. Etho moves to sit next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. It’s Bdubs that closes the gap, pressing to his side, cheek against his shoulder. Etho stays still, stiffening, pretending not to care when Bdubs takes his hand. He can feel the uptick of stress as he sits still, feeling his pump thump in his chest.

Bdubs runs his thumb over the back of his hand, over the valleys of his knuckles. He traces them out with the pad of his finger, and the spark of sensation travels up Etho’s arm, like it could tickle the back of his neck, raise the hair there. It registers, again and again, dull and present but not unpleasant. He leans back into Bdubs. Bdubs laughs a little, just a huff of air.

“You better not be sleepin’ on me, Etho,” Bdubs says, the undertone of sleep coming to his voice. Etho makes a noise of disagreement.

“Never, Bdubs!”

“Mm,” Bdubs sighs. “Good.”

Bdubs lets go after a moment, peeling away from him for just a beat, before they’re sitting side by side again, Bdubs still pressed as close as he can be to his shoulder. Etho notes the way Bdubs shivers, imperceptible. Etho’s the warmest thing besides the fire, here, all moving mechanical parts and expelling heat to keep cool. Not as much as Tango might, but enough to matter. Enough to be a little bit warmer than Bdubs, right now.

Bdubs sighs again, shutting his eyes. Facing Etho, now, Etho can watch his expression change as he starts to warm up, softening, sinking. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes for a long moment, but his hand comes up, his right hand, left hand replacing the one holding Etho’s wrist hostage. He reaches up to cup Etho’s face in his palm. His warm hand slides up to cradle the scarred side of Etho’s face, and Etho can’t help the immediate reaction of simulated skin fading to white, sliding away where Bdubs’ warm, calloused hand makes contact. Bdubs runs his thumb over a particular crack near his jaw, just a simple, slow motion. Etho wishes he could sigh. It would be the proper response. More than just leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes, more than not knowing why it was nice, and just knowing that it was. It sends sensation after sensation after sensation, the tingling feeling running over his skin and up his cheek and neck. Does Bdubs know? Can he see what it’s doing? Surely he can’t hear the stutter, the way his pump works faster, any of that. If he were to open his eyes, would Bdubs be looking at him? What would that expression look like?

He opens his eyes anyway. He lets them slide open, ignoring the very human response to shut them again, to soak in the touch, the feeling of being held. The feeling he was realizing he would like if he could tie the two together. Bdubs is looking at him, but his expression is soft, almost concerned. Hesitant, maybe. He pauses the drag of his thumb over Etho’s cheek as Etho meets his eye, even as Etho’s expression is low-lidded and unfocused.

“‘S that nice?” Bdubs asks softly, voice going hoarse as it hits the low register. 

Etho blinks, slow. The edges of his vision fuzz out, like his optical unit is failing. He opens his mouth, realizing he’s failed to preemptively form a sentence. He makes a sound instead, then tries again, stuttering.

“I don’t know.”

Bdubs frowns a little. Etho leans hard into his palm. Not like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“It’s nice, but I don’t know what nice means,” Etho manages. He’s not making any sense. “You don’t have to stop.”

Bdubs’ frown fades, turning soft, warm, into a smile. He laughs a little, a sound Etho registers as a laugh. Good enough to be a laugh. 

“I hear you, sweetheart,” Bdubs says gently.

Etho smiles, laughs a little. As much as he’s learned to mimic, so far, something that’s started to morph into his own little sound. 

“You getting soft on me, Bdubs?” he asks. He can’t help it—the amused tease comes too natural to kick. He feels Bdubs pinch his cheek and recoils, face scrunching.

“I am not,” Bdubs barks. His voice is flooded with amusement though, and Etho laughs with him. He can’t help it. Bdubs laughs, and he does too, and whatever thing he’s experiencing feels incredibly fond and sweet and he hopes he’ll soon be able to actually pin it to something. What was all that? Who was that, squeezing itself into Bdubs’ body, to touch Etho’s face in a way that he’d never really done before? To admire? Was he admiring? Looking at him? Memorizing like Etho was? Etho watches Bdubs turn away, searching for something to snuff the fire. He pretends not to notice the flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.

Bdubs is such an odd person. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get a proper grasp of human emotion. Maybe that’s the whole point.

Bdubs snuffs the fire. When he does, he turns to Etho. The mask finds Etho’s face again, and Etho registers the falter in Bdubs’ face when he looks at him.

“Gotta protect that face of yours, don’t’cha?” Bdubs says, swallowing down something. Maybe there’s a hint of emotion Etho is missing. He can’t really tell. His vision sharpens back into clarity as Etho rises to a stand. The sky is just starting to get dark, the air cold, and Bdubs looks over to the wooden structure they’re calling home—more than just the fort. A warmer space than just the fort.

“You know it,” Etho says playfully. That alone cracks the facade of Bdubs’ discomfort. He smiles, shaking his head, rolling his eyes in the good-natured way that Etho always recognized as good-natured and not malicious. 

“You comin’ to bed?” Bdubs asks. He jerks his head over to the wooden structure, body halfway turned to it. He doesn’t say anything else, lingering on Etho’s unsaid answer. Etho shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets as his shoulders rise. 

“Maybe. Probably not tonight.”

“Mm,” Bdubs says. “Right. Forget you don’t need to sleep half the time.” Then he laughs, and at the last second, adds:

“You weirdo.”

Etho barks out a laugh—something wholly his own, surprised, startled by Bdubs’ comment. He watches Bdubs turn away from him, still chuckling, still smiling to himself. After a beat, he calls back to him, and Bdubs turns. Etho shrugs off his coat, holding it out to him with one hand, the other still in the pocket of his pants. Bdubs tilts his head, frowning a little.

“You’re not gonna get cold?” he asks. Etho shakes his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he says, smiling. It feels nice to smile. It feels nice that it meets his eyes.

“Okay, Etho,” Bdubs says, taking the coat. He pauses for a moment, draping it over his arm. It feels good. Maybe that’s what Bdubs means by things feeling nice. Feeling. Maybe. “Have a good night, alright?”

“I’ll try, Bdubs,” Etho says, letting his tone be as affectionate as is appropriate. Bdubs nods his head. That smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as Etho can see him.

Bdubs wanders off to their room, quiet. Etho finds that place in the grass again. He’ll check in on him in a bit, spend the rest of the night planning, working, and spend some time resting when he knows he’s able to tomorrow. For now, though, Etho drops himself into the soft grass still present around the base, in the snow, feeling it cold but not yet damp, waning from the evening light. Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Maybe he can get used to feeling. Maybe he’ll understand feeling on his own. He looks up, into the sky, and tries to see if there are any stars he recognizes.

They wink their way in from the gold-blue sky, and Etho watches. 

[shepscapades]

A last life ethubs comic that isn’t really about last life ethubs

[peskyvinot]

Tumblr is such a beautiful place you spend a few months Obsessing over an artist's art soaking up every little drawing and detail in tge universe and genuinly crying at how beautiful and talented the peice they created is- and then this person reblogs your own rambly post about something you're very passionate about, being a Lil crazy in tags too and saying IT SOMEWHAT UNSPIRED THE NEW CHAPTER??? THAT YOU JUST READ AND SQUELED BECAUSE IT HAD WHAT YOU LOVE IN IT???? WHAT IS THIS A PERPETUAL MOTION MACHINE OF SEROTONIN???? WHAY IF I CRY??? whAT. IF I. CRY

LAST REBLOG. SHEP SHEPSCAPADES. LAST DBHC HAPTER HAD THE X ADMIN PANEL.

[katkat030]

hey! I have a. fair few. I made a post about it (here!) but I’ll list some of my all time favourites here too!! :)

sorta goes without saying but these are on ao3, and I’ve included the tumblr urls of the authors if I know them

But oh, the bloom by sillyfairygarden <- sorry it’s not platonic but it is desertduo and aough it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t recommend this!! Staring at you with puppy eyes please go and read it. Just about anything written by sillyfairygarden is worth reading, but this has a special place in my heart for sure

you came at the brink of the end of by world by anonymous/louiessleeplessnights <- I’m not even exaggerating it’s about the sixth time I’m rereading this fic. I’ve genuinely downloaded it to read offline. I just love it. It’s desertduo as well, and angst and sadness and tragedy, amongst laughter. I think I fall in love with Boatem a little more every time I go to reread it. I can and would write an essay on why everyone should read it (although! Beware the explicit rating, that’s only relevant for the last 2 chapters of which there are over 20)

Bread and Butterflies by anonymous <- this was recommended by an incredible incredible author (whose desertduo fic I’ll also recommend because aoughhh) and I read it for the first time today! Tragic, desertduo, post 3rd life…. Yeahhhh I almost cried reading this. <3 definitely recommend

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by definitelynotshouting <- desertduo and Grian’s… let’s say mental state following the 3rd life and such, but made even more tragic. Like literally more tragic. Aough. Warning here that Grian is absolutely Going Through It and to heed the ao3 tags (eating disorders, suicide etc). The hunger au is brainrot for sure. The worldbuilding goes hard

someone already recommended you Redstone and Sculk by silverskye13 otherwise it’d probably be the first on my list, if you haven’t read it already please please consider it. Helsknight my beloved.

I know you wanted desertduo or helsmet and preferably fics (although. Although there is a fic in the works and I won’t be ready for how insane that’s going to make me when it’s finished. And uh. Ahem. Also technically a second fic which I may or may not be writing), buuuuuuuutttt

So so so so worth checking out the dbhc au by shepscapades here on tumblr. It’s brainrot to the absolute extreme, in the best way possible

here’s the link to the masterpost! I actually can’t stress how insanely cool it is (there’s angst there too so so much angst but hey get distracted by the really cool art)

enjoy :D

does anyone have any fic recs 🙏🙏

preferably anything [platonically] tragic desert duo [even better if its third life related] or helsmits because tjose are cool

[set-in-stardust]

ANOTHER SHORT FOR @shepscapades DBHC AU!! (go read her comics first and then this!) this is entirely self indulgent and could happen chronologically after the last one i posted btw!

also all of these r on ao3 btw!

[fic below read more so i dont clog feed :)]

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The whole concept of kissing was new for Etho, but he quickly learned that Bdubs enjoyed it. 

And he meant, really enjoyed it. 

Every chance he got, Bdubs was up on his toes, pressing a kiss to Etho’s cheek, hand, forehead, lips. He had always been touchy, but ever since he learned the places where Etho could feel his touches, it’d gotten ten times worse. 

Well, not really worse. Etho liked it; he liked it a lot more than he cared to admit. 

Sure, androids could make connections and share messages through small touches, but this was something completely different. It was almost like learning another language, even though Etho already knew over six-thousand of them. 

Etho learned that kissing meant a lot more than just, "I love you." When he carried Bdubs' shulkers for him, the kiss on his cheek meant, "Thank you." When he tucked Bdubs into bed for the night, the kiss on his lips meant, "Goodnight. I can't wait to see you tomorrow." When he figured out what was wrong with the machine Bdubs had spent days on in just a few seconds, the kisses peppered all over his face meant, "I'd never say this out loud, but I'm so grateful for you." 

He took some time to learn all of these kisses, their meanings, their situations, and how he could do the same for Bdubs. But there was still one kiss he couldn't figure out. 

"Bdubs?" 

"Mm?" Bdubs hummed, looking up at Etho from his place on his shoulder. 

"You're falling asleep," Etho chuckled, adjusting his hold as he walked. 

"You're carrying me, why‘s it matter?" he mumbled. 

Etho sighed, then laughed lowly, “No, I guess not.” 

Bdubs laid his head back down and wrapped his arms tighter around Etho’s shoulders, his face buried in the fluff of his coat the whole way back to the base. Etho carefully opened the door and nudged it shut behind him with his foot, using his free hand to turn on the gas lantern in the foyer. 

He kicked off his shoes, then set a presumably sleepy Bdubs down on the chair at the entrance so he could do the same for him. He crouched down, glancing up to see the other yawning. He smiled and began to untie his shoes for him. 

“You shouldn’t work so late, you know. You have a very specific sleep schedule,” he teased, humming softly. Bdubs closed his mouth and waved a slow hand, giving his head a slight shake. 

“I’m as bright as a daisy right now. Who needs sleep? I don’t need-” He yawned again. “-sleep!” 

Etho slipped off his shoe, going to untie the other. 

“Yeah, right,” he chuckled. “And I’m human.” 

Bdubs scoffed. 

“Come on, man! You gotta give me some leeway here, please?” He gave Etho his patented “you-have-to feel-sorry-for-me” puppy-dog eyes. Etho just turned away, knowing he’d fold if he met that look for too long. He slid off the second shoe. 

“You’re going to bed, and that’s final.” 

Bdubs groaned. 

“Ethooooo,” he pleaded. 

“Bdubssss,” Etho mocked. He sat back on his heels, setting the shoes aside. “I don’t see why you wanna stay up, anyway. You’re the one who’s always in bed first.” He watched the other seem to think for a moment, subtly zoning out for a second before he snapped out of it and spoke again. 

“Ugh! Fine. I’ll tell you.” He sat up in his chair, feet brushing Etho’s knees instead of the floor. He lowered his voice, “I’m just a little upset because I didn’t get to see you all day. You were so busy helping everyone else with their stuff, that I finished all of mine before you even got to me!” He huffed and turned his nose up. “It’s not fair.”

Etho blinked, then got up from his place on the floor. He brushed himself off, then put his hands on either arm of Bdubs’ chair. He leaned over him, eyeing the way he shrunk back into the seat before he spoke. 

“So you’re jealous?” he smirked. 

Bdubs’ eyes widened, and he definitely wasn’t sleepy anymore. He quickly looked away. 

“No- No! I don’t get- I’m-” He cleared his throat. “I’m not jealous.”

Etho leaned in closer. Even in the low light, he could see the flush of Bdubs’ cheeks. 

“I think you are,” he spoke lowly, voice just below a hum. He knew his own face was flushed too, but his mask covered the color in his cheeks. He reached up, watching Bdubs eyes follow his movements, and pulled it down. “Am I right?” 

Bdubs swallowed. Etho heard the chair creak as he squirmed. 

“No,” he managed, voice barely a squeak. 

Etho heard him, but he still asked, “Hm? What was that?” 

Bdubs’ eyes flickered over his face – the smirk on his lips, the challenging look in his eyes – for just a second before they stopped again. He reached up and took a fistful of Etho’s shirt in his hand, pulling him forward just enough for their foreheads to touch. 

“If you’re tryin’ to get me to kiss you,” he mumbled, “you should just do it already.” 

Etho chuckled, the sound low and sweet in the nighttime air. 

“Whoops,” he said simply before closing the distance between their lips. He felt Bdubs’ hand come up to cup his cheek, the touch skittering through his circuits and straight to his head. He moved a hand to cup Bdubs’ cheek, tilting his head up just enough to kiss him better. He knew what the other liked; he had it down to an exact science, a rhythm, at this point. He let himself fall into habit, fingers pressing at familiar points as Bdubs’ touch lit sparks across his skin.

Then came the part he still couldn’t figure out. 

Bdubs parted his lips just a bit more, and Etho took that as a sign he wanted to stop. He began to pull away, but Bdubs held his face and kept him close. He didn't complain, enjoying the pressure at the cracks on his cheek and how happy Bdubs seemed

Then, Bdubs bit him.

He didn't even notice until he felt his tongue brush Bdubs' teeth, his programs already automatically analyzing his saliva. He ignored their findings, because his lip exploded into sensations he could only describe as mind-blowing as Bdubs applied pressure. He shivered, then attempted to pull away only to drag his lip between Bdubs’ teeth, hard. 

For just a moment, Etho swore he was really alive. 

He gasped loud and pulled away, hand flying to his mouth. His whole body felt hot, like he’d fry his circuits at any second, and a warning or two flashed in the corner of his vision. He ignored it, squeezing his eyes shut tight. 

That was weird. Really weird. But he wanted it to happen again and again until his processors fizzled out and all he could focus on was how good that felt and how close to being really and truly human he felt-

“Etho? You okay?” 

He opened his eyes. 

Bdubs stared up at him, concern knitted in his brows, and reached up to brush his hair back. Etho slowly lowered his hand, then cleared his throat. 

“I-” He paused, standing up a bit straighter as he attempted to regain his composure. “Yeah. All good. Mhm. Yup.” 

Bdubs cracked a smile, and his hand trailed down to graze the cracks on his cheek. 

“You look like a smurf.” 

Etho snorted, “What?!” He looked away and covered his face with his hands, noting how hot his skin was. Bdubs just laughed again. 

“It’s true! I’ve never seen you so- so, vibrant before!” He nudged Etho’s hand out of the way, subtly pulling his face closer again, then pressed a finger to the crack beside his lip. “Did you really like that that much?” he teased, snickering. Etho rolled his eyes, feeling his ears heat up as well. 

“Oh my god, shut up right now-” 

“Hah! You didn’t deny it!” 

Etho breathed a laugh and took Bdubs’ chin in his hand, pulling him up so their lips just barely brushed. Etho felt his grin. 

“At least you’re a cute smurf.” 

Etho pushed him away, then turned and began to head to the stairs. 

“That’s it! Tuck yourself in!” 

“What?! No-! Come on, that’s unfair!” He heard Bdubs scramble up from his seat, his hurried footsteps pounding against the wooden floor behind him. 

“You can read yourself your own bedtime story while you’re at it, too!”