#also. just something about cub seeing scar go vex mode

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part II

>> part I here // hhau masterpost here <<

The hermits are here to take Scar home but Grian is gone and Scar can’t leave without him, even if the others would promise to look for him. (They won’t find him, they won’t, they won’t. Scar knows how vast these forests are. He knows how many hiding spots there are tucked away if one knows where to look.) (They don’t know where to look.)

They’re not listening to him. He’s half-feral and panicked and desperate, barely making any sense. He keeps saying he needs to find Grian, but he looks half-crazed, clothes stained by a huge amount of blood and—

If it looks, a little bit, like he’s just in frenzied denial of some grief? That maybe something happened and Grian isn’t here anymore? The world is permadeath, after all. The rescue party isn’t sure what to think.

Of course they promise to look for Grian. Of course they’ll try. But first, let’s get you somewhere safe, Scar.

Scar panics and backs away and says he isn’t going anywhere until they find Grian. He’s so so afraid they’ll take him away and he’ll never find him. (He keeps imagining that wretched scream he heard that very first day he found Grian, a year ago. How close of a call that was.) (He thinks of finding him after the mimic incident, barely surviving. Wounded and bloodied and ready to collapse.) (He thinks of Grian sobbing as he begs Scar to never leave him again.)

He can’t leave him behind. He can’t.

He won’t.

He’s done everything he can up to this point and if this is his last fight? Then damn it, he’s going to go out swinging. He is going to find Grian. Even if he has to fight his saviours. (They’re enemies if they’re trying to separate him and Grian—) 

He growls and lashes out and his vex magic comes through. The hermits are stunned and a little bit afraid and a whole lot confused. They’ve never seen him like this, hair white and claws ready to tear. (Cub, especially, is terrified of this development. Knowing that if Scar pushes himself too far in his vex form, he could die.) 

They try to placate him, calm him down, reassure him. They try to get the damn teleportation bracelet on him. They keep telling him they can take him home, it’s okay, Scar, it’s okay.

It’s not okay.

He isn’t leaving without Grian, and he isn’t trusting anyone else with this.

So he runs.

He runs from his friends—from people he loves with all his heart; people he thought he’ll never see again. Runs from the promise of home and safety and this hell being finally over. 

He runs, because he can’t take the salvation if he can’t share it with Grian.

Everything’s a bit of a blur as he rushes through the forest, looking for something to tell him where Grian is. He’s fully in his vex form, senses sharp and heart panicked, calling out, desperate for Grian to reply. 

There’s no answer.

Scar sees it, then: a handful of ripped-out feathers and blood.

His heart jumps into his throat, but he laser-focuses and starts following the trail. The world feels askew around him, his steps urgent, his breaths hovering near growls that want to threaten the whole forest if anything dares to hurt Grian more. (He hopes Grian’s still out there.) (He has to be. He has to be—) (Why is he not replying to Scar’s calls, then?)

Scar’s aware that if he can follow the trail of blood, so can others. He needs to be better than them. Faster. (He needs to be a better hunter than them.) He knows that if he’s following the trail now, maybe someone already followed it. (He tries not to let that thought in. That he might be too late.) 

He’s trailed by the hermit rescue party. They scramble in his wake, trying not to lose him. They lag behind, losing sight of him, but Cub staggers to follow his vex bond with Scar, like a tether, trying to hold down the swell of warning anxiety at the fact that Scar is in his vex form. Scar looks feral, he lashed out and ran from them, clothes stained by blood and hair white—

Them following just makes Scar feel hunted. His instincts go haywire and put him more on edge. 

He keeps going.

He keeps calling out, too. Uncaring that he’s attracting every hunter in the vicinity. He can take them. He will happily attract them to himself if that means they won’t go after Grian instead. (The fact that he’s searching for Grian gets a bit tangled up in him. The fact that if he succeeds, he’ll just be bringing the hunters to Grian fails to quite register. He’s not thinking very straight.)

Hermits hear those wails, echoing through the forest. He sounds like a wandering spirit. 

Inhuman. 

Lost.

 --

Grian is hurt. Hand pressed against the spot on his side that bleeds, he sits curled up, pressing himself into some bushes for a moment of reprieve—just a moment, just a little bit, please, please.

He hears Scar’s calls from far away. He hears them, and his heart tears itself to pieces.

He is terrified and hurting, and it feels dangerously close to a despair-filled memory.

 He tries to shield himself from it. There’s a reason he ran. There’s a reason why Scar should stay away from him. He can’t— He shouldn’t— He—

Scar draws closer. Grian can hear his sobbing and heaving. His pleading, so heartrendingly desperate. “Grian please. Grian answer me.”

Grian finds himself cautiously standing up, every muscle taut. His heart is rabbity fast, fear clogging his throat. 

He doesn’t mean to answer. He really, really doesn’t mean to. (He needs to keep Scar away.) Yet a distressed chirp slips through anyway, like a terrified call, begging for Scar.

The sound of it pitches something in Scar. His sobbing changes to panic and dwindling hopefulness. “Grian…?”

There’s a tinier chirp then. Scared. Still involuntary.

Grian is so so afraid and he should know better, but a part of him is desperate for Scar.

The moment he sees Scar, though, the futility rips through him. No. He isn’t meant to— Scar shouldn’t be near him. Because Grian’s been gone so shortly and yet the hunters have already found him. He’s already gotten hurt. He is a beacon.

He can’t stay near Scar. It’ll get Scar hurt. 

It’ll get Scar killed.

(Everything good that stays near Grian dies—)

He needs to get away from him.

He backs away. Tells Scar, in a wobbly voice, not to approach.

Scar doesn’t care. He needs to get to Grian. He needs to get to him, they can go home, this can all be over. 

Running on some faulty reasoning, Grian tries to get away. It’s useless, he is in no state to outrun Scar—he can’t bring himself to fly and he’s bleeding, dizzy on panic—but he feels like he needs to try, anyway. 

His feet feel heavy beneath him, the world unsteady. Scar is behind him and Grian’s heart begs him to stop, turn around, and burrow into his arms. (He can’t he can’t he can’t—)

It takes only a couple of steps for Grian to trip over some roots, the world as cruel to him as ever, sending him plummeting harshly down in a rough tumble of leaves and limbs and feathers. A pained, fearful yelp gets punched out of him on impact.

Scar’s next to him in an instant, kneeling down and gathering him in his arms. Crying as he buries Grian in a hug, terrified he might try to run again. Frantically telling him, “Grian, it’s over, it’s over, we can go home— Please—”

Grian’s sobbing against him, held in place, unable to understand what Scar is saying. He just wants Scar to get away from him and stay safe. (Grian can’t be safe. He’s been doomed from the start. He’s been doomed this whole time.) (He’ll end up like that bird. Dead, with wings ripped off—)

The words “it’s over” mean nothing to him. All he manages to choke out is, “There is no— There’s no home anymore.” They’ve had their safety ripped away from them over and over again. They’ve been showed that they can’t have a home anymore; this world will not allow it. Nowhere is safe. Nowhere is safe, as long as Grian’s wings are bright violet and attached to his spine. 

Scar insists, a series of reassurances, words tripping over each other as he tries to keep his hold on his voice. He says they’ll be okay. He says they don’t have to run anymore. Please, Grian, we can go home.

But it’s not a concept that exists anymore for Grian; it refuses to register in his mind, words sliding right off him, incoherent.

What he knows is this: he failed to protect Scar, and they don’t have a home to go back to, and Grian is sure the hunters are about to show up, any second. He’s so tired and terrified, and he needs Scar to be shielded from this fate. He needs him to be safe.

Scar isn’t letting go of him. His grip is firm as he continues to plead with Grian. He doesn’t want to be rough, he’s never been forceful with Grian, but he can’t let go now. Even as Grian paws at him and tries to push him away. 

Grian’s crying so hard; his efforts to get free are all frantic and urgent, yet half-hearted. (He wants to give in and bury himself in the protectiveness of Scar’s arms.) (He wants all of Scar’s promises to be true.)

And yet something tips askew.

Because Scar’s never been forceful with Grian.

He was always so gentle. He’d never grab him like this, with so much force. So much insistence.

Grian is hit with a dizzying, nauseating thought. Is this a trap? Is this a mimic?

Grian starts chirping. More of those distressed, scared noises as he can't get free of Scar's grip.

It’s the first time ever that Scar won’t heed Grian’s requests to be let go. Not even if Grian says it hurts. He won’t let go he won’t he won’t. He’ll drag him home if he has to.

Grian’s scared and confused, all his thoughts are jumbled, running on rampant trauma responses and unadulterated panic. He can’t deal with any of this. He keeps trying to wrangle free and push Scar away (is it even Scar???), begging him to let go, but it’s so horribly weak. It’s almost nothing. He just chokes on sobs and hyperventilates. (He feels caught.) (He feels like Scar will get killed because of him.) (He doesn’t know what’s happening.)

It’s awful. It’s wrong. It’s— It’s not what it’s meant to be. 

This should be easy. This should be the best day ever! They can go home! 

Instead, it’s like a panicked final showdown and Scar feels like it’s him against everyone. The hermits weren’t listening to him (Grian needs him, he needs him, he needs him), and now Grian isn’t listening to him either. (He can’t comprehend what Scar’s saying at all, and isn’t that so heartbreaking?) (Scar is desperate to get through to him. To calm him down enough so that this could be anything more than Scar forcefully holding him as Grian chokes on panic.) (The kind of panic he should never feel in Scar’s arms—)

Voice breaking, Scar pleads, over and over again. Please, Grian. Please. It’s okay. It’s okay, we can go home, we’ll be alright. It’s me. It’s me, I got you, we’re gonna be safe.

It’s the kiss he presses to Grian’s hair that tips the scales a little, just enough for Grian’s chirps to mute, his sobbing drifting off into softer cries. He goes limp under the affection, still terrified, still trembling and choking on air, but now he’s pressing himself against Scar instead of trying to get free. 

“G, do you understand what I’m saying?” Scar begs in a wavering voice, unbecoming of his feral appearance. He holds onto the magic prickling along his skin, alert for any sort of danger, anything that so much as tries to approach and hurt Grian. His hands are still clawed. His hair is still white. His veins are still stuffed with unending desperation. 

Nothing is over yet. 

It should be. It should be, but it isn’t.

Not yet, not yet.

 The hunters find them before the hermits do.

-- part III here

[ghosthouses27]

Blast From The Past

quick heads-up that all the new youtubers dropping into hermitcraft have time travelled from 2016 so they got their 2016 outfits and personalities

~*~

>stampylongnose joined the game

A loud yelp immediately alerted Scar away from his base, followed by a faint crash that was shortly cut off by coughing. Scar whipped around on his heals and immediately ran towards it, a nearly tripping over his own slippers. His first thought was that someone had crashed into a tree again (probably Mumbo), but that wasn't the case.

A brunette with curly hair and an orange hoodie was laying on the ground, a dark red vest over the hoodie. Faux cat ears on the hood stuck out from among the leaves that had fallen on his head, and a white tipped tail whisked behind him as he coughed rather violently.

Scar was stunned into silence for a moment before gathering his composure. "Um, hi?" The stranger jumped at his voice, glancing up at him with emerald green eyes, but was interrupted by another cough. "Hey are, you okay?"

"Y-yeah just *cough* i-inhaled something," the brunette spluttered, gasping for breath. He finally looked up Scar and squinted. "Finnball?"

Scar raised an eyebrow curiously and kneeled next to him. "No?" he replied, tilting his head. "My name's Scar. Is Finnball a friend of yours?"

The stranger nodded, squinting his eyes a bit less now that Scar was closer. "Can you uh, see my glasses?" he asked, feeling around for the thin frame. "Everything's kinda just a big green blob for me and uh, my glasses are pretty small."

"Oh uh, yeah sure." Scar looked around for a moment before easily spotting the glasses and handed them to the brunette who quickly slipped them on.

"That's better!" He smiled and heaved himself onto his feet, only a bit taller than Scar. "So uh, it's nice to meet you!" he exclaimed, holding out a hand for Scar to shake. "My name's Stampy! You said you were Scar?"

"Yeah I'm Scar," Scar replied, shaking his hand. "I think I've heard of you. Stampylongnose right? Creator of the famous Lovely World?"

"Yup!" Stampy nodded, grinning. "That's me!" A nearby parrot suddenly swooped down and delicately perched on a branch near the two, chirping a little tune. "Aww hey birdie!" Stampy cooed, stepping closer and patting it on the head.

He looked around, finally the noticing the tall jungle trees towering over him. "Where... are we?" he asked slowly, spinning around. "Is this My Story Mode House-? wait no that's an Xbox server- uhhh, is this Quacktopia or maybe Squid's server-"

"Slow down!" Scar interrupted, his head practically spinning.

"Ah! Sorry!" Stampy said, smiling apologetically. "But uh, where is this?"

"You're in Hermitcraft, a whitelisted server," Scar explained, letting out a breath. "Do you even know how you got here? I wasn't aware we were getting a new member, unless you hacked but you really don't seem like the kind of person to hack."

"Oh no, I would never hack!" Stampy chucked awkwardly. "I don't even think I know how to hack! I can barely navigate PC worlds!" He giggled. "But ah, my friend managed to get me in here. He did some science-y redstone stuff and bam! I ended up falling into a jungle!"

Scar stared at him for a moment in confused silence. "...huh," he finally managed to say. Guess I should probably tell Xisuma, he thought, digging into his pocket for his communicator.

>iBallisticSquid joined the game

"Excuse me!" a voice yelled. Keralis looked up to see someone with dirty blonde hair and a dark blue jacket waving from the top of his crane, holding his red and blue headphones with his other hand so they wouldn't fall off.

His mismatching colored eyes lit up when Keralis looked up at him and he waved even harder, nearly falling off the platform in the progress. "Hi!" he called down. "Did you build this?!"

"Uh- me?" Keralis asked, a little startled. "Y-yeah, I did! Why?"

"This looks awesome!"

"I-uh- thank you?" Keralis yelled back up, still slightly confused by the whole situation. "Do you need some help down? I can fly up if you want!"

The stranger stared at him weirdly. "Are you in creative or something?" he asked. "Or did you mean ladders? Or ya gonna nerd-pole?"

This time it was Keralis' turn to give a strange look. "No...?" he said, getting out a rocket to show him. "I'm gonna... fly?" He shot himself into the sky, boosting up next to the mysterious player and skidding next to him.

The blonde gaped at him in wide-eyed shock, eyes flicking from Keralis' custom elytra to his face. "Wait, is that one of those new wingy things?!" he exclaimed, pointing to the black and yellow striped gliders. "That's so cool! I didn't know you could dye 'em! Or use fireworks with 'em!"

"Uh, you can't?" Keralis said, picked up one of the wings slightly. "Everyone can just, customize their elytras?" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you a new player?"

"Nah, not at all." The stranger put his hands behind his head, grinning and showing sharp teeth. "Actually bit of an old player; just not used to the new update yet."

Keralis had more questions but decided to save them for later and first figure out who this person was. "Well, what's you name?" he asked. "I'm Keralis."

"My name's Squid-oodalay!" Squid replied, taking an exaggerated bow. "Or just Squid! Pleasure to meet'cha!"

"Nice to meet you too." Keralis glanced down and immediately regretted it as the world started to swim beneath his feet. "Oh that's not good," he muttered, taking a step backwards. His heel caught on the edge and slipped off, making him jolt backwards with a cry.

"I gotcha!" Squid quickly reached and grabbed his arm, digging his heels into the ground and pulling him up. Keralis was heaved up and the brunette collapsed on the concrete, gasping for breath.

"Th-thanks..."

"No problem, but we should probably get down now. Don't want one of us to fall down again." Squid chuckled and jumped over to where the mast was, glancing down at the ladder in the middle before walking over to the edge and leaping off.

"SQUID!" Keralis leaped off as well, spreading out his elytra and swooping down. Squid was hanging off the ledge of one of the gaps in the mast, about a third of the way down and heaving himself onto the block.

"What the heck was that?!" Keralis managed to yell as he glided besides him, eyes wide and distraught.

"It's quicker than ladders!" Squid retorted, smirking and ready to jump again. "And I don't think your wings can hold both of us! Can they?" Keralis hesitated for a moment but reluctantly shook his head. "Knew it!"

Squid jumped down again and landed squarely on the ground, yelping and nearly falling over. "Ow! Me legs!" he whined, rubbing at his ankle.

"A-are you okay?" Keralis asked, skidding to a stop on the ground.

"Yeah I'm good, just a few hearts down." Squid looked up at Keralis, then the crane, then the house, then back at Keralis. "Probably should've asked this earlier but uh, where is this? Like, I know it's a mesa-"

"I think it's savannah actually."

"One of the grassy places!"

"I don't think mesas are grassy."

"One of the orange places!"

Keralis sighed; this was going no where. "I'm just... gonna tell Shashwamy that you're here," he mumbled, pulling out his communicator.

Squid glanced over at his communicator as the screen popped up, trying to read the backwards text. "Wait who's Shashwamy? Is that a friend?"

"Yeah he's, also the admin of Hermitcraft."

"Wait admin? Is this Hypixel or something? Also what's Hermitcraft? Aren't those crabs?"

>DanTDM joined the game

Someone knocked at the door of his pyramid and Cub rolled his eyes. "Come in, the door isn't even there," he said, not even turning around.

"Um, hello?" The unfamiliar voice instantly made Cub whip around, sword glittering in hand. A brunette with goggles on his head was standing at the doorway, the front part of his hair dyed electric blue.

"Username, now," Cub demanded, tattered vex wings bursting from his back. The brunette's pale blue eyes widened and he fumbled to grab his communicator. He tapped at the screen and a hologram screen flashed in front of him with his username.

Cub lowered his sword and the wings on his back faded, but he still eyed the brunette warily. "Sorry about that," he muttered, tucking his sword away. "I thought you were a hacker or something."

"Oh no, I should be the one apologizing!" the stranger said quickly, smiling awkwardly. "I probably should've given more of a heads-up than just waltzing on in."

"So are you really DanTDM?" Cub asked. "Also how the hell'd you get in here?"

"Yeah I am DanTDM," the brunette replied sheepishly, looking away with a slight smile. "And I might have uh, done something? Bad?"

Cub rolled his eyes. "Real specific."

Dan chuckled. "I know, I know. But I'm honestly not too sure what I did either? I was playing around around with portals with some friends, and then one of the portals also kinda blew up and I ended up here?"

A bark suddenly echoed in the room and the skeleton of a dog came bounding in, growling slightly under its breath. Cub could only stare in silent awe as the dog bounced up to Dan and sat at his feet, glaring at Cub with cold eyes.

"Awww hey Grim!" Dan cooed, picking up the bony pup. "Did you follow me through the portal?"

"Wh... how did you even manage this?!" Cub exclaimed, his eyes wide. He grabbed his communicator out from his pocket and instantly flicked to the main chat. "I need to tell X about this!"

Dan looked up, squinting at the backwards text and attempting to read some of it. "You should also probably tell you friend that I'm here."

"Oh right, that too."

[ask-elementalhermitcraft]

Chaos Combined

Characters: False, Scar, Cub

Genre: Hurt... it’s just hurt I’m sorry

Summary: Everyone is a little on edge during the war. It’s best not to sneak up on people.\

The battlegrounds were quiet for the first time in a while. Each team was rebuilding, fixing what was broken for each of them physically and otherwise. False, on the other hand, was set for recon and supplies gathering.

The ashes of grass disintegrated under her boots, staining the brown leather grey on the soles of her shoes. There were hundreds of arrows just strewn about, wasted if they weren’t going to be picked up. She carried a bucket of water in one hand and a bag in the other as she slowly cleared the field of the flint heads.

She wandered in the middle of a large cluster of arrows, ashes covering the ground and staining the cuffs of her shorts as she kneeled down to tear them from the ground. She shook the dirt off, dropping the arrows into the bucket. She heard the embers that clung to them sizzle.

As she gathered what spare supplies she could, she held herself in hypervigilance mode. At any moment there could be an attack. If they did so now, she would be stuck in the middle of where arrow fire clearly hit. She kept a foot up, ready to run at the slight sign of danger. She felt cold power pool in her fingertips. The more time she spent in the middle of danger, the antsier she got to leave it.

A faint noise caught her ears. Wind blistering through elytra. Something inside her comforted that it wasn’t feathers but the leathery fabric akin to phantoms. Still, her heart jumped, every hair on her arm rising and the power that had been pooling at her fingertips sending a rush of power from her spine down to her hands. As she hastily stood up, she couldn’t get a good view of who it was. Everything seemed to go wrong. The sun got in her eyes, she tripped on an arrow still stuck firmly in the ground, and she summoned her shield in the wrong place, landing on the glassy surface instead and breaking it across the ground. She felt shards cut into her shoulders and arm before the bits and pieces dissolved into nothing.

“Hello there Fal-” a voice she was too panicked to recognize started as she summoned a second shield, this time between the voice and herself.

She felt something hit the shield, it covered the entire surface, trying to poke holes in some places as it pushed against. The energy built up on the surface of the mirrored shield as False recomposed herself. The shield, only a half foot away from her face, was coated in a blue and white swirling color, geometric bits attempting to pop a hole in the carefully crafted shield. She heard grass crunch as someone she couldn’t see took a step back. Her heart dropped into her feet as she realized what it was: Vex magic.

False quickly attempted to lower the shield, disperse the uncontrolled energy that attempted to infect the world around it. When the shield shattered outwards of her own accord, the magic that had attempted toward her shot backward, rushing toward its caster.

The Concorp member who had cast the dangerous aura took the full brunt of the chaotic energy. The impact wasn’t much, but it was enough force to send whoever it had hit falling backward. At that moment it was clear to False who it was. Unable to redirect the impact of magic, Scar hit the ashen ground directly on his lower back. The white-blue mask that had been covering his face flew off, the only thing protecting it from the sticky grey ash being the chaotic aura it held in its frame. Scar let out a grunt of pain.

“Don’t sneak up on me, you conbutt!” False exclaimed, only half joking as she stood up.

She brushed ash and dust off of her clothes. She picked the bucket of water up, some of it splashing against her hands and the feathered ends of arrows tickling her fingertips as it swayed slightly. There was a large smudge of ash on her forearm that she started to attempt to scrub out against the side of her jacket.

“This is a war zone, Scar,” she continued, eyebrows furrowing as the stain was becoming ever more difficult to scrub off, “you can’t just go and sneak-”

She stopped short, casting her gaze over to where Scar was, still on the ground where he was thrown. He was curled inward, ten feet from her with his knees pulled up. His hands were pressed against his face and she heard the faint sound of him hyperventilating. It was hard to process him at all. The ash that surrounded him flew up in particles resembling those of a nether portal. He looked desaturated, but anything blue popped out brightly, like the vex mask that was staring at False eerily. Scar’s entire being looked distorted.

False rushed towards him, any hesitation abandoned. Scar’s form rose and fell sporadically, timed with his breath as it quickened and quickened. As she got closer she felt her body and fingers twitch, her limbs buzz and prickle like they had fallen asleep, and her vision turned completely monochromatic.

Her knees hit the ground, sending more dust particles up towards the sky. She reached towards him, feeling a physical push back as she put a hand on his shoulders. Any grass that hadn’t already been dead was shriveled and gone. She felt her skin become dry and her eyes sting.

“Scar? Scar?” she said, voice frantic as she set both her hands on his shoulders. “What happened? What did I do?”

His breathing only quickened. His clothes felt damp to the touch. More than damp, actually. She tried to focus on him, seeing a blue aura start to form and quickly realizing it wasn’t an aura. Her mouth was dry and her eyes stung. Every time she blinked it felt like it did nothing, sandpaper over her eyeballs and skin that turned white and ashy. The aura wasn’t an aura, it was a bubble of water, pulled from the ground and False’s skin.

False hastily got to her feet, backing up. Her eyes flashed to the vex mask, still staring at her in malice. Scar’s breathing got quicker, more sporadic. The bubble of water grew as False retreated, her steps denting the dead grass as the monochromic aura grew bigger.

She heard the sweeping sound of an elytra coming to land. Heard feet hit the ashen ground running. Her eyes snapped over to a figure in the edge of her vision. Bright blues and dull greys that twitched and glitched as it moved. It snatched the discarded mask off of the ground and came right at Scar.

“Scar, buddy, are you there?” Cub asked, his voice edging off of the calm tone it usually held.

He took Scar’s hands away from his face. His form continued to heave with each breath. With Scar’s hands away from his face, they went to his temples, attempting to hold in the pounding in his head. He looked up at Cub, eyes wild, bright blue and swirling. He couldn’t focus. He saw blurring movement, fuzz in his vision and black coming from the edges. He felt his blood run cold and hot, heart go a hundred beats per minutes and drop to what felt like nothing all within the same ten seconds.

He felt something cold press against his face, blocking out most of his vision except for large slits, tinted white where he could see. Shadows moved outside of his vision. He felt like he was underwater. Was he underwater? He could hear things other than the ringing in his ears for once. Muffled noises, coming from behind a barrier and he knew it was water. A wet blanket covered him and he felt like he was drowning but he was breathing. He was barely breathing. Holding his breath and breathing quick, so quick. He felt his lungs burn and throat sting and water in his eyes, water covering his eyes. His limbs ached and he was so tired. Why was he so tired he had only just woken up. Or did he sleep? He felt like he could sleep forever. He felt his vision go dark and he could sleep forever, he was so tired.

“That’s it, buddy,” someone said from outside of the bubble. He felt cold. “Just rest for a second. Just calm down.”

His limbs were shaking and the ringing in his ears was getting louder and louder and louder and louder. He was so cold and his lungs stung and his vision was no longer going black but bright white and his breathing quickened and his heart got faster and the muffling was bubbling in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything.

Something snapped.

Water fell over him like something had poured a bucket over his head to wake him it up. It certainly felt like that. His clothes were soaked and his chest hurt.

He was still wearing the vex mask. He took it off, feeling it stick to his face and getting sweaty underneath. He blinked, adjusting to the light. His back was against the grass, ash covering his clothes as he stood up. Everything was terribly damp.

What was he doing last?

Oh right.

He looked around to see Cub, who definitely wasn’t there before. He was soaked, also taking his vex mask off to dry it. They were both covered in sticky ash and embers.

Where was False?

He had come down to visit her but had seemed to frighten her, vex magic off its rockers from the excitement of the war. Bustling in the center of it all, next to the crater where the flag came down. He felt energy at his fingertips.

And it came right back at him.

But False was standing ten feet away. She stood on a piece of terrain in the marshy ground that had turned to sand. As he looked around it seemed that the entire radius around him had changed. Patches of snow, of ice, of water, of sand, of gravel, of sand. Some endstone even peaked out behind piles of ash.

False composed herself, feeling the stinging cuts of her shattered shield across her arms and shins. She felt blood trickle down her leg and soak one of her socks as it got down through the boat. She considered them a few more cuts for a lesson learned:

Don’t mess with the Vex.

[3d-blocks]

AU Time Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

Yee yee, here’s the previous post, this is going to mostly be about what the hermits look like, here we go!

They basically all look like rogue adventurers, but are like, clean. Most of the hermits don’t have tons of stuff dangling off of them, but everyone looks a lot more prepared for an expedition through the caves than usual

Xisuma:

It’s basically his normal suit and helmet. The helmet is slightly bulkier than usual to compensate for the filtration system, he has pierced ears but can only wear studs. He’s got a keyring on his belt with various skeleton keys, there’s some knick-knacks that hang off his side. Hair is a bit messy, but he’ll take a brush to it every once-in-a-while, that’s nice

Evil Xisuma (RIP):

He doesn’t wear the armor or the helmet, his boots are loose, and he’s generally a mess. He keeps any useful relics in pockets or attached to a belt. Hair is an absolute mess, but once he gets his hands on a brush it’ll be better

Grian:

He pretty much looks the same, only he’s been given some knee and elbow pads to use. Mainly only wears the elbow pads, but will use some grip gloves to help climb stuff on land

Cleo:

She really just wears whatever she wants most of the time. If it’s ruins time or caving time, she’ll put on some tougher clothing, jeans, maybe a trucker jacket, and a small sling backpack. Puts her hair up in a messy bun for adventure and work time

Joe:

He looks pretty much the same, he just got himself a nice brown leather jacket and made some goggles with False to go over his glasses. Yes, he has gloves and knee pads too, just no elbow pads. He also has various small pouches and places to keep items like rope and relics

Cub:

He looks pretty much the same, he usually does adventuring after the fact, when everything has been made safe. Only now he wears the lab coat a little looser and has a belt with a bunch of pouches on it. If he needs to adventure, he’ll put on a shirt, a jacket if needed, some jeans or shorts, attach a bunch of pouches and some rope to his belt, some boots, and have a nice prayer. Any scars he has glow faintly with the Vex’s light like it’s coming from the inside him

Scar:

He’s already very adventurer. But he does have pouches for stuff like everyone else. He also has some leg braces for injuries done to him in his previous world. His legs covered in scars that faintly glow with the Vex’s power from the inside. He’s visibly tired all the time it’s kinda worrying

Doc:

He just kinda goes for it? He doesn’t put on any gear or truely prep. At most he’ll grab some rope, some spare shulker boxes, maybe an ender chest, but that’s kinda it? He grabs what he can and goes as is. He will put on some sandals though, too many pointy things in ruins and caves

TFC:

He’s basically always ready to cave. He’s got some fingerless combat gloves, a sling-backpack, pouches on his belt, and some hiking boots on normally. He’s got grip gloves and a jacket in his bag, along with anything else he might need. Always has a pickaxe on him that he uses as a stabilizer because he’s old and tall. His hair is longer than you’d think, it’s in a thick braid that, when undone, reaches to the lower middle of his back

Iskall:

He’s already very adventure-y. He just added stronger elbow and knee pads, and a harness that has shoulder pads for better protection. Hanging off his hip, there’s a vile of redstone dust (it’s something he can use to pray to the god of redstone if need be, otherwise it’s a good-luck charm). He has ice, redstone, and end markings covering his arms that he does his best to hide them with a kinda skin-tight turtleneck and gloves. He only has a few pouches and some rope on him. His hair is a little messy, and can be pulled into a short ponytail

Mumbo:

He still wears a suit for everything. Or, at least, as close as can comfortably get to a suit. He’ll wear a suit normally, but if he has to explore, off comes the jacket and vest, on comes the harness, pouches, fancy-ish shoes that are still good for climbing, and the like. Hanging off his harness in the front is a feather and a vile of redstone (the feather is for the goddess of the sky and wind and the vile is for the god of redstone, they’re used for prayers and good-luck). Mumbo likes to keep his hair slicked back, at the very least combed, but it’s kind of a mess otherwise

Stress:

Absolutely HATES the nether and can barely stand to be around Tango, he just radiates so much heat

Stress is always dressed for hot or warm weather, if it’s a blizzard, she’ll be wearing a t-shirt and pants that reaches a little below her knees at most. She keeps her adventure stuff in a bag she keeps with her at all times. She’s got a harness, attachable ice grips for her boots, rope, and a varsity jacket for the hermits that Cleo helped make. Her arms and legs look like they’re basically made of ice, it quickly fades past her elbows and knees, but that doesn’t make it any less worrying. She has thick hair that goes a little past her shoulders, she lets it do it’s own thing most of the time, as trying to seriously style it is a horrible time. And there’s always a bunch of snowflakes in it???

Tango:

Straight up a demon

He was previously in nether jail. His crime? He’d like to know too buddy

Absolutely covered in scars from the punishments he had to suffer through, you’ll never see him without some kind of covering

LOTHES the nether, spends as little time there as possible so the blazes can’t rat on him

He barely stand to be around Stress, it’s cold enough for him already, he didn’t need this. Though they bond over mutually hating the nether, be it for very different reasons

Usually the second to ruins, if it’s a good haul he’ll come away very loud and very happy

Tango gives off wandering trader vibes. He’s got a thick, patterned, wool cloak, a red turtleneck, his vest, some jeans, and some boots on. That’s just in the plains, in the arctic he has a face mask and a scarf usually added. In the desert he lightens up to just having his cloak, jeans, a thin long-sleeve shirt, and some regular shoes. There’s a bunch of pockets on the inside of his cloak to stuff things in. He’s got horns, sharp teeth, and a small tail, but he tries to lie and say that the horns are fake, everyone just goes along with it. There are golden bands and some beads decorating his horns so he can feel pretty. No matter the weather, he does his best to hide all his scars, you’ll never see him without some kind of covering that hides most of them. His hair has two modes, looks like it’s been blasted back by the wind, or rats’ nest. The rare in-between is whenever someone with a will, a brush, and some relics pulls him down and brushes his hair

Keralis??:

Sadly, he won’t be appearing in the main story of Time To Let Go

Instead, I’ll write something called The Adventures Of Keralis later, because it’s funny

Here’s the breakdown of it: He’s just been building things for the gods this whole time, he’s recently been a lot more snarky and has been building whatever he wants and sometimes builds what the gods ask for

Keralis voice, “the god of chaos [the Vex] is a little bitch, I should know, I worked for them”

Will happily insult most gods he doesn’t think are necessary for the people he likes’ lives

Obviously, he’s not normally like this, but with the gods he just got fed up

(If you can’t tell, I’m very excited to see more of Keralis)

[angeart]

hhau rescue rambles - part III

>> part I here // part II here // hhau masterpost here <<

3,3k words. cw for this one - violence, injuries, maybe mild gore?

-- The hunters come, drawn by the loud noises of panic Grian was making, unerringly making their way towards them. They yell and holler at each other and cheer, feeling triumph from cornering their prey. It’s going to be them who get the wanted poster reward money. Them who will get their hands on those rare, special, bright feathers. 

They do not hesitate to approach and attack.

Scar is tightly holding onto Grian, unwilling to let go. He’s going to protect him with everything he has, and if right now that’s just his body? If it means being a shield? He’ll do it.

He’s in his vex form, which allows the wounds to heal, but they still hurt. It still feels desperate. It still feels like there’s a limit, and the enemies are approaching, cautious around the clearly feral vex. 

Scar’s going to have to let go of Grian if they have any chance to fight them off here.

He pleads and begs, asking for Grian’s attention and trust, hoping for some coherency. Hoping, to all hells and back, that Grian can do this last thing. That he won’t run, that he won’t give up, that he won’t give himself over in some misguided attempt to protect Scar. (There’s no protecting Scar here. He’s on that wanted poster as well, after all. He’s already caught in this skirmish.)

There’s only one thing for them to do.

Fight.

So he looks at Grian, trying to anchor his panicked gaze, and begs him to fight with him. 

Please, fight with me. Please, Grian. It can be the last time.

And Grian nods. He rubs the tears out of his eyes. There’s nothing else to do here. He’s going to stand by Scar’s side and do his part in their survival, like always. Even if it might be the last time. (Grian definitely thinks the last time means something else here, but he’s willing to take as many hunters down with them as possible.) (He also thinks this just proves his point that he’s a beacon and he’ll draw danger to Scar, constantly, always, until they die.)

They slip into something learned, feral and fierce. A flash of steel and claws, blue magic and violet feathers. The panic and exhaustion take second place, pushed away entirely by a haze of a fight, blood gathering on their hands as they cover each other’s back.

It’s violent. It’s vicious.

This is how the hermit rescue party finds them. 

They’ve never seen Grian and Scar like this. They’ve never seen a scene quite like this one. But the fight is far from over, and more hunters are coming, and— The hermits don’t really get time to process what they’re seeing—what any of it means, a reflection of a year of horrors—they simply rush in to help.

Scar is relieved to see them. They can now see that Grian is alive! (And they can help keep it that way!) And Grian can see that there really is hope!

Except Grian isn’t really processing that this is their friends. His mind is completely haywire, adrenaline loud in his ears. This makes no sense to him, and he doesn’t have the space to stop and pause and take it in. It’s staticky and numb and far away, nonsensical to his frightened heart. The coherency evades him. 

There’s nothing here for Grian but blood and death and Scar Scar Scar Scar.

He barely dodges an arrow aimed at him and pounces at a hunter who was approaching Scar from the side. There’s no hesitation in his motions. No pause or remorse about fighting to death on a permadeath server. About killing, ruthlessly and brutally. It’s long since past the time when thoughts like that felt like they hold any weight.

The hermits quickly assess that this isn’t going to go well. The fight won’t easily be turned in their favour if they’re overwhelmed by numbers. They need to go. Now.

They don’t get to tell their plan to Scar and Grian. There’s no time. There’s no real way to explain anything in this chaos of a fight. They simply act.

It’s Cub who manages to get close enough to vex-mode Scar, snapping a bracelet on his wrist.

Scar barely registers that there’s something against his skin before he feels a sharp yank as he’s teleported away, without warning or consent. 

Disorientedly, he finds himself on a ship, the surroundings quiet where before everything was loud. Cub is there with him, and so is Doc and Ren and Impulse. Xisuma hurries into the room, eyes wide, asking if Scar’s okay.

Scar isn’t okay, because he is here and Grian isn’t.

Scar isn’t okay, because Grian was ready to give up and sacrifice himself before Scar found him, and now he's alone again.

Scar isn’t okay, because Grian is terrified and Scar isn’t there to help. He isn’t there to keep him grounded. He isn’t there to keep him alive through this. He—

 It doesn’t matter that Cub promises they’re coming. So very sure the others will join them very soon. Any second, really! Aaaaany second.

Scar’s going ballistic on the ship. Gone full vex brain, and they can’t snap him out of it. Doc tries to restrain him with his bionic arm, since it can resist Scar’s claws. (Scar does not like seeing a creeper right now, either. He’s not thinking straight.) Scar’s hair is still white, eyes shining blue, vex magic rampant in his veins as feral panic floods him, leaving him thrashing and yelling at them, demanding to see Grian. (They took him away, he can’t be taken away, no nononono—)

Cub keeps repeating they’re coming. They’re coming.

Scar keeps trying to fight back, get free, get them to listen to him. Insisting, urgent and panicky: Send me back send me back send me back.

A minute passes, then another.

The others aren’t showing up.

Scar’s agitation only grows. He told them. He told them that Grian needs him! They aren’t listening to him. Nobody is listening.

Impulse tells him to trust them.

Scar shouts back that he doesn’t trust anybody.

It’s bewildering and startling and wild. On top of that, Cub is freaking out, because Scar’s still in his vex form, and Cub knows all too well that it’s actively dangerous to Scar to keep holding onto that much vex magic at once for too long. That Scar needs to stop.

Scar won’t stop. Not until Grian is safe.

--

Grian isn’t safe.

The fight is messy and the hermits showed up in the middle of it and Grian isn’t processing any of it. He just knows someone’s trying to grab him, and then Scar is gone, and Grian’s left in an even worse state, everything a cacophony of danger and panic. 

Amidst the chaos of the fight, he does what he knows best: he avoids being touched. He avoids capture, which is what his brain perceives as the hermit rescue party trying to do. They need to get close to him, within touching distance, and put the bracelet on him, and— He isn’t letting them. He isn’t letting anyone near him. (Anyone but Scar.) (But Scar isn’t here anymore.)

Alarms blare through Grian’s head at the loss of Scar—his only source of safety irreparably gone in a way he can’t comprehend—hurtling him deeper into confusion and despair. Everything’s a blur of blood and adrenaline, and he’s terrified.

But Scar asked him to fight, one last time. So Grian does.

--

Scar, too, fights. 

He fights to get free, to get sent back to Grian, somehow, he doesn’t care how just send him back. He’s distressed in a way they’ve never seen, and the more time passes without the rest of the rescue party coming back, the more grim it all becomes. 

Doc is still on Scar-restraining duty. Impulse and Ren are trying to help but are lowkey pressing themselves against the walls, trying to avoid the lash out. Cub’s still trying to get to Scar, urging him to calm down before the vex magic burns him out completely (and literally). Xisuma is anxiously counting every second that the rest of the rescue crew isn’t coming, trying to process the severity of the implications without having all the informations to do so. 

And then, finally, Pearl comes through.

Only Pearl. 

She’s dazed. She’s bleeding.

Scar doesn’t care. He tries to tackle her and demand answers, Doc’s hold slipping, managing to reel him back just in time. 

Everyone’s now on high alert. They don’t know what’s going on down there and they also need to take care of Pearl’s injuries. 

Turns out, Gem triggered Pearl’s teleport to get her out of there when she got severely injured. It’s now only Grian and Gem against a whole bunch of hunters in a world that doesn’t play nice. 

Scar swivels, yanking himself free of Doc’s hold. He grabs Xisuma. “Send me back.”

Pearl’s pleading the same now. She was so close to Grian! She doesn’t know what’s going to happen now that she isn’t there. Now that she doesn’t have a chance to reach him anymore. There was so much blood everywhere. Her injuries throb in a way she’s never felt, dread thick on her tongue like blood. 

She can’t bear the possibility of this going wrong. 

Nobody can.

Impulse snaps to action (as the Unhurt Sane Person™). “Alright, that’s it. I’m going in.”

X, worried for Gem and Grian, lets him.

Which makes Scar more feral, because he also wants to go, and now he knows Xisuma is capable of sending him back. He starts straight up threatening them all, tries to snatch at the controls himself, tries to grab Xisuma by the throat, all the bad things. He yells at them that Grian’s going to die. Can’t they understand??? His words are jumbled and desperate and hard to comprehend, but he needs them to understand. He needs to go back.

His claws are still smeared by blood of the hunters. He’s still in vex form, hair white and eyes blue, fangs sharp. Breath hitching, tears dripping down his chin, heart beating wildly in his chest. He needs to go they need to let him they have to. Grian’s going to die.

Cub decides he has to make compromises. He says they have to send Scar back in. (Scar isn’t going to let go of his vex form here like this.) He makes the call to trust Scar despite all the damage he’s causing here. He approaches him, even though Scar is scary and has been lashing out, grabs his hand and presses a bracelet into it.

He tells Scar, “Save him.”

--

The second Scar spawns back down, he is welcomed by Grian’s visceral scream of pain.

His first instant thought is a harrowing not again, vividly remembering how he found Grian that very first time in this world. How close to death that ended up. How awful it was. 

He wanted to never hear that kind of sound again. And yet he keeps hearing them. Screams of pain he’ll never be able to forget.

The scene that greets him is dismal. 

Grian’s on the ground, his wing tangled into a trap that keeps dragging and ripping at it. There’s a lot of hunters trying to approach the trap—they want to kill Grian so he’d stop thrashing and tearing his wing apart, because they don’t want their precious money-making wings destroyed. Gem and Impulse are slightly off to the side, getting overwhelmed as they’re desperately trying to keep the hunters on them and away from Grian.  

It’s a blur. Scar rushes through the hunters, drawing blood as he goes, mindless and with only a singular goal in mind: get to Grian. He doesn’t care if he’s getting stabbed or sliced in the process. (It’ll heal. It’ll heal. Grian might not.) A growl rips from him, low and deep and feral. A handful of hunters startles away from Grian, stumbling out of the mad vex’s path, but it doesn’t save them from their fate.

Scar’s claws are drenched in scarlet, leaving behind an absolute carnage by the time he collapses to his knees by Grian’s side, unable to relax until he can gather Grian in his bloodied arms. 

Impulse and Gem keep fending off hunters, but they also watch this scene unfold in stolen, fragmented little moments, keeping an eye on the two of them. And it’s destabilising to witness, for very different reasons than everything else that’s happened so far.

Because it’s only when Scar has a hold on Grian does some of the white bleed out of his hair, his hands softening from claws into blunt nails and harmless fingertips. 

Because where there were only growls and snarls and seemingly no control, there’s suddenly gentleness and soft murmured words.

Because Scar kisses Grian’s hair as he soothes him, and Grian finally grows quieter and calmer, even though he’s still shivering and sobbing and clearly in immense pain.

Because Grian lets Scar put that bracelet on him so easily, so willingly, clutching onto him, Scar’s name on a desperate, hoarse, endless loop on Grian’s lips. 

It all suddenly makes a lot more sense. (They messed up taking Scar away.)

--

They all get teleported out of there, this time Grian included. 

It isn’t pretty. The trap that tears at his wing and leaves him hopelessly ground-bound is so firmly attached to him that it gets teleported with him, its sharp edges buried deep into the flesh of Grian’s wing.

He keeps freaking out whenever someone tries to approach, making it impossible for them to help.

It’d be best if Peal could come and take a look. She’s a moth hybrid, not an avian, but she still knows more about wings than any of them. (She should know a lot about Grian’s wings, their relationship once almost sibling-like, but she looks at the tangled, bloodied mess that Grian is, flinching away from her, and she is terrified, finding no traces of that bond in Grian’s frightened gaze.)

 Scar keeps holding onto Grian, blindly eager to keep everyone away as well, attuned to Grian’s panic. But his worry wins over, his adrenaline-muddied mind unable to figure out the trap without assistance.

So he eventually allows Pearl to approach.

Grian has different ideas. He’s having none of this. He doesn’t want anyone near his wings.

Determined and not seeing much of a choice here, Pearl crouches as close as Grian allows. Scar’s blocking Grian’s view, trying to redirect his attention and keep him calm through the waves of frantic, leftover but still very real panic. (He’s using his wings to block the view.) (Cub cringes at the state of them. They all do, actually, momentarily stunned but determining that this isn’t the time to ask.) 

Pearl is just close enough to inspect the tangle, and just far enough for it all to be out of reach.

It’s hard to see, through the blood and the feathers and various other bits that she really doesn’t want to think too much about.

Trying to take control over her trembling voice, she does her best to navigate Scar through it. It would’ve been so much simpler if she could do it herself—it’d probably avoid some mistakes and more damage, and it’d be faster. (Verbal navigation with frenzy-muddled thinking is difficult.)

But Grian can’t can’t can’t

Scar’s hands tremble almost the entire time. He’s still on an adrenaline rush. He’s exhausted from his magic usage—even having his wings out is a struggle.

At one point, Pearl tries to lay a soothing hand on Scar and he jumps.

And it just really settles then—that, wow, they’re both really messed up, aren’t they?

--

Scar ends up being the one to bargain with hermits. Bargaining is a strong word, it’s more of a list of demands, really. Safety lines, kind of. Grian’s still not processing quite right that this is happening—it’s a numb, almost dissociative feeling; he knows these are his friends, but he doesn’t understand how this is real, and his feelings are nonsensical and haywire. He feels very far from normal. (He doesn’t remember what normal is.) He doesn’t want anyone near.

They’re given lots of potions in lieu of a more proper medical examination, and a private shared room. Scar’s always the one to answer the door, on guard, tense even as he slips on an easygoing smile most of the times. 

They’re given new comms, which they tuck away and promptly forget about, completely unused to such a thing. 

Once things settle a bit, all the startling differences come into focus. Cub points out that Scar’s got new scars, and everyone notices his stark white streak in his hair. (Not to mention his tattered wings.) On top of that, Grian is scarred now too. And they hold themselves differently, twitching and flinching, curled up and quiet. Guarded and unapproachable. 

Everything feels horribly precarious. The hermit crew skirts the topic of what that world was like, what happened to them, never quite managing to ask in any meaningful way, even as the questions burn on their tongue. 

They’re not going to get any answers. Not now. Not for a long time.

Nothing but hints and flashes of fear in eyes and marks written deeply into skin, to stay forever, carry across respawns (which will now be a real possibility again, but it’s a concept Scar and Grian don’t know how to grasp anymore.)

The rescue crew sends a message home, to warn the others. Telling them to be careful and maybe not approach too fast. It’s vague, devoid of details. They themselves don’t really understand the triggers, after all, feeling confused. The journey home isn’t long enough for any of it to properly settle, a mere two days worth of travel until they’re within reach of Hermitcraft.

So of course the messages don’t make much sense to anyone waiting home on Hermitcraft. Everyone’s simply hyped and excited that this’s been a success, that Scar and Grian are going home!

They organise a welcome party.

It doesn’t go well.

Grian and Scar spawn in, not expecting to be instantly surrounded by people friends. It’s chaotic and loud, everyone cheerful and celebratory, ready to throw themselves at the two of them—

Except Grian’s backing away now, lowkey having a panic attack, and Scar’s protectively standing in front of him, shielding him, used to block the view of Grian’s wings on sheer instinct. Everything’s too much all at once, an onslaught of noises and people crossing lines before either of them are ready for it, and—

Well, Grian runs.

Scar, who has a slightly more solid understanding of how they’re meant to be safe now, falters. (His emotions aren’t settled at all, but he can somewhat rationalise it to himself.) (Grian can’t grasp it just yet at all.) He mumbles an anxious and slightly startled “Sorry— This— No.” Before he bolts after Grian.

The rescue crew sighs, telling the others they shouldn’t have done this. The welcome party was a bad idea. But nobody really understands. They can see now that, clearly, it was a bad idea, but they’re left reeling, trying to catch up to it. (Scar’s white streak. Grian’s scars. The panic in their eyes. Scar’s protectiveness. Grian’s fear.)

They’ve been looking forward to this reunion. They’ve spent weeks, months, feeling despair and hopelessness, an empty space left on the server where two beloved, pesky members of their family should be. And now they’re left standing here, in the wake of what should’ve been a happy occasion, all kinds of confused and concerned and confused.

Everything is far from ideal. 

They’re going to take a breath, have an (unproductive) meeting about this, and do their best to figure out what to do about this situation.

Grian and Scar, in the meanwhile, are going to dig a hidden bunker. (The others had a house prepared for them, near the shopping district, lively and easy to visit.) (They didn’t even get to tell them.) 

Well.

This is going to take some time.

But they’re home now. They’re home, and one day, that revelation is going to properly sink in.

Until then, they have each other. (And everyone else, waiting and ready for them. <3)