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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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College has stopped kicking my butt enough for me to post another chapter of the the Scattered au fic. this one is meant to be a parallel to last chapter, so you might want to reread that one.

scattered au is by @hermitcraftheadcanons and their community

reading tag list: still just @helleborusangel right now. Send an ask if you want to be added on.

Xisuma pulled himself out of the water, coughing a bit from what had gotten past his filter. He tried to look around only to squint at the light from the surface. He didn’t think he had swum that far up, but for all he knew, he was able to push himself that far to finally escape the warden. So when something suddenly attacked him and didn’t immediately kill him, Xisuma quickly fought back.

While initially swimming, he thought he had felt something though wasn’t sure, but this was much more clear. And slimelike, it seemed, since that’s what it felt like when he attacked it. But the following grunt of pain from the attacker sounded much more human like.

Xisuma did his best to focus on whatever was there, but he was seeing double. He looked back and forth, trying to tell if it was just from the intense lighting change or from there actually being two… things there. And it seemed it was the latter when the things looked at each other.

“Well, that’s probably not good.” The two things spoke in unison, which didn’t help the headache that Xisuma could feel coming on. Still, he was able to focus enough to get a good look at whatever was there and was a slime hybrid of sorts similar to Jevin, though instead of his very clearly blue slime, these two - one? They were more of a sea green. Plus from what Xisuma could guess, they were able to split like a regular slime, something Jevin couldn’t.

“Sorry.” Xisuma spoke up, it finally clicking in his mind that he had likely damaged them enough to make them split. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you were attacking- I mean, maybe you were, but this does seem to be where you’re staying, so I guess I invaded your home a bit.”

“I guess. So, are you from around here?” The slime pair asked, making Xisuma shake his head. “Huh, neither am I… are we… This is the first time I’ve split so-”

Xisuma tilted his head a little. “I guess it is pretty safe here. Have you had any deaths so far?”

“I thought that was going to be my first.”

“So that would explain the lack of death messages as opposed to Gemini or Pearlescent. Do you know either of them?”

“No, sorry, not really.” The slime people answered. “Well, uh, there’s just enough here if you need basic tools, but not much else. I’ve got a pickaxe- crafting table.”

Xisuma looked between the two. “I think both would be nice. I spawned underground and had trouble with getting anything at all.” And before he could say more, the slime people were handing him those two items and a few more.

“You’re on your own for food though. Berries aren’t the most filling, so I’ve been eating them all up. They taste nice though.” And to prove their point, each of the slime people went after a berry, though they went after the same one and ended up fighting over it.

Xisuma nodded and went up to one of the walls. This would be much easier than getting the warden to do all his mining, seeing as how he would now be in control. He started to staircase out of the cave, placing what few torches he had until he found more coal. Technically he didn’t need to, but then something could spawn and head down and attack the slime pair. And Xisuma didn’t want to never return and just leave them there alone forever. So when he finally did get up to the surface, Xisuma went straight back down. “Are you sure you want to- er, what are you doing?”

The slime people looked back over to Xisuma and shrugged. “Trying to fuse back together or something. Why did you come back?”

Xisuma wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but the next thing he really knew, he was going back up towards the surface, his arms full from holding the slime pair, one cradled in each arm. Sure, they said they would be safe alone in the cave, but X couldn’t help the feeling that they wouldn’t be safe so far away. He was pretty sure it was just from his worry about everyone else, and this was just one person he could protect, but Xisuma couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else going on.

Hypno leaned against Etho, who was doing surprisingly well considering their current situation. Both of them were low on hunger, only managing to stay alive from what little they could get from the flowers and grass they picked and ate. Etho somehow managed to find a pig wandering around and killed it for some raw pork, handing it to Hypno to eat. They couldn’t cook it, but Etho was less worried about the hunger the meat would satiate and more about the fact that Hypno wasn’t fully himself.

After the initial shock of finding horns on Hypno’s head, the pair looked him over. Hypno made mention of an ache at the base of his spine, and Etho found a few concerning bumps on Hypno’s upper back. Until they actively looked into it, Hypno hadn’t noticed anything wrong, which led to them checking Etho, and also giving the ninja something to plan for on his next respawns.

Etho was glad they didn’t notice much with him, but with little to do, he explained to Hypno his encounters with Ren, Impulse and Grian. Out of the three, Impulse had seemed the most normal, only having red eyes instead of the golden brown he usually sported. Ren had seemed fine at first, but then in the attack from the creeper, the shifter had killed Etho, acting like an attacked wolf. And then Grian for the most part had been acting like a bird, though near the end…

A moobloom trotted over, pulling Etho out of his thoughts. It nuzzled against Hypno, who happily reciprocated. Still worried about the other hermit and the effects the environment was having on him, Etho forcefully separated the two, needing to attack the animal to make it flee.

“What was that for Etho? It was just being friendly.”

“Right now, we need to be cautious of everything. Especially those cows and all the flowers around here. Because in case you forgot, growing horns like that is not normal. Plus, we could use the food right now.”

Hypno huffed. “We’ll use up more energy trying to kill it than we would get from anything it drops. It’s better to let us willingly help us than-”

Etho suddenly held up a finger to shush Hypno, letting them listen to the breeze. “Do you hear that?”

Hypno listened, only hearing a few moos from the nearby moobloom. “The cows?”

“Well, okay yeah. But it’s more what I’m not hearing.” And then Etho pulled out his communicator. Hypno watched as Etho stared at the screen, mask moving ever so slightly as he mouthed counting up. But nothing was happening. At first, Hypno didn’t get what was so important until he pulled out his own communicator. No death messages were coming in. Specifically none from Impulse.

“Impulse got out.” Hypno said, whispering in disbelief. “Someone must have found him.”

Etho nodded. “Yeah, but the question is who.” And then almost immediately, it was answered.

Zedaph was slain by impulseSV

If there was one thing that was a benefit to respawning in the same place every time, it was the fact that no matter how many times Impulse died, the guardians wouldn’t disappear. Meaning that after a few attempts, he finally killed one of the monsters giving him grief. Just being able to slay one of them felt freeing with all the torment he was currently being put through, but that wasn’t the only benefit.

When the guardian died, it dropped two things, a prismarine shard and some cod. Impulse greedily grabbed at the items, stuffing the shard in his inventory and then stuffing the fish in his mouth. After not eating in so long, the fish seemed like the most heavenly food in the world, though Impulse had other ideas on why that was the case.

Here and there, guardians had completely ignored him. Sometimes he felt like he was getting a full breath of air even though he was still stuck in the water. He hadn’t missed the webbing between his fingers and toes growing each respawn nor the scales that appeared and itched like crazy. Half of Impulse would have preferred drowning forever instead of whatever this was, but his other half realized that it was likely his only way out.

Another respawn left him fumbling for his prismarine shard, using it to dig into the nearby blocks. Along with the claw-like nails he had gained, Impulse was able to break another block, making him smile at first, but then his expression dropped. With the way the temples were constructed, the walls weren’t that thick. Instead of gaining an air pocket, he had just broken into another chamber.

“Impulse.”

In anger, Impulse took the prismarine shard and used it against the next guardian he saw.

“Impulse.”

He started by using it like a knife and jamming it into the eye of the beast, making it flail and spread its spikes.

“Impulse.”

As the world around him seemed to fade into blues and golds, Impulse kept attacking, needing to get his anger out somehow.

“Impulse. Impulse. Impulse.” And then Impulse felt like he was falling, but he still thrashed around, trying to stop whatever it was. Then the next thing he knew, it was like gravity had increased drastically, leaving him pressed against the floor. Something moved and he attacked it, surprised to find it feeling much fluffier than the guardians had been. There was a sound, like someone talking, but why would anyone be talking with him stuck all alone. Etho maybe? Was he back?

As the creature died in his hands, Impulse looked towards the sound. The first thing he noticed was that Etho’s eyes were now both red. Even the sclera were red. He had also dyed his hair blond, and gotten rid of his mask, and well that wasn’t Etho at all. Impulse kicked his legs to try and swim closer, only to finally realize he wasn’t underwater anymore.

The moment Impulse realized he was out of the sea temple, he started taking gulps of air. His lungs had already started breathing it all, but now he was trying to get as much oxygen as he could before he drowned again. A part in the back of his mind told him he couldn’t drown right now, but his mental state wasn’t the best right now.

“Hey Impulse. Calming down now?” Tango was asking, and Impulse looked over, glad to see his friend. He nodded, which got Tango to smile before looking off towards the horizon. Impulse briefly followed Tango’s eyes before his hand moved and he felt the soft wool of the carpets beneath him. It almost felt overwhelming how different it was compared to the past week plus that he had been stuck in the temple. But it was also good, so he wrapped himself up before following Tango’s eyes once more.

“What’s that way?” Impulse spoke, voice feeling unfamiliar from disuse and possibly alterations that matched everything else going on with him.

“Zed. I’m hoping he’ll be able to find us again since I have made a bit of a path.”

Impulse tilted his head before noticing his inventory had many more items. “Did he get killed or something?”

“Yeah, you sort of killed him when we first summoned you in.” Tango explained, and Impulse felt horrified. Him? Kill Zedaph? For a prank or something, sure, that was believable, But this had been from pure bloodlust at the time.

“I killed him? Oh no! I didn’t know! It had been a guardian at first, and then I was falling, and then I was-”

“Hey, calm down.” Tango replied. He took a step toward Impulse, obviously to comfort him, but then Impulse was surprised to see his friend change their mind and step back again. “Zed and I figured something like this might happen. We would have made beds to set our spawn, but we haven’t been collecting wool that much, so at most we would have had just one piece.”

Impulse chucked a little after realizing there were no sheep around. “What? Did Zedaph finally grow his hair out enough?” And he expected Tango to laugh in return, but the frown that appeared didn’t bode well.

“Impulse, do you… realize what you look like?” Tango asked, and then Impulse looked down at his hand and flexed it.

“What’s happened with Zedaph?”

Tango took a few steps to the side and a moment later the nearby leaves of a tree caught fire. “Zed and I have had both of our more animal-esque traits acting up. I’m burning just about any flammable thing that gets close to me and his wool is growing out of control. There’s other stuff too but…”

“But even if you’re not ending up like me, you’re still dealing with your own things.”

“Hey! I’m back! And it looks like Impulse has not killed you!”

Hels cut down a hoglin that was in the way of he and Wels as they travelled the nether. Wels was reluctantly following, his copy being the only reason he was doing so well right now. Well that, and the fact that he was promising some sort of shelter. They went a bit further, and then Wels spotted something that was clearly man made, making him try to run forward for shelter before he was grabbed by Hels. “Don’t run ahead idiot. I just know that you’ll manage to die if you try that and we’ll have to start all over.”

“Well I’m sure I could find a way to survive fine on my own.”

“Sure you could.” Hels said, obviously sarcastic. “And your death messages make that so very believable. Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about your situation, other than being stuck in the nether.”

“Well, chat hasn’t been working right and I can’t regenerate my health.”

“Right… Well, what have you been eating?” Hels asked as they finally reached the door to the helsmit’s base, opening it to let Wels inside.

“Mainly crimson fungi or the rare pork if I can chip enough health away from a hoglin.” Wels answered, linking himself to the respawn anchor sitting inside.

“That fungi is only edible to hoglins you know.” Hels said, closing the door and then crossing his arms.

“Well obviously that’s not the case here.” And then Wels made his point by munching down on a mushroom he still had in his inventory.

Hels pursed his lips before yanking the fungi out of Wels’ hand and then smashing the knight’s head against a nearby wall. “Spit that out right now or I’ll go again until I break your tusks.”

“My what?” Wels asked, reluctantly spitting out the half chewed fungus.

“You’re an idiot. How did you not notice you were growing tusks?”

And Wels didn’t have an answer, just letting his hand go to his mouth and feel what were definitely tusks. “When did-”

“Who knows. My guess is it's something with this world. It’s not like any of us want to be here.”

Wels looked back over to Hels at that comment, a questioning look on his face. “Evil Xisuma approached me a few weeks ago. He was planning to get into the new season before the rest of you so he could keep from getting banned and put some action into play with his brother and a number of the other hermits. I wasn’t as interested in his plan, but having fun on the server on my own seemed like a good idea to me. A few others were planning to join us, but I’m sure they haven’t followed along. So as far as I’m aware, it is only Evil Xisuma and I trapped here with all of you.”

“Well, at the very least neither of us are stuck here alone.” Wels spoke, trying to give a positive spin on things.

“I would have preferred to be alone.” Hels replied. “You’ll use up more of my resources. That being said, my guess is you’re necessary for whatever is going on around here to stop. So until that’s fixed or I learn otherwise, I am reluctantly helping you.”

“Alright, that sounds fine for now. And you said Evil Xisuma is here too, correct? Any clue where he could be?”

Bdubs stared down at the void below his feet, glad to have stopped moving, though his gut was still getting used to that change. The guy in pink armor next to him was reluctantly patting his back as another wave of nausea hit and he started to dry heave. “Th-Thanks.”

“Whatever. I just know what being stuck in the void is like so I have a little sympathy.”

“Well glad to know I’m not the only one stuck in this situation. Not that that’s a good thing.”

“Right.” The armored person deadpanned, looking down at the void as well.

Bdubs was quiet for a little before looking over to his savior. “So then, I don’t really think I caught your name in all our yelling to heave both of us up here.”

The other person raised an eyebrow at Bdubs, as if to ask if he was serious, then being a little surprised when he was. The person hesitated, looking down, not to the void but more at their lap, then a hand fiddled with their hair before they finally looked back at Bdubs. “Name’s Xannes.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Bdubs!” And he held out a hand, pausing as he noticed the state it was in.

Xannes took the hand carefully and shook it, before helping it back to Bdubs’ side. “Side effect of the void. I’m more protected because of my armor, but you don’t have that.”

“Well now I’m actually upset about not having armor, even if it were pink.”

Xannes looked incredulous at that before putting his hands on his hips. “Hey, this is simply a… lightish red.”

“You mean pink.”

“Lightish. Red.”

“Lightish red is red mixed with white. And what does that give you? Pink. You’ve got pink armor.”

“Alright, so maybe it’s supposed to be pink.” Xannes conceded. “But my color is red, and this isn’t my armor, I’m simply borrowing it. So for anyone else, it would be pink, but as long as I wear it, it’s a lightish red.”

“Whatever you say.”

Xannes sighed and then carefully took Bdubs’ hand again. “Alright, so looking again, this doesn’t quite look as natural as being stuck in the voice can make it. Obviously that’s because none of this is natural. Even though it wouldn’t help me in the long run if it were working, I have tested plenty with my communicator and learned a number of things. First, we are not the only ones in a situation like this.”

“Yeah.” Bdubs agreed. “I already met Scar stuck on one of the islands below.”

“Noted.” Xannes nodded. “Well, others have similar odd spawns. I- Someone named Impulse had been stuck in a guardian temple, a Docm77 has been sent to his death by goats. X-Xisuma has been dealing with a warden.” Xannes started to explain, voice getting quieter at the last example, though Bdubs didn’t notice.

“And the void stuff?”

“If I knew more about what was going on, I could tell you. But as it stands, I can just tell your limbs seem to have a form of void-bite and your eyes are as dark as the void itself.”

Bdubs leaned back a little in shock at the comment. “Wait, really?” And then he was fishing into his shirt before pulling out a knife, Xannes’ eyes widening at the weapon. Bdubs held the blade up, briefly putting it back down to shine it against his shirt before using it as a mirror and then staring into it. Sure enough, his eyes seemed to go on forever into their sockets, pure darkness filling them.

“How many knives do you have?” Xannes asked, tearing Bdubs’ gaze from the weapon.

“Huh? Oh, I’ve got plenty. Want one?” And he pulled out another, only the tiniest bit worried about being stabbed by the unfamiliar person. But instead of stabbing him, Xannes simply threw the knife off the edge, watching it fall down. “What was that for?”

Xannes didn’t really reply, just holding a finger up for Bdubs to wait. Reluctantly, he did, but then got restless as time seemed to drag on. Any time he attempted to talk, he would just get shushed, making it feel even worse. Finally, out of nowhere, the knife suddenly fell past them, making Bdubs jump back enough that he nearly fell off their gateway and into the void, but Xannes grabbed him before that could happen and pulled him back in.

“Well then, it seems like a loop around the void lasts around two and a half minutes.” Xannes stated, shifting to turn his body and move to a different part of the gateway. “I guess it would be less on a second loop after already reaching terminal velocity, but it's good to know. I know something has been flying past here ever so often but I was still sort of stuck on the side of this thing for most of it, then I was dealing with you, so… you get the idea.”

“You telling me everything’s looping up and down like us?” Bdubs asked, looking around the sky, or what passed for it in the end.

“Us and anything non-living. I’ve already seen that there have been three void related deaths by Scar, Etho and TinFoilChef.”

“Well so far I’ve only seen Scar and you.” Bdubs replied. “I guess those other two are stuck around here too.”

“The chef, yes, but I’m not so sure about the other.” And Xannes handed his comm to Bdubs, showing a list of death messages, all belonging to Etho. “I have a function that lets me sort these messages. It’s very handy.” And then he reached off to the side, catching a comm as it fell from the air. “And this would be yours. I’ve seen it here and there… To be honest, it seems like it takes more than two or so minutes. We might need to test more.”

Bdubs swapped their communicators before looking down at the abyss below. “Well, Scar’s somewhere down there, I already found him once. I’m gonna see if I can get to him again and you can do whatever while I’m falling.”

Xannes rubbed his chin and then nodded. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll look out for you. If you respawn, wait a loop for me to catch you because I don’t have omniscient reaction time.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bdubs replied with a smile, then jumped into the void once more, ignoring the fear that came with it.

Scar rolled around on the end stone, trying to get to sleep. Sure, beds didn’t work in the end, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sleep. It just wasn’t restful enough to keep phantoms away or set a spawn. Not like he needed to set a spawn three blocks away from his current one.

But right now, there was too much noise. The endermen were slowly losing their cool with Scar and he was also hearing the whispering of the vex. To be honest, that was probably why huge endermen were acting as they were. Void magic didn’t like to work with other magic.

But even with all of that, Scar really wanted to sleep for another reason. The whispers of the vex weren’t the only new thing with him. He had polished the pillar near him as just something to do other than wait around. The end rod in particular he shined until it was just mirror-like enough that he saw his green eyes were now vex blue. From that, he checked himself over a bit more and found that his eyes weren’t the only change. He seemed to be an inch or three shorter and his skin was definitely paler than before. He didn’t have wings again, but he knew it would only be a matter of time.

Scar really didn’t want to use any more help from the vex yet, knowing it would speed things up. He wanted to keep hope out for seeing Bdubs again before doing anything since it could be his last chance before a deal was needed once more. If he could just-

“Convex.” A much clearer whisper spoke, making Scar jump a little. “Are you sure a deal is such a bad thing at this stage in time?”

“Oh no no no no no.” Scar insisted, standing up and waving his hands in refusal. “I’m sure I’ll be better use to my friends if I’m not mostly stuck working with you guys.”

“What if you were not working for us?” The whisper asked, making Scar pause.

“Wait? I’m Convex because I can’t become true vex because of Xisuma and him tainting me and Cub with the void or something. I would think now being stuck in the end would make it worse, not better!”

“You still cannot, that is true. But a new evoker is being trained, one also tainted by the void. And I believe you would want to work with them.”

Scar inhaled sharply at the implication, knowing that it must be a hermit they were referring to. He fumbled in pulling his communicator out and then scrolled through all the death messages before finally seeing what he wanted. Death messages to vindicators and evokers, both about Mumbo. “So clarification on this deal?”

“You will still be considered Convex, but on a higher level than before. Not quite at the level of standard vex however. But during this, you will be linked to the new evoker, and cannot be released unless they themselves will it. And you should not will your release either.”

“Yeah, yeah, if that’s all, sure!” Scar agreed quickly, so excited he didn’t really take the time to think it over. Then suddenly he could feel more magic flowing into him. So much it felt like a red hot iron pressed all over his body, especially at his scars. And then it was gone, and he was left panting on the ground.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but suddenly his name was shouted and Scar managed to lift his head up. He saw Bdubs rocking down towards him again and suddenly felt stronger again, getting a burst of energy and moving towards the builder. New wings spread from his back and let him fly, keeping him above the void as he grabbed his friend and then slowed them before reaching the abyss below, then slowly dragging them back up.

“Bdubs! Are you okay?!” Scar asked the moment they were both on the endstone, only staying on his feet for a second before his knees buckled beneath him.

“Am I okay? Am I okay?! I’m on the sweet sweet ground again!” And then he kissed the stone beneath him. “What about you? You look… not Scar but sound normal.”

“I can explain more in a bit. There’s an end city just over that way and I want to get something so we can start towards the main island. I’ll see if there’s elytra for you.”

“Oh no. I don’t think I ever want to fly again. If anyone, give it to Xannes.”

“Who?”

“Okay, guess my story first.”

On the main island, TFC dodged another attack from the dragon. She had been attacking less frequently, which was good and bad in his eyes. No attacking meant less dying, but TFC needed her attacks to even attempt destroying all the crystals. Because there was no way she was dying to fists alone with them still around.

That all being said, TFC had a sneaking suspicion on why exactly that was happening. His prosthetics were built to match his remaining limbs in function, but gradually over the past few respawns, they were becoming off balance. In trying to fix them, TFC realized he was less human than before, claws on his hands and feet, and tenderness at his tailbone and shoulder blades.

TFC was old, that much was true. And because of that, he had seen all sorts of situations. While for the most part the problems of this world were new to TFC, adaptations were not. A number of present day hybrids were a result of that. Heck, mob variants were also sourced from suce and occurrence. So yeah, TFC was not too surprised about seemingly becoming a dragon hybrid.

Thinking it over, in the long run it would likely give him just enough of an upper hand to defeat the dragon, but there was also the concern of how long it would take to get to that point and how far these alterations would go. If this went too far, the world itself could mistake him for a new ender dragon, and even after killing the real one, no portal would form due to his existence.

Well, if that was the case, he would need to figure out what it was that made the existence of the dragon close the portal and see if he could reverse it. Especially since he recalled at least one or two hermits were supposed to be stuck in the end with him. Though that did give him another idea. Maybe he didn’t have to keep fighting if the dragon opened the portal herself.

The next time TFC respawned, he waited, giving her time to rest. When he was sure the dragon was fully healed again, the miner made his way to the podium and waited. The dragon swooped a few times, giving some warning shots, but she didn’t attack TFC directly, and he made no move to attack the crystals. She didn’t look happy, but TFC had plenty of time to wait.

In a bout of frustration, ink was spilled over the floor, making Mumbo even more frustrated than before. He didn’t understand the need for learning another language just for spells. He was sure that knowing the characters that appeared with enchanting would be enough, but apparently the illagers had their own writing system. At the very least, Mumbo recognized a character or two that Scar or Cub must have had written down, but it still felt like he was learning a new language from scratch.

With ink all over the place, Mumbo paused to work on cleaning everything up. He had ruined nearly all his materials, so now he would have to attempt to get more or find an illager who would assist him in such a task. Paper was easy enough to get, a farm already set up in the mansion, but Mumbo hadn’t automated it yet, so there wasn’t going to be much to reap. And squid ink wasn’t something they just had on hand.

Mumbo reached the farming room and grabbed what sugarcane had grown, taking the reeds over to a crafting table then cutting and pressing them into paper. He only managed to make six pages from all of that and didn’t have the material to bind them into a book.Instead of leaving the room, Mumbo put the paper into a nearby chest and then pulled out his redstone materials.

As Mumbo built, he decided to multitask by using redstone dust to practice some of the characters he needed to learn. He couldn’t remember the normal order of the characters, so he just wrote them at random. He never really focused on the characters, so he didn’t notice when a few in a line started to glow a bit. In fact, he was just pausing his writing to work on fixing a bit of redstone, his head stuck in the contraption.

His hand blindly reached for some string to add as a tripwire, but he was about half a foot to the wrong side of his pile of materials. When Mumbo’s hand started to go further, it was stopped by some thread being placed in his hand. The redstoner said his thanks and then strung it up before pausing and pulling his head out.

Standing nearby was someone Mumbo immediately recognized, not knowing anyone else with a bright red sweater like that. Not caring that he was currently covered in redstone dust, Mumbo jumped at the newcomer and hugged them tightly, so glad to see a familiar face. “Grian! You’re okay! How did you get here? Where are the bots? Are you alright?”

But pulling away again, Mumbo watched as Grian just blinked at him, seeming a little confused. “I think you may be mistaken and confused, my mustachioed friend. I mean, I am okay and I got here because of you, but I’m not sure what you mean by bots and well, you were trying to take to someone named Grian.”

Mumbo furrowed his brows. Looking them over again, he could tell this had to be Grian. His clothes and hair and everything were the same. He couldn’t quite tell about their eyes because they were wearing a mask, but it matched the one he had seen Grian with in the past, a black mark on its face instead of the purple Eflyn expected. The only thing unfamiliar were the wings. Shape and pattern wise, they matched the wings Grian had, but the colors of the feathers were no longer red yellow and blue, but purple grey and black.

“Well then. If you’re not Grian, then who are you?” Mumbo asked, and the person giggled slightly.

“I could have swore you already knew, but I guess not. The name is Xelqua, but don’t go throwing it around to just anyone.” And just hearing it reminded Mumbo. It had been a name Grian had told him before.

“Well, if you don’t want me throwing it around, I’m going to have to call you something.” Mumbo spoke up, Xelqua seeming to agree. “Since I already mistook you for him and he’s not around, how about I call you Grian.”

“Hmm.” Grian thought about it before shaking his head. “Just you and me, you can call me Xelqua. Otherwise just Watcher is fine, okay?”

“But I-” Mumbo started to say, and then there was a clatter, making Mumbo and Grian look over at the door where Eflyn was standing.

“Well. It seems we have another guest then…”

Joe had paused in his material gathering. It was just going to be for a little bit, but he needed to clear his head. And the best idea he had for that was climbing the tower at spawn the correct way. Sure, he could try climbing from the outside or something, finding a window, but at this point these were definitely Watchers, and Joe was very much aware that they were not to be messed with.

Joe needed to pause on a platform to hold his head, a headache forming. It had been coming and going for a while, but it didn’t feel so bad now, the tower already lit up pretty well. As he waited, his other hand clutched at the wall as best it could, just feeling the texture of the wall, as if to check that it was real. “Guess you really couldn’t have been swayed, now could you?” Joe asked, speaking into the empty air around him. “Well maybe after this mess we can try it again.”

Joe climbed a few more parts of the parkour that acted as steps before nearly falling to a sudden splitting headache. He half considered letting go and trying again, there being enough hay lining the floor below to break his fall, but he had already gotten so far. And maybe if he could get to the top of the tower…

It had been ages ago when Joe had first met a Watcher. From what he could tell, it was even the first Watcher to exist. One that eventually disappeared to time that not even the other Watchers knew what happened. He wasn’t an expert of whatever the Watchers exactly were, but it had been enough that he recognized Grian as one pretty quickly when they first met in season six. Though that was partially from that not being their first meeting.

Yes, Joe had been along for a very long time. Which is why he was not happy with everything going on. But he had a bargaining chip in the form of knowledge, so getting to the top might be the one place to try and use it.

His headache passed and the glow from his eyes faded. Joe pulled himself back onto the platform and then adjusted his glasses. Just a bit more to go until he was at the top.

Doc woke up in a wood hut, lying in a bed. His back and head hurt, getting worse when he attempted to move to get up. He tried to remember what happened last, but suddenly being knocked unconscious wasn’t the best thing to try and remember. Looking around in a way that didn’t hurt as much, he was able to see a chest as well as something lying on the ground to his right.

Some crackling implied there was also a furnace running nearby. Mixed with that was some slight banging of metal from crafting and the hum of a tune that was familiar to Doc, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Another attempt to sit up left Doc yelp slightly in pain, stopping the humming and crafting sounds, getting replaced with footsteps that came towards him. “Are you awake this time?”

“Grumbot?” Doc asked, vaguely recognizing the robot that appeared in front of him. He only really distinctly knew his larger form, only seeing him and his brother at this size when they were just about to leave their previous world.

“Yeah. looks like you are. We have some bread if you’re hungry.” Grum spoke in a quiet voice that felt so odd compared to how energetic the hermits usually were. That being said, it had been a while since he had seen anyone else, so it might have just been from what others were dealing with. “I also left some of the wheat as wheat if you prefer that.”

“What? Why would I want that? Bread sounds fine.”

“Okay, I wasn’t sure if you were like dad or not.” Grum said before he went over to the chest, giving Doc a moment to think things over.

“Dad as in Grian or Mumbo?”

“Grian.” Grum answered, pulling out some food. “He was with us on the mountain. Everything was getting to him, so he started eating seeds instead of other stuff.”

“Okay. Is he out getting supplies or something?” Doc asked and then Grum’s face shifted to something sadder. “What happened to Grian?”

“I don’t know.” Grum spoke, managing to be quieter than before. “He just disappeared and Jrum and I were stuck alone on the mountain. And then I messed up.” And it took all of Doc’s willpower to not sit up and possibly hurt himself in the process with how sad Grum sounded in that moment.

“Why? What happened?”

“Someone figured out how to send messages in chat by accident. Jrum and I noticed, and we were going to try it out for ourselves, but it didn’t go right. And now Jrum… Jrum didn’t respawn right.”

And with that comment, Doc realized what was on the ground nearby. Jrum’s body was laid out, screen dark and body unmoving. “How long has he been like that?”

“A few days I think. It got really snowy so I couldn’t quite tell. Then I got busy digging through the snow until I found some ice to break.”

“And that must have been the waterfall I took down off the mountain.” Doc said, making Grum look a little sheepish.

“Sorry about hitting you when I fell. I freaked out a bit and then you were there and I couldn’t react in time. I’m sure if it was anyone else, they would have been in worse shape.”

“Why’s that?” Doc asked, though he had an idea based on which side of him ached more.

“Well, your metal parts helped protect you plus I think your thicker skull helped from a concussion.”

“My what?”

“Oh, I thought you…” Grum said, trailing off. “Um, so I think more weird stuff is happening than just being stuck wherever.”

“Yeah, I knew that.” Doc said. “Creeper instincts have been kicking in like crazy.”

“Well, your death messages mentioned goats a lot. It looks like because of that, you’ve started turning into a goat hybrid as well.”

“I’ve what?” Doc asked, incredulously. He ignored the pain from moving when he started feeling himself over, finally finding horns coming from his head. “Oh… huh…”

Grum forced Doc back down to a resting position before feeding him some bread. Here, how about I tell you what I know about, then you can tell me what you know.

“Sounds good to me.”

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dangermousie · 5 years

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Extraordinary You - final thoughts

Warning - this is longer than Trumpet Creeper’s Kyung’s hair.

Wow. Wow. I never thought a drama this high concept (aw, satiric high school romcom? How about a mindbending, parable-like take on religion and philosophy and free will and sense of self and existence after death instead) could ever ever stick the landing. After all, something like W Two Worlds did not (I loved W but the ending was not on par with the rest.) But it did, and it is that incredibly rare perfect drama in which I would change nothing.

Honestly, the whole story could be viewed as a meditation of the meaning of existence, with the author standing in for your deity of choice; not a benevolent deity many religions picture, sure, sometimes actively malevolent against those that disobey - the drama plain text admits that the author punishes those like Haru that try to challenge the divine plan, but that is not that uncommon in a number of religions.

And the end, with its giant no exit - just an endless circle of being in other stories or put away and dead entirely - comes across as surprisingly hopeful despite the bleakness because I think what EY told me (and I fully understand it is different for everyone) is that control and permanence and existence are all fleeting and illusory, sure. But then, all you can do is live enjoying your today to the utmost, and love and free will and self-knowledge as much as you can get of it, is the sole light in a bleak, cruel, irrational world and is worth everything.

Haru and Dan Oh, the ultimate fighters, cannot escape the cursed reincarnation circle and the worlds of the stories; but what they can do is try to change it as much as they can and to never ever give up and fight for their self-determination and their right to be together; even if it is ultimately futile and ends in erasure every time, the meaning of their life, the worth of their life is in that love and in that fight.

And I love that they take even the limitations imposed and persist through them - remember the whole question of whether the scenes and words repeat because it’s their own or the author’s? Dan Oh’s take was the incredible that it is not the author - that they remember it from story to story because that is what they really felt and wanted to express to each other but couldn’t. She has taken all the existential insanity and decided she is a person and her wants are her own and not the narrative’s.

But of course, the capricious deity punishes Haru and punishes Dan Oh by taking him away, by not letting them stay together until the last page (though that “1 year away” is largely illusory imo - I am pretty sure the bulk of that year was “skipped.”) The scene with the lights going out, and Haru and Dan Oh, clinging, knowing the end has come, and Haru telling her she was his beginning and end and to call him by his name (so it would be the last thing he hears) is - I am freaking crying at the keyboard now.

And her name is the last thing he says in this existence.

And he is gone and she is left trying to grab his floating name tag.

The thing with the names though is very important in other than a purely romantic sense. Their names is the one unchanging thing from one world to the next; even when the author does not name them, they get the same names - give them to each other or themselves. Because the name is such a sense of basic self, basic identity. Look at the scene with the Squid Fairy and the Court Lady, which also pulled every last heartstring - names are brought up again.

But of course, their time together is all so brief because the world ends in a few minutes and we do not see them in the new story. I am glad they got this one happy memory to erase the previous horror but still - so little, so fragile, so gone. But Squid Fairy and Court Lady are on the opposite side of the spectrum from Haru and Dan Oh, who will fight and fight and fight forever, no matter the odds or the risks or the outcomes. These two have accepted these worlds and these controls and the limitations and believe it is futile to fight; but the tragedy is they cannot keep their zen fully - they still love and miss each other, they still care for others.

Haru and Dan Oh have created their own meaning in the arbitrary, cruel, impermanent world and that meaning is each other; to seize the brief moments of happiness as they come and grab on to free will even if it is punished, even if they never know whether, once this world ends, they will get another world or another chance (but hey, that’s normal life too - nobody has a certainty about the after of death.) That is why they can continue on through sheer will, why Haru literally forced his way into the story, why they remember; they do not accept defeat. But Squid Fairy and Court Lady have tried to go to the other extreme of powerless acceptance and I can get that choice.

You know what has just occurred to me - in addition to fate, divine and free will, the other thing this drama addresses the concept of soul mates. The concept of someone destined by the fate for you is one many people find very appealing. But this drama posits that the true soulmate is one you affirmatively choose yourself. Because the technical soulmates here are pairs that the author puts together like Kyung and Dan Oh, and it shows not just potential incompatibility but the fact that if you do not know the love is based on true free choice, it lacks appeal. But when it’s based on genuine connection and love, it can transcend deity and worlds and the end of them all.

The ending is as hopeful as it gets in this bleak world - Haru and Dan Oh as extras and thus free to do their own thing in a benevolent enough world - college setting. When they find each other, and of course the names are again their talisman, it’ s amazing. (And they are allowed to be at least a little older though one of the horrors is that they will never really get a choice to grow old together or have a long life - many short ones is what they get. Not that everyone wants a silver wedding anniversary and 2.5 children, but the fact that they never get that choice is awful.)

But the dark underpinning never goes away either - they are still puppets of an uncaring, and sometimes actively malevolent, deity. And we do not see Kyung or Squid Fairy or Court Lady or Juda or Do Hwa - reminding us of the fact that the world ends and you may never be pulled out of the box again, be dead forever or inserted into an insane suffering set up or whatever.

Now to get to the other characters and strands:

* It’s surprising how OK I ended up being with Kyung in light of my earlier feelings for him. He really did get better, the more liberated from the authorial straight jacket he’s become. He wasn’t perfect (he clearly had Haru’s notebook but did not give it to Dan Oh; either because Haru didn’t want him to or because he wanted to keep it, who knows) but he was miles from the old Kyung. His face as he saw the end coming will haunt me.

* I know some people were unhappy with the resolution of the Do Hwa - Juda - Nam Joo story but I loved it. Maybe Juda would have picked differently if she knew the happy ending was an illusion and all that faces them is a possible eternity of nothingness or a new storyline entirely, at the moment of “triumph.” But maybe not. Unlike her stage counterpart, it’s clear that the real Juda is practical to the marrow of her bones, not prone to throwing the world away for love, and also what she really thrives on is being needed, being the one who saves and defends and is the leader in the relationship. She was never going to have that with Do Hwa, despite his gentleness. But with oblivious to the narrative to the last page Nam Joo she can have that - she can have someone who loves and needs her more than she loves and needs them, she can defend him and lead and be the boss (when she gave him a money balancing allowance book and he meekly took it, it all made so much sense.) This said, her joke about dating the boys on alternate days wasn’t as much of a joke as it was supposed to be. I could see her being the boss, money maker, polyamorous girl pretty easily. It would have been cool.

* I am pretty sure Kyung’s stepbrother/half-brother was in love with him in Trumpet Creeper - the way he talked about him in TC, the way he wanted to stay by him until the end, explicitly comparing it to Dan Oh and Haru, screams silent love to me (which adds another level of horribleness to the reincarnation/memory wipe concept here and in reality - in some of these endless worlds, people who loved each other might end up being family, even.)

Anyway, this is now my n1 kdrama of all time.

#kdrama #extraordinary you

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 7 years

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I was tagged by @ladytharen and @leroichevalier - Thanks y'all!

FIVE THINGS YOU’D FIND IN MY BAG :

A terrifying array of allergy and asthma medications. (It's fun to be me!)

Chapstick.

Too many receipts. Damn it, receipts! Leave me be!

A water bottle. To be specific, a pink water bottle that was technically made for children, but it fits in my purse so I don't care! Do I always spill water on my cell phone by accident? Yes.

Fred Meyer coupons that I always forget to use.

FIVE THINGS IN MY BEDROOM:

Oodles of novelty socks.

A giant pink flower crown, because why not.

Books, books everywhere! (Also in our living room. Also in the spare room. BOOKS.) I really need to actually start reading some of these books.

Too many clothes. I really need to get rid of some clothes.

Currently, my dog! She is gazing outside, surveying her back yard domain like a wise and weary monarch.

FIVE THINGS I WANT TO DO IN LIFE:

Always have good health insurance. (Aka the impossible dream in America!)

Find a way to write more consistently than I do now; have a solid writing career penning many fluffy and feelings-full tales. (Quite possibly another impossible dream!)

Visit the Lake District in England! And also the Bronte Parsonage Museum.

Be in plays again. Specifically a play that would involve pretty dresses. (Also impossible, because HELLO ANXIETY, but since this says "in life," maybe eventually I'll get confidence again!)

Have a stable and fulfilling full time job, I GUESS. Or, even better, never financially need a stable full time job! That second one is what I truly want in life. I want to be a stay-at-home dog mom slash authoress slash Netflix expert.

My bonus dream is to live in Concord, MA and work at the Louisa May Alcott Orchard House museum. I feel like, if I must be employed, working at a quaint tiny museum dedicated to a lady author is what I am meant for. Yes, I do follow their facebook page like a Transcendentalist creeper, and sometimes gasp in dismay that I don't live in Concord and can't be there to partake in all their lovely events. They are having A FREE SCREENING OF LITTLE WOMEN (1994) ON THE ORCHARD HOUSE LAWN, Y'ALL. Aaaaah!

FIVE THINGS I’M CURRENTLY INTO:

Procrastination.

Bigelow's English Teatime tea. WHY CAN'T I FIND IT IN A BOX OF ITS OWN ANYWHERE. WHY.

Gardening! Albeit not very well.

Peaches. Eat all the peaches ...

The complicated emotional journeys of the characters in my current novel project, because I'm a dork. Do I regularly listen to "Tenerife Sea" by Ed Sheeran whilst imagining a fanvideo of my own story moments and then cry a little bit, overwhelmed with empathy for my girls' emotional plights? Yes. That's what I like to call 'part of the process.' (Or, alternately, bonkers behavior.)

FIVE THINGS ON MY TO-DO LIST

Work, work, work, work, work! (Like, I really need to start doing that right now, right this very minute.)

Finish up my current novel draft. Get ready, Ed Sheeran! Get ready for my tears.

Finish up my current WIP chapter fics, GOOD LORD.

Watch all the seasons of Orphan Black to prepare for eventually watching s5! (Lord deliver me from s5 spoilers.)

Go see The Beguiled this weekend! Yaaaaas.

Tagging: @teruel-a-witch, @cinaed, @littledivinity, @derevko, & @crackers4jenn

#dollsome's deep thoughts

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ganymedesclock · 7 years

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Celestial Beings/Guardians AU?

This is an. interesting prompt, so I guess it made me think of the paladins as kind of… protective spirits and what kind they would be. Got away from me so I’m also putting it in the fic tag

Shiro is a church grim. He wasn’t the first buried in the graveyard, as tradition dictates- but somewhere within time, he took the position, he chose not to pass on. The prior grim was old, and tired, and hadn’t asked for that burden, so Shiro took it from them.

It’s not all bad. Because of the way he came to his position, he realized eventually that he’s not actually bound to the land, and once they stopped burying people in that graveyard- no new occupants, no new people who needed a guide to see them through- he started wandering, looking for those who were given less worthy plots.

He’s accompanied by big black dogs. They’re good company, and loyal friends. Wherever he goes, the local ravens and crows come to talk to him, tell him about what happened- old regrets, old griefs that claim new people.

Lance is a household god. A very small one, not mighty and omnipotent; his shrine is a little hand-carved piece of wood on a mantelpiece, chipped at a corner because the latest generation of children are wide-eyed and curious and stumble around, and they have no respect for divinity.

But that’s fine. Today the house is warm and full of laughter. Years ago, when the old one burnt down, full of ashes and smoke, when the daughter that’s now a mother clutched his idol with shaking fingers, he was there for her then- anonymous hands to drape a blanket over her shoulders, one extra member of the fire crew to look her in the eyes, ask her if she was okay, a shoulder to cry on.

He remembers the generations as they pass, infant sons that see him and reach to grasp his fingers growing to become grandfathers that hand down the little piece of wood, one generation to the other, most of its blue paint chipped and fading. It’s tough work, being a god, hard to be so small, to curl around them when the tornado was outside and knowing he wasn’t strong enough to hold the roof up, but maybe he could shift it, half a foot, just far enough that it doesn’t fall on the baby, doesn’t fall on grandma who’s very small and very old and shaking from the brittleness as much as fear.

He doesn’t think of it as a duty, not really of a favor. They’re his family, all of his relatives- that was the promise he made to them decades, centuries ago. And he takes care of family. It’s what he is.

Pidge is a green spirit. Others of her kind tell her that this park framed in by concrete and metal, cars and skyscrapers once stretched horizon to horizon, and once the world was full with the pulsing of life. They hang their heads, heavy with the boughs of ancient trees; such a shame. Such a shame the world is so dead now.

She ventures out onto the sidewalks, trailing moss and creepers through the cracks, peeks over the shoulders of passerby at their computers and technologies, and doesn’t see the old spirits’ point. The world isn’t dead. Yes, there aren’t trees, but there’s new things, people and places, and weeds are unconquerable. She doesn’t respect the park’s boundaries, the chemicals and trimming blades meant to make it behave- dandelions fill her hair, creeping charlie twines in heavy bangles around her wrists. She brings her bare, earthy feet onto asphalt that burns, cool pavement that soothes them, welcome mats and the insides of stores. It is a costly adventure- she pays for it with blisters and cuts. You see, the old spirits say- it is not safe. It is a blighted land.

Easier to follow them when they walk through the park, but not as interesting. The pulse of life is out there, and she has to find it. She digs through the things people lose, leave behind in the park, pilfers like a magpie, studies, learns.

They start to see her, not all of them, but the ones that really pay attention. Two young parents, with a child who’s already bigger than her. The old spirits tell her that it will take her centuries to grow, that she must grow like a tree, sequoia, redwood- become slow and grand and large as they are, but she has already made up her mind about being a weed. Weeds grow quickly, and so do humans.

The young couple comes often. They talk to her, and show her things, in gentle voices, and here she finds the inspiration, the curiosity.

The man, Sam, brings her shoes one day, comfy things that fit her feet. They walk on the burning asphalt, over the rocks and glass just fine.

She goes home with her father that day.

Hunk is a temple keeper and that’s important. It’s important because temples are important and he really shouldn’t leave, because any minute now someone’s going to remember the temple’s here and he’s kept it safe, sat right outside, done the intimidating stare, been a good statue that didn’t lose any bits even that one time half the cliff fell down and took a whole wing off the temple, he has his spear and his vestments and his job.

And someone’s really going to be mad the roof is falling in. Not very peaceful, bad place of worship and all, and it’s snowing, not that he minds, cold doesn’t bother him, but mortal creatures are soft and warm and they don’t like the cold.

He entertains, for a moment, a thought that maybe he’s the only one who cares any more- great job, guys, this is why you don’t have any worshipers. Even the gods aren’t here any more, the idols carried away to somewhere else who knows how long ago. It’s a short thought- he doesn’t really like the feeling of being the only one who cares. He’s a temple keeper. It’s what he is. It’s not important if he keeps a temple no one cares about any more.

It has to be important, someone has to remember.

The person who stumbles up the steps, despite his initial suspicion, is not a pilgrim, but he can’t make himself glare at them quite as hard as he should, not when they lean against his base shaking from the cold, wrapped in a threadbare jacket around too-bony shoulders.

They are not, technically, praying. Too resigned, too cold, too miserable, to think they can ask someone for help and expect a timely reply, much less from gods that were taken a long time ago, that don’t live here any more, in this thing that you can’t even call a building, that can’t even be a shelter from the wind.

But they’re going to die.

They’re not going to die, because he’s a protector.

It’s easy to carry them down the mountain, easier than it is to hear the last of the temple crumble and settle behind him, to know what will become of it, but the shaking person is just warm enough to remind him they still have a chance, and the building didn’t, and the spear and the vestments and the pedestal to stand on weren’t as important as the job, as the point of it.

They’ll make it, the person at the hospital says, but they have no idea how he didn’t get frostbite, in this weather, dressed like that. And… what is he, exactly? (a stone heart skips a beat) One of those historical reenactors?

Keith is a hearth spirit.

He didn’t know, for a long time. He lived in volcanoes, forest fires, ran with them and ran wild and yet there was something unsatisfying about it all, something that didn’t feel quite right.

In the end, he left them all behind, wrapped ashes and the flames that flickered inside them under cloth, and layers, shirts and jackets, rode buses at night with the other people who didn’t know where to be. Followed them out into parks and then to wilderness, up mountains that almost guttered his flames.

In a snowy meadow, watching the numb fingers of an ill-prepared hiker strike and strike again dry-start matches that are soaked through, he takes them from her, mumbles a halfhearted excuse, buries his hands in the wood and feels deep for remembered sunlight. Warmth, strength, and-

The campfire surges to life, and the hiker lets out a contented sigh, holds her fingers over it, scoops snow into a pot and sets it to melt- and Keith is unprepared for how right it all feels. How this tiny little fire, set in a circle of stones that will die tomorrow feels more like a home than flames that burned when the world was young.

He finds it again, in other places- the little blue tongues under a pot on the stove, a fat brick fireplace casting warmth over a family piled together on the couch watching TV. Weak fires, compared to a volcano; and yet, when could a volcano bring solace to someone?

He isn’t meant for beacons in the darkness.

At the end of the day, it’s people he belongs with.

He falls asleep, content, in the ashes at the bottom of the fireplace.

#vld au party #guardians AU #AU ideas #8/10 #readmore #jimikii #Ganymede Fic Tag

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