#dsmp big bang bootcamp

[clevercorvidae]

“We’re Free”

Did this for the dsmp big bang boot camp. Also I just miss the season 2 finale when things were happy.

[Reblogs  > Likes]

[the-unknown-storyteller]

i will keep you safe

(sequel to a matter of trust)

Summary: Ranboo’s never thought about it, but the Nether is never really dark. There’s no sun, no moon, only the lazy lava rivers far below and the glowstones high up on the ceiling of the Nether, but they’re enough to keep everything bright and lit up. There was just one small problem with that.

__

After months of building up trust and bonding with the little zombie piglin, Ranboo brought Michael to the overworld. He was dead set on providing him with a house, food and a family. Especially after he saw Michael’s “home” two or three weeks after they had met. His chicken had recovered enough to flap its wings and run around again, though Ranboo didn’t miss the way one of its wings would only respond sometimes, hanging limply at its side most of the time. 

But Michael was happy all the same and trusted the half-enderman enough to show where he lived, so that the other could come find him there if he wasn’t in any of his usual spots. 

It was just a hole dug into the netherrack. Ranboo could spot a small pile of half-eaten crimson fungi and gnawed on warped roots. The chicken probably lived off of the nether sprouts that were growing in the far right corner of the “room”. There was also a bed, mostly consisting of weeping vines and some strange red leaves. It was decided at that moment that Michael would live with Ranboo and Tubbo.

It was an oversight on Ranboo’s part, really, bringing a baby piglin to the overworld without thinking about any of the effects it may have on the child. He’s never thought about it, but the Nether is never really dark. There’s no sun, no moon, only the lazy lava rivers far below and the glowstones high up on the ceiling of the Nether, but they’re enough to keep everything bright and lit up. There was just one small problem with that.

When they brought Michael to the overworld, the first thing the baby piglin did was shriek in pain. The long whining sounds that escaped his adopted son distressed Ranboo greatly, who awkwardly stood in front of the piglin, too scared to touch him and not really knowing what was hurting him. There were tears running down his face, while Michael put his hooves in front of his eyes.

It’s too bright out here, Ranboo suddenly realized, looking up at the sun that was mercilessly burning down on their backs and pierced their eyes. The light is way too harsh.

He took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around Michael’s head, making sure to block off as much light as he could. The whining stopped and all that remained were quiet sniffles and the rustling of fabric, as Michael wiped at his eyes. 

“Ok, ok, I can work with this. Everything will be alright, Michael. I am so sorry,” Ranboo muttered, cradling him against his chest to block off even more light. He lightly stroked his ear that poked out from underneath the suit jacket. “I’m sorry, Michael…”

There was a small grumble and a shift, as the baby piglin settled in Ranboo’s arms. “Just hold on tight, Michael, I’ll fix this.” He carefully put Michael’s chicken into the messenger bag at his side. With hurried steps, he ran towards the snow capped roofs of Snowchester in the distance.

In the end, Michael adjusted. After just a few hours in the dimmed attic of Tubbo’s house, he could not only open his eyes fully, but also risk a few glances outside the window. From then on, he would sit on the window sill and look outside as often as he could. The light wasn’t hurting him as much anymore. Ranboo stayed with him, only leaving to get him a loaf of bread and some meat. The chicken settled on the bed, clucking quietly in its sleep and ruffling its feathers every once in a while. 

As the sun set, Michael’s posture sagged, slumping against the window. 

“Getting sleepy, huh?” Ranboo chuckled, picking the baby piglin up and depositing him on the bed next to his chicken. He snuggled into the soft woolen blankets, breathing deeply.

 “I guess that journey was pretty taxing, but I’m glad you’re here, you know? With us, with me.” He smoothed out the blanket, tucking him properly in. The sun set completely, plunging Snowchester in darkness. “You can’t imagine how much I love you, Michael. I really, really do.” He gave him a small kiss on his little head, carefully getting up from the bed. He put out the lantern above the bed, before he left. 

“Goodnight, Michael.”

Not only was the light in the Nether very warm and easy on the eyes, but it was also constant. While the mobs in the Nether did have some type of aligned sleeping cycle, there wasn’t really a night-day cycle in place that would dictate when it was time to sleep and when it was time to wake. It was all based on instinct.

The clock struck midnight. Tubbo had given Ranboo a temporary sleeping spot on an old mattress on the floor until they could get another proper bed into the house. It was a bit short for his long legs, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to be close to Michael.

As he laid there facing the ceiling and listening for the light sounds and snores of Tubbo next to him and Michael in the attic, he heard some quiet whimpering from above him. It was faint at first, growing louder and more panicked. Within minutes, Ranboo was out of bed, scrambling to climb up the ladder when he heard crying.

He lifted the trapdoor and saw a small form curled up on the bed, covered in the woolen blanket. “Michael?” More sniffling. “Michael, is everything okay?” There was a high whine, only interrupted by the sound of stuttering breath. Ranboo ran over to the distraught piglin.

“Hey, hey, Michael, what’s wrong? Is something hurting again?” He reached out towards the ball on the bed, carefully enveloping it with his long arms. He squeezed lightly.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He could feel movement against his chest in a clear no. He could feel him shiver next to him. “Did something scare you?” Looking around the room, he couldn’t really find anything. It was almost too dark to see. 

Too dark to see. “Michael, is it too dark right now?” A nod. Of course, I’m such an idiot. Ranboo reached over to the lamp above the bed and relit it with a practiced flick of his wrist. Michael immediately calmed down, peeking his head out from underneath the blanket. 

“There we go. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I leave it lit from now on.” Michael gave him a relieved grunt, as he climbed into his lap and curled up there, tightly wrapping his blanket around him. “Oh, okay! Let me just…”

Ranboo laid down on the bed, hugging his son tight. His breath soon evened out.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

[ipatrichor]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Foolish_Gamers, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Ranboo & Michael (Dream SMP), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Ranboo, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit Characters: Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs, Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity, Cara | CaptainPuffy, Foolish_Gamers, Clay | Dream (mentioned), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Michael (Dream SMP) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, for wilbur and tommy, Panic Attacks, Amnesia, Platonic Relationships, except karlnapity, Tales From The SMP references, spoilers for recent streams, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending Series: Part 10 of sbi stories Summary:

Seven hugs. Seven ways to say I love you.

 (week 1, prompt 2: hugging)

[introvertedppl]

Niki and Techno baking :D

(artwork for dsmp big bang’s week 1 of bootcamp with the prompt: bread)

[tommyinnit-fic-recs]

Ello

Got any origins smp tommy fics?

Maybe more recent ones but if not its fine

Heyo!! I don't read too many osmp fics, but I do have a few good ones :D (so if anyone has any, recs are appreciated!!)

Here you go:

patience and pin feathers by youreyeslookliketheocean [Rated T, 10261 words, complete]

“Crow father?” Phil rolled over on his bed with a sigh. The clock on his wall was almost too dark to make out. Tangerine colored sunlight, warm and glowing, had just barely cracked the surface of the misty horizon outside his balcony window. “Yes?” “You have to promise not to be mad.” Those were not exactly the words Phil wanted to be hearing out of his youngest’s, Tommy’s, mouth at seven thirty in the morning.

Falling Flight by bargledblocks [Rated T, 4630 words, complete]

Useless, that's what Tommy had grown used to everyone saying about his small wings. He wished the feathery appendages would just disappear, but as the saying always goes; out of sight, out of mind.

[DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp Week 5 prompt 1: wings]

fishing (but without the catching fish part) by h_mellohi [Rated G, 3067 words, complete]

On a day that's soon to become a rainy one, Phil decides to forego training with Tommy and instead take the avian on a fishing trip. ...about one fish is caught between the both of them, there's lots of screaming, and, unsurprisingly, mud smeared everywhere by the end of it.

[[ORIGINS SMP SEASON TWO]]

[bargledblocks]

Ayo, new fic <3 (featuring some good ole bedrock bros, this time in origins)

Useless, that's what Tommy had grown used to everyone saying about his small wings. He wished the feathery appendages would just disappear, but as the saying always goes; out of sight, out of mind.

[DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp Week 5 prompt 1: wings]

[lacystar]

Jack cleared his throat, “Uh, Niki, remember that proposition—“

A loud countertop alarm ringed and rattled, and Niki startled to turn it off, “Oh! Hold that thought.”

He went quiet as she slipped on two oven mitts, and he had to squint, because…

Yellow. Buttercup yellow with pink and white trim. A hole in the thumb she’d always forget to sew up, and regret when she inevitably burned her thumb on the—

“Ow, fuck!” She swore lightly, sticking her thumb in her mouth to cool it as she quickly set the pan on the counter.

Those were her oven mitts from L’manberg. The old bakery.

---

AKA: The first in my collection of drabbles I'm writing for the DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp! These will be relatively short and a bit sloppier than my usual writing, but I figured some of you might like to read them! ;) Today's prompt is "Bread"!

[mountain-sunset]

DSMP big bang bootcamp: week 2 prompt 3: tranquillity

(posted to tumblr because it’s shorter than i would have liked)

He had water, he had bread, but more important, more vital to his spirit— he had the great mountains, their tall jagged peaks rising high, the exposed rock cutting into the sky. They lay at the base of a wide river, reaching high, higher than he could fly.

The beauty of the peaks before him nearly took his breath away, the vast plains and snow capped rocks sprawling ahead of him. It was a welcome change from the dark caves of Pogtopia, the overwhelming and blood-splattered decorations of Manburg, and the creeper holes and eclectic assortment of buildings in the greater Dream SMP. They were free of human interference, free of the whims of tyrannical governments. The mountains had not been mined of their cobblestone, the wandering animals not herded into cramped pens. The skies were bluer, unobstructed by cobblestone declarations of genitalia. The soil at his feet lay intact, untouched by explosives or half-finished attempts at terraining.

Wind rippled his coat as the specter laid ahead of him, the precious stillness stretching over the high peaks, blanketing the fields of tall grass ahead.

Technoblade wandered through the field, taking in his surroundings as he approached the frigid river. He almost didn’t want to trident across the field— he felt connected to the yellow fields and steep stone.

Still, nothing compared to the thrill he felt as he spun himself out of the river, the grass flashing by below, the base of the mountains rapidly approaching.

As he hiked to the top of the tallest peak, looking out over the serene nature, Techno paused.

There was only one he could find to describe the peaks, one word to describe the perfect, untouched stillness of the mountains.

Tranquility.

[robinlikeitshot]

DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp Prompt Fills Week 2

Prompt #1: Light

* * *

The light burns in the back of his eyelids even when he’s got them squeezed shut. He can bunch up the fabric of his shirt and shove it against his face, turn around and face the dark obsidian walls, can even go to sleep (no matter how restful a sleep that may be); but he’ll still see it, playing and dancing and painting bright red against everything he looks at.

Sometimes, sometimes when staring at the glow shining on the white mask sends one too many shocks of goosebumps up his arms, he’ll look at it. The lava wall. And he’ll think till he gets too many thoughts and he has to move his hands from covering his eyes to over his ears to try and block out the noise.

He wonders if Dream’s laughing at him, from his silent position sitting on the floor on the opposite side of the cell. Sometimes the man cocks his head to the side, just slightly, as if studying him while his own eyes flit across from the lava to the other end of the cell where he’d been beaten to death, not knowing where to look. Tommy wonders what expression he’s making, under the smile.

He’s relieved though, that he can’t see it. The red light highlighting the bone-white is creepy enough as it is.

[the-unknown-storyteller]

a matter of trust

(week #1, prompt 2: hugging)

Summary: On one of his many trips back and forth between the Arctic Commune and what is left of L'Manberg, Ranboo meets a special someone in the Nether. He doesn't know how special they are just yet, but their feathery friend is hurt and so Ranboo wants help.

__

Ranboo is on one of his many trips back and forth between the Arctic Commune and what is left of L’Manberg - every single time, every single time he forgets something, this is his seventh trip already - when he hears some noise from just over that pile of nether rubble. Noises are not all that unusual in the nether, with the faint whining of ghasts in the distance and the groaning of zombie piglins nearby. But this one is different. Ranboo can make out panic and pain. Whatever or whoever is making that noise, it sounds so, so small and vulnerable. So he goes to investigate, keeping his body low and close to the hot nether floor. He doesn’t want to spook whatever it is that was crying out in pain and hurting. 

He keeps his sword sheathed but within reach and the clanking of his armor to a minimum, although there isn’t much to do about the quiet hum the enchantments are giving off. There it is again! Accompanied by some shuffling and the unmistakable grunt of a zombie piglin. It is just on the other side of this small hill. Ranboo holds his breath, as he peaked around the corner. 

It is a baby piglin, zombified with half of its face rotten off, but that’s not what its distressed calls are made over. Ranboo looks further down and sees it hold something soft and fluffy in its arms. It is a chicken of all things and it is clearly hurt. One of its wings is bent the wrong way and he can see a faint tint of red to a few of its feathers. Something must have hit it or at least brushed past it. Most likely a fire charge from a ghast, going by the singed tips of its tail feathers. The baby piglin is cooing at it, crying out whenever it twitches in pain.

Ranboo watches for a few moments more, deciding on what to do. He really wants to help them, but there is no way this piglin was letting him get close to it. It might think he was trying to attack it, and either attack first or run. He looks down at his shimmering armor and at the sword sheathed at his side, and comes to a conclusion that Niki would hit him on the back of his head for. 

“Hey, buddyyy. How’s it going? I see that you have a pretty neat friend there.” His steps are slow and steady, as Ranboo approaches the distressed couple. He keeps his hands up to show that they are empty for now and that he doesn’t pose a threat to them.

“I was just walking along that path over there when I heard you. It sounded like you were in pain, but I think that it’s actually your friend, who’s in pain. Do you mind if I come closer?” He wasn’t quite sure if the piglin understood at all what he was saying, but Techno once told him that the language of piglins is largely based on intonation and volume. So he talks in a voice that is low and calm, speaking slowly and pronouncing his words clearly. He ducks his head and hunches his back a bit to appear smaller, his tail stays low to the ground, swaying gently from side to side. 

The zombie piglin fixes its one eye on him, following his every movement. Ranboo feels encouraged to continue when he doesn’t see a negative reaction to his approach. 

“See, I don’t have any weapons. No armour, nothing. You two are completely safe. I am just here to help” He takes another few cautious steps closer, a small bottle of regeneration and healing in his right hand now. “See, I even have this to help your friend. In my bag are some bandages and sticks that we can use to splint their wing. What do you think?” 

The piglin tilts its head to the side, curious but not suspicious of him, so Ranboo takes that as a positive and sits down in front of the pair. He lays down the potion bottles in front of the pair, along with the bandages and a few sticks. He then reaches for the chicken, but doesn’t actually take it. Instead he stops a few inches short in front of it and watches for the piglin’s reaction. When its grip tightens on its feathery friend, Ranboo’s hands retreat immediately.

“No, no, don’t worry. I won’t take it away from you. I just want to treat its wounds, so that it isn’t in pain anymore. Okay? I won’t take it from you.” He offers his open palms, waiting for the piglin to decide. His expression is open and friendly, as is the intonation of his words. 

It hesitates for a moment, before entrusting this stranger with its friend. It makes Ranboo wonder if it actually understood him, as he takes the precious cargo with careful hands.

His movements are confident and quick, as he works on resetting and splinting the wing. 

“You know, I was actually wondering. How did you… meet your little friend? I don’t usually see many chickens around here.”  He pulls away the singed ends of its feathers and cleans the blood from a small gash along its body. “But you two seem good friends! That’s good, that’s good.” 

The zombie piglin watches with anxious yet trusting eyes, as Ranboo wrap its friend in strips of fabric, pinning its wing to its body. “You know, I’ve just been calling you ‘baby piglin’ in my head. But I know that you guys have actual names, so what is yours? Mine is Ranboo.” 

He ties off the gauze and points at himself during his introduction. The baby piglin tilts its head and responds with a string of hums and grunts that barely mean anything to the ender hybrid. Techno once tried to teach him some piglin, but he could barely tell the difference between a happy grunt and an angry snort, so those lessons didn’t go very far. 

“Sorry, I’m not really… good at this. I heard an mmm sound? I think Techno once told me that it’s one of the few sounds that I can translate one to one.” The piglin repeats the string of sounds, adding a harsh kk sound in the middle. Maybe this was a different pronunciation?

“Sorry, I’d rather not try to repeat your name. I once tried to say Techno’s and he laughed at me for accidentally swearing at his ancestors. I don’t know if that means that Techno’s piglin name is very close to a swear or if I’m just really bad at piglin.”

Ranboo strokes the chicken’s head a bit and it gives a happy cluck in return. Finished with its treatment, Ranboo disposes it safely back in the arms of the piglin, who gives off a probably happy huff. 

“Anyway, I heard an M, a K and something like a cut-off A at the end? Hmmm, hmm.” The piglin repeats those sounds and then repeats what is probably its name. This time he can hear an I. “This is probably not right, but your name kind of sounds like ‘Michael’? Would you mind if I called you that?” 

It looks up at Ranboo - its ears were twitching when he had said “Michael” - and gives the other an approving nod. Apparently good enough for an enderman hybrid. 

“Alright, Michael. Your friend should be okay from here on out.” Ranboo gives it… him a happy smile. “I walk through here pretty often, so don’t be afraid to call out to me, you got that?” Michael nods enthusiastically and hugs his feathery friend loosely, minding its hurt wing. 

“That’s awesome. I’ll see you around.” Ranboo almost trips when his legs appear to be not functioning. He looks down and sees Michael with his arms wrapped around his legs. 

“Oh, you could have told me you wanted a goodbye hug. Come here.” The half-enderman opens his arms in invitation and catches a warm bundle of baby piglin and chicken feathers in his embrace. He encloses them safely within his arms, swearing to visit them often and whenever he can.

[the-unknown-storyteller]

concern for a friend

(week #1, prompt 3: excitement)

tw: mentions of derealisation, panic

Summary: Ranboo is working on the watchtower, as Ghostbur wanders off as the self-designated snack man. When the ghost doesn't return for quite some while, Ranboo is starting to worry for his friend. Just where is Ghostbur? 

__

“I will be the snack man and get us some snacks. You work on that tower real good and I’ll get us something, alright? Do you like savory or sweet things? You know what, I’ll just get a bit of everything. I’ll be right back, oki?” 

Before Ranboo has a chance to react, Ghostbur is up and running in the direction of Tommy’s dirt shack. Dusting off his pants from the climb, the ghost waves enthusiastically from the top of the hill, then disappears behind some trees and shrubbery. Ranboo releases a sigh, smiling fondly at the antics of the ghost. He gets out a stack of spruce logs and starts building up the pillars to the skies. He wonders why Tommy needs the watchtower to be this tall. Surely, it would have been enough if it was one or two thirds of its current height, it’s not like none of them have tridents. He’s pretty sure most of them have access to enderpearls as well. 

Nonetheless, he keeps to the height given by Tommy, diligently placing the spruce logs and replacing the strange purple planks at the sides with dark oak instead. It won’t be the prettiest watchtower, but it’ll be enough. Maybe Ghostbur can improve its design.

Speaking of the ghost, he’s been gone for quite a while now. Ranboo knows that he is more than capable of taking care of himself. But then he thinks of the ghost’s memory issues and his own problems with keeping himself tethered to the real world sometimes, blinking the wrong way and suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place. It’s happened one too many times for the enderman hybrid to be quite comfortable with this situation. (If Tubbo hadn’t found him that one time, he doesn’t know what would have happened. He doesn’t like to think about it.)

Ranboo begins to pack up his things, putting away the spruce logs in a chest and strapping his sword and axe to his back instead. Tommy will forgive him if the tower isn’t finished by tomorrow. He hadn’t given him a deadline, anyway.

He begins his journey up the hill, rounding the trees and shrubbery he saw Ghostbur disappear behind a couple hours ago and following the path towards Tommy’s abode. He keeps an eye on his surroundings and mentally takes note of anything that appears out of place. The air gets significantly colder, as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon. It was getting late. He adjusts the leather straps of his weapons.

“Ghostbur?”, Ranboo calls out, knocking at the wooden door of Tommy’s shack. No answer. He opens the door with a creak and looks inside. There are some chests along the wall, a few of them placed smack in the middle of the place. He can hear the vrwooping sounds of an enderchest nearby, but no humming of a particularly musical ghost. He takes a step inside and makes his way down the stairs on the right, but nothing. The place is empty. 

He leaves the dirt shack behind and runs down the prime path, frantically turning his head from side to side, in the hopes that he spots the yellow of Ghostbur’s sweater or the red of his beanie. But no such luck.

“Ghostbur?!!” Ranboo starts calling the ghost’s name, noting how eerily empty and abandoned this place is. He spends all his time in the Arctic Commune or, more recently, in Snowchester, so he’s never stayed here long enough to notice, but this place feels dead. He can feel something crawl up his arms, shooting through his hands and making him shake them violently. 

“Ghostbur, where are you?!” He sends out a quick message to his friend, but there’s no response. Something isn’t right. The ghost should have responded by now. One might think that he would lose his communicator often, with his spotty memory and his clumsy tendency to lose most other things. But he’s actually never lost it and he always answers. 

“It’s fine, he’s fine. He probably just got fixated on a flower or went overboard on the snacks. He gets over-excited like that,” Ranboo reasons, taking the path down towards L’Manhole. The glass, preserving what was never meant to be, reflects the darkening sky above. He keeps a wide distance to the blown-up city, eyeing the red vines at its edges with worry. He sees neither yellow nor any red nor any blue, so he turns around and leaves the dead space to its own.

“Ghostbur??” Why isn’t he answering?! Night has fallen completely by now, the new moon trying its hardest to plunge Ranboo’s surroundings in complete darkness, but he just takes out a torch and lights the matchstick with a practiced flick of his wrist against the ground. 

The half-enderman roams the perimeters around Eret’s museum, focusing his hearing towards the near distance. Besides the undead groaning of zombies and the quiet clattering of skeletons, he can’t make out much more. Except for a quiet hiss. He barely has time to react, as he hears an explosion go off in the distance. Before he knows it, he is up and running in that direction. Images of a hurt Ghostbur, running through his brain. “Ghostbur!!” 

And then, he hears yelling and noises that sounds like sobbing and it makes him vwroop in panic and distress. His friend is in danger, his friend is in danger. He feels a lurch in his stomach and blinks across the field, reappearing at the steps of Eret’s museum. Doesn’t Eret usually spawn-proof his builds? Doesn’t matter right now. Ranboo runs up the steps, skipping the last flight, as he blinks out and appears in the middle of the build. Not here. Further away, beyond the wall. He takes out his trident and places some water, jumping the wall. 

During the highpoint of his jump, he can make out yellow and red and a lot of blue just beyond the river. He lets out a series of distressed noises and blinks away. His hands are starting to shake from jumping this often, but his friend is hurt, hurt, hurt and he has to hurry. 

He stumbles through his landing and tridents across the river, landing close to what is definitely Ghostbur hunched over, surrounded by blue, why is there so much blue?!! “Ghostbur??” He tentatively reaches for his friend and touches his shoulder lightly. The ghost snaps his head up, staring at the enderman hybrid. He flinches back in shock, blinking away a few metres further.

“Ranboo!!”, the ghost calls out, jumping from his position on the ground. “Oh my goodness, I must have totally lost track of the time. You see, I was walking along the prime path, looking for some snacks when I saw- oh, the snacks, Ranboo! I totally forgot about the snacks!! ” The ghost pats down his pants, then shuffles through the bag at his side. “Sorry, bread is all I have on me. You want some?” Ghostbur offers some fluffy bread rolls, but Ranboo is too stunned to react. Adrenalin is still running high in his bloodstream, making him tense and freeze up. What is happening? 

“Not a fan of bread rolls? Oh well, more for me and friend- oh my gosh, Ranboo, look who I found in the woods!!” Getting off-track again, Ghostbur whirls around and pulls something blue and fluffy towards the perplexed enderman. “I found friend!! He was just grazing on some grass and when he saw me, I saw that look in his eyes that told me that I should follow him and so I did! I don’t quite understand why he brought me here, this just seems like a normal clearing to me, but I mean, I trust him, he knows what he’s doin-” The excited rambles of the ghost are cut off by the heavy weight of two hands on his shoulders. He looks up and is met with the shiny wet eyes of a certain enderman hybrid. “Ranboo? What’s wrong?”, come the soft questions, as the ghost realizes that something must be wrong.

“Please never do that again.”

“Never do what again, Ranboo? I was just getting some snacks like I told you when I met an old friend, haha-”

“I understand that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you have to understand that you didn’t return for hours and hours until the sun set.” Ranboo takes a shuddering breath. “You didn’t return and you didn’t respond to my messages and then I heard an explosion go off in the distance and then I saw all that blue and I thought you got hurt and I-” His tail flicks nervously from side to side, thumping against the ground every now and then in distress.

“Ranboo, Ranboo. Listen, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that it was getting this late. I got distracted by friend and didn’t look at my communicator for a while.” The ghost takes out a light blue rock from his bag and hands it to the other. “Here, this will calm you down. Take some blue.”

“Thanks, Ghostbur.”

[the-unknown-storyteller]

something quiet and hurting

(week #1, prompt 1: bread)

Summary: They came to this country to build themselves a new life, a new home, a new family. They came to this country with hopes and dreams that could reach the sky and questions that went to the bottom of the ocean.

But the only questions, that they have left now, are: What happened? And how could they have been torn apart like this?

__

The heat of the fireplace pierces his body, making him much too aware of the uncomfortable dampness of his clothes and the woolen blanket that stuck to his bare arms. White noise spreads through his hands, wandering up towards his face and settling there in warm patches. He’s always hated thunderstorms, especially ones that would loom over his head in heavy clouds all day. He never knows if and when it will begin, keeping him on edge and making him double and triple check the enchantments on his armour and the durability of his helmet. They’re never failed him before, but who knows if they wouldn’t this time around.

Ranboo shifts his weight on the wooden chair, keeping his eyes on the floor rather than on the person running back and forth through the room. The feeling of white noise turns into one of discomfort, as if he were to press the back of his hands against the needles of a cactus. Not enough to truly pierce his skin, but just enough to be noticeable and make him anticipate the pain soon to come. It makes him want to scratch at the back of his neck, but he is too scared to move. To do anything, really.

He keeps his breathing quiet and his restless tail close to the perimeter around his chair, hunching over to appear smaller and less threatening. Tubbo once told him that his height could be quite intimidating, especially on his bad days when a deep frown would etched into his face instead of a pleasant smile. So he keeps his clawed fingers as loose fists and his sharp canines hidden. Not a word has been spoken or uttered since he’s arrived at her door, soaked to the bone with a cracked helmet stuffed into his bag. His stuttered explanation was cut off and discarded in the corner, as he was pulled into the warmth of the small home, which belongs to her and no one else. Built by her own hands and given form with her own tears. He is not part of that ‘home’, hasn’t been for a very long time now.

Sometimes he indulges the what-ifs and maybes in the back of his mind. He lets himself dream of a world, where they supported each other with words of encouragement and acts of kindness, instead of tearing one another apart with hate and distrust of the other, standing on a country that has been ripped from under their already unsteady feet. 

The silence threatens to suffocate Ranboo, yet he dares not speak a word. The tension in the room is high and he does not want to be the one to light its fuse with a misplaced word or action. The patches on his face are starting to burn now. He hopes she doesn’t see it. Wishful thinking. The footsteps stop their pacing and grow faint, as they run through the room with purpose now. They return with a new blanket and some towels and a pile of warm and most importantly dry clothes. “Dry yourself off and change into this, please.” The words are soft, so soft that they the breath in his lungs stutter with longing and regret. What happened? Just what happened to tear them apart like this? They were siblings once. “Okay…”, comes the quiet reply and burnt hands take the offered promise of warmth and a home that could be his as well. If he wasn’t such a coward, he would take it. 

Feeling much calmer in the dry clothes and wrapped in a new blanket, Ranboo sits back down at the living room table. The scent of fresh bread wafts through the air with its source just around the corner, where the kitchen is located. Distantly, he can hear humming and the high tink-ting of metal hitting against glass. The familiarity of it all makes his heart ache and his eyes burn with unshed tears. 

The sounds in the kitchen calm down and soon after, Ranboo is presented with a platter of warm buttered bread rolls and a mug of honeyed milk. His hands shake with barely contained sobs, as he takes a bite. It tastes like home.

“Ranboo, I think we should talk. About this. About us.” She takes the seat across the person she once knew by heart, avoiding eye contact. They may have grown apart, but she still knows the things that make her brother uncomfortable.  

“I think so too. I’ve missed you, Niki.”

[clevercorvidae]

Quick sketch of Niki baking I did for the dsmp big bang server bootcamp! (the prompt for this was bread)

[bargledblocks]

When he came to again, the field was dead. All the plants that were there were reduced to brown rotting mulch. There was a patch of green that sat under him, though. The world was so quiet, but it felt all too loud at the same time. Compared to the mere hours he had spent in the void, it looked as though years had passed by here.

"So," He stilled, right, Dream was there. "How do you feel?"

His breath shook as he tried to gather his thoughts, tried to figure out how to answer, "Like… Like it's too much, like I'm too much." It was as if every single ounce of exhaustion he'd ever felt was completely erased and in turn he decided to have an energy drink cocktail.

[DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp Week 8 prompt 1: flowers]