#dsmp x hermitcraft

[snekkyfics]

so i've been getting more into hermitcraft/traffic bc of my brother and ALSO i just needed something to write bc I'm trying to form a habit and writing something weird that I will never finish is better than not writing at all

worldbuilding notes at the end

~~~

And the universe said I love you

No. Not to Philza. If there was anyone the universe hated-

And the universe said you have played the Game well

He hasn’t- he couldn’t. If he had played the Game- games – well he wouldn’t be standing here. Sword and bow and golden apples and everything a player wishes they could have when they started anew.

It’s nothing Phil wants. It’s nothing Philza would need. He enjoys clawing creation and achievement from the untouched earth the intended – ancient – way. It is life to him but not anymore.

Standing here, at what’s left of that hallowed little world spawn, that one innate weak spot in the Code, isn’t even anything so dignified as to be called retreat.

This is escape.

And the universe said everything you need is within you

Oh by the gods, oh by Her let that be true. He’s not made a life for himself by breaking the Game – the Code. And at least not without accomplices, friends, an invitation to wear like a badge of protection as he did what no non-player, godling or not, was ever meant to do.

Server-hopping without a hub stop is hard enough, taboo even for Players. Phil...

Phil is risking a lot. A potential hundred thousand eyes. A war. Just to escape this hell-spawn server.

And Dream’s gone now, so is that damned Novellus he let lock and rule the server. Peaceful times are sure to visit now, he could stay on in that little cabin in Her forest and it’d be a hell of a lot safer than trying to leave with no real destination in mind.

But Wilbur’s gone now. And so is Ranboo. And Niki. And Fundy. And Techno’s fucked off – he’s sure to return, but for now he’s fucked off all the same.

Phil’s been sitting in a cold cabin, counting his own heartbeat for weeks now. There’s nothing- nothing left here. Not for him.

Leaving – risking what he will risk – could never be crueler than an empty meeting room and silent pine and a bag of cookies so long gone stale in a chest somewhere-

In spite of himself, Phil distantly hopes beyond hope that he can find Wilbur again- hold him again, maybe – that maybe just once the universe will love him-

And the universe said you are not alone

He’s not- not ever, in a way. And may She curse him it’s not enough anymore. She can be fickle, like that. Or perhaps killing a god, inconsequential as they may be, upset the cosmic balance enough for Her to abandon the server – and him.

But in no small part is he setting out to find Her, to hear Her voice again – he may have begged and screamed and taken apart Her forest, a gift willingly given – but the his determination now and his vitriol then are guided by the same, deep, ache.

If it is in Her power, let his aim be true.

By Death and Blood and Sea and Sky and Void, let him touch the grass somewhere he can take roots and grow again, where he can feel dirt and rock once more under his fingernails and be alone and at peace.

And the universe said I love you because you are love

The universe does not love him. And Philza is not love. He’s never had the chance to read the poem – no matter if he shredded the Code with his bare hands, it is not meant for him – but it is a strange comfort, another shameful hope.

He’s heard them talk about it, players hardly need to be prompted to recount the peace, the motivation, the joy at hearing the ‘voice of the universe.’

And well, Phil supposes he could use a bit of all three right now.

And the universe said the darkness you fight is within you

If he were still young enough to be sentimental, he might take one last look around at this thrice-damned server. But he’s not and he doesn’t. He knows who he loves – his wife, his son, Techno, a handful of others – and they are not here. Beyond that, it is only the material, and the material never lasted long enough to matter.

Instead he prays, he pray harder than he can call to memory, to whatever half-friendly god’s name comes to mind, as he folds one last bit of arcane magic around his wedding band and torn wings and begins to reach deep, deep, deep into the white-hot Code-

And then he’s gone. Into the horrible not-Void between worlds and high above the true darkness and Her-

And then he’s scrabbling along the walls. frantic, desperate, reaching back as often as he dares to make sure his precious, precious inventory is coming with him, but never more for a second as he clips small errors in the Code – entry to a new world – again and again and failing, failing each time to grab hold-

He’s taking too long, he’s reached too far, he’s going to fall and there are far more unkind things in the Void than there is Her-

Someone is going to see, he needs somewhere- anywhere-

Eyes graze his back, distant and barely there but Phil’s sure and he’s slipping and-

One last reach, hard and forceful and fuck the whole cosmic world much see him right now but it doesn’t matter because he touches something and grabs and pulls-

Back, back through burning Code and Walls and all the things that he was never meant to touch or understand or breach and oh does it always bring Phil a rush of euphoria each time he so blatantly shoves a fuck you to the little manufactured gods of the Players-

And then he lands. Hard enough to bring him to his hands first and then onto his stomach, jaw rattling and legs screaming.

-but he is warm. There is- there is sun above him, and grass below him, and he smells dirt and open air and there’s fucking birdsong-

And he holds his breath and waits, clinging to his blessedly heavy inventory and the shrouds of magic he tries to pull tighter around himself.

If he was seen – if they actually saw him and who he was – surely, surely they would come. Surely-

They have have arrived by now. Surely. Surely.

But it stays quiet. Nothing but the birdsong and the wind in the leaves and Phil barks out the ugliest, roughest laugh of his life.

It worked. Oh, something out there must love him, if only the little bit it took to get him here.

New. Bright. And there’s soft dirt and grass under his fingernails as he pushes himself to his feet, looking around at the warm, untouched welcome of his new world spawn. Still gossamer and perfect and waiting for him-

And oh, maybe he is a touch sentimental. Maybe he will end up building something here, just to remember how wonderful it is to feel warm and hope again-

Then there’s the snap of a branch. Footfalls, heavy enough that Phil doesn’t think before summoning his bow to his hands, doesn’t wait for a rattle or a groan before spinning around-

-and looks down his arrow at a man. Short and unarmored and a Player-

“What the hell-”

Surprise may have loosened Phil’s fingers, but it is something deeper, something akin to the pulse-racing instinctual need to survive that steadies his hand and aim and puts an arrow through the throat of the- the Player-

-who gurgles and rasps and falls back, eyes blown wide with shock and fear and pain and dying, frozen in place as the blood seeps from the sucking wound and his mouth-

-and Phil, who is equally frozen, stuck staring at the Player on his world-

-but it’s not his world, not if there’s a Player - oh fuck, Players, are there more of them-

This was supposed to be escape, not- not-

Phil can only watch the man, dark and bloody and scared and hope beyond fucking reason for this one boon, this one chance-

He finds himself coming closer, contemplating sticking another arrow between the man’s eyes if only to find out sooner, although that same anxiety also stays his hand as he crouches down next to the dying man.

Phil’s- well, Phil’s a bit experienced with death. Another shallow breath, a few fluttering heartbeats, that’s all this man has left. Bleeding out all over the brilliant green grass and still staring at Phil with a fearful befuddlement that might tug at the heartstrings of anyone else.

And, predictably, in the next moment, he’s gone. The light out in his eyes and fully slumped on the ground.

And then he’s gone. Dissolving in strings of Code and leaving the remnants of an inventory behind.

And Phil- Phil’s holding his breath again, and not so much praying but begging, begging just for this-

He can always feel his connection to Her. He has always felt the little somber tug whenever someone truly dies. Well- when a Player gets sent to their hub.

If Phil has Death here, if he has meaning, he has a chance.

But the tug never comes. And Phil’s mouth goes dry, and the warmth disappears, and the Player is waking up in their bed and Phil is-

Phil is fucked.

It’s a very numb sort of battle-instinct that has Phil reaching out around the fading cold of the Player’s communicator, soon to fade back to their side, and it’s already ephemeral in his shaking hands as he hurries to check the chat log even as the screen drips away into Code-

[server] BDoubleO100 was slain by P⍑/~⍑/ꖎ/-ᔑ

And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

~~~

"oh how original DSMP x hermitcraft" um actually yeah I'm picking on philza for this and also Techno but only kinda bc once again: i will never finish this

however I am VERY open to writing different assorted scenes if this gets any interest

anyway anyway WORLDBUILDING UNDER THE READMORE ALSO POTENTIAL SCENES I MIGHT RIGHT IF PEOPLE ARE INTERESTED

with special note to @/aard_rinn over on Ao3 who inspired both this story and some of the worldbuilding

ANYWAY basically my MC worldbuilding as a whole for fics comes from the idea that the in-universe lord of minecraft all took place long before it was wrangled into a game for Players (<- more on them in a sec). The Ancient Civilization and the ruin of the Nether and the Ancient Cities all happened long before the Devs made the post-apocalypse into the Game made specifically for Players

Its not clear where Players came from (or where any life came from) but they are the Devs' favorites. the entire Game is tailored to them. Players can hop between worlds, alter Code, and respawn. All Players were originally human, but due to gene-mixing with npc hybrids a Player can now look like just about anything

NPCs, who are any sort of non-human non-Player, are the same level of sapient BUT have none of the world-hopping-death-defying perks of being a Player. Death is final for them and world-hopping is both nearly impossible for them and generally frowned upon by the Game's design. They CAN however have babies with Players and all children of Players inherit the Player status, which is why we see both hybrid players and hybrid players who are only a "little bit" a hybrid

Phil and Techno are not Players. they are about as 100% avian and piglin as you can get. They are, however, hand-picked by Primordial gods

Gods have basically three classes. You have the Primordials (Lady Death, the Sky Gods, Totem Magic), which have existed WAYYYY before the Ancient Civilization even. You have the Novellus (Watchers, XD, the general fuckery on Empires) who are "natural" (not Game-made) gods attracted to the Game after it's creation (there were no Watchers back when there was nothing to watch). And then you have the Devs, who hold all the real power over the Game. And all three classes h a t e each other. The Primordials hate the Devs for "defiling" their world and attracting the Novellus and the Novellus hate the Devs and Primordials for hindering their fun and the Devs hate both because they interfere with their Game but aren't powerful enough to actually kill them.

And by association the Devs also hate Techno and Phil for using their godly powers to do things they should not be able to do. They can't die (although they also can't escape a world by dying), and they can world hop by calling upon powers older than the Game and Code and also they can just generally call on powers older than the Game and Code. This makes them a cog in the Devs' machine but they can't really do much to stop them without starting a war that they might not win, so they grumble, and would DEFINITELY start some shit if emduo ever did what Phil does do in this ficlet (not only hopped, but hacked a server), but have generally allowed them to live their little troubled lives

(and yes, if they had ever found out what deals Dream was making with XD he would have been in HUGE hot water. like he was not supposed to do that.)

As for the specifics of lore in the story:

-Phil is able to keep his inventory because, well, he's hacking the Game anyway, and also he's not even technically a part of the Game

-being not part of the game Phil has never heard the End Poem and I decided to use it a little creepily here bc of that fact (something so comforting to Players would be jarring for someone who's old enough to remember when the Devs were still fighting to keep their rule)

-Phil was literally just reaching blind and ABSOLUTELY some cosmic fuckery was going on and also Admins generally expect Players to be hackers so let's just say Phil kinda just Jesus Walked right through the Hermitcraft door

-Phil doesn't get a "player joined world" message because: he is not a Player. He only shows up in Bdubs' death message because he's still technically there and the Game had to report cause of death. This didn't happen on the DSMP because Phil was welcome and made a part of the game

-Only Players spawn with comms, so Phil isn't going to have one until one is made and given to him

-Phil does NOT know where he is nor does he recognize who Bdubs is. He definitely know what Hermitcraft is (he's VERY much avoided it) but also in-lore I don't think Phil especially would know every single person on there much less be able to immediate recognize names he probably heard in passing. as of right now he is Lost Birb

-Phil is also semi-fucked and once he figures out where he is he's gonna freak because not only is Hermitcraft full of Novellus but it also has direct a line as you can get to a Dev. and he is a lone soggy Birb who's married to the most infamous Primordial goddess who is also the main one the Devs fucked over with their respawn mechanic

-additionally: he's currently freaking out because in a world with respawns (endless respawns but he doesn't quite know that yet) death has no meaning. He has 0 godly help here and also: he can't leave unless he hacks his way back out so. he stuck and also has already engaged hostiles

ANYWAY SCENES I ALREADY KINDA HAVE PLANNED THAT YOU CAN IDK VOTE ON

-Oh i definitely will probably write anyway Phil figuring out he's on Hermitcraft and just how fucked he is. I say he takes out False, who he recognizes from general PVP badassary, and goes "ah. i'm doomed"

-and get ready for birb-to-birb communication bc Phil's actually gonna get help from Grian (and yes this just an excuse to write a parrot character i LOVE parrots). With this being vaguely season 6-ish (i will figure it out as i write further) Grian is both new and bc of the Watcher disaster doesn't have a noticeable Player status. Now both him and Phil can sense something Off about the other but also: they are just birbs and Phil is very, very lost and also running from 2 kinds of law.

-Techno showing up. Like he 100% thinks his BFFFAEAE is being held hostage on a server full of unfriendlies and ho boy is he showing up Murderous

idk you can also give me suggestions i am no expert around here

[autistic-fandom-trash]

somewhere in these eyes (i’m on your side)

crossposted on ao3

this is my valentines day gift to the ethogirls <3

-----

Etho sat in the cool grass, scowling at nothing in particular as he cursed Scar under his breath. He only looked up when he heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching, turning to see Quackity—the morning breeze was pushing his raven hair to the side, revealing the cloudy blue of his scarred eye. He could almost have been an angel with how his honey-golden wings seemed to shine in the sunlight.

Etho realized he was staring and looked away quickly.

“Hey.” Quackity said, sounding tired but friendly enough.

“Hey.” Etho echoed tonelessly. “It’s over, y’know,” He added, voice a bit wistful, “You can go home now.”

“I guess I just wanted to see you.” Quackity responded thoughtfully.

Etho paused for a moment, processing what was just said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t win for us.” He admitted.

“It’s alright,” Quackity replied, shifting closer, “I didn’t either, so we’re even.” He placed a hand over Etho’s, their fingers interlocking gently.

Etho’s breath caught in his throat, heart racing.

“You alright there, Etho?” Quackity asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Etho replied, his voice sounding odd to his own ears.

“Y’know, I was thinking,” Quackity began, “Maybe you should visit Las Nevadas sometime.”

“Really? What’s like?” Etho asked.

Etho listened happily as Quackity talked about his city, and the competition seemed to lose its meaning.

[ladyddanger]

Ok but what if c!Quackity stole something of Etho’s during the competition so Etho would have to come and get it back?

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Swap Fic Season 2 Chapter 1

Annnnd the first chapter of season 2 of my Hermitcraft DSMP Swap fic is out. It's called Give Me Hands to Pray With (Instead of Ones That Hold too Tightly).

[realitydisco]

Hello Tumblr, may I offer a Tommy in Hermitcraft series that is so good and is making me sob

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3175605

[allforhavoc]

i love this but also the fact that---much unlike the hermits---it is NOT family friendly over there.

so imagine the hermits do pass through, and all of the above is happening, but tack on the added element of the scoldings you just know would happen, or the jokes that the hermits would get to make; i could see them leaving it out of their videos, but the moment you head over to a DSMP member's POV... well, leave it to your imagination.

Grian going dead silent when someone curses, looking them in the eye and just staring. The few seconds of disturbed silence before someone clears their throat. They refrain from using inappropriate language around him at that point, mostly because what the hell was that?

I feel like there's a fair number of them who would ignore it to a certain extent.

Keralis, flirting with one of the members before they start getting too loose with their tongue. Politely asks them to stop (definitely showering them with praises and dumb little titles: princess, beautiful, etc. imagine the members' reaction to that alone).

Scar, who side-eyes half the things they say but often responds in kind. He makes innuendos and pretends he doesn't know it until someone brings it up, to which he exclaims, "get your mind out of the gutter!" His mind is also in the gutter. It's been there. Bonus the mixed signals when Scar inevitably starts taking his clothes off.

Tango, making up his own words and bewildering whoever he's hanging out with. The guy has redstone in his teeth---they're convinced he's slowly dying from poisoning and maybe that's why he's paying little mind to them. He would 100% influence them after some time, and suddenly you have the whole server (minus the hermits, who are used to Tango's peculiar dialogue) clapping "-ey" and "ificator" onto the back of a concerning amount of words.

Zedaph who doesn't give them time to even speak before he's whipping them into a lab or a self-made achievement that he keeps offering them a pumpkin for? The only curses heard happen behind closed doors, muffled as the crazy scientist himself fills a room with water, drops endermites in on them, and triggers redstone contraptions that just don't make sense, what is he doing with these?

the sheer impact these people would have on each other would be so entertaining to watch.

enough “dsmp goes to hermitcraft” aus. we have evolved past this. more “hermits are unwillingly dragged to dsmp through multiverse shennanigans and then refuse to leave”.

grian goes on a griefing spree on a server where that’s somewhat normalised, and when it’s pointed out to him that permadeath is a thing on this server and could he please stop his response is “no <3″. scar goes to las nevadas and within three hours is shirtless, legally its owner, and sat atop a throne of diamonds. he has kicked quackity out; fundy is a little bit in love. bdubs is unkillable, not because he’s good at pvp or anything but because whenever he’s hit nothing happens other than him making a noise like a squeaky dog toy. tubbo mentions darkly that it’d be nice to give techno a taste of his own medicine re: withers, and doc has a wither skull farm that produces ten quadrillion skulls an hour set up before anyone can blink. mumbo is… building, and attempts to work out what he’s building have produced largely incoherent answers but there are potatoes involved and they’re filling up the l’manburg crater. also everyone’s doors have been replaced by piston mechanisms. rendog has assigned himself as niki’s loyal knight and sworn servant, despite her repeated protestations that she wants neither of those things. everyone’s pets are upside down and there’s a sudden absence of nametags in anyone’s chests and pearl is looking extremely innocent. tango has set up a carnival right outside of kinoko kingdom, and ravagers are involved. technoblade tried to take etho in a pvp battle and lost, badly and embarrassingly.

just. the absolutely phenomenal villain decay of, within a week of them arriving, dream and techno going from the scariest thing anyone on the server can think of to just- eh.

people are still kind of wary of them, but also like… there’s a creeper trying to put two withers in a box above the prison, and succeeding. he’s got a mechanical arm because he fought a god and won. the bird boy has access to a creeper farm now, and his inventory is full of tnt. the lmanburg crater is entirely full of potatoes. the werewolf has developed a scottish accent, and tina is using him as an attack dog. tommy and the dude in the moss hoodie are eating dirt together by the handful. the minigames guy with the red eyes is riding a ravager like a horse. no one has beaten etho in combat yet. there is not a single animal the right way up within a 10k block radius of spawn. phil is investing in cryptocurrency. the server has bigger problems to worry about right now than an admin and a pvp god, okay??

[bc-jpeg]

back in 2021-2022, I saw a tumblr post with dsmp and hermitcraft crossover topic (I couldn't find the post, unfortunately), and the point of this post was about the fact that mumbo could very well fit into the dsmp realities with a level of chaos on the server, plus an interesting interaction between c!dream and mumbo. it made the gears turn in my head and created this?? <:D

[poorlydrawnmcyt]

glareinnit again!! (is insane)

[boobsoutforbeeduo]

Ctommy I will protect you to the ends of the earth

Design notes below the cut!

-He is a demon hybrid, similar to sapnap, but he has less demon in him, so he has no powers and the only evidence of it is visual and mental (he has slight demon instincts, which is why he is so ready too fight for minor offences)

-His earrings are handmade, specifically to look like the discs. He never takes them off, and has at least three spare pairs in case they ever break or get lost.

-His coat is actually Wilbur's, he took it while he was Ghostbur, and once Wilbur was resurrected he was too attached to give it back. Its covered in poorly-stitched holes from years of use by both two, and Tommy never stitched up the holes through the front and back from when Wilbur was killed, claiming they are 'special' holes. The only changes he made to it besides some repair, were adding a new (not torn) L'manburg flag and some pride flags.

-Two of his fingers are missing, and one of his toes is missing. His fingers were chopped off by Dream as a punishment while in exile, and his toe had to be amputated after getting severe frostbite while hiding by Techno's house. He is also covered in scars on his legs and arms (as well as a few on his torso), but none are visible most of the time due to him wearing Wilbur's coat.

-Underneath the coat he, of course, wears his classic red and white tee. His shirt drawers consist of multiple of that shirt only, and the only exception are long-sleeved versions for winter.

-He keeps his hair long, because while in exile he wasn't able too cut it, and he later realized he didn't like it short, so he stopped cutting it.

-The fur on his tail has a white streak in it too, which along with the streak in his hair only appeared after resurrection.

[if-you-feel-lonely]

How dare you leave this in the tags

Can you imagine if we had dream SMP members in a series with those from Hermitcraft and Empires? More specifically, a double life-esque thing?

Well I have, so you're going to as well.

Phil, who survived five years of hardcore Minecraft, with scar, who survived five minutes of Hermitcraft season 9

Eret and Ren is just a very fun duo, I think

Grian and Wilbur - just two little guys

Tommy and Jimmy, who are relentlessly bullied by Grian and Wilbur.

Jack and Doc - a robot guy and a redstone guy. I think their characters would be very interesting together.

Schlatt, who swears in every sentence and Mumbo, who hasn't sworn since 2009 /exag

Techno and Lizzie. The blood god and the literal cat girl.

Tubbo and Katherine, he was a bee, she was a flower girl, can I make it anymore obvious? but platonic

Ranboo and Joe Hills. I haven't watched very much of Joe's content, but I think they have some similar vibes

I can rant about this idea, I can run with this-

If I get bored and I've finished my requests, I'll deffo be making this into something >:)

[d0not-disturb]

They are all best friends for life and you can’t convince me otherwise 😒‼️

BEFORE I FORGET GRUMBOT DESIGN MOSTLY (entirely) BY @weaselmcdiesel OKAY IM NOT A THEIF 🙏

[acidwolfhusky]

Something something Awesamdude's on Hermitcraft something something, I don't know. I just wanted an excuse to draw these two lovely creepers together <3

-I take art requests!! just send a message of your request and I'll get to it as soon as possible!-

[autistic-fandom-trash]

don’t go outside, it’s dangerous tonight (without me right here by your side)

crossposted on ao3

-----

Etho stood on the balcony overlooking Las Nevadas, Quackity beside him, admiring the city lights.

“They look kind of like stars.” Etho thought aloud.

“I’ve never really looked at the stars much.” Quackity admitted.

“That’s ‘cause you spend so much time in the city,” Etho replied, “They’re a lot brighter further out.”

Quackity smiled. “We should go camping sometime.”

“Good idea.”

-----

“This was a terrible idea!” Quackity complained, shivering in their wind-battered tent.

“I know!” Etho laughed. “And for the record,” He added, “You’re the one who suggested it.”

“Well, you agreed to it,” Quackity responded, “So that makes us both idiots!”

“Yeah,” Etho said, still laughing, “We’re both idiots.”

“It’s cold.” Quackity murmured, shifting closer.

Etho giggled. “What else is new?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Was that affection in Quackity’s voice?

“We should rest.” Etho murmured after a long pause.

“It’s too cold.” Quackity murmured back, moving even closer.

“This might help.” Etho suggested, putting an arm around Quackity’s shoulders.

Quackity sighed, leaning comfortably against Etho’s side. He looked so peaceful there, Etho thought sleepily, the warmth of the contact slowly settling into his bones. Etho didn’t move. Quackity didn’t move.

[sleepyy-dakota]

Hello MCYTblr and all subtwts, I decided to make an MCYTtober prompt list for this year :D

I tried to make the prompts as generalisable as possible so hopefully many servers can feel included!

There is no wrong server for this list, so please enjoy MCYTtober :D

[mcytshipsandmore]

branzys wife, ms tango and kristin (since i hc all of them to be godessess of death). bring your husband to work day goes mild.

Your so real for this anon ‼️‼️‼️ -⭐️