#every time i see the ‘it started when grian touched my red stone’

[fireylesbianhell]

Doc: I’ve come to make an announcement; Grian touched my fucking red stone. that’s right he took his grubby little hands out and broke my red stone and wrote “oh i’m sorry” and i said that’s pathetic so im making a callout post on my youtube dot com

[thecoddaughter]

Secret Life as Every The Crane Wives Song

(EXTREMELY LONG POST WARNING)

 

Etho: 

Nothing at All  “Do you ever feel nothing at all? I do, I do, I do. I would not wish that on you”

Counting Sheep “Feign contentment for a while, that's all you know how to do.”

Grian:

Sleeping Giant “I feel the mountains, I feel the mountains shifting under me. The sleeping giants are finally waking.”  (This man knows things about the sudden arrival of a ominous deity like entity)

Steady, Steady “I can take for better but for worse can't condone. Most of all for good just makes me ache to be alone.” (Not teaming up with people for so long because of fear of hurting them)

Ancient History “My dreams keep digging up the bones of memories. Discarded remnants of former times.” (Again, watchers…)

Pearl:

I Talk In My Sleep “I talk in my sleep when my demons won't let me be. They twist the things I say when you are far away.”

How to Rest  “Though you've convinced yourself, you're safe and sound within. The thing you fear the most never need get in.”

New Colors  “Old towns here are mean. Spit fire and gasoline. But all I want is solitude. I have half a mind to climb up in the sky and hide myself inside the moon”

The Crooked, The Cradle “I'm nobody's daughter. I'm nobody's daughter. My enemies crow. "We're alone with the kill"”  “I won't pretend my season won't end,  but I pray, when it's done, when it's through I'll have something left for you.”

Scar: 

The Garden  “The crows in the garden are laughing at my expense, drowning out all the lies that I might have told instead” (his scamming and scheming butt can't escape me)

New Discovery  “Sometimes I feel like I’m lost in the desert… I see my footprints in the sand so I know where I’ve been”  (desert... like the desert duo... i'm so clever!)

Can’t Have It All  “I won't bargain, I won't break. My mind's made up, though my head still aches and all my love you tried to take, but you can't have it all.”

Cleo:

Ribs “Brick and mortar between my bones. Built a kingdom fierce and fortified. My name fading from the yellow page. Stones are laid upon the mountainside.”

Tongues & Teeth “I will poison all your happy thoughts. I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box and if you're fine with that you can be mine.”

Impulse:

Little Soldiers “I fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown but you were already gone”

Strangler Fig “You built your kingdom around me. Now I'm trapped within your walls and all I want is to be free.” (That man died and joined the apocalypse willingly to be at Gem's side)

Scott:

Pretty Little Things “Cracked lips and hands, calloused hands. I still feel his touch against my skin. Past loves linger like phantom limbs.”  “Don't buy me flowers, it pains me to watch. Pretty little things wilt away.” (this man hold's onto past alliances in her heart, only second to Skizz)

Shallow River “Red sky morning, lovers' warning. Oh I know that the promise you wear, well it ain't for me.” (red sky and love refer to Jimmy’s death. The “You” is Gem though)

Bdubs:

Never Love an Anchor “It's a secret I keep tucked inside my chest with this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful” (him not so subtly jumping between mounders and roomies, maybe? idk. its also just kinda his vibe.)

Naked, the Night Falls “Turn your ghosts into mine. All the years, all the years I'm alive.” (him finding Etho and Cleo again)

BigB:

Hard Sell “Hoping I can find a better me. A fresh new start buried under me.”

Metaphors “I've gotten good at leaning on metaphors. I've gotten good at living on someone else's page. I cut my teeth on second-hand sentiments. You can't trust a single thing I say.” (his cryptid butt is not escaping metaphors this go around)

Martyn:

Turn out the Lights “Sometimes all you can do is say goodnight and tuck your demons into bed cause they're not worth fighting.”

Rockslide “This wild weather's got the mountain shakin' weak. Oh I know you want to plant your feet but we best get a move on or the devil we will meet.” “That monster's comin' and it don't care for you or me. Don't look back now, honey” (This has been in my head since Martyn moved in with Jim at the top of the Mesa.)

Show Your Fangs “A ballad of a lonesome peak. I curse the ground, shed my old sins. For weight will only make me weak” “Bravely I will wield my weapon. I made from fangs of those that died.” (Big Dogs… RIP)

Skizz:

Know How “I keep my focus on what is safe. You drew a line. Made up your mind and now I'm struggling to realize.” (This song is Imp and Skizz’s relationship post Imp’s attack)

Easier “The only peace I have ever known is the peace I made with you. I won't move, but I can't stay here.” (Skizz and Tango’s relationship throughout the season)

October “Take my word but keep the upper hand. I know you, you're the daughter of a lonely man.” (My interpretation of SL!Skizz is this super caring guy who his haunted by this vague memory of bloodlust that comes out in empty threats to people he doesn’t really want to hurt.)

Gem (all of these are about session seven specifically!):

Allies or Enemies  “They spread like some awful damn disease” “Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me.”

The Glacier House “You cursed the Earth you settled under… Under… Understand I had to go.” “Bundle up darling, you're on your own now. Seasons change as they do. Maybe I'll see you when your shivering is through.”

I Ain’t Done “I am a pretty young thing. I am consumed by selfish wanting. Carelessly broke you down but I’m not done.” (this girl came in and told a winner and a runner up that they need to get their act together and that she was gonna be the one to get them to the end. I love her!)

Joel “Loves his wife” Smallishbeans:

Down the River “'Cause ain't it easier to just move on? One door closing means another one. Opens unto some unsuspecting fool. “Sure, you can forget about all the things you've done but what about the rest of us? High-tail it when it gets to be too much.” “Too many people with your name on top of their lists.” “You were never the one to suffer.” (All of Joel’s anger about Jim celebrating Lizzie’s death and the fact that Jim then also immediately died, leaving him alone.)

Unraveling “But now my love is gone and I am left unraveling.” “And I am left here withering” “And I can't help the fracturing”

The Diving Bell  “I descend so well, in an open diving bell, the beauty of the deep. Far into abyss in your silent lips call me will I sleep” 

Caleb Trask “"When a flower blossoms red. That's the day, that's the day, that's the day. I'll love you. That's the day, that's the day. I'll love you." (I’ve stated before that this is his song, not specifically bc of SL. I think of azalea’s and I think of Joel.)

Tango:

Curses “There's a fire in my brain, and I'm burning up” “Every word I say is kindling but the smoke clears when you're around. Won't you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?” (Our fire man and his forever teammate…)

Safe Ship, Harbored “Where does your faith form in me? Don't break the bottle. Don't waste your blessings on me.” “A safe ship, harbored losing all of my good years to the shallow water. I ain't proud.” (The Heart Foundation [in my opinion] seemed like a great way to make alliances and be well liked, however, it also kinda put them at a disadvantage never getting any hearts of their own.)

Mumbo:

The Moon Will Sing “On some level, I think I always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever.” “With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful. There is love that doesn't have a place to rest. But it would have buried you if it had settled on your shoulders” (Something, something. The love Mumbo has for Grian.)

Back to the Ground “Little buds make their graves as the warmth inside us fades but I still don't know shit about letting go.” “Our hearts lay still and cold, under frozen soil. I can't stay here anymore so remember when I go.” (Something, something. The miner destined for accidents.)

Jimmy: 

Not the Ghost “If only I could break the chain of disappointments, weighing me down. Shake off the ghosts that whisper warnings.”

Keep You Safe “When I watched my friends ride to the tops of the trees. With the risk of fall, I never climbed at all.” “Time is not your friend. Time is not your remedy. No amount of waiting will make you, make you brave.”

Canary in the Coal Mine  “You and I are friends of empty graves”  (he does not escape this song!) 

Lizzie (all of these songs with Lizzie in mind makes me cry):

Can’t Go Back “The time has come for moving on. You can't be always trying to dig up. What you've already buried.” “It's not fair (When have you ever known the world to be a fair place?) It's not fair (All things end and all things change) It's not fair (You'll look back and laugh someday) It's not fair (Or at least you'll learn to be okay)”

Of Everlong  “And if my lover will not hear it. Take my voice and take my spirit, leave me weakened and dig my hole. Only my lover, not I, can keep my soul” (Only Joel mourns her and it’s a sad sad day)

Icarus “Til your far away and breathing cleaner air, oh my brother…” (her brother... the man cursed to die... named after a bird who dies of poisoned air... who'd a thunk it...)

Unplaced songs: The hand that feeds, hole in the silver lining, Once & For All

[hmshermitcraft]

Mother Spore currently has my brain in a chokehold and hiveminds shot me an idea with the theme.

*As Mother Spore, Grian uses she/they. When not, Grian uses He/Him

The City was in lockdown. The rumors had finally come to the King's ears. A unknown plague had hit a multitude of villages, leaving odd plant life where it touched. Few reports mentioned a small obscured figure, hidden under a vail of pale roots, heading the invasion. Everything was rationed to prepare for the siege that would inevitably come.

Scar and Cub ran the only bookshop, in charge of holding the books with them and keeping notes on the rest. Cub kept up with that front, leaving Scar doing research on both known plants and strategy to combat it.

With everyone so caught up in it all, there was little time to relax. Late one afternoon, Cub was sorting out the books for the day when the door opened someone walked in. He turned to see a small blonde man, with a worn red sweater and the matching wings on his back - the tell-tale sign of an avian.

An avian? But they usually lived in the woods, not the hills. Has the plague forced them to flee as well? Why was he alone and not with a flock? How did he get past the guards?

His internal questioning got cut short when the stranger cleared his throat and asked if he was one who held the books.

"yes - me and Scar. You need something?"

"well, I found this." He opened his hand, and held out an innocent looking mushroom, tiny in his hand. Cub heard the frantic steps as Scar poked his head out, eyes tired yet wide.

"I found it near the wall. I thought that you would have anything on them."

"yeah we have some on-"

"Scar, the siege." Cub reminded him before facing the Avian again, "we can't give out books at the moment, I'm afraid: King's orders. But Scar can look into it, if that's alright with you?"

"Sure!" He gave the little fungi to Scar, "I'll come back tomorrow"

-----------------

The weeks that followed left Cub suspicious.

Every afternoon, the Avian, Grian, came back for any updates, and for a chat. They got to know him more, "Oh I live on the Eastern parts near the wall, it's great shelter against the sun!" and what he was storing, "just some chickens."

As he spoke more about where he came from, more and more details didn't add up. There was only a few little gardens left growing potatoes for the whole city, so holding any single animal, much less multiple,was near impossible without outside help. Plus why near the wall? Wouldn't he want as much space as possible to spread his wings?

He got along well with Scar, and Cub often overhead their conversations about whatever. This was something else that worried Cub, because recently he seemed... not like himself.

At first he wasn't buried into the books as much, which at first was great since he really needed a break, but Cub was surprised to learn that he had stopped after a near month of laser focusing on it. He looked more lost in thought, leading to bumps when he got distracted, and finally: he left one night for something, and hadn't return in two days - and took the mushroom with him.

Cub has decided enough was enough: There was a link between Scar's vanishing and Grian's little gift and was going to find out what. He set out to the Eastern parts, which led to a discovery of mushrooms had grown in the cracks where weeds were. Following them led to a shocking sight: a crack within the wall, hidden by shade and growing fungi, pale in the night

Dread started to build up as Cub went through. within the darkness, he could feel the stone above him suddenly disappear and widen out. Feeling the walls led to the wet sensation of the fungi and scrapped stone, and a horrific truth slamming into his brain: it was hollow! It had eaten through! Looking up he saw little holes where the moon shone though, revealing that pale fungi and pockets of odd ground.

Suddenly, a sharp hand grabbed his shoulder and viciously spun him around into the light - he was face to face with her. The pale roots draped over their face, leading down to what was a graceful article of clothing, but was so covered in mushrooms and moss that it was hard to tell what exactly. A crude caricature of wings, made by the roots and veins, hung limply behind them. But the way she held themself, the blonde hair...

"G-Grian?!" Cub asked in pure shock. Grian; mastermind of the plague?!

"oh thank the stars, it's you." The hand loosened its grip on him, "We were wondering when you'll hear the call too"

"The call? 'We'? Wha-" bewilderment came then left his face as he remembered why he came here, "Scar- Where's Scar?! What did you do to him?!" anger started to flare up, but the hand came to shush him.

"He's fine Cub, don't worry. He bound to the mycelium quite well. It's been getting lonely with just me; now it can be me and you two!" Small shoots sprouted out from their shoulders as she clapped with excitement at the proposal.

"Whatno! Why would I join your- your Hivemind?!" He backed away.

Cub was surprised to see her reaction as one of sadness rather than anger at his refusal, "Cub, I like you. Plus you make Scar happy, which makes me happy too." She held out a small mushroom, much like the one she gave Scar all those weeks ago.

"Join us Cub. We're friends, right?"

~🪶

Cub hates to call himself a coward. He's been steadfast in his research, determined to find a solution before this can hurt anyone else. Before it could hurt Scar.

And yet.

"Friends don't lie to each other," Cub replies. Because that's what hurts the most. He and Scar cared about Grian, whoever he was. They cared about the funny avian who liked spending time with them. Who seemed to take the situation seriously, who they'd both opened up to on some level. Cub had watched him listen to Scar ramble about all the things he'd learnt with a fond smile. Cub had smiled at the sight too.

Just like she smiled at him. Now, her hand draws away, that hurt still in her eyes.

"It was necessary!" She cries. "I didn't want to scare you."

"Funny way of doing that, funny way." There's so many things in Cub's head that he wants to say. The sharp spike of betrayal, the grief for a lost friend and for Scar. "I'm going to stop you. I'm going to stop this."

"Scar is happy, you'll be happy-" She steps forward, arms outstretched in what should be a welcoming gesture. It feels like a snare.

"We fell in love with you, you know?" Cub states. "Don't come to the library again." He turns, kicking at the mushrooms growing around his feet.

"I'll be everywhere, eventually," she calls after him.

Cub doesn't turn around. "I'll be waiting."

[redwinterroses]

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

.

///

.

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

hooray for open ask box! how about Martyn, or Etho, or Ren seeing Skizz’s ghost on the altar?

hell yeah i love writing about Skizz, even in death :D

cw blood, dead body

…

Less than a day after Skizz’s abrupt death, Martyn returns to the crastle alone, with a sombre mission. His stomach drops when he sees Skizz’s body hanging upside down over the ramparts, exactly where it fell the moment Skizz died. It’s horrifying to see the blood still dripping down the walls of the crastle, the gaping wound in his chest clearly visible.

An arrow shoots into the ground at his feet just in front of the drawbridge, causing him to stop.

“What business do you have here, Red Army scum?” snarls Bdubs’s voice.

Martyn carefully lays his sword and shield on the ground, before standing back up with his hands raised to show he’s no longer armed. “I come in peace and I come alone.”

A pause follows this.

Martyn looks up and finds Bdubs’s face just visible through a slit window. Another face can be seen through the slit window just to the left but this one is less visible, so Martyn can’t identify who it is. He suspects it might be Impulse.

“What do you want?” Bdubs demands, though his voice is less hostile than before.

“All I want is to retrieve Skizzle’s body so we can bury him.”

Another pause.

This time, a different voice comes from the castle: “His body stays here.”

“Scott-,” Martyn begins.

“No, I’m not budging.” Scott’s voice is full of grief and anger. “He killed my husband and my friend. I want his body displayed exactly where it is. You’re lucky Grian and Bdubs talked me out of slicing his head off and displaying it on a stake.”

Nausea rises in Martyn’s throat at the grisly image. “Please,” he says, almost begging. “He died in battle just like Timmy and Cleo; he deserves a proper burial. We… We need to say goodbye to him.”

“Do it here,” Scott snarls, “cuz I’m not budging.”

Bdubs’s face disappears from the slit window, but his voice is still just about audible to Martyn on the ground. “Scott, I think we should give them Skizz’s body.”

“What?!” Scott’s voice snaps back. “Why would you even consider that?! Don’t you care that he murdered your best friend?!”

“Yes, but I’m not thinking of Skizz,” responds Bdubs. “I’m thinking of Cleo. She’s been avenged already, Scott. Jimmy’s been avenged. Do you really think either of them would want us to deny him being laid to rest, despite everything he did? What’s the purpose of that? Skizz is dead, Scott, and seeing his body on display is only going to remind us of our losses every time we look at it. In order to start healing, you gotta let go of your anger.”

Bdubs’s voice cracks and he says something else that Martyn can’t quite hear.

Martyn waits anxiously, wondering what will happen. He’s half expecting Scott to just shoot him there and then, or at the very least destroy Skizz’s body out of bitterness and anger.

But eventually, the door to the crastle opens and Bdubs appears, holding a crossbow at his side. “You can come in and get it,” he says. “Tango will help you take it back to Dogwarts.”

Martyn lets out a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

As he crosses the drawbridge, Bdubs gives him an odd look. “You’re really okay with walking into the enemy base on your own with no weapons? What if this was a trap and we just killed you right here?”

“I did consider that possibility,” Martyn admits. “But I decided that my mission is more important.”

Bdubs nods slowly. “Okay. Fair enough.”

Martyn follows Bdubs up to the first floor, where Tango is already starting to pull Skizz’s body inside. Now that he’s closer, Martyn can see that Skizz’s eyes are still open, so he kneels beside his body and gently closes them.

“We can use one of the coffins outside to transport him,” says Tango, his voice low and serious. “And you can keep it to bury him in.”

“Thank you,” says Martyn. “After we bury him, you’re welcome to visit his grave whenever you wish.”

“What about me?” Impulse asks quietly, standing on the upper staircase.

Martyn turns and looks him dead in the eye. “Like I said. Tango, you’re welcome to visit anytime.”

Impulse blanches as Tango nods gratefully.

…

It takes the two of them less than ten minutes to carry the coffin to Dogwarts. As they get close to its walls, Etho and Ren dash out to meet them.

Etho takes the burden from Tango, who steps aside to a safe distance, keeping a wary eye on Ren.

“Thank you for returning Skizzle to us,” Ren says, all hints of his former fake accent and overly dramatic tone gone.

“Of course. I hated seeing him left up there like that.”

“I know you can’t give anything away but can I just ask… how’s… how’s Impulse?” Etho asks hesitantly.

Tango briefly makes eye contact with him but has to look away. “I wouldn’t hold out any hope that he can be saved if I were you. He wasn’t just there when Skizz died; he watched him die and did nothing to help or comfort him. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Oh my god…” Ren breathes out, suppressing a shudder. “How did this happen, Tango? What turned him into such a monster?”

“Trust me, Ren…” Tango turns to face Ren, a sombre expression on his face. “...I wish I knew. Anyway, I’m gonna head back now. Give him a good sendoff.”

“We will,” promises Ren. “Thank you.”

Etho and Martyn carry the coffin into Dogwarts and to the site that they have already picked and prepared for the burial. All three of them lower the coffin into the freshly dug grave and then kneel down beside it: Etho to the left, Martyn to the right, and Ren directly in front.

“Today, we celebrate the life of our good friend and loyal ally Skizzleman,” Ren begins. “Right from the start, even before he fought for us in battle, he proved himself a dedicated friend to Renchanting. He provided me with shelter when I was nothing but a lowly travelling merchant. His leather made the book that created the first enchantment table we ever used. And his cobblestone helped build the walls of Dogwarts that still stand to this day. He took care of us, he fought for us, he killed for us, and in the end, he died for us.” He addresses the coffin directly. “Thank you, Skizzle. For everything.”

He clears his throat. “Does- Does anyone else have anything they want to say?”

Etho nods and gently tosses the allium he’s holding onto the coffin. “Nothing special, just… Thank you, Skizz. For always being there for me.”

“I have some things to say,” says Martyn quietly. “I honestly didn’t think much of Skizz at first. I thought he was a nice guy but not someone I could see myself even being friends with. But he became so much more than that. We shared the same drive, the same passion and commitment to our convictions. When the two of us were out there fighting, it was like we’d known each other for years. But most importantly, he would always put his life before others, even mine, and even after he turned red. He was fun to be around and he always made me laugh.” His voice cracks. “I’ll miss you, Skizz.”

Twirling the tulip he brought from outside, he drops it into the grave, on top of Etho’s allium.

Ren wordlessly starts to scoop dirt over the coffin, and Etho and Martyn join him. Finally, once the coffin is properly covered, Ren plants his flower - a poppy salvaged from Skizz’s destroyed home, over the top of it and sits back.

After a moment, he starts to sing softly: “Fill to me the parting glass, and drink a health whate'er befalls. And gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all. But since it fell unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not, I gently rise and softly call: good night and joy be to you all.” (this song is The Parting Glass, sung by The High Kings)

This breaks the dam. Martyn hurriedly rises to his feet and flees towards the altar, tears falling freely from his eyes. He drops to his hands and knees in the centre of the stone platform, hanging his head and crying openly.

He hasn’t cried like this in a very VERY long time. It’s just so unfair to him that Skizz, one of the kindest people he knows, is gone so soon from the server. There’s so much he wishes he could have said back there. How he blames himself for not stopping Skizz from charging in there, how much he dreams of slaughtering Grian for taking Skizz away from them, how he wishes it was him who died instead. But he couldn’t manage it.

A chill suddenly runs down his spine, causing him to involuntarily look up.

His heart skips a beat.

Standing a few blocks away on the altar is the ghostly image of Skizzleman, back to normal except for a slight magenta tinge to him. He’s smiling kindly down at Martyn, his eyes sparking with a kind of energy that he hasn’t had for a long time.

He holds out his hand to Martyn, who hesitantly reaches for it. Despite not being able to touch it, something helps Martyn to his feet, some kind of invisible energy.

Martyn gazes into Skizz’s face and manages a smile. “Goodbye, Skizz,” he whispers. “Good luck.”

The words “you too” echo in Martyn’s ears, not spoken by anything of this world.

“Martyn,” calls Ren’s voice. “Are you coming?”

Martyn automatically turns to look at Ren. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

When he looks back, he’s alone on the altar.

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

promise me that you’ll start where i end

A/N: 3rd Life SMP but i make it more dramatic. also i made the mistake of listening to drivers license by olivia rodrigo while writing this and cried. i'd say enjoy but i don't think that's the correct emotion to experience while reading this. (title is from Boreas by The Oh Hellos)

Summary: An argument before Scott's world- one of color, light, and love- falls to pieces and turns dark. And the friend who tries to collect those pieces and bring back a little light to him.

Warnings: minor violence, talk of death, arguing, hugs, crying, canonical character death, grief/mourning, bittersweet ending

-

Scott leaned against the potions table with a sigh. There were too many close calls today. Each brush with Dogwarts nearly cost either him or Jimmy their lives, not to mention that Cleo lost one of her lives trying to escape the Red King and his men. Then there was the whole issue with Joel, his attempt on Scott’s life, and their wall- he wasn’t looking forward to rebuilding it, especially just out of cobblestone or some other stone. A small smile was brought to his face as he remembered how Jimmy instantly wanted to go after Joel, even though the other man was already long gone. It should have been concerning, how fast Jimmy could seemingly switch between being a lost puppy or a feral wolf on his red life. Instead, it was actually sort of endearing. It would be more endearing if it didn’t give Scott a near heart attack every time his husband tried to rush forward into danger. Scott squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of memories- Jimmy running through lava for a prize, his eagerness to pick up a piece of tnt and the resulting destruction it caused, Jimmy staring Ren down as he burned the Dogwarts flag (and then himself), Jimmy drawing his bow when Scott was trying to de-escalate a situation and just ask if Dogwarts had anything to do with their wall burning- Scott wasn’t sure if he was proud of or angry at Jimmy’s recklessness. There was one thing Scott knew for certain- he would never be able to erase the memories of Jimmy’s deaths from his mind, and everything he did was to make sure that Jimmy would survive. And himself too, of course, but Jimmy was the one with no lives left.

“Scott?” a voice asked, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked over to see Jimmy stepping through the nether portal. He looked a little shy, and Scott smiled in spite of himself at his husband being in his “lost puppy” mode.

“I’m just working on some potions. Y’know, for future encounters. What’s up?” Scott asked. Jimmy fidgeted for a moment or two, not quite meeting Scott’s gaze.

“Just wanted to check in on you, after uh… everything,” he asked sheepishly, finally looking up at Scott’s eyes.

“Could be better, could be worse. There were a couple of close calls, but that’s why I’m working on potions,” he replied with a shrug. Jimmy’s brow knit in concern, and he reached out to Scott for half a moment, but quickly dropped his hands with a frown.

“It was too close today,” Jimmy muttered under his breath. Scott huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“It was, you’re on your last life- you’ve gotta be more careful,” he reprimanded. Jimmy’s sheepish gaze snapped defiantly to Scott’s, and he jumped a bit in surprise at the fire in his husband’s eyes.

“I was talking about you! Martyn’s arrows nearly took you out!” Jimmy shouted, hands gesturing wildly.

“Jimmy, my armor’s better than yours, and I have all my lives left. I would have been fine- you wouldn’t have,” Scott said, a little taken aback at Jimmy’s sudden ferocity.

“Just because you have all your lives doesn’t mean you can throw them away, Scott!” Jimmy protested. Scott gave Jimmy an incredulous look.

“I’m not throwing my lives away, Jimmy. I have good gear, I negotiate and build alliances with other factions, I’m making potions- if anyone’s throwing away their lives around here, it’s you!” Scott shot back, voice coming out more frustrated than he meant it to. A hurt expression crossed Jimmy’s face, and part of Scott wanted to take back what he said, but most of him didn’t regret it at all. Didn’t Jimmy understand what was at stake here? Scott tried his best to look out for him, but each and every time he rushed forward into things he shouldn’t have.

“Scott, I know I’ve messed up. You don’t need to keep reminding me. But I can’t just stay put and do nothing like you!” Jimmy shouted.

“What do you mean, doing nothing?! I’m trying to build up our defences-”

“Going on the offensive is the only thing Dogwarts will understand-”

“I’m just trying to protect you!” both Scott and Jimmy exclaimed at the same time. Both of them blinked in surprise, and all at once things started clicking into place.

“Scott, I’m no strategist like you. I’m not even as good in combat. But I’m on red- I’m the fighter here. So let me fight for you,” Jimmy said softly. Scott made a sound that was half laugh, half scoff.

“Jimmy-”

“I can’t stand the thought of letting you die, Scott,” Jimmy said, refusing to meet his gaze. A bittersweet smile came to Scott’s face, and he took a step closer to Jimmy, tilting his head to try and meet Jimmy’s eyes.

“Jimmy, I’ve seen you die twice. Don’t you think that I can’t stand the thought of letting you die either?” Scott asked. Jimmy finally looked up at Scott, eyes watering. Scott let out a fond little scoff, reaching out to wipe at Jimmy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said wetly. Scott didn’t answer at first, instead reaching out to pull Jimmy into a hug.

“Don’t be. And don’t cry you idiot, you’ll just disintegrate faster,” Scott teased fondly, relieved when Jimmy let out a laugh in response. Jimmy pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smiling. Scott couldn’t help but smile back, happy to see his husband in a marginally better mood.

“We’ll be okay, right Scott?” Jimmy asked, still soft and as timid as before. 

“I’m working on potions, we’ve got allies, and we’ve got each other. We’ll be alright,” Scott said, voice soft but no less determined. Jimmy gave his usual dazzling smile, filling Scott with warmth and light at the sight of it.

-

It was dark when Scott made his way down the hill from Jimmy’s grave. He wasn’t even there when Jimmy had died, he had told Jimmy that they would be alright and they both weren’t. Scott was on yellow now, the gleam in his eyes and the gold shimmering in his hair making that absolutely certain. Scott’s preparedness hadn’t even saved either of them! His potions certainly didn’t do much good as Scott died early on in the battle. Maybe he and Jimmy shouldn’t have allied with anyone. Maybe they should have stayed within their walls and retired, like Scott wanted to. Maybe Jimmy would be alive now. But there was no use dwelling on the “what-ifs”- all Scott had was the now. And the now was crushingly lonely and dim.

Scott jumped at the cackle of a witch, narrowly avoiding a thrown potion. He drew his sword and cut her down without a second thought. She poofed into ash, leaving Scott to stumble forward into the dirt. He drove his sword into the ground with a cry of rage and sorrow.

“I can’t even mourn?!” he cried, shouting at the universe for what he had lost and what he had endured. Scott wasn’t sure how long he had knelt there in the grass, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. It wasn’t until the growls and skittering of other mobs approaching that Scott finally picked himself up, yanking his sword from the ground and feet moving on autopilot. 

He soon stumbled through the nether portal to the cave behind it, shaking hands reaching for a book tucked away on one of the shelves. He opened it carefully despite his trembling hands, not wanting to damage what was inside. Between the pages laid a collection of pressed flowers, one of them being the poppy that Jimmy had given him when they first met. Scott finally allowed himself to crumble, falling to the floor and sobbing with the book of pressed flowers cradled in his arms.

“Scott?” a voice asked. His head snapped up and he looked to the cave entrance, heart skipping a beat at a flash of blond and red- but then saw the brightly colored wings and deflated at the realization that it was just Grian. Scott quickly wiped at his eyes, gently closing the book before holding it tight against his chest and standing up.

“Um. Hi,” Scott said, unsure of what to say. Grian didn’t look like he knew what to say either, feathers rustling slightly before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to uh. Check in on you,” Grian said. Scott let out a shaky sigh. How many times had Jimmy come in, asking the same thing? Checking in on Scott, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself- sometimes checking in on him wasn’t even for Scott’s own benefit. Jimmy would need reassurance, and Scott would joke and tease to cheer him up. What Scott wouldn’t give to hear Jimmy’s laugh one last time.

“I think you can see how well I’m doing,” Scott said, tone coming off a bit more brusquely than he meant it to. Scott winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Grian didn’t deserve to have his grief taken out on him, but frankly Scott wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to respond to that. His friend’s expression twisted in sympathy.

“Sorry. We did avenge him, at least,” Grian said softly. Scott let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah. I just thought I’d feel some sort of satisfaction from it, or that it would make losing Jimmy hurt less,” Scott replied, voice as hollow as he felt. Silence hung between them for a few moments, before Grian stepped a bit closer. He cautiously reached out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and Scott peered up slightly at the touch.

“It probably won’t help much, in fact not at all, but what if we put a stop to Dogwarts? For all the things we’ve lost- and for Jimmy,” Grian offered. A small, weak smile crept onto Scott’s face. He wouldn’t let Jimmy’s death be in vain- he believed in a world without Dogwarts, a world where he and Scott could live out their days in peace. And even if Jimmy wasn’t able to live it with him, Scott knew that Jimmy would want him to move forward, to the life they had wanted.

“For Jimmy,” Scott said, warmth in his tone for the first time since Jimmy had died. For a brief moment, he thought he felt a hand ghost across his, paired with a reassuring touch on his back and a breath at his ear. The moment was there and gone, and Scott desperately wanted to curl his fingers around familiar ones he swore he had just felt- but it left Scott’s smile a bit brighter all the same.

-

MCYT Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @space-ace123

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 4

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Sumamry: Mumbo was surprised to find that Grian was right when he said the egg was magical.

TW: Slight electrocution I suppose, and descriptions of lightning

Word Count: 2415

Notes: Again, the two farms are in the overworld, not in the Nether or End for the sake of the fic

Enjoy! And this one deserves a Read More because it’s long lol

——————

By the end of the next day, Mumbo had finished his first farm and half of his second farm. Much to his surprise, the egg didn’t bear any harm. It was strangely quiet recently but it didn’t bother him any. At the moment, it was in his inventory should anyone come by and see that he had it. It’d ruin his plans and he didn’t want to give up the egg just yet. Really, he could probably keep it forever. It had been completely safe and comfortable- or, as comfortable as an egg can be- since he stole it. Mumbo called that pretty responsible.

Who was he kidding, Grian would kill him eventually if he never found it himself.

He laid down the last of the comparators for the third row, focused more on finishing his farm than overthinking the egg situation. If all went well so far, they should be able to work on their own if he flipped a lever. The redstoner pulled the egg from his inventory and held it up to his face.

“I think everything looks about right so far, yeah?” He turned the egg as if there was a face to show his work. The egg quite obviously never spoke but it helped to explain the redstone and find the flaws in his contraptions.

Nothing seemed out of place. The first row’s test went swimmingly and by replicating that a few more times, all should go as planned when he tested them together. With his luck it may not happen but he could stand to be a little optimistic at least. Mumbo went on to build the last of the uniform rows and easily finished another quarter of the farm. All was down to just encasing said farm in a wall of glass to avoid the items spilling over the sides.

He stood back once more with his hands on his hips, the egg now by his feet. The redstoner was proud to say the least. He looked down at the egg which only sat stock still. Leaving the egg, he turned to dig in his chest for more materials.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the egg wouldn’t stay still for much longer.

“Glass, glass, where on Earth did I put the glass?” He mumbled to himself. He continued to rummage. Eventually, he pulled away from the chest with an internal cheer. “Of course it was next to the pistons.”

He swirled back around when he began to hear small pops from behind him. As he did, Mumbo’s eyes widened. Small purple sparks crackled every so often at the base of the egg and quickly began to grow in size. The egg itself launched into a fit of rapid vibrating.

“Oh! Uh-oh!” He dropped the glass next to him, shattering upon impact, and hurriedly jogged to the now terrifyingly lively egg. “Please tell me you're supposed to do that!”

The redstoner hesitated, going to touch it, then pulling away with a worried whimper. Mumbo didn’t want to touch it but he panicked as he was at a loss of what to do. The egg was calm for weeks before now. Even Grian would’ve said something if the egg had done something like this before Mumbo stole it.

Ah…Grian did tell him it was a magical egg.

Mumbo only thought Grian was joking to keep him from taking it. He’s never seen a dragon egg do that! It was just from the update, he suggested to himself. Eggs were just suddenly powerful and might destroy his days of work. He laughed nervously and pulled at his tie. It didn’t matter what he thought, the small sparks were now large bolts that shot their way into the ground. It singed the grass around it, turning it to a coal black. He had to back away from the egg’s ever expanding radius of energy.

“Oh what do I do- what do I do?!” Then, the obvious idea appeared and he palmed his forehead. “Grian!”

The redstoner fumbled to get his communicator from his pocket, almost dropping it several times. He miss-clicked several icons with petrified fingers and growled in frustration. Only when he finally opened the chat, the egg ceased its episode with an immediate halt. He looked up from the screen with caution and took another step away from the egg.

The area fell silent. Not a bird’s chirp or leave’s rustle broke the blanket of stillness that suddenly washed over everything. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, though.

He inched forward with small steps, clutching his communicator. Seconds passed, then a minute.

“H…Hello?” He said tentatively. He stuck a leg out, poking at it with the tip of his shoe then retracting his leg once more. A sigh escaped his lips. “Good, I guess that’s over with then.”

But it wasn’t. The egg was hardly finished as the bolts started again, much much larger than their already massive size they reached before it stopped the first time. Mumbo shrieked and attempted to retreat back to his chest. It took no longer than five seconds before a wave of the purple energy resonated through the ground and absorbed into the two farms. It knocked Mumbo from his feet and onto the grass, sending an electric shiver through his body.

He shielded his neck with his arms and waited. He only turned over when the sounds of roaring pistons caught his attention. But, that was hardly what he worried about as he watched in awe- good or bad, he wasn’t sure yet- at the effects of the egg’s sudden show of magic.

Both farms were activated and running faster than any farm he’d ever seen. Items upon items flowed down water streams and into stacks of chests. Some items avoided their intended route and simply floated in all directions above the farms. It was loud, incredibly loud. Mumbo nearly had to cover his ears as he initially cowered from the noise. However, he soon pulled himself to his feet and slowly approached the over-efficient farms.

A violet haze emitted from the redstone, replacing its originally reddish color, and from the cracks between each set of stone bricks. Each block crackled and hissed with energy, and it almost felt as if he were gaining some of that energy himself. Small bolts fizzled out over his suit. He lifted his left hand and turned it over, watching as sparks flew over and down his fingers to their tips.

To put it simply, it was a beautiful and supernatural sight. He wasn't sure how to react. His own heart was still racing- from the energy around him or his nerves, he also didn’t know.

While in the middle of the two farms, he glanced back at the egg which no longer twisted and turned, but sat with slowly flowing violet streams of energy penetrating the ground. Much like the hum of a conduit sounded from it. Now, it seemed very calm in contrast to its earlier fit. Mumbo assumed- for obvious reasons, really- that the egg powered the farms despite the contraptions having been able to power themselves via redstone. It was captivating and he couldn’t help but to become curious about what was inside the egg that would’ve given it so much power. That or had it already been created with it. Either way, he yearned to learn more about it. It could be revolutionary and improve efficiency immensely.

Although, the event was short lived as the egg’s energy flow sputtered and dissipated, leading to the farms shutting down with it. Mumbo looked up as items began to rain over his shoulders when they fell. But, he was hardly bothered. At this moment he realized a few things.

His farms worked, thankfully; The egg held an amount of power that could power several farms; Mumbo wanted to keep the egg for even longer to experiment.

Of course, he still wanted to eventually return it but as someone who couldn’t kill anything, the egg could help him for the time being...He already had many ideas popping into his head by the second. It only made him giddy for what was to come. He ran over and scooped up the egg with an ear-to-ear grin, holding it up to his face.

“You, my friend, are one wicked egg,” he complimented. Then, he put it in his inventory and prepared to fly home. He’d clean up the mess later.

As he rocketed off to his base, he noticed his red sweatered friend sitting alone on the roof of his house. Even when Mumbo flew by, Grian didn’t wave or nod up to him or really even look at him. Piquing his curiosity, though he should just go home and avoid confrontation, he landed behind Grian and carefully stepped down the slope of the roof.

“Hey! Haven’t heard from you much today,” he greeted. Mumbo was only met with silence. “Are you okay?”

After a second, Grian twitched when he realized that someone was talking to him. He turned his head to where Mumbo crouched down next to him.

“Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking. This is my thinking roof.”

The redstoner hummed. “Ah, don’t wear yourself out then,” he laughed.

“You should try it sometime with that empty head of yours.” The avian chuckled dryly and looked back to the setting sun, the small smile falling from his face.

“Thanks,” Mumbo replied, initially with a smile himself but found himself meeting Grian’s frown. He waited a few seconds before speaking again. Then, he tapped his fingers on the deepslate. “So...what’re you thinking about?”

“A lot, honestly. It's still the beginning of the season, I’m sure everyone is.” He waved a hand dismissively then looked at Mumbo. “What about you? Have you been thinking about anything?”

Mumbo snorted, attempting to lighten the mood. “Thinking isn’t good for me. I overthink when I do and it hurts my brain.” He paused. “But, if you’d really like to know, I’ve been thinking about the egg.”

This made Grian perk up. “What about it? Do you know where it is?”

The redstoner hesitated. Not yet, he can’t give it up just yet. “What? No, not at all. But, I had a question.”

Grian deflated, then looked away with his chin on his arms, legs tucked to his chest. “Alright, shoot.”

Mumbo’s stomach twisted. “I uh- maybe now isn’t the best time actually. You know, while it’s missing and all.” He cracked a half smile.

“Yeah, while it’s missing,” the builder scoffed. “Just ask me, I’m sure I can answer.”

“Ah- um, sure. Why...why is the egg so special to you? I understand sentimentality, but it just seemed more…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I wondered maybe- maybe it uh… did something, you know? You said it was a magical egg. Maybe you could tell me about it?”

He heard a low chuckle from Grian. “It’s just some stupid egg, it’s not magical.”

“I- oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that was disappointing for you, wasn’t it,” Grian sneered. The two stopped. Grian pulled his head up and Mumbo furrowed his brows. “Nevermind, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Just stressed.”

Mumbo stood and tightened his jaw, ignoring the builder’s excuse. “You know, you’ve been real onto me about that egg. Why don’t you tell me about that instead or go bother Scar. Every conversation I have with you now is just accusing me of taking it.”

Grian thought back to what Aisling said, then his last thought before he came to the roof. “Because maybe I saw you sneak into my house and steal the egg. And maybe, I don’t know, it’s my stuff.” He stood and faced Mumbo with a finger to the redstoner’s chest. “And maybe it’s because you are an insanely terrible liar.”

The other was at a loss for words, opening his mouth then clamping it shut repeatedly. The tips of his ears reddened in embarrassment. Of course Grian probably saw him take it, anyone could’ve. But why didn’t he say anything before? Satisfaction? Did he want Mumbo to just admit to it?

It didn’t matter now, the jig was up and all of his plans for the egg were now down the drain.

“I- I’m sorry,” was all he could muster. “I didn’t think it was such a problem.” He looked down at his shoes. “You…have been acting differently since it was gone, I didn’t think I made you mad.”

The avian sighed in relief and put a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder. “I’m not- look at me,” Mumbo lifted his head, “I’m not mad. Really, I’m not. A little annoyed, maybe, but not mad.”

“But you just scolded me like a toddler!” The redstoner whined.

Grian laughed. “Because you have to do that when a toddler lies to you. But, I’m not angry at you, at Scar, or anyone else. I want to tell you why that egg is important, I do, but it’s not the time for that, yet.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. It was clear Mumbo had more questions but decided to avoid them. “So, where is it?”

“Ah- well, I should warn you first about something.” Grian’s eyes widened. “No, no! Nothing happened to it! But um- well, it’s not ‘just some stupid egg’, it’s one seriously powerful egg, dude. What kind of dragon did you fight?!”

“...Excuse me?”

“Yeah! It powered two of my farms at once, did this huge explosion thing with a bunch of lightning, and it was awesome, but the egg-”

Grian took a hold of Mumbo’s shoulders roughly. “Mumbo, did it do anything to you.” The builder was suddenly very serious, as if Mumbo would die if he said yes.

So, of course he lied. “No? I was well away from it.” Grian let go and crossed his arms with a raised brow. “I was! I ran away because I obviously didn’t want to die.”

The other sighed. “Good, I need it now, then.”

Mumbo pulled it from his inventory, hesitating to give it back. Then, he put it in Grian’s outstretched palm. With nothing more to say, he waved goodbye and glided back to his van. Grian watched as he did and once the van’s door slid shut, he looked down at the egg. While he inspected the egg, he noticed a new detail to its shell that made his stomach sink.

A cursive two letter initial, MJ.

[windfighter]

Finally got around to typing te story out. I got distracted by sleep because apparently that's a thing my body needs? Anyway story is inspired by this post by @hermitcraftheadcanons and some cobbled together fanons I've stumbled over while stalking the hermitcraft-tag

no beta we die like the villagers during Grian and Scar's sith-arc

Summary: Grian always hides his true self, both to protect himself from the memories and to protect others from the horrors of his past. But in the quiet of his mansion, in the empty rooms, he can let his disguise fall. No one will see him there, no one will find out, especially not with everyone busy with their projects.

But Scar's project is done. Almost. Maybe he could use the input of one of his friends to help him with the last details.

-------

Grian let his disguise fall as he entered the mansion. His perfect skin slowly faded, instead revealing skin covered by white and pink scars in all shapes and sizes. His left eye faded as well, leaving only void and darkness behind, and his right eye became grumbled, but it was a long time since he relied only on his eyes to see. The magic coursing through his veins gave him the ability to sense his surroundings. Not enough to see colors and textures but Pearl used to help him with that and now he was good enough on his own. His magic couldn't help his hearing, but at home he didn't need to hear the emptiness of the mansion and he took his hearing aids off and put them in a chest by the door. He pulled his hand through his hair, flinched as his fingers found one of his scars. He held the hand infront of his face, his one eye staring at the hazy shape it formed infront of him. Did it actually hurt or was it just the memories? He couldn't tell any longer.

His friends were all busy putting the finishing touches on their projects and Grian had planned to work on his own. His mansion was almost done and he wanted to get it completed, but he was so tired. The disguise didn't use a lot of magic, it was easy to maintain since he had worked hard on transferring the image to his subconscious and sometimes he'd even wake up in it, unaware of having summoned it. But he had kept it up for weeks now, while working in Aque, on the HCBBS, on the barge, and it was wearing him down. He stretched, scars across his joints protested and he curled up slightly again. His wings ached, hidden under his sweater where they wouldn't be visible. But everyone was busy working and maybe for once Grian could let all of himself out.

Grian's sweater fell to the floor and two wings flapped slowly behind Grian. He closed his eye, relaxed his shoulders for the first time in months. There were no windows in the mansion, no water where he could catch a hazy glance of his reflection. Nothing to remind him about the Before except the ache in his scars that would never quite heal no matter how many times he respawned. He yawned as a new wave of exhaustion swept over him.

”A bed, a bed. My kindgom for a bed.”

He stumbled more than walked through the empty halls. He didn't need any magic to navigate it, the hazy sight his eye provided was more than enough. There was no furniture, no pets, nothing he could stumble over as he made his way forward. His body ached with every step, the exhaustion making him unable to filter out the pain that was always present and he could usually ignore. He fell into the bed, greeted by Professor Beak. He rolled over to his side, fixed his eye on the parrot.

”We've been through a lot, haven't we?”

He closed his eye, prepared for sleep to pull him under. Professor Beak flew down, landed on the headboard of the bed. Grian's body shuddered as he took a shaky breath.

”It's better now though, isn't it? Taurtis?”

Professor Beak whistled an answer and Grian was pulled away from consiousness.

-

ScarX was done. Scar stood on top of his giant drill and looked at what he had achieved. Every detail he could think of had been added, no stone left unturned, there were Jellies everywhere. Still, something was missing. He scratched his head, carefully touched the scar on his cheek. Maybe Badtimes could help him figure the missing pieces out. But the Helshermits were just as busy as the hermits, everyone working hard to finish up whatever they were doing. Badtimes would probably just suggest fire anyway and that wouldn't be as helpful as Scar would have liked. Scar fiddled with the communicator in his pocket before deciding to send out a message to his fellow hermits.

GoodtimewithScar: ScarX is done but it feels like something's missing?

Etho: TNT

iskall85: TNT of doom

BdoubleO100: Definately TNT

Tango: Sounds like a job for the Boomers

GoodtimewithScar: We are not blowing up my base

MumboJumbo: Can we blow up mine? It's almost dead anyway

Xisuma: Alright, I think we all need a break.

iJevin: And some TNT

Xisuma: Let's all meet up at the moopop café for some relaxation and games. We've been working hard this past week.

Scar put the communicator away again. TNT was not missing from ScarX, but someone had been missing from the TNT-discussion. He frowned and turned in the direction of Grian's mansion. Grian would never miss a chance to blow something up. Maybe he should make sure all was fine and that Grian hadn't gotten stuck in obsessed build-mode again. And despite their differences in buildstyles, they still had similar ideas when it came to building so maybe Grian would be able to help him find the missing detail. He jumped off the drill, fired off a rocket and took to the sky.

-

Something woke Grian up. A tingling sensation in his neck. Something was coming? Or wrong? He blinked, tried to shake the exhaustion off himself. How long had he slept? Taurtis would wake him up if he slept for too long. He sat up, untangled his legs from the blanket and looked around. A shape was standing in the hallway, staring at him, and Grian's magic was sent into overdrive. His regular disguise started creeping over him, hiding his torn skin and destroyed eyes. Another flash of magic rushed towards the figure and smashed straight into Scar's magic. Grian got to his feet. Scar took a step closer. Could he joke it off? Force Scar to forget it? He clenched and unclenched his hands. His mouth was dry. Watcher magic was coursing through his veins, demanding to be used. He could ban Scar from the server, use his magic to override the code of the world, cause a permadeath. Scar was his friend but no, Watchers didn't have friends and no one could know about Grian's history. He didn't want questions, hugs, pats on the back and pitying looks. Scar took another step closer and Grian still didn't move. Taurtis lifted from the headboard. Professor Beak lifted from the headboard and Grian wanted to tell him to flee. Scar took another step, he was too close now, close enough that Grian didn't need to actively send his magic out to sense Scar. Scar's magic was pressing against Grian's, aggressive in a completely different way than the Watcher's magic was. More unhinged and feral and Grian had never felt it so strongly before. Wings sprouted on Scar's back, thin things that wouldn't be able to carry anyone if they didn't have magic as well. Scar's skin shifted, changed.

Scar was close enough that they could almost touch. Grian's breathing was quick. He needed to have done something five minutes ago and yet his body remained frozen. He wanted to blame the magic oozing from Scar – it was an unknown factor – but he knew there was another reason; he cared. He had allowed himself to relax, to let the perosn infront of him get close. Scar looked at him, his eyes empty and yet so focused. He held his palms towards Grian, as if approaching a scared animal. Grian took a step back, getting closer to cornering himself, but Scar didn't follow.

”You don't have to hide here, Grian.”

Scar's voice was heavy with barely held back magic. It vibrated through the air around them, through Grian's body, and his and Scar's magic worked in unison to get the words past his worsened hearing. Grian shivered. He didn't want to answer, knew he would be unable to keep his own magic at bay if he did.

”We all have our secrets”, Scar continued with a softer voice, ”and we might not understand yours, but we're here when you're ready to tell us.”

Grian couldn't breathe. Scar took a step back, his magic and shape retreatng, returning to normal, but Grian no longer knew what was normal about his friend. Grian got ready to dash past his friend, to send the whole mansion flying with Scar still in it because Scar was too close, Scar knew too much, and there was no way Grian could hide it all back, make it unseen, because watchermagic couldn't fiddle with time in that way. Scar took another step back, started looking through his inventory. Grian prepared to bolt, was just about to run when Scar pulled a piece of red fabric out of his inventory and offered it to Grian.

”Everyone's meeting at the moopop café, you should come. And then I can help you with the mansion and you can maybe take a look at ScarX?”

Grian's hand shook as he reached for the sweater in Scar's hands. He stared at Scar's face, fake black eyes locked onto fake green ones. He had questions, still considered escaping, once again hiding the truth. His fingers touched the fabric. It was more than a sweater at the moment and Grian knew, understood. It was a promise. A promise that Scar would be there, help him keep the secret as long as he needed it and support him through the troubles he had with it. By taking the sweater Grian would accept that, accept Scar's friendship in a deeper way than he had before. By taking the sweater Grian promised that one day he'd stop hiding, at least for Scar.

The scars on Grian's hand ached when he grabbed the sweater, his wings ached as he pulled it over his head and squished them against his back. His body felt drained but he smiled towards Scar.

”Sounds fun. Should I bring the TNT?”

Scar laughed and Grian knew he had made the right choice.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

ApartmentAU Masterpost 2:

Link to Previous: https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/617100021235662848/apartment-au-masterpost-everyone-lives-in-an

-Aswell as being the landlord, Xisuma is a bee keeper!

-While the top floor of the apartment IS very rundown, Xbs room is super stark from the rest of the hallway! I imagine it being super homy and welcoming despite everything else around it.

-I think x’s bees are on top of the appt where there is a roof garden. 👉👈

-Joe and Cleo's apartments are right next to each other, and if they end up showering at the same time they sing over dramatic shower duets (much to the annoyance of all the other hermits. those walls are thin.)

-The map district is just an old printer they have in the basement. When Cleo went to write the Herald on the computer there she found the Mumbo for Mayor file and had to report about it! (-🤔)

-Grian is actually a really great cook! he doesn’t cook for others very often but when he does he tends to get a lot of compliments (based on the fact that irl grian is a good cook, according to ren). In stark constrast, X is a very poor cook. Not in the ‘burns everything he touches’ kind of way, but in the ‘most bland and underwhelming chicken you’ve ever tasted in your life’ way -sapph

-oh, the hermits DEF get "Hamilton but everyone is played by Impulse". they get it every day. usually late at night or at 7 am sharp.

-Once Grian messes up and got a ton of eggs, and instead of returning them, he just did them around the others apartments and claimed it wasn’t him.

-In regards of that post of Jellie sneaking out of Scar's room. A hermit has probably tried to reenact that video of that russian guy ["Mooommm there's a weird cat outside! Looks like grandma the f*king thing!] Whenever they see Jellie just chilling on their window or at their door. -Dott.

-Grian plays saxophone; it started as a new way to annoy the other Hermits but he's actually gotten quite good at it.

-Hypno has a collection of old pocket watches.

-Joe answers any question asked within earshot. He is generally correct, even when the questions are oddly specific or about concerning topics. Sometimes he knows more about the mafia and gang stuff than actual members. When questioned on how he knows this, he cites reading books, sometimes specifically his time in Keralis' library, even when Keralis knows he doesn't have books that say that. His answers are also frequently very confusing and absurd, and make less sense the more you think about it. The hermits learned to not think too much about his answers after a while.

-Keralis and Xisuma still have the lookie lookie at my alpaca store but the alpacas are actually giant stuffed alpacas. Some hermits are too short to reach the bags on the alpacas and need to ride them to purchase stuff. Occasionally Keralis places an alpaca peeking out of a dark corner of someone's room if they accidentally leave their door unlocked. It scares the life out of Bdubs every single time.

-Joe will generally correctly answer any questions within earshot, and any means /any/. he usually won't crack if you're chatting with him directly, but sometimes when overhearing theorizing & murmurs in the halls, he /will/ pop in to spill the tea. tl;dr: hc that joe is lowkey a gossip.

-TFC has an assortment of different gems and cool looking stones in his room and if a Hermit asks where he got a specific one, he gives a unique story for it.

-zed’s “cave of contraptions” in the basement is a lot less..... sinister-looking when you actually turn the light on. It’s just a messy spare room with random parts, discarded or failed projects in random spots, and some magic kits. One time when he took a hermit down there, he just ended up making them watch him do card tricks for a half hour. -sapph

-Jevin when he cooks somehow always end up with either Jello or an other type of gelatinous meal. He once tried baking and made wiggly cookies. Nobody knows how he did it.

-Jessassin lived in the complex, but far away from the others. He was (obviously) one of the assassins from a gang, but nobody knows. He sneaky.

(All those reds are from anons!)

-The hermits' bases are actually lego sets. (With some exceptions like Iskall's omega tree of doom being a bonsai tree etc.) (-@smolpotato187.)

-Hermits always have a game night every week and the most popular game is DND. Xisuma is the dungeon master.

-Grian loves to hide at the stairwell of the apartment cause whenever he sings his voice echoes. Ren and Wels also does the same but they prefer to sing in their own rooms.

-Stress's room is at the same hall as the Grian, Mumbo, and Iskall. Stress being a sweetheart sometimes brings cookies to the boys' doors and help them around. Since she is on that hall, she is already used to Grian's pranks, Mumbo's spoon moments and yes, Iskall sneaking around in her room.

-Since Grian sings a lot on the stairwell and his voice echoes, I can imagine someone waking up in the middle of the night getting spooked cause they are hearing ‘disembodied voices’ in the air. 

(-@penumbra-rui.)

-Cleo is v awkward on her own and gives pep talks to herself every morning and pats her own back bfore she goes to bed. This is to ensure she always has some good quality conversation with any hermits she encounters.

-As a callback to s6 build-off, Stress’ room is in-between Grian’s and Mumbo’s, and occasionally the two boys would hear singing from Stress’ room. Too bad Iskall misses out on it.

(-@heyitsroby.)

-Maybe false is good at fencing? I don't watch her, but I know she's good at PvP.

-Speaking of time (the hypno one) maybe the apartments are separated according to their timezones? This may not work based on previous asks or just better ideas, but it did pop in into my head.

(-@cabbagesenpai.)

-Maybe Iskall doesn't have a robot eye thing on his face, but rather a pair of glasses, of which one of the lens' is coloured blue. He liked the look of it so much that when he got a new pair of glasses, he ordered for one side to be green. Either that or he comissioned some kind of futuristic monocle for the hell of it. (-@oh-hecc-im-stupid-af.)

-TFC is a retired coal-miner. (-@tomcatacaphe)

[hyperactivelittlebee]

Dancing in the Moonlight(Hermitcraft)

@gridoc

This is for ur pirate au, bean! Based off my "bring on the men" ask I did. I also promised GriDoc fluff sooo~

The soft sound of waves hitting the boat did nothing to drown out the sound of blissful celebration. Grian could blame them really- they had encountered SIRENS. They were just happy to be alive and celebrated it the only way they knew how; with bellies full of rum, a good meal, and a night out on the town.

However, this wasn't Grian's way of celebrating a near brush with death- as tempting as it was.

Instead, Grian had stayed back on the empty ship, much more content at having his privacy on the large vessel. He spent time in his quarters, pacing as he tried to wrap his head around the whole encounter. Why had the siren said that to him? Why did he feel such a burning sensation at the sight of Doc falling for the siren?

Surely it was because he didn't want the captain to succumb to such a terrible fate, right? Nothing more than moral dilemma.

Or maybe that was just what he was telling himself…?

His hand reached into his shirt, pulling out a small silver locket decorated in rubies and sapphires. He opened it, staring at the small framed photo of Taurtis inside.

What if that's only what he was telling himself.

That this was only moral dilemma.

That it was nothing more than just the right thing to do.

That he didn't want to save Doc, but had to for his own sake.

Grian swore off love a long time ago. With Taurtis gone, those butterflies he felt in his stomach just didn't feel right with anyone else. Those butterflies did nothing but remind him of something he lost long ago. It had been so long, but moving on just didn't feel right.

Shaking his head in frustration, the blonde snapped the locket shut and shoved it into his shirt again. He made his way up to the main deck of the ship, climbing up the stairs to the rear railing. In the clear night, Grian could see the entire starry expanse stretching and reflecting along the calming endless ocean before him. The moon shone, big and beautiful in the sky, reflecting off the waters below him.

Out here, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long while.

He felt in control of his life.

A familiar tune reached his ears from a nearby tavern, and he couldn't help but smile as the familiar lyrics played in his mind and rolled off his tounge.

"There was a time, I don't know when- I didn't have much time for men…"

Climbing on to the rail, he grabbed hold of a stray rope hanging from the mast, "But this is now, and that was then, I'm learning…" He leaned back to get a better view of the street, making sure nobody was nearby before continuing, "A boy alone, all on his own, must try to have a heart of stone!" The blonde walked along the rail, spinning slightly and clutching a hand of his heart, "So I try not to make it known, my yearning~" Humming, Grian looking down at the boats deck, smiling as excitement started to course through him, "I try to show, I have no need! I really do, I don't succeed…" Preparing to jump, his grip tightened around the rope. Taking a running leap, Grian swung his way through the air, relishing in the way the wind whipped through his hair, "So, let's bring ON THE MEN-!" Letting go, Grian landed on of the deck with a loud thud, "And let the fun begin! A little touch of sin~! why wait another minute?" At this point, he was belting into the night sky, the feeling of being free ever present, "Step this way, it's time for us to play-!" Grian could feel his heart thumping as he danced freely and sang on the deck, the feeling of having wings never leaving him, "They say we may not pass this way again, so let's waste no more time bring on the men~!"

That was the last time Doc went drinking with Ren. He loved the guy, really he did- but this was the third time his first mate had run off who knows where with Iskall and Mumbo.

His footsteps were heavy as he approached the dock, fully prepared to pass out the moment he got in bed. However, as a familiar tune hit his ears, he slowed down and softened them.

"So, let's bring ON THE MEN~!"

Climbing onto the boat, he jumped a little as a familiar figure landed with a thud on the other side of the deck, back turned to him, "And let the fun begin! A little touch of sin~! why wait another minute?" An amused smile crossed Docs lips as he recognized the figure as a certain former navy boy. So, this was what he was doing.

"Step this way, it's time for us to play-!" Not one to ruin such a performance, Doc silently made his way to lean back against a crate of supplies, watching Grian's every movement in the moonlight.

"They say we may not pass this way again, so let's waste no more time bring on the men~!"

The German snorted softly at the chorus, raising a brow.

"I always knew, I always said, that silk and lace in black and red...will drive a man, right off his head it's easy~"

Silk and lace in black and red?

Well, if Doc did see that on the smaller male, he surely would lose it.

"So many men, so little time! I want them all, Is that a-"

Spinning around, Grian met eyes with Doc and his voice broke off, "C-crime-!"

Smirking, Doc slowly clapped, adoring how Grians cheeks lit up bright red, brows furrowed, "H-how much did you see?"

"Enough." The creeper hummed, staring down the human boy with pure amusement, "And my, that really was quite a wonderful performance…"

"Not. A. Word." Grian growled softly, glaring in a way that made Doc shudder.

God, was he slightly drunk?

"Relax, I won't say anything…for a price."

"A...price?"

Doc hummed a yes before holding his hand out in offer, his smirk softening to something more genuine, "Come out on the dock and dance with me."

Sensing the other man's immediate protest, Doc held up a single finger, "One dance. Just you and me, the crews all in the tavern drinking their giddy asses off." Holding out his hand once more, Doc held out hope, "What do you say, hm? Let bygones be bygones?"

Grian held his breath, his heart fluttering in his chest as his eyes flickered between the captain's hand and face; searching for any trace of ulterior motives. Yet all that seem show was a man who was making a small request.

Sighing deeply, Grian hesitantly took Docs hand, "One dance and just one. Any wandering hands or wrong moves and I swear I'll shove you into the water with zero hesitation." While his tone was joking, he could tell Doc had taken it seriously, "I promise, no funny business…"

Walking off the boat, Doc took off his coat, draping it over a barrel before following Grian to the end of the Deck.

As he went to stand beside the blonde, Doc couldn't help but notice how nervous he seemed.

Resting a hand on his bicep, Doc sent Grian a reassuring smile, "Relax..it's just a dance. As much as I adored fighting with you before, this is supposed to be a break from all that. Okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Grian nodded, "Good. Now, ready?" Turning to the smaller male, Doc slid one hand to take Grian's, and the other gently gripping his waist. Grasping the captain's hand, Grian reached with his opposite hand to hold his shoulder.

Slowly, the two began to dance to the quiet music from the tavern, the moonlight guiding their steps as their movements became so in sync they were moving at one.

As time lost meaning to them, Doc's arm slipped to wrap around his back, pressing them together. Their bodies flush against one another, they seemed to get lost in eachother, Grian's head resting on Doc's chest.

Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces as the world around them seeming to lose all meaning. 

To Grian, Doc smelt of sea salt, bourbon, and gunpowder- reminding Grian of a victorious battle at sea. His body was incredibly warm compared to the night chill, making Grian not want to let go. The tender way he held him made Grian's head dizzy, and the softness in his eyes made his knees shake.

Those butterflies in his stomach were worse than ever.

To Doc, Grian smelt of lilacs, salt water, and roses- reminding Doc of a flower garden in the spring. His body was shivering from the night chill, and it only made Doc want to hold him closer and allow him more warmth. The way he clung to him with such trust had him reeling and the relaxation in his form made Doc want to scoop him up, lock him in the safety of his cabin, and keep him forever.

"Grian?"

Liftng his head, the blonde looked up at the creeper, a soft, far off haze in his eyes, "Hmm…?"

In the light of the moon, Grian looked almost heavenly. His soft cheeks flushed a soft pink, lips slightly pouted with the corners upturned in a coy smile, and hair a beautifully wind blown mess.

"I-I...Well, I…" Doc's voice trailed off as he began to slowly lean forward, heart leaping as he realized Grian was doing the same.

Too lost in the moment, the two didn't notice they were edging closer to the edge until it was too late. Just before their lips touched, they slipped.

With a shout from both of them, they fell into the icy cold water.

Doc was quick to act, tugging Grian to follow him to shore as they emerged on the beach soaking wet.

Doc shuddered, only mildly bothered by the freeze, "Dammit- I should have been paying attention I-" He stopped as he looked at Grian, realizing how violently he was shaking on the ground.

Quickly, the captain scooped Grian into his arms and ran to the dock again, holding the shivering ball to his chest.

"We have to get you warm, fast…"

Picking up his dry coat, he headed to his quarters, nudging the door open before setting him down on a chair.

He quickly peeled the soaked vest and shirt off Grian before draping his coat over his shoulders. He scooped him up once more before placing him in the bed, wrapping him in blankets, "There. Nice and cozy. Better?"

His face flushed, Grian nodded softly, embarrassed over the fact the captain was so quick to baby him.

"Y-Yea...uh...thanks…" Doc let out a relieved sigh before leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to Grians forehead, "Good. You can sleep here for tonight, I'll sleep on the sofa…" He gestured to the lounge seat against the wall as he walked to the door, humming, "Stay warm, alright?"

"O...okay…"

Just before he left, Doc smiled softly at Grian, "Oh, and Grian?"

"Huh?"

"I'd...love to do that again some time. Dance that is- without the whole falling in freezing water, that is."

And with a chuckle, he was gone before Grian could say, 'What about you?'

Reaching and touching the locket around his neck, Grian felt his cheek grow warmer at each time Docs words played in his head, those butterflies acting up in his stomach again.

But this time…

Maybe those butterflies weren't so bad.

[sinfullittlebee]

The Royal Pain P.2 (Scarian)

Warnings: This is Smut. SEX. YOU KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT. Slight knife play, bodyworship, just end me.

Once again, you can blame the Discord for this.

The moonlight shone through the stained glass windows as Scar followed the advisor down the hallway, nerves making his heart beat at a million miles per hour and anxiety making his stomach pull tightly in knots.

What he was doing was so illegal that he was better off using magic in public. He was being summoned to the chambers of an unmarried royal in secret right after assaulting that same royal and holding a knife to their neck.

Silently, he wondered how he wasn't being strung up by his neck right now.

Scar knew deep down that he could just refuse. He could stop, say no, quit his job at the stables and keep his life. Yet somehow, the idea seemed all too unappealing to him.

The thought of never seeing that sly smirk and twinkling eyes again, never hearing that teasing tone and mischevious giggles, never feeling those soft lips against his own and nimble fingers threading through his hair…

"His guard doesn't know about your arrangement- just leave it to me, alright?" Mumbos hushed voice broke through Scars thoughts as he realized they had stopped just around the corner.

Straightening his tie, Mumbo took a deep breath and strode around the corner, walking up to the Guard with a charming smile.

Scar watched as they exchanged casual pleasantries, but became quickly surprised as Mumbo stepped closer and reached up to cup the guards chin.

Mumbo didn't know what he was doing, really. Intially, he had simply planned on telling Iskall he was allowed to take the night off. Yet somehow, the shorter male always seemed to be able to jumble up Mumbos plans.

"Nice night, isn't it Iskall?" Iskall looked at him with surprise before smiling at him cheekily, removing his helmet to see him better, "Mumbo! What a pleasant surprise. Taking a stroll a presume?"

Mumbo could have scoffed. How dare he act so casual with the little stunt he had pulled earlier.

"Well…" He trailed off before he stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing Iskall's chin to make the guard look up at him; cheeks growing red as his breath hitched.

"U-Uh...Mumbo?"

Taking another step forward, Mumbo pushed Iskall back against the wall and leaned down to capture the guards lips with his own, relishing the small noise that escaped his lips.

When he pulled back slightly, both of their eyes were lidded as they caught their breath's, cheeks flushed a bright red as a string of saliva still connected their lips.

Swallowing, Mumbo continued as the best smirk he could muster, "Iskall, you made me a little...proposition earlier during Grians break in training. I'm to assume it still stands?"

Blinking in recognition, Iskall gulped, eyes flickering between the Princes door and Mumbo before he gave in with a groan, "False is so gonna have my head for this- but fuck it." Shoving Mumbo back, he grabbed the advisor by his wrist and speed walked down the hall, just about missing Scar. Mumbo gave the stable boy a quick thumbs up before he disappeared around a corner.

Scar was shocked by the display, cheeks flushed a bright red. Knowing he had limited time, he didn't dwell on the thought and made his way to Grians door.

He knocked, waiting patiently before the door swung open, "Finally…"

His jaw dropped at the sight of the royal, his eyes roaming every inch of exposed skin. Grian wore a red silk robe that was tied loosely around his waist, the shoulders changing sleeves low exposing the light marks Scar had left from earlier.

Though he had arrived on time, The prince still had an annoyed and impatient expression, hand on his hip expectantly.

"Get in. Your late."

Ah. There was that usual demanding attitude.

Snapping out of his daze, Scar rolled his eyes and walked inside the lavish room.

Briefly admiring the decor, Scar jumped as the door was shut loudly. Turning to the Prince, he was annoyed to find the man narrowing his eyes at him.

"What?"

"Are you not going to apologize?" His words were less questioning, and more demanding, causing Scars annoyance to flair once more.

"No, because I wasn't late- you're just impatient your highness." He snapped right back, making the Princes temper flair up again, "Excuse me?!"

"You're excused." Scar smirked, confidence replacing his anxiety as he saw how he was getting under the other man's skin.

"You- Y-you-!!" Grians face grew redder in frustration as he strode closer, "Listen to me, just because you pulled that little stunt earlier doesn't mean you are off the damn hook, stable boy!!" Scar snorted at the name, the Princes tantrum being more amusing than annoying, "I know what you are, you hear me?!" This made Scar freeze, his stomach dropping as he tenses. This seemed to get the Princes attention as he grinned in victory, "Y-yea! Thats right, I know exactly what you are! And you and I both know the punishment for such practice…"

While this should have scared Scar, he simply continued to look at Grian with a cold gaze, feeling his anger flare up inside him.

"Now, unless you want to be burned alive, I suggest you start listening to me."

Something inside Scar snapped and he sneered, glaring at the male with a critical eye, "Oh really now? The little royal brat is threatening me? What, did I put a bruise in your little ego earlier?" He started walking towards the Prince, his eyes swirling in the golden glow once again as he backed Grian against the wall.

"H-hey!!"

"Maybe your ego needs a few more bruises to straighten you out, hm?" Looking fearful, Grian tried to make a dash for the door, only for Scars arm to shoot out and wrap around his waist. He pushed him roughly against the stone brick wall, pressing their bodies together as they came inches apart. Their breaths mingling, Scar could see the deep blush across the Princes face as he squirmed very gently.

Scar gulped, loosening his grip as he leaned by Grians ear, voice hushed, "This...Is this alright? Do you want this?" The stable boy needed confirmation before going any further, unsure if this was part of their little game or if Grian was really scared.

Freezing at his voice, Grian slowly relaxed, panting softly as he reached behind Scar and gripped the cloth on his back.

"God, more than anything…"

That was all Scar needed for him to roughly press his lips to the Princes in a heated, open mouthed kiss, Grian easily returning the affections eagerly. The stable boys hands slipped into the robe and he pushed it open, hands going down to his sides as his thumbs began rubbing circles into Grian's hips.

Pulling apart, Scar wrapped his arms around Grians waist and picked up the Prince, walk to the bed before dropping him on it. Crawling over him, He grinded his hips down on the blonde males as he kissed and sucked on the vein of his neck, drawing soft moans from him.

Pulling away, Scar sat up and looked around the room, spotting a knife sitting on Grians desk, "Hm...you seemed to like the knife earlier, didn't you~?" He teased, grinning as the blush on the Princes cheeks grew even darker.

Snapping his fingers, the Knife shot up and within seconds had itself pressed against Grians neck, making his breath hitch.

Scar watched in amusement as he began to unbutton his leather vest, speaking slowly and firmly with a smirk playing on his lips, "Let's get this right, hm? In here, I'm in charge- you've got no power." Grian looked like he wanted to protest, but lost his voice as Scar slipped off his vest and shirt, working on his belt next, "Secondly, your not allowed to touch yourself. All you are allowed to do is lay back like a good little prince while I do all the work. Got it?"

Gulping, Grian nodded as Scar took off his pants and underwear as well, "Good."

Going back down, Scar started to pepper and mouth kisses all over, moving from his collar bone, to his chest, to his midsection; worshipping every inch and leaving the man under him a squirming mess, quietly begging for more intimate attention.

Purposely avoiding his cock, Scar mouthed and nipped at Grians thighs, adoring the softness and the small noises he was making.

As he finished, he moved slightly up and wrapped his hand around the base of Grians dick before pressing a kiss to the tip- milking a hitched gasp from the Prince, "Your doing such a good job so far Grian~" he moved his hand up and down the shaft as a painstakingly slow pace, thumb swiping over the head every now and then.

Scar focused his magic on the knife, moving it to slowly trail the sharp edge along the skin of Grians chest until he trailing his eyes to the blondes face. His gut coiled in arousal at the pleading look on Grians face, groaning softly.

"Do...you have an oil?"

Grian whimpered softly, thrusting gently into Scars hand before gasping softly, "D-drawer-"

Grabbing the knife and letting his magic settle, he leaned forward and put it on the nightstand, opening the drawer to grab the oil lubricant.

Squeezing a good amount on his fingers, he pulled Grians knees over his shoulders and leaned forward. Scar pressed his lips to the Princes once more as he reached down and pressed a finger to the tight entrance.

Slowly slipping it in, Scar could feel Grian tense under him and he pulled away, kissing and biting gently at his neck to distract him, "Your being so good for me, my little prince…"

Grian whined in response as Scar added a second finger, whimpering and shivering as the brunette scissored and thrusting them gently. Scar buried his face in Grians neck, taking in the scent of roses and fresh oak as he slipped in a third finger.

"D-dammit, just fuck me already-'

Growling softly, Scar bit hard down on the vein in his neck as a warning, making Grian gasp and moan in surprise.

Slipping his fingers out, Scar used a bit more oil on his on shaft. After giving himself a few strokes, Scar leaned down and lined himself up.

"Ready?" He murmured breathlessly, "Yes- hurry, please~" Grian sounded desperate and with that Scar slowly began to press inside, moaning softly at the way Grians walls squeezed around him, "H-holy shit-"

"h-hurry up!" Grian moaned, grinding his hips up. Growling, Scar snapped his hips forward and wasted no time thrusting into the tight heat.

Grians moans grew into blissful screams as Scars pace grew rougher and quicker, "Fine, if you want to be such an impatient little brat-!"

Grian felt as if his body was being wreaked, climax growing closer as every snap of Scars hips seemed to hit directly into his prostate, making him see stars. Neither of them wanted this moment to end, in their own heavens as they pressed tightly together. Scars lips locked to Grians for what felt like the hundredth time that night, tounges tangling and fighting for dominance as Grians hands gripped and tugged at Scars soft brown locks, his gut coiling in heat at the acknowledgment of exactly who was courting him at that moment, pushing him closer to the edge.

"S-scar-!!"

"I-i know- go ahead~"

His back arching, he let out a soundless moan as one last direct hit to his prostate pushed him over the edge. White hot pleasure shooting through their bodies as they both orgasmed, Scar thrusting one more time before he came inside the blonde and Grian cumming onto his chest.

Both of them laid there wordlessly, trying to catch their breaths before Scar slowly pulled out.

Leaning down, he lazily licked the cum off Grians chest before sucking a few more hickeys into his collar bone.

Pulling away, Scar rolled on his side facing the Prince, the pair just staring for a few moments before Grian scooted closer and cuddling closer to Scar, burying his head into his chest.

"I...This won't be a one time thing, right? I...i-im...sorry...for the things I've said. I just- get frustrated…and..."

As Grian trailed off, Scar finally realized something.

He had mouthed off to and assaulted an unmarried royal multiple times in one day, and now- he had just courted that same Royal as a mere stable hand.

If he was found out, he would be probably be beheaded on sight.

Yet, as he listened to the soft tone in the Princes voices, he felt his heart flutter and he smiled softly, sitting up and grabbing a blanket and draping it over them before hugging Grian closer.

"No. It won't be, if you don't want it to be…"

As frustrating as the Royal Pain had been, in the end Scar couldn't help but fall.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 3- Gildara

Master Post

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

In the Northern fields of Lairyon, Gildara waits for the Order of Hermits. The land around them is different...dying. Is this what the Magistrate sent them to discover? What kind of creature, what kind of plague causes this? The only way for them to find out is by going deeper- literally.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s like a sea of grass. Look at how it rolls like waves.” Scar whistles, watching wheat dancing in the wind. 

Doc nudges Grian. “I see where you stole your hair now.” 

Grian takes off after Doc, shrugging off the hybrid’s attempt to puppeteer him and tackling into the ground. Iskall steps over the two, deep in conversation with Ren. The two share a fistbump, before Iskall casts his magic circle. A molded rod of radioactive material, which he’s dubbed iskallium, appears before them. Iskall grabs his creation and gives it a flourish. Ren attempts to mimic Iskall’s magic, his own magic circle starting red before turning a muted green. 

Just behind Iskall and Ren practicing, Cub, Scar, and Joe are deep in a conversation about the land around them. Wide fields of wheat, surrounded by row after row of carrots, potatoes, and more. This is the breadbasket of Lairyon. At the edge of the fields that surround the road, tall pines loom at the base of rocky mountain climbs. They’re south of Foresta, yet to cross Turtle River, but still within the fertile soil that the city is known for. 

A shadow passes over the traveling guild, before red wings flap to the ground. Tango turns around, red eyes anguished as he grips his flaming hair. TFC notices the body language of their scout, and steps forward. The entire road goes quiet, the guild the only travelers on this route. “What did you see?” 

“Its… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s big.” Tango’s wings fold away and disappear. 

“The monster?” Zed asks, creeping closer to his friend. 

“The destruction?” Impulse adds, following. Both trying to comfort Tango. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

Tango shakes his head, his fiery hair half a step slower than his initial movement. “It looks like a black scar, like a dark bruise against the land. But nothing is destroyed. It- I can’t describe it, man. You just gotta keep walking. We’ll see.” 

And so they do. Tango seems shocked by what he saw, and the hermits try to ease his fears. With time, the emotions are eased and everyone relaxes when Tango can smile again. They’re more than just a guild. They’re a family. Most of them only have each other, and as chaotic as their guild can be, they’ll do anything to make sure each person is happy and safe. They care about each other, comfort each other. 

Ren stays near Tango, telling jokes and stories to keep up everyone’s morale. His brown ears prick up as he hears a change in the wind around him. He feels something brush against the skin of his feet, and looks down. “Whoa, my dudes.” 

Everyone stops, turning to look at Ren. He’s gazing beyond his sandaled feet, to the ground. A swirl of grey, clawing along the dirt like a vine reaching for a tree to choke from life, reaches out towards the gilded fields and verdant forests. Ren scrapes the sole of his shoe against the dirt, trying to scrape away the ash. But no matter how deep he digs, it remains monochrome. And it’s growing before their very eyes. 

Another skein of grey reaches past Joe’s feet, and he hops away from the strange phenomenon. He shivers, pulling his cape closer to his body. Despite being a warm summer day in north Lairyon, he feels like an icy breeze has just dug right into his bones. Into his core, striking at his heart and soul. He looks around, but Stress is nowhere near him. 

“There’s more.” Scar whispers, pointing down the road. The creeping darkness reaches out towards them. Out from Gildara. “This has to be that ‘discrepancy’ that the magistrate spoke of.” 

TFC bites his lip, but nods for the team to move forward. “Keep a tight watch, gang. Report anything out of the ordinary.” 

They continue forward, walking into the monotone ground. Around them, the fields wither to ashen plains. BDubs steps off the road, picking up a stalk and looking closer at it. The color looks like it was burned, but he can still see each individual grain on the wheat. It looks like it wilted, poisoned or left without the ability to grow. The entire field looks the same way. Every field. Dead farms on colorless land. 

The small town of Gildara rises in the distance. Tucked against the safety of a pine forest, with the open plains as it’s front yard. A short bridge rises over a dried creekbed into the village. 

“It looks like they had a drought.” False whispers, pressing forward with the braver souls. Mumbo and Jevin slip into the middle, spooked by the village. 

“It’s not a drought.” Grian responds, fingers playing with the ash colored needles of a tree. “These trees still look like they got a recent rain. That creek should be flowing.” 

“And things just beyond this grey stuff are well fed.” Zedaph adds. 

“Guys?” Iskall calls out, hurrying back to the group as they continue through the monochrome town. “Wh-where is everyone?” 

TFC stops, looking around. The town is small, but the houses look warm and welcoming. With large windows and open porches, but not a soul is to be seen. There’s no voices, no wails or whimpers. Not even a birdsong. No bodies, no bonfires. Doors remain closed, but shops are propped open, inviting customers to peruse wares. It’s like the entire town just simply...vanished. Everyone, every moving creature is gone. 

“Cleo?” TFC looks over his shoulder, but she’s already on it. Turquoise blue magic wisping and waving across the open air, Cleo’s arms and fingers moving in a choreographed series until the spell is cast. But the circle goes nowhere, hanging in the dead air with nothing to attach to.

“There’s no bodies anywhere. No ghosts either. There’s nothing.” Cleo reports, letting the magic fizzle away. Beneath her, the ash colored ground sparks and swirls. 

“It doesn’t look like a monster or bandits came through.” Xisuma notes. “There’s no sign of a fight, no claw marks or blood even.” 

“So where is everyone?” Keralis rubs his arms, looking around. He coughs, his throat feeling tight and lungs feeling heavy, his body exhausted. Like a storm is moving in, the wall of high pressure sending them into lethargy. Well, most of them. Grian gets excited, but even now he looks pressed. 

“Let’s check town center. If there’s anywhere we’ll find clues, it’ll be there.” TFC points down the road. The guild stays silent, as silent as the world around them. Devoid of color, until one of them looks up the mountainside. Beyond the clawing darkness, they can still see the dark green of alpine forests. The further into town they walk, the more the pressuring feeling rises. Like they’re being crushed, like air trapped deep within a mountain. Far underground, and just as dead and unmoving. Even the wind has stopped blowing. 

“What is that?” Etho questions, pointing towards the well at the center of the town square. The grey turns as black as ink, crawling free from the stone well and dispersing out into the grey blemish across the land. Etho tries to slip into the shadow of the darkness, but there’s nothing. It’s not a shadow- this is something else. 

Cub peers down the well, into the dark hole. “It’s coming from the water supply. Are we sure this isn’t some plague or poison?” 

“It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.” Doc points out. Beside him, Scar activates his magic and creates a series of steps. Down the well’s stony walls, the hermits descend into darkness. Into the maws of the beast. 

“Anybody got a light?” False questions, the only visible thing before her being Cub and Scar’s eyes as they glow a faint blue. 

“I got it.” Impulse pushes Tango forward, his hair illuminating the cave system they are within. Following the underground stream that terraforms the rock. 

Tango sighs. “I think I can do better than just my hair, man.” He draws his scrawling magic circle, summoning up flame that dances just above his hand. 

“And this is why having the explosives mage and a fire mage living in the same house is a bad idea.” False groans, but let’s Tango take point. He directs the flame, funneling the light as best he can forward. 

“Or we could just make Grian get his archangel aura.” BDubs adds. 

“We’ll be blinded then.” Mumbo adds, feeling his friend shift beside him nervously. He’s still healing from the last time he used his ultimate power. 

The cave around them opens up into a cavern, and Tango’s torchlight stops. Tango pulls his hand down, blowing on the flame. Trying to get the fire to burn brighter. But no matter how fierce the fire burns, it can’t make it through the darkness around them. 

Because the crystal before them takes it all. Absorbs all his light, leaving none to bounce along the walls of the cave. It hurts to breathe, the air thick as water and as heavy as rocks. The crystal hovers in the air, just above the spring of water. As soon as the creek wells, it evaporates. Turns to darkened ash, neutralized by the crystal above it. Tango steps back, behind TFC. “Alright man, this is your thing. What kind of creepy crystal makes water and color disappear?” 

“And what did it do to the town above us?” Cleo finishes, watching as TFC steps closer. He raises a gloved hand, pressing it against the cool, smooth crystal edge. He immediately retreats his touch, waving his hand like it burned him. 

“Whatever it is, it isn’t good. We should break it, and hopefully it’ll break whatever curse it’s causing on the town.” He steps back, feeling dizzy and fatigued. His head feels fuzzy. Impulse steps up first, a bright yellow circle quickly drawn and tossed onto the crystal. Seconds later, the magic explodes and the air shocks outward. 

The crystal is unharmed. Impulse tries again, this time with Ren mimicking him on the other side. The gem is as smooth as before. Xisuma steps up, snapping his fingers. But the destructive void magic is useless. Even when Ren’s imagination magic tries it’s hand in joint with Joe’s poetry, the crystal remains. 

Things get more aggressive. BDubs wraps a vine around the crystal, but upon touching the gem the plants wither and turn to blackened ash. Scar tries to pierce the jewel with stone, but it falls apart like silt, raining over the guild. Finally, False gives in and charges the gem. With a two handed sword raised, she leaps and swings the blade into the ebony stone. And immediately, the metal rusts and decays. 

“How do we break this?” Stress questions, picking at the rusted remains of False’s sword. 

“I don’t know, but Magistrate Dolios needs to know about this.” TFC steps up, despite the sickening feeling he gets near the crystal. He feels weak, tired. Using a diamond and his magic, he’s able to break off a tiny piece. Hardly even bigger than his pinky fingernail, but the best he can do. For a second, he swears he can feel the crystal vibrate beside him. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t like this.” 

The whole guild is in agreement, turning back the way they came. But the way is blocked. Grian’s face lights up as he sees the faces of farmers and villagers. “Look, this must be where the townfolk have been hiding!” 

“Grian wait-” Iskall reaches out, grabbing Grian by his cloak and pulling him back. “They...something doesn’t look right.” 

Tango raises his flame, trying to see the strangers. Trying to get a better look through the black and grey air. But they’re the same color, and the edges of their bodies, their fingers and limbs flaking away like embers and ash. “I… I think the crystal has grey-ificated them as well.” 

The woman’s eyes snap open, revealing haunting white eyes. The iris is gone, only glowing luminosity remaining. Her hands raise up, and a magic circle appears. It doesn’t look right- her motions are sloppy and the inscriptions are poorly drawn. Magic snaps and seethes across the air, uncontrolled and uncontained. 

The ground beneath the hermits feet turns soft, rock and dirt turning into quicksand and engulfing the legs of the hermits. A farmer behind the wizard raises his hand, pointing blankly to the crystal. And behind the struggling guild, the swearing and grunting to escape the mud scape, the crystal awakens. A black mist swirls around the crystal. 

Then strikes towards the captured hermits.

[ceaderblocks]

standing in the ashes of who i used to be

a one shot for @mine-sara-sp ‘s red stone au!!!

Grian couldn’t pinpoint when the changes had started, but he could pinpoint when they got out of hand.

It was a Sahara meeting, as always. It really wasn’t much of a meeting. Iskall and Mumbo were doing some sort of redstone with the sorting system, and Grian was hunched over his notebook, planning rooms for his Haunted Mansion mini-game.

“God damn it!” Iskall cursed and kicked a repeater across the room, shattering the comfortable silence. Mumbo and Grian both jumped.

“Dude,” Grian said, placing his pencil down. “Do you want to take a breather?”

Iskall inhaled sharply, covering his face for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good. I’m not sure what it is lately, but redstone has been making me super angry.”

“Oh, that’s weird,” Mumbo said. “Every time something goes wrong for me I cry. I’ve never cried over redstone before, but this week I’ve lost it a few times.”

“Huh,” Grian said, frowning. Xisuma had been acting weird too- more apathetic then normal. “Maybe it’s something to do with the redstone? I feel fine, but I don’t use redstone.”

Iskall snorted dismissively. “That’s stupid. The redstone is fine.”

Grian hummed. “You’re probably right, I’m just being silly.”

--

Grian didn’t think it was silly when he found Mumbo a few days later weeping over a circuit that didn’t work.

He didn’t think it was silly when Iskall accidently punched a hole in Sahara Now’s wall because a shulker box didn’t load.

Or when Doc gave him an empty look when Grian was asking him about his guardian farm.

When Xisuma brushed off his worries with a dismissive wave of his hand and a “go bother someone else about it.”

Grian didn’t think it was silly at all when he stole every piece of redstone from every circuit, every chest, every shulker box and hid them where no one would find them.

--

Grian sat on the ground in Sahara anxiously, awaiting the confrontation. He coughed harshly into his elbow, his lungs aching. It had been three days since he hid all the redstone. He had been up every night, stealing the pieces that had been mined. Hermit’s were growing angry. He couldn’t stop coughing.

Iskall was the first to arrive, storming into Sahara with a scowl. Mumbo was a close second, already wiping away tears. Grian watched them approach.

“Grian!” Iskall shouted. “Where’d you put it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Grian whispered. Any louder and it’d throw him into another coughing fit. They were getting longer by the minute.

“Where the fuck is it?” Iskall snarled again, grabbing Grian by the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the wall. The movement made Grian dizzy.

“I can’t-“

“TELL ME.”

“Iskall you’re hurting him-“ Mumbo cried out, a sob breaking his sentence.

“I CAN’T TELL YOU!“ Grian shouted back, before dissolving into coughing. Iskall dropped him, and Grian hit the floor, curling into a ball, unable to catch his breath. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he couldn’t breathe or see and he was choking he couldn’t b r e a t h e the coughing wouldn’t stop why can’t it stop he can’t breathe he c a n ‘ t –

--

Grian was bedridden. It had been three weeks since he hid all the redstone. He hadn’t stolen any for a week now, he was too sick. Dizzy when he stood, coughing non-stop and vomiting. Grian was pretty sure he had inhaled redstone. He told himself the red he was coughing was blood. It was nicer to think it was that then the alternative.

Iskall had killed him twice in an effort to find the redstone. Xisuma killed him once, too. He had threatened to ban Grian. Impulse and Doc had torn open his base while he was away, blocks littering the ground and water gushing in form the ocean floor. Mumbo had wept at the foot of his bed, begging for the ore.

Grian hadn’t gave in.

They screamed at him, hurt him and threatened to disown him, but Grian knew the pain of their words was worth it. They would go back to normal if they weren’t around it, and it was worth all the risk. He hadn’t seen anyone in a few days, and he hoped it was because they had given up.

An itch tickled his throat, and Grian held his breath, hoping it would go away. If he coughed he wouldn’t stop, then he’d throw up which would make him dizzy and make him cough more. He hated this illness.

“Grian?” A voice called out, sounding worried. “Are you here?”

Grian tried to keep quiet. He was so, so tired and he didn’t know if he could take anymore interrogating from his friends.

“It’s Scar, are you here?” Scar called out. “I haven’t seen you in a while, are you okay?”

Grian choked on his breath, and the damn cough started. It racked his lungs and Grian bent over at the waist, shoving his head in-between his knees to try and steady his dizzy head.

“You’re sick,” Scar said, and Grian felt a calloused hand rub his back. He hadn’t felt a gentle touch in a long time, and tears flooded his eyes. The coughing didn’t stop. Naseua swirled in his stomach, becoming more violent with every cough.

“B-bucket,” Grian choked out, and Scar obediently grabbed it from the floor beside his bed. Grian grabbed it, his coughs subsiding enough for him to vomit. It was nothing but bile and redstone. Grian couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

“Jesus Christ,” Scar said, pushing Grian’s sweaty bangs from his forhead. “You’re really sick.”

Grian spit into the bucket, all but collapsing into Scar. The builder adjusted himself to accommodate Grian’s weight.

“I’m not.. not gonna tell you... where it is…” Grian muttered, breathless. He closed his eyes, he was so damn tired. He felt Scar move the bucket back to the floor.

“Is that redstone?” Scar asked, worry apparent in his voice. “In your vomit?”

Grian nodded.

“Shit,” Scar said. “Grian, how much do you have?”

“Not… telling….”

“Grian, it was a bug. We burnt all the bad redstone. We need to burn yours too if you want to get better.” Scar murmured, running a hand through Grian’s hair and wiping some bile from his chin.

Grian wanted to believe him so bad. He chose not to answer instead. He was so tired. It would be so easy to sleep and just not wake up again.

“Grian?” He heard another voice call out. “Grian??”

“We’re in here!” Scar called out.

“I’m dizzy.” Grian muttered. His eyes were closed but the room still spun. He felt light headed and sick. “I might pass out.”

“Please don’t,” Scar said, sounding terrified. “ISKALL! HURRY!”

Grian heard someone land nearby and a curse.

“Oh my god,” Iskall said, and Grian involuntarily winced, remembering what happened the last time Iskall had stopped by.

“He’s badly off,” Scar said, panic in his voice.

“Yeah, he is. Grian, can you look at me?” Iskall asked, voice soft. His voice hadn’t been soft in a long time, and Grian made an effort to turn his head to look at his friend. The movement made him dizzy, and Grian felt consciousness slip away.

--

He woke up without a cough in his throat.

Grian hadn’t felt that in a long time. It was amazing.

His head still hurt, but he no longer felt as sick as before. He could breathe and he felt more coherent. What changed?

“Grian? Are you awake?” Mumbo’s voice floated into his attention.

“Hm?” Grian hummed, turning his head to the side and looking at his friend. No tears.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Mumbo sighed and smiled. “You’ve been out for a few days now. We were worried sick.”

“What happened?” Grian murmured.  

“It was a bug with the new update,” Mumbo said, resting his hand on the back of Grian’s forehead. “Redstone made folks go wack. We burned all of it, and the new update returned it to it’s original state.”

“Go wack…?” Grian asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Mumbo said with a breathless laugh. “Made me get super sobby, Iskall went flat out insane, Xisuma just didn’t care and it made you very, very sick. You had tons of the stuff, dude.”

“I was saving you from it.” Grian said, trying to wrap his head around the scenario.

“You did good,” A new voice said. Grian turned his head to see Iskall standing at the doorway, holding a bowl of soup. “The redstone exposure dropped enough when you stole it that we could think clearly enough to see something was wrong.”

Iskall placed the bowl on the chest next to Grian’s bed, a sorrowful look coming over his face.

“Grian… I am so, so sorry how I treated you.”

“It’s alright,” Grian said. “You weren’t yourself. I’m just glad everything is back to normal.”

“Me too,” Mumbo laughed, and Iskall smiled in agreement.

Grian smiled, knowing that the worst was behind him and it could only get better from here.

[randaccidents]

The World Turned

Happy New Year guys! As my first act of 2020, I’m posting the first spau fic of 2020 as well!

EDIT: TW: manipulation (the kind that sinks its hooks into you for a long time), intrusive thoughts

Shadow People AU by @mine-sara-sp who is a beautiful woman and basically the mom of the discord server :D. Happy New Year my gal.

The world changes, but not everyone is prepared for it.

In other spoilers: presidential alert the girls are fighting

Its surroundings were dark, tiny triangles of yellow light doing nothing to illuminate the area. It was almost as if the darkness itself had eaten the light, the triangles all that was left of the world. In the distance, it could see tall figures made of yellow light wandering aimlessly, yet dwarfed by the dark that reached its fingers upwards. Its feet were standing on something solid. There was a weight on its chest, and it looked down.

Something on its chest glowed purple, and a voice in its head told it that’s important, hold onto it tight, but don’t let anyone here see it. Placing a hand over the object, it started wandering, feet finding their own path.

As it walked, it noticed that the dark seemed to be seething, writhing and clawing its way upwards. But slowly, the darkness was calming, shifting to drip downwards endlessly. The path before became illuminated by the twirling triangles, granting him surer footing. It wandered across bridges, past monolithic structures, past rock-like formations, past words scratched into stone, and registered none of them. All it knew was the path before its feet, the purple glowing object in its hands, the feeling that it should be somewhere else.

Something tugged at its chest, a call that demanded its attention. It turned the suggestion over in its mind. A flash of memory, of blue skies green grass gigantic structures people he serves and cares for, and the decision is made before it even blinks. Grasping the glowing purple item close, it answers the call.

It approaches the origin of the call, reaching out. Unknown to it, the purple item flashes brightly right as it heeds the call. Memories suddenly entered its mind, slicing their way past the muggy fog in its mind it hadn’t noticed, led by purple light.

The walls had fallen to the Leviathan before them. The Empire crumbled around them. Someone Tripwire had their hand on his shoulder. “Run.”

And he did. What else could he do? He was only the scout, barely able to hold his own against anyone.

He had almost escaped the ruined field, twisting and diving around the animated armour stands, before something crashed into his back, grabbing and lifting him off the floor by his twisted favour. He had enough time to see unfurled bright blue, a plume of gold, before sharp pain ripped through his chest multiple times and he was cast into the foggy dark.

He crawled out of the ground in a frenzy, pushing himself free of the grasping dark that stole his thoughts and kept him dumb. He saw a silver figure before him, hand outreached, and flinched away, scrambling off the raised dais of the temple. The figure fell out of view.

Reforming on solid ground, he did what he did best; run fight run. He knew that there were doors on every side of a shadow temple how did he know that?, he just had to reach the one in front of him. He could hear shouting behind him and he pushed himself to run faster. Reaching the door, he slid under in a rush.

Only to slam straight into solid block. Reforming confusedly in the half-space afforded by the door, he stared dumbly at the iron blocks blocking his path. They had trapped him here. They? They.

The door opened, causing him to fall backwards with a yelp, having used the door to support himself. He blinked up at the silver figure above him, who gave him a sheepish grin.

“Hey, could you not run away for a bit? We kinda need to talk to you.” the person said, hand rubbing the back of his helmet as his eyes flicked to the side. Do I know you? He took the opportunity to dissipate into the floor, sliding into the natural shadow cast by the person before him. Slithering between the man’s feet, he quickly identified another door and dashed under it, reforming in the small space on the other side crouched low.

He felt disoriented, everything felt new yet old. He knew words that didn’t hold meaning, meaning that had no words, memories with no context. The fog in his mind he was previously unaware of gave him little, only hints that made his mind spin. He shifted slightly, frustrated, and felt something wrapped around his chest moved too. Jolting, he looked down at the object around his chest.

Resting against his chest piece was a purple feathered cloth, feathers fraying at the edges. At the center was a singular purple feather, perfect against the worn edges of the others. The cloth seemed twisted, as though the purple feather was meant to be on the inside. His mind focused on the colour. Purple. Just like that glowing item he had been holding. Was it the same item? His fingers wandered up to investigate, curious.

As soon as his fingers touched the feather, the fog in his mind lifted, and he remembered.

Shuddering, Cavalier curled forwards over his chest, quickly adjusting the favour around his chest to hide the most central piece behind its golden clasp, sat snugly against his breast. His hands couldn’t find the will to leave the comfort of the feather as he quickly flipped through the memories of what happened before and during his confused state.

The Empire is probably gone, he realised. Nothing more than crumbling, smoking ruins. And the enhanced darkness of the Shadow Lands was likely from Abyss exerting its power. And the person who killed him…

Cavalier shook his head, moving on to the next thought. The door he had run for was blocked off, and so was the one he was taking shelter in. Chances were, the other doors were blocked too. Guess he had to speak to the silver figure. At least they sounded nice. Problem. Who even wore silver?

…Oh.

Sighing, Cavalier allowed themselves to slide under the door and reform on the other side. From his angle, he couldn’t see anyone, although the sound of movement and words echoed through the chamber from the other side of the cavernous room. Logically, he knew that he should step around and address the voices. But in his mind, he couldn’t leave the comfort of an escape, something to hide behind, a door to slide under and away, even if it was a dead end. Instead, he called out. “Hello? Wels?”

All noise in the room halted abruptly, before it started up again, the sound of iron boots on brick. Two plumes rose above the platform, bobbing gold and red. Cavalier’s hand came up to grip his arm. Looks like Wels wasn’t alone.

The three knights stared at each other, two standing above one, tension thick in the air. Cavalier could see the sword Paladin had and Wels lacked and knew that he didn’t have one either. He gripped his arm tighter.

The tension was broken when Wels sighed, stepping down to a lower stair before sitting down. He gave Cavalier a tired smile. “Hey Cavalier. Are you ready to talk with us now?”

Cavalier nodded his head. Wels patted the stone step next to him. He watched as Paladin, standing a step behind Wels, sat down beside him, their blue cape swept to one side to avoid hitting Wels. He let his hand untense, feeling the quickly closing marks where his fingers had dug in. He didn’t sit, nor did he let his hand drop from his arm. He didn’t feel safe enough in the room to do so, not with the advantages Wels and Paladin had over him.

Especially seeing as Paladin had not untensed. Cavalier was weak, not stupid. He knew his advantages, and a fight was the last thing he wanted now.

“Cavalier.”

His attention snapped back to Wels, quick and frightened. He sighed. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just need to inform you of some, ah, changes to the server since you were gone.”

The sentence made Cavalier feel tense, like a string about to snap. “Why can’t Puzzler tell me that himself?” he asked. Defensive, he was being too defensive, he had to calm down or he won't get out easily. His fingers started to dig into his arm again. He watched Wels hesitate over the answer. A grey gauntleted hand appeared on Wels’ shoulder, gripping tight.

“Because Puzzler doesn’t exactly exist anymore.”

The world stopped entirely, tilted off the central axis of what Cavalier knew. It was now narrowed, leaving only himself drifting before the two whose worlds still held each other. He didn't even try to control the dangerously surging emotion that prompted their next words, too thrown to care. "W-what? Th-that's not possible. Shadows don't just, just, stop existing!"

He saw Wels and Paladin avert their eyes, hands reaching to hold in comfort even as they looked away from each other, and he envied them. Their worlds were safe in their hands. His had just been ripped away. He saw yellow particles that danced like stars in his vision, twirling away from him. He almost missed when Wels began speaking. No, explaining.

"You were at the siege on the Empire, correct? Long story short, Abyss won. No one except Abyss, Grian and Puzzler knows what happened up there, but Puzzler doesn’t exist anymore. Abyss took the influence of The Watchful Eyes out of Puzzler, now he goes by 3D and the Empire is no more. I think when you meet 3D for real you’ll see what I mean when I say that Puzzler is gone.”

Static filled his ears as the yellow lights continued to wink before him. Puzzler was gone? Well and truly gone? That means that the Empire was gone too. He couldn’t think of any reason that the Empire would be able to continue without Puzzler. His thoughts were spiralling out of control, but what was the use of controlling them? His safety, his comfort, his ground, it was all gone now. Without the Empire, he had no purpose, and if he had no purpose, then he was useless. No one would want him, he who was powerless and useless and unable to even defend himself at all-

“Cavalier, breathe, calm down.” His own voice- was it his own voice he didn’t quite know- cut through the static in his mind. He could faintly feel a hand on his shoulder, another gently pulling at his hand. He didn’t breathe, shadows didn’t need to, but he did force himself to calm down, mentally placing iron dams on his thoughts. Yellow still flowed past his eyes and static roared. The hand tugging on his grew more insistent. He looked down.

From his arm spilled light, bright yellow against washed out grey. His fingers were dug deep into the tear, spilling light and preventing the rift from closing. Two hands, one grey and one silver, were tugging at his fingers, trying to get them to unhook from the rift. He watched enraptured as his fingers were pried free one by one, letting the motions of being controlled comfort him. Slowly, the tear closed, leaving behind no trace of it existing, taking the static and yellow light with it. He didn’t lift his eyes from where the tear had mended, not wanting to face the reality he newly remembered.

“Cavalier, please look at us.” The words, while soft, carried a commanding edge that Cavalier could not ignore. He lifted his head to meet Wels’ eyes, all too near him, read the worry, concern in that glance and knew that he had given too much emotion. “We understand that this is a lot to take in, but please calm down. Talk to us?”

He didn’t want to talk, not anymore. He wanted to be alone, where he could sort out his thoughts in peace. He wanted to be far away from here, away from this reality. He wanted-

He wanted-

He wanted stability. But he didn’t know where to get it, and he couldn’t leave. He lifted an arm to bat away the hand on his shoulder, replacing it with his own, grounding himself. “What’s going to happen to me now?” He had to strain to keep the stammer out of his voice, staring Wels dead in the eyes.

“You can stay with us.” There was no hesitation when Wels said that. Cavalier took a step back, eyes narrowing. There was no way they had forgiven his part in the war that easily. A small voice whispered in his head, repeating the words Puzzler had drilled into him. You’re a part of the Empire now. No one else would help you if you fall. We are at war with everyone.

Wels seemed to have taken his silence as a question, for he began to explain. “They’re still looking for any shadows with feathers. Right now, you are safest with us. You can leave once the search dies down. Is that alright?”

His hand moved down from his shoulder to his chest, fingers brushing over the central clasp that held his feather. The voice whispered harshly. Everyone is out to get you. Trust no one. Just look around. He shook his head, looking away from Wels only to meet Paladin’s eyes. He saw the hardened look, the tensed shoulders, and knew he couldn’t stay. “I can’t. I’ll be fine on my own I swear. Can I go now?”

He felt Wels shift closer, could hear the inhalation before words, but he saw Paladin’s opening mouth. “You won’t make it for long. Everyone knows who was in the Empire. This is probably the last safe place for you, unless you believe you are strong enough to go against Abyss.”

Cavalier could feel his chest tighten at that. Everyone knows you’re weak. He had to go. But he also couldn’t risk a fight, weak and unarmed and outnumbered. Cavalier knew his weaknesses. But he also knew his advantages.

“And what about you? How will I know if either of you won’t take my feather while I’m not looking? Paladin is still under Abyss, and I don’t trust that.” He pointed out, taking yet another step away from the two. Yes, use that sharp wit and gathered blackmail. It will take you far. He blinked, remembering something. He turned slightly to point at Wels. “And you made a deal with the Vex. How am I supposed to feel safe in the house of my enemies?”

Wels flinched away from him while Paladin took an aggressive step forward, growling deep in their throat. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I was working with Abyss. And don’t you dare insult Wels like that, he made a deal with the Vex to keep us both safe! And you will respect that, it takes guts to haggle with the Vex, although I’m sure you wouldn’t know that, sheltered as you are.”

Cavalier forced his hands away from his body, knowing that his natural reaction to aggression was to retreat inwards. Here and now, he needed to show no fear. Fear will be your enemy and death its consequence. Remember your role and play it well. Clenching his fists, he shot back, head held at an angle Puzzler used. "Keep us both safe? Don't make me laugh. Do you look like you've been kept safe? You've got blue! Is that called 'kept safe' to you?"

The rumbling growl grew louder as Paladin's cape rippled, unfurling seamlessly into a set of draconic wings. He could see Wels reach out and grab Paladin on the shoulder, clearly attempting to pull them back. A wing slapped him backwards and away, and then Paladin was speaking, teeth gritted tight in anger. "These are not corruption. These are a gift from Wels. It’s something given when others care about you, for your information. I bet you don’t even have a gift, since everyone hates the Empire and by extension you.”

Cavalier put a hand over his breast where his own feather lay, affronted by this assault on the Empire. The Empire is your everything now. Protect it from insult. “Excuse you, but the feathers of loyalty given to us are gifts. Puzzler cares about us and gifts us with power beyond what your tiny mind can understand.” He sincerely hoped Paladin didn’t ask what Puzzler’s gift to him was, much less try to fight him to force him to ‘use’ it. That would be a lot more difficult to explain.

Paladin’s teeth were clenched by now. Cavalier could see them tense, shoulders rolling, and then suddenly they were in his face, hand twisted into his favour lifting him off the floor. Cavalier shook his head clear of his distractions, Your overactive mind is both a weakness and a strength, hands already trying to push Paladin away. The other shadow seemed unaware of his discomfort, snarling face pushed near his as their draconic wings loomed overhead. “I think this so called power has gone to your head. I’m assuming this feathered piece here is that gift of yours. Maybe if I remove it, you might be less cocky!”

Cavalier’s eyes widened in panic. Before he could protest, much less properly panic, a ripping sound resounded through the chamber, and the cursed fog rushed in to cover most of what made him Cavalier.

It landed on its backside, blinking confusedly. Above it came a hiss, accompanied by words which held no real meaning to it. It looked up at the shadow before it, yellow and blue and holding something purple. It’s focus zeroed in on the purple object. That’s mine whispered something hauntingly through the fog. It considered, tilting its head. The other shadow seemed angry, and it spoke words that didn’t always have a meaning in its mind. They have a power said the whisper in its head. So they were more powerful? Then it wasn’t going to attack them over such a small thing. It’s not it’s not a small thing get it back.

Another figure appeared behind the shadow, placing a silver hand on their shoulder. The shadow turned to speak to the silver figure, giving it full view of who it was. Instincts washed over it, screaming at it to attack, kill, hostile. Without a sound, it shifted onto all fours and leapt at the silver figure.

The silver figure shouted in surprise, falling back onto the floor. It tore at the silver figure, hands punching and scratching at exposed flesh, deaf to the shouting at attempts to fend it off. All it knew was that this was an enemy, and it needed to kill them.

Suddenly, it was being lifted off its target and held in the air. A primal fear washed over it, overriding any aggression in it and replacing it with the need to touch the ground again. It struggled against the tight bonds on it, kicking back at whoever was holding it. It felt its foot impact something hard, its attacker grunting, and then it was being dropped. 

It slid into the shadow seamlessly, barely feeling the impact of being dropped. Reforming quickly, it tried once more to attack the silver figure, who had retreated a fair distance away. Before it could get near its objective, it was picked up yet again. This time however, its feet stood on something solid yet flowing even as it was restrained. It looked down and saw a swath of blue beneath it. It looked so unnatural, made something in it squeeze up.

Steps in front of it took its attention. The silver figure had approached it, empty hands held up. They were speaking, but only some words registered with meaning.

“... wrong … you? Why … attack me? ... Can you understand me? …?”

It didn’t know what was being asked of it. It just wanted the silver figure gone. It tugged at its restraints, wondering why it couldn’t turn into a shadow against it.

A set of silver hands approached its shoulders. Tilting its head forward, it opened its mouth and bit down hard. The hand felt hard. “!!!” The hard hands were jerked back away from it, leaving a slight ache in its mouth. The silver figure turned their head to speak at someone behind it. Voices filled with half-understood words flew over it as it turned its attention back to breaking out of its bonds. It didn’t understand what was preventing it from dissolving into shadow, all that was holding it up were silver clad beings and a blue cloth!

The voices fell silent, and it looked back up at the silver figure. It noticed that it was holding the purple object in their hands. Mine whispered the voice. The figure stepped forward, holding the object up. “...give back… alright?”

Yes yes give it back. The voice was no longer a whisper, muffled shouts distorted in its mind. The duality of what it wanted confused it, and it let the silver figure tie the purple item around its left arm.

The central golden clasp touched its skin, and the fog in its mind was abruptly swept away. Shuddering, he slumped at the sudden information overload, mind working overtime to process the confused thoughts and equate them to what he knew. He felt the favour being tightened around his arm, heard Wels take a big step away from him. He blinked at the blue cape beneath him, feeling the push and pull of Vex magic beneath his feet.

“Cavalier? Are you back with us?”

He tiredly lifted his head. “Yeah…” His answer came out as a whisper, but he couldn’t find it in him to speak any louder. “Thank you for returning the feather.”

Shifting behind him, then the armour stands holding him up were gently lowering him to the floor. He adjusted his legs to allow himself to sit comfortably on the cape beneath him. The armour stands let go of his arms and moved to stand guard behind him, but he couldn’t care any less in that moment. He hugged his left arm close to his chest, fingers wandering over the favour. Feeling tears in the cloth, he choked back a whimper and instead readjusted the favour to allow it to be tight while looking presentable, the feather under golden clasp held snug against his skin.

Someone cleared their throat, prompting him to look up. At some point while he was busy checking himself over, Paladin had walked around him and was now sat next to Wels, missing their cape. Their expression was simultaneously wary yet concerned, and to his surprise he noted that the concern was directed towards him. He gripped his favour closer to himself, remembering what Paladin had done earlier. They seemed to have noticed, averting their eyes and opening their mouth. “Sorry I took your feather from you. Seems like it is important to you.”

He felt so tired, he just wanted to run all the bad feelings away. “It’s alright. You didn’t know. Not many do.”

“Could you tell us then? What does that feather do?”

Cavalier flinched. Tell someone outside the Empire? He couldn’t, that was dangerous and-

There was no Empire anyway. His now calmed mind, with no voices speaking to him, laid out the situation cleanly. He needed to find someone else he could trust, and they were willing to give him a chance. Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge. “The feather is a symbol of loyalty to the Empire. I never asked for anything, but Puzzler thought it better to gift me with intelligence so that I could be useful to the Empire sooner.”

“Sooner?” came the whispered question from Paladin. They looked back, eyes boring into Cavalier. “What does that mean?”

And that was the question he had hoped to avoid. “It means I wouldn’t have to die a few times to speak and think clearly like a normal shadow.”

Paladin’s confusion was palpable. “How many times have you died then?”

He gave a crooked smile. “Just ask Wels.”

Paladin turned to look at Wels, eyes silently pleading for a response. Wels closed his eyes. “I never really noticed, but he’s right. He hasn’t died enough to talk this smoothly.”

“Wels, you’re stalling.”

“...I’ve only had to resummon Cavalier 6 times in total, including now.”

Wels opened his eyes, new understanding and confusion in them as he looked at Cavalier. “But that doesn’t quite explain why you attacked me when you lost the feather. What happened?”

The reminder of being lost made him shudder, fingers digging into the feathers of the favour. “We’re only hostile mobs in the end,” he muttered, unwilling to look up. “Everything I am as Cavalier only happened after I got the feather. Without it, I am back to square one, with foggy memories and half-remembered words. I can’t ever be separated from it, or I lose my identity.”

“And it also keeps you bound to Puzzler’s side, doesn’t it?” came Paladin’s question, pity in their voice. Cavalier cringed at the thought of being chained, shaking his head. The room fell silent.

Yet again, Wels was the one to break the silence. “Cavalier, do you feel safe with us? Be honest.”

His head shake drew a sigh out of Wels. “I can only think of one other place where you can be safe. Do you know where Stress’ Shadow Daycare is?”

The daycare? Of course he did, so many shadows converged there daily that it was the main place that Puzzler sent him to. He nodded.

Wels laced his fingers together, hands forming a small tent. “You should stay there for a bit. Stress has a very strict no fighting policy that no one dares defy other than Distress. Paladin and I may stop over to visit though. Is that arrangement alright for you?”

Cavalier considered. The Daycare was big, open, and neutral space where fighting was banned. And he found that he didn’t mind seeing Wels and Paladin again. Today had been a mess of miscommunication, but if they wanted to try, he wouldn’t mind being closer to them. He smiled at Wels and Paladin. “That sounds much better, actually. Maybe one day I will feel safe enough to visit you instead?”

The knights smiled back. “Maybe some day. You can leave whenever you want, I’ve already unblocked the doors.”

Cavalier smiled softly, standing. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around then. And please, keep my secret safe.”

Turning, he stepped onto the temple floor proper, dissolving into shadow and slithering out of the building. Reforming outside, he took his bearings. Locating some distant icons, he began to run, moving towards his new future as the world turned around him.

[writing-the-end]

WS Chapter 53- The Best and Brightest

Previous Chapter

Masterpost

The Hermits have joined the battle! Now all that’s left are the minesonas, who will be appearing next chapter! Gods it’s really starting to get to the end, huh? So long coming, i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did writing it!

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Ecto belongs to @cooler-cactus-block

Selene belongs to @to-dem-stars​ 

“Is...is that a dragon?” Scar looks over his shoulder, following Doc’s gaze to the three standing at the base of Larry. They’ve already gotten to their feet, though the infant in Avon’s arms doesn’t have patches of dirt and grass like the wanderers. 

Stress shoves the boys out of the way, her strength easily knocking Scar off his chair and sending Doc stumbling for purchase. “That is the cutest thing ‘ave ever seen in me life!” 

Jessie squirms, the high pitched squeal alarming on her young ears. The flower crowned hermit surges up to see the baby, vision sparkling as she gazes into the massive eyes of the infant dragon. She only retreats when Jessie decides that Stress’s flowers look delicious to chomp at. Scar and Doc dare to come closer, admiring the baby dragon. Scar looks up, grinning. “It’s good to see you guys came back! How are things in your world?” 

All three wanderers look at each other, then the hermits in front of them. “Actually...we came back here because of that.” 

“I assumed so.” Doc chuckles, patting Jessie and receiving a tail wag in return. For a second, he swears he can hear the dragonet purr. “We don’t normally get visitors unless something has gone horribly wrong.” 

“Which is kinda offensive, if ye ask me.” Stress puts her hands on her hips. “We aren’t that borin’ are we? Next time you three appear, it better be to ‘ave some tea.” 

Red giggles, feeling the stress in his shoulders fall away. The hermits are so open, so friendly. Especially now that they know the wanderers aren’t aliens. They know how to make him feel better, no matter what. “I think we need your help with something big. All of you guys.” 

“All of us?” Scar tilts his head. That’s hard to do, getting all the hermits together to do one big thing. Not even the first day in this new world had everyone- some came here through other means. 

“Yeah, everyone here. Doc, Scar, Impulse, Ren, Grian, Mumbo, Stress, Iskall, Keralis, Xisuma, Tango.” Ecto lists off everyone they’ve met since they first came to this world, rambling on as she remembers each name and runs out of hands to count on. She has to grab Red’s hand to fit Tango.

Stress giggles, which brings a laugh from both boys as well. “That’s not everyone. That's about…. ‘Alf of us.” 

All three of the outsiders are left agape. Jessie wiggles free of Avon’s arms, reaching the ground in a half glide. She takes off into Scar’s village, claws scrabbling against the stone pathway. Avon can only bite her lip, hoping that the misfit village won’t mind a baby dragon poking her snout anywhere she can fit. Red, on the other hand, was more interested in Stress’s words. “There’s more hermits? That many friends?” 

“We’re going to need all of them to do what we need.” Ecto states, looking at the rest of the wanderers' hands. She’s pretty sure double that number is still enough to not need feet. 

“What do you need all of us for? That’s a pretty tall order, getting all of us to stop building and meet up.” Scar scratches his head. He can think of at least five hermits in the middle of confusing redstone projects that require all their time and attention, and more in the zone of grinding out builds. 

“I...think that would be better to explain all at once.” Avon takes off, flying down the path that Jessie took when she hears something crashing in the distance. As she banks past Doc, he hears her mutter something about needing a manual on raising a dragon. 

“Is there anywhere we could all meet? Somewhere everyone could come?” Red questions, rocking innocently as she hears Avon swear in the distance. 

Ecto has never seen such a diverse group in her life. So many unique faces, accents, and attitudes. All as unique and different as the wanderers. All just as weird. 

She still has to get used to the idea that weird is good. But she does like the prideful feeling she gets when she hears that word. Weird isn’t bad. Weird is good, unique and different with another view on the world around them. Weird is wonderful, and everyone here is weird. Everyone here is wonderful. 

Scar was sure to introduce the wanderers to everyone, tucked into the open, expansive office of the Town Hall. He welcomed Impulse and Tango back, singed alongside a new face they called BDubs. Two hermits walk in after, deep in a conversation that is quick to spiral from meaningful to just spitting out big words at each other. One of them is the only hermit in iron armor- even the recovering TFC they met earlier had better gear. From all corners of the Hermiatic sea, and far beyond, the strange group mixes in. xB had the longest travel, but Ecto was quick to notice that most arriving hermits appeared through a nether portal- the same way they traveled to Tango’s base. The last arrival wasn’t any hermit, however. Selene pops in just minutes before the meeting, brushing flecks of purple embers off her cape and scaring the daylights out of Mumbo. 

The wanderers are spread between the hermits. Red sits between Grian and Scar, the three chittering about their favorite wood plank. Ecto leans back in her chair, nearly tipping it over while conversing with Ren and Tango- though she has no clue what they’re saying about redstone (or Ren’s version of redstone), their upbeat attitude matches her mischief all the same. Selene appears in her seat, at the far end of the table with only Mumbo next to her. He tries to strike up conversation, curious about the sorceress’s powers. She entertains his bumbling questions with a hint of a smile. Avon is at the other end of the table, shoving a reluctant Xisuma into standing. Forcing him to make the opening speech. 

“Alright, I know a lot of you guys are wondering why I called everyone here.” He turns his head, looking at Etho next to him. White hair marred with redstone, setting vials and flipping comparators as he listens in. “Sorry about interrupting your work, but...we have some visitors, and I think they need our help.” He turns, immediately scurrying back to his chair and leaving the table open for discussion. 

Quiet murmurs roll across the room. Hermits that know the wanderers are wondering what they could possibly need help with. Hermits that don’t know the new faces are only left to guess who they are. How they got here. Finally, the low roar of conversation is broken up by a wavering voice. Red looks up, twiddling her thumbs as she speaks. “Our world is on the brink of disaster.” 

The entire room goes silent. Red wants to hide, so many faces turned on him. He’s about to leap from his seat and run when Grian and Scar lay friendly touches on his shoulder. From across the table, Red can see his girlfriend give him an encouraging thumbs up. He takes another breath, and stands. “We came here because we need you guys. You’re the best builders, the brightest engineers. And we need everything if we’re possibly going to save our world.” 

“Save it from what?” Zedaph questions, tilting his head to the side. Blonde curls fall across purple eyes. 

“War.” That single word sends shocks across the room. Many hermits remember previous wars among their own ranks. The battle for the mining mesa. The Civil war between team STAR and G-Team. But the way Red hissed that one word, they know it’s something much worse. 

“An army is amassing from the nether.” Avon picks up, keeping one eye on Jessie as she tackles an armor stand in the corner. “They want to destroy everything, invade the overworld and the end. Tip the balance of our world. Ruin life as we know it.” 

“We don’t have an army like them.” Ecto adds, leaning against her elbow and looking down the faces. It’s a mixed bag of concern and confusion. “We have the four of us- and a dragon that can’t even fly. We need more than that. We need clever minds, like what the hermits have.” 

Avon bites her lip, seeing a few of the hermits glance at each other. A silent conversation, a question she knew would be asked. Those that have no reason to trust them, that know nothing about them. She doesn’t blame their hesitation- she would do the same in their place. So when those words cross False’s lips, she’s not surprised. “Why should we help? I’m sorry to be that person but… should we really get into something like this?” 

Other hermits nod, but those that know the wanderers stay silent. They see the change in the otherworldly visitors. Red hiccups for a breath, tears starting to form at the edges of his eyes. Ecto seethes, only being held down by Ren and Tango. Selene’s gaze could cut through obsidian, and Avon’s wings fall to her side. Even Jessie notices the change in the room’s atmosphere, crawling onto the table.

“They killed my family.” Avon whispers, her hands clenching before her. She can still feel the blood seep between her fingers, the sound of Jeane’s dying breath. The horror of Jessie’s egg missing from it’s home in the End.

“They destroyed my home.” Ecto growls, skin prickling as she remembers the ice that clung where Ren and Tango hold her down now. Watching monoliths collapse and die against the freezing wind, biting and sinking icy fangs into everything. 

“They did both.” Red’s voice cracks as it seeps through his lips, falling with tears that run down his face. He can’t see the hermits faces through the strea,, but the dead silence of the room lets him know they are all listening. Dead as the sea, the water that burned his through and struck down Mama Gummi. “They killed everything I love.”

“And they won’t stop there.” Selene stands, startling the hermits. A glare as deadly and beautiful as a wither rose crosses each and every person in the room. Almost every hermit was convinced- she just had to put the nail in the coffin. “What happened to them could have happened to you. Will happen to you if the forces of hell build their own infinity portal. They won’t stop their campaign until the balance has been tipped across all worlds. Until every building, every tree, every flower and animal has burned.” 

No one moves. No one speaks. What is there to say? What can follow that up? Fear and anxiety burns away at Red, watching the crestfallen faces around her, eyes glazed heavy with thought. Inner conversations, hermits weighing their decision. Slowly, one by one, faces rise. Determination set in eyes as a decision is made, a silent nod. Throwing their lot into the battle. 

“Well,” TFC stands, picking up his pickaxe and brushing his hand through his hair. “Let’s not dilly-dally now. We’ve got a world to save.”