#hermitcraft season 8 fanfiction

[dadokid]

There's nothing but space, man..

If you know me, you know that I love Season 8 of Hermitcraft and that it was my favourite season because of the storyline. I have not felt all too well the last couple of days and used that to my advantage for a new short story about Tango and how I put a twist on his S8 ending because.. why not? :D If you want to, you can give it a read with the link attached above.

[writer-0f-all]

Goodbye

______________________________

Fandom?: Hermitcraft/MCYT

Who?: Anyone-ish

Warnings: blood, respawn mechanics, let me know if i missed any

_-_-_-_-_

Your eyes blur slightly with tears, the clouds rolling above you slowly, It gives a certain calm compared to now. The moon shines so brightly with its massive form, Slowly closing in on the world as you know it. You had been building when you were struck by a flying skeleton, its arrow embedded within your shoulder, blood slowly drizzling down from the wound, tainting your clothes a dreary red. A shadow looms over  you, blocking the moon. Their face comes into view, tears collecting in their eyes. Your name slips past their lips, as a tear slips past their eyes. A gentle hand caresses your cheek, moving to  your collar, finally resting next to the arrow. “I can save you…” The whisper, “I could bring you with me..” Your eyes start to droop, your chest slowly expanding and shrinking.  Tears Fall from your own eyes, joining theirs. “If only…” You say slowly. They open their mouth to say something when the ground starts shaking, you and them rising towards the sky, they hold you close as you rise, the moon shining brightly, slowly closing in on the world you once knew. Your eyes drift over your bases, the tall, short, mostly finished, mess and smile.  Remicicing the mornings you cuddle in bed together, the dinners you'd make together, the times you'd die only to respawn in each other's arms. 

You close your eyes as a tear slips past before opening them again, looking towards the moon,and as your eyes make contact,  you whisper one..last…thing.…

“Goodbye…”

"Hope you enjoyed! The pearl fanfic is coming, tumblr was just being an ass and deleted the draft. Have a good day my lovlies!"

~Candy

[my-adhd-gremlin-blog]

I wrote this fic based on a post I made about pirate!Scar being the same person as s8!Scar. This SMP has me in a chokehold, but Scar's character especially has me hooked. Hope you enjoy!

The tavern was alive with the sound of raucous laughter as the Kestrels threw back their ales and shared their stories.

" - and then I said, that's not my wife, that's a crab!" Martyn bellowed, swigging more ale.

"Oh, very funny, Marty," Oli grumbled, hiding his embarrassment behind his own tankard. "My wife is not a crab! She's a very beautiful, very real lady!"

The crew continued to guffaw, ruddy faced and cheery from the sheer amounts of alcohol they'd consumed.

"Oli's wife is cra-ab, Oli's wife is a cra-ab," Sausage chanted gleefully, spilling most of his drink on the floor in the process.

Disturbed by the commotion, Captain Jellie curiously wandered over from the bar, leaping into Scar's lap for a fuss. Scar smiled, scratching Jellie behind the ears. The feline began to purr.

"What about you, Scar? Did you have a special someone at home?" Martyn asked, also reaching a hand out towards the cat.

Scar met Martyn's gaze with unfocused eyes. He thought perhaps he might be trying to make fun of him, too, but Martyn's interest seemed sincere. Scar's smile grew wider, even more playful.

"Me? No! There's a whole lotta Scar to go around, it just wouldn't be fair to the world if I settled down with just one person," he replied slyly.

Martyn chuckled. "Alright, charmer. Maybe you can share some of that charisma with the rest of us, hey?"

He leaned forward, swaying slightly in his chair, surveying Scar with hungry eyes. Martyn was flirting with him, that much he knew. But a face had appeared in Scar's mind, his special someone, and his heart was twisting with guilt. Not wanting to be rude, he threw Martyn a wink and chugged the rest of his ale, hoping that would be the end of it.

"Whoo, look at me go! Martyn, Scar, look! Check out my monocle!"

Oli, who had seemingly gotten over the crab comment, was now entertaining Sausage and Kyle by balancing his monocle on the end of his nose, like a seal with a rubber ball. Inevitably, it slipped and fell to the table, cracking down the middle.

"Oh my gosh, Scar! Look at my monocle!" Grian cried, examining himself in the mirror with delight. "How do I look?"

He gave a little twirl, and Scar whistled his approval. Grian was giving him the biggest grin; he didn't think his heart could handle it.

"Perfect! I told you the hat was a good idea. Now you look like a real train conductor."

Grian laughed, flicking the tiny top hat on Scar's head. "And you still look like the world's worse salesman."

Scar gripped the edge of the table, hard. A memory he thought he had lost long ago suddenly hit him like a gale force wind, and it felt like all the air had been knocked out of him.

"Scar, you okay, buddy?" Oli asked.

Scar waved him off. "Oh, fine. Absolutely fine." He tried to stand, and immediately stumbled. "Actually, I'm a little drunk. I'd say it's time for us, Jellie and me, to hit the hay."

○

The next morning, the Kestrels, all nursing severe hangovers, set out on their first mission in hopes of earning some coin. The rough sea churned their stomachs, but they pressed on, motivated by their greed for gold.

An island grew larger on the horizon, until the ship finally rolled gently onto the soft sand. Sausage dropped the anchor and the crew disembarked, glad for once to be on dry land.

"Are we sure this is the place? It sure doesn't look like a cursed island," Kyle said, taking in the scenery.

"Of course this is the right place. Are you questioning my navigation skills?" Sausage balked.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear," Kyle responded with a wink.

"Oh, are we flirting? I want in on that!" Martyn threw an arm around both of their shoulders, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks.

"Sorry to interrupt this little smooch-fest, guys, but Oli is looking a little green around the gills," said Scar, pointing over his shoulder to Oli, who was curled up in the sand holding his stomach.

"No, I'm fine! I'm fine, I -" Oli rolled over, and up came his breakfast. "I'm going to have to stay with the ship," he conceded.

"Lightweight, Oli!" Sausage teased jovially.

With Martyn and Scar's help, Oli managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He looked much more worse for wear than the rest of the crew.

"If it makes you feel any better, Oli, you look as bad as I feel," Martyn said.

Oli glared at him. "Why would that make me feel better?"

"Well, if Oli is fine to stay here feeding the fishes," said Kyle, eyeing the throw up that was slowly getting washed away by the surf, "then I see no reason why the rest of us can't go and explore the island. There may be treasure to be had. Perhaps, if you're feeling better by nightfall, Oli, you could join us for some monster-hunting?"

He threw Kyle a weak thumbs up. "You got it, boss man."

"That settles it, then," Sausage declared. "Onward, Kestrels! To adventure!"

"To adventure!" Martyn and Kyle chorused.

Scar, however, was looking into the distance wistfully. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up later."

The ground beneath their feet rumbled. Earthquakes had become pretty much a daily occurrence at this point, and most of the Hermits couldn't remember a time when gravity wasn't a little unstable. Grian tugged on Scar's arm, pulling him inside the observatory to shelter from wayward floating dirt.

At the top, they both sunk to their knees, exhausted from the climb. Nobody in Boatem had slept for days, and the fatigue was making them delirious. The bright, looming figure of the moon shone threateningly through the observatory skylight. It was bigger tonight. It was constantly getting bigger.

"It's not getting bigger," Grian announced quietly. "It's getting closer."

Scar's heart thudded violently in his chest, but all he had the energy to do was let out a meek sob.

"This is the end, isn't it? This world is coming to an end."

Grian didn't say anything. There was no point denying it. Instead, he reached out to Scar, and despite being smaller, pulled him to his chest. Scar didn't resist.

"We'll build a new world, it'll be better than this one," Grian said, stroking Scar's hair.

"But we barely got any time in this one. This place was just starting to feel like home. I'm not ready to move on yet."

Grian chuckled lightly. "I don't think we have much of a choice, if the moon has other plans," he said. "Home isn't just a place, Scar. It's in the people you surround yourself with, too. As long as you and me are together, we'll always be home. And I for one sure do not plan on leaving you."

Scar's eyes drooped. He was tired, he was scared. But now, he was also beginning to realise that he was loved, too.

"You promise?" He muttered, fighting hard not to fall asleep in Grian's arms.

Grian held him tighter. "I promise."

A promise, sealed with a kiss.

Martyn frowned, concerned and slightly puzzled. "Are you alright, pal? Not gonna blow chunks like Oli, are you?"

"I swear to God, Marty, if I had the strength, I'd like to throw some very choice words at you," Oli groaned, half-heartedly flipping him off.

Once again, Scar was dismissive of his friends' concern. "Stop worrying about me. I'm OK, really. It's just been so long since I've had a crew, I got used to being a one man show. I'd appreciate a little bit of 'me' time. It's nothing personal."

Scar had almost said 'I promise' , but the words got stuck in his throat. The last time a promise was made with him, it got broken. Still, the other Kestrels seemed happy enough with his answer.

"OK, then. We'll see you later, Scar!"

Scar waved them off with a big smile. "Bye, now!"

Oli groaned again. "And now you're going to leave me, too, aren't you? Go, Scar, leave me here to die."

Scar rolled his eyes fondly. "Don't be so dramatic, you're not gonna die. Here." Scar handed him a flask full of fresh water. "Drink that. You'll be fine. Take care of yourself, I'll be back in a little while."

The island was beautiful. White sand, lush grass, palm trees reaching for the clouds. Everywhere you looked there was some interesting flora and fauna. Scar trekked up and over a hill, finding the remains of a sunken ship on the other side. It once must have been very impressive, judging by the sheer size of the wreckage. Now all that was left of it was splintered wood, torn up sails and barnacles in every nook and cranny.

Still, there may be something to salvage.

It took Scar a good part of the day to explore the entire shipwreck, encountering issues with a particularly curious duck that just did not want to leave him alone. When the sun reached its peak, Scar took a break, nibbling on a slightly mushy banana to dull his biting hunger. He stowed away the peel once he was finished with it; another potential customer to scam.

A brief run-in with a Kite confirmed for him that whatever had been left behind had already been ransacked by one of their own (Scar swore he would sink that Tubbo's ship one day). Writing that particular mission off as a dud, Scar began his ascent again. He would go check on Oli, maybe meet up with the others, and slay a few monsters.

At the crest, Scar took a moment to take in the view. He could imagine how the night sky must look from here. How close the stars would seem to be. His eyes were starting to mist over when he caught a flash of red in his peripheral vision.

A scarlet macaw had come in to land beside him, as if completely unaware of his presence. Scar figured the animals here must see so little of humanity that they'd never learned to be afraid of him. He crouched, lifting an arm and holding it out. With a sharp whistle, Scar called the bird, and with very little hesitation, it soared up to him and perched on his forearm.

There were seeds in his bag, Scar was sure of it. With a little rummaging, he managed to grab a handful. The bird ate right from the palm of his hand.

Scar huffed a laugh. "Does this mean we're friends now?"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the parrot took off again, flying off in the direction of the setting sun.

The void jump wasn't planned. Scar had failed his Boatem family. His rocketship never left the ground. Still, he had hope. They were together, at least. They'd make it to the next world.

Time passed. Scar wasn't sure how long. It was Pearl who began to deteriorate first. Her body became skeletal, her lips turned blue, and not long after, they were setting her body free.

Mumbo went next. His cold, stiff corpse remained with them for days, before finally, Impulse convinced Grian to let him go.

Scar's hope dwindled as fast as his grief mounted. He was supposed to save them, but instead he was clinging to dear life and praying his last two friends were doing the same.

Impulse went quietly. He'd never liked to make a fuss. Not a word was said when his body went numb from cold. Not a word about how agonising his hunger had become. No complaints, just peace.

It was just Scar and Grian left, floating in the void, holding onto each other desperately. Grian had always been a stubborn one. Even when faced with death, he refused to die. Scar believed they'd make it. They'd live for for the ones they'd lost.

But then...

"Scar, I'm so cold," Grian murmured weakly.

"Cuddle in closer. I'll keep you warm."

"I'm so hungry, Scar," whined Grian.

"We'll eat when we get to the new world. There's bound to be a rift around here somewhere. Soon, you'll see."

Grian started to go limp in Scar's arms. Scar held him tighter.

"Scar... I love you."

And then he went still. Grian did make it to the new world, but he never got to see it. He broke his promise.

"You left me," Scar whispered into the wind.

He watched the bright plumage of the colourful bird blur on the horizon as it flew further away. A tear rolled gently down his cheek.

"I never should have trusted a pesky bird."

This got a little morbid towards the end, sorry. I was up late last night fighting stomach cramps (on a work night 😫) so I guess I just chose violence. I was gonna add a scene in which Scott and Cleo found Scar washed up, and they decide to take him in (and bury Grian's body), but it didn't seem necessary in the end. Just know that the "new world" is the Faction Isles, not season 9.

(P.s. it was Scar's comment about "not trusting pesky birds" that essentially fueled this entire fic).

[gojirawrx]

Falling stars really aren't stars at all.

Really, they're just small pieces of rocks or ice that burn up in Earth's atmosphere, leaving burning streaks behind them as they cross the sky. These are known as meteors. And sometimes, those meteors last long enough to crash onto the surface, and those are called meteorites. Usually, those are no bigger than a fist even if they can get rather large.

A man in a spacesuit crashing to Earth is neither of those things. In fact, most people would call that a pretty big problem. The media called it a stunt by a new villain on the rise, and scientists called it a miracle the man was even alive.

Tango just called it a really bad day.

//

AKA, Tango and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day he experiences upon being isekaid at the end of season 8 into a nonsense superhero universe.

=========================

Read HERE !!

[bluuedraws]

Chapter one is finished! I’m not providing a synopsis because the chapter is pretty telling of what the story will be like, along with the tags.

I hope you enjoy the ride, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Keep in mind this is my first fanfic I’ve ever published publicly, so please be patient. These are new grounds for me :)

Chapter One

Grian runs.

He’s been running for a long time, but never has he sprinted so hard and so fast, his muscles burning, his legs aching with every stride he took. His lungs scream for air as he gasps, the cold air searing his throat as he pumps his arms even harder. The constant pain in his wings aren’t helping him concentrate on running, either. They’re badly bruised, rendering him unable to fly. And never before has Grian been so desperate to take to the air. Behind him, he hears nothing but the swaying branches and the leaves crunching under his feet. It’s eerily silent, shrouded with a deceiving quiet that only strikes more fear into Grian’s heart.

How have they found him so quickly?

They’d only been on the server for a couple of months. Everyone was still deep into their projects, Scar expanding his ever growing Swaggon business, Impulse adding details to his factory, Mumbo doing whatever Mumbo did, Pearl creating gorgeous builds… It wasn’t time to end this season. Not even close. They should have had more than a few more months before they caught up with him.

Grian’s body is burning now, more exhausted than he’s ever felt. He’s pushing himself far beyond his limits, and he still isn’t sure it’ll be enough. He just has to make it to Boatem… There, he can warn his friends, and they can flee the server as they always did when they inevitably caught up with him. Grian thought he had mastered this endless chase through worlds, thought he could stay one step ahead of them. But despite his efforts, he’s failed.

The ground is getting smoother and more worn down beneath his feet as he springs on. A good sign, it means he’s growing ever closer to civilization. He’s so tired, his legs numb and feet barely functioning. Almost there, just a little longer…

WHAM!

Grian smashes to the ground, barely managing to catch himself before smacking his face into the dirt. His foot’s caught on something, his exhaustion finally taking him down. Stumbling to his feet, he continues on, but now he can sense something behind him. They’re even closer now.

Finally, finally, Grian spots the familiar sight of the Boatem hole, a strange stack of boats and various items sitting precariously over a deep hole that lead to the void. By some miracle, all of his friends are sitting around it, engaged in conversation. He can save them, if only he can convince them in the minutes he had left before they caught up.

He can convince them.

He has to.

“…and then Grian unfroze midair and asked me what I was doing. It scared the heck out of me!” Scar is laughing, obviously telling some story to the group. Whatever it was cracks them up, and they’re all clutching their stomachs, laughing as Scar buries his head in his hands in fake embarrassment. Grian skids to a halt in front of them, hands on his thighs, gasping for air.

Scar turns to him, a smile spreading across his face as he greets the newcomer. “Well, speak of the devil! Grian, I was just telling them about-”

“(Gasp!) Scar, stop! They’re here, th—(Gasp!)—they’re coming! We need to leave!” Grian cuts him off, fumbling his words as he desperately tries to get them to understand what had happened. Scar’s face drops from his usual lopsided grin to a worried frown, and he reaches out to grab Grian’s shoulder in support. The others look on inquisitively. “Woah, Grian, buddy, calm down a sec. Take a moment to breathe, you’re exhausted-” Scar moves to let him take a seat next to him, but Grian waves him off.

“T-there’s no time, don’t you see?! (Gasp!) They- (Gasp! )they’ve caught up with us! W-we need to go, change servers, or it’s- it’s all over!”

The world is spinning and blurring around him, and hazy shapes seem to surround him as muffled voices call his name. <<Grian! Grian, are you ok?>>

<<Oh god, what happened to his wings?>>

They’re concerned, but not for the right reasons. They need to go, to run, not check on him!

<<What happened? What’s wrong?>>

<<How can we help?>>

No, it’s going all wrong. They don’t know the danger, don’t know what to do. Grian hasn’t told them, couldn’t tell anyone without putting them in danger. But he guesses it doesn’t matter anymore. There was no avoiding it, because despite his efforts, his friend’s are still in mortal peril.

Grian feels himself sink to his knees as the world tilts alarmingly. He feels nauseous, but he fights it. He needs to get the words out, or else it’s all over.

He manages one word before he feels them arrive.

“RUN!”

…

The world turns cold.

The wind stops blowing. His friends grow quiet and still.

Grian opens his eyes.

Everything has stopped. The grass no longer sways in the wind, the clouds are still above their heads. And, the most horrifying of all, his friends are frozen. Scar has his arm on Grian’s shoulders, his face covered in anxiety and concern. Impulse and Mumbo are crowded around him, tense and unsure of what to do. But worst of all is Pearl. She stands slightly farther back, but unlike the others, her eyes aren’t trained on Grian. She’s looking over his shoulder, fixated on something behind him. And she looks terrified.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Grian pushes himself up off the ground (gently brushing Scar’s arm off his shoulder in the process), and turns.

And the monster stares back.

Just like that, the world is gone. He’s floating in a vast purple void, alone with the one he’s been running from for years.

It’s a humanoid figure, cloaked in grey cloth and deathly silent. When it raises its head, Grian can’t see anything. It’s too shrouded in shadow to make out.

No. No, no no no no. This can’t be happening. It can’t end like this. Grian won’t let it. If he can’t save himself, he’ll at least save his friends.

He clenches his fists against his sides, his fear turning to hot, boiling rage, bubbling against his throat as the figure looks on, silent. Now that the worst has actually happened, Grian finds himself filled with unexpected bravery. After all, what does he have to lose?

“Leave them alone!” Grian spits at the thing, the years of barely contained fury finally boiling over. He arches his wings over his head in an effort to look more intimidating, ignoring the pain that seares through his bones. “It’s me you want, not them! I’ll go with you, do whatever you want, just leave. Them. Be!”

Grian knows that they work in strange ways. They can’t forcefully take him. He must agree of his own will first. But that doesn’t stop them from making his life hell. They have enormous power, and don’t care who they kill along the way.

Grian waits for an answer.

The silence seems to stretch forever.

But then the thing laughes. It’s a cold, calculating chuckle that chills Grian to the bone.

“Oh, little one. What a silly request you make.”

He holds his stance, watching the figure in front of him. It still doesn’t move.

“What we want is far from just you. You may be the key, but there are many more doors to open.”

Fingers turn to claws as he digs them into his palms, anger reverting back to horror. He chooses his next words carefully, attempting to hide the quiver in his voice.

“What will you do?”

It watches him. It’s been watching him for as long as Grian knows.

“That entirely depends on you, my friend.”

The word “friend” has a hint of malice etched into it, a stinging threat that hangs above them. They are not friends. Never have been.

“We are more merciful than you know. And so, we offer you a deal.”

A deal. That doesn’t sound good. A deal with them never goes well. Grian knows that more than anyone.

“We won’t follow you or your friends anymore. We’ll leave you be forever. No more running, no more hiding. No more living in constant fear.”

His breath catches in his throat. This was too good to be true. Too wonderful of a thought to possibly be real.

He waits for the other shoe to drop.

“But to receive this, you must pass out tests.”

Oh no.

“We have many trials for you to overcome. If you face them all, and win, you may receive our blessing. And if not… we take you and your companions.”

There it is. No gift ever comes for free, not when they’ve been hunting him for years. Not when he’s escaped every trap, every plan they’ve made to capture him.

This is all another ploy. Another mind game to try and get him on their side. Grian isn’t dumb, and he won’t let himself fall for it.

…But oh, it is tempting. Behind his outer confidence, Grian can feel the exhaustion lurking behind his eyes. He can feel the years of stress and fear in ever muscle, every bone. To be relieved of this burden would mean everything.

But suspicion is clouding his thoughts. Something is very wrong.

If he agrees to this, and fails, he can’t backout. A deal is an agreement and is just as binding, magic wise.

But he’s so tired. So tired of putting everyone he loves in constant danger, so tired of keeping them in the dark.

And so, he makes a decision.

“I accept on one condition. I will take your tests, and pass without fail. But in the event I do, you only take me. You leave everyone else alone. This is my one offer, so you better take it or leave it!”

Grian spits out those last words, malice coating his tongue. The formal tone he’s been using drops away, replaced with cold rage. He hates them, hates their games and their tricks. And he is done with it all.

The figure lifts its hands, which hide beneath the folds of it’s cloak. And for a moment, Grian swears he can see a toothy smile beneath the mask, dripping with purple blood.

“We accept your offer”

The purple world begins to fade into white. Everything is fuzzy and hazy, just like before. Grian fights it, fixing his eyes on the blurry grey shape in front of him. He shouts at it, panic and anger mixing together. “Wait! What do I need to do? How do I complete your task?”

For a moment, a strange symbol flashes between them. A glowing square, but with the edges strangely cut off, leaving dashed corners.

“When you wake, you will see.”

The voice is growing fainter, the world lighter, and Grian feels himself slowly slip away.

“But Grian… you forgot one thing.”

The voice is barely a whisper, nearly vanished into the pressing white. Grian has to strain to listen.

“You never said we can’t use your friends against you.”

Chilling horror spreads through Grian’s chest as the words sink in. He thrashes desperately, fighting against the haze.

“No!! No, I take it back, I take it back! Don’t hurt them! Take me instead!!” He screams, pounding at the walls of white mist enclosing him, weakening him. But his words fall on deaf ears, and it’s then when the white overtakes him.

The world fades out into nothing.

And Grian is gone.

The cloaked figure stands in the empty space for a few seconds more, staring at nothing. It turns, cloak swishing behind it, and slowly fades away, leaving the strange, empty world.

Only a whisper is left behind.

“A deal is a deal, Grian.”

….

All around the server, 11 players vanish.

….

A new world opens, receives, then locks.

…

And Scar opens his eyes to a world of sand.

| Next |

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

[ender1821]

brewings of a not-too-distant past

“Don’t blow up my house or like, set it on fire, okay?”

Pearl glanced up from the mix of ingredients on the table. “I wasn’t planning on that, but now that you’ve mentioned it…”

Her gaze wandered to the pile of gunpowder, causing Gem to promptly swipe it away from her friend’s grasp. “Pearl!”

(In which Gem builds a potion house and Pearl shows up with the promise of a special brew.)

[plagues02]

Burnt Lamb

Summary: While helping Zedaph with one of his many experiments, Tango notices that his friend burnt himself with water and forced him to take a break for the burn to heal. Characters: ZedaphPlays, TangoTek Word Count: 1408 Note: This was originally written in 2022 and posted on Ao3

"Zed! You have to be more careful!" Tango's voice snapped Zedaph out of his thoughts. 

Zedaph blinked as he took off his outer layer of clothing, his lab coat. Sure, it wasn't ideal, having hot water splash on you, but it was just a little. A quick change and Zed could go back to his work in the lab.

Tango, who decided to come visit and assist with something while catching up with his old friend, seemed to think otherwise. His ears perked up at the sound of splashing, and his tail stiffened while he looked over at his friend in worry.

“Dude, calm down, it’s not that bad,” Zedaph let out a small laugh while Tango reached him. “Okay, okay, I’ll take this off too.”

Zedaph pulled his sweater off above his head and tossed it down on the ground with his lab coat. Tango leaned down a little to look at his shorter friend’s chest, checking out the place the water splashed on him. It was only a few spots on his chest, not one large spot, and the red stops were small.

The sheep hybrid huffed a little as he stepped away from the netherborn, getting a little annoyed by his friend’s pestering. His tail twitched a little, and he made a clicking sound by fitting his hooves against the ground.

“Tango, I’m fine. A quick change into dry clothes, and I’ll be back to work,” he said.

Tango shook his head, “Zed, you were splashed with not just hot water, with boiling water. Just let me put some ointment on it.”

Zedaph huffed but didn’t disagree while Tango went off to a side room where Zedaph left medical supplies. The smaller man sat down in a chair just outside his experiment room. Well, one of them. It seemed every room Zedaph built had some kind of experiment in it. It was surprising that he kept his bedroom away from science.

After a few minutes of silence and listening to Tango fumble around in the room beside him, Zedaph finally looked back down at where the water splashed him. He winced at the sight, realizing it was worse than he originally thought. The red burns were starting to blister and part of it was peeling.

Second degree, he noted. Maybe he should take a small break from science to allow this to heal. He knew that Tango wouldn’t allow him to continue the project when he saw this. It would have been worse, but it was bad enough that it could leave a scar.

The sheep hybrid jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Tango knelt down in front of him and looked at the burn. The netherborn grumbled under his breath, picking up a spray can.

“This is gonna sting,” Tango warned him and waited for his friend to nod before applying it.

Zedaph winced silently, tilting his head up a little to keep his hair out of the way. The other was surprisingly gentle with burns. Being part blaze, Tango never had to deal with any type of burn, but he had accidentally burnt people before so he knew how to deal with them fairly well.

The netherborn placed the can down and grabbed the ointment. He was only surprised that Zedaph had these in his medical cabinet as he seemed to be lacking a lot of other items. However, Zed did seem to get a lot of small injuries so the others didn't question it much. 

"You need to keep the ointment on it. The spray is a numbing spray so it helps too," Tango said after covering the burns generously. "You probably don't want to wear a shirt or do anything that will get you sweaty. The shirt will irritate it, and it needs to air out. And you want to keep it clean."

The blaze hybrid stood up, handing the medicine to his friend. "Now, that means take a break from your,,, riskier experiments. Science can wait until that is healed enough. At least until all the pain and blisters are gone. Do I make myself clear?" There was a hint of a threat in his tone. 

Zedaph could only nod. He was surprisingly calm during all of this. A second degree burn would normally have some kind of reaction to it. He just seemed to accept what had happened (and still was a little shocked as he didn't realize it that bad). 

"I need to get back home," Tango huffed. "I promised Bdubs and Keralis to help fix the redstone they messed up at one of the Pass 'N Gas." 

This caused Zedaph to let out a laugh. "Haha, have fun with that," he stated as Tango started heading towards the door. 

"I'll check up on you later, so you know. So don't think about being stupid," Tango warned. "If not me, I'll ask Impulse." With that, Tango was gone, and Zedaph was alone.

Zedaph remained seated for a while, trying to think of what he could do. While it pained him to think about it, Tango was right. He shouldn't do a lot of current experiments if he didn't want to risk the burn getting worse and possibly infected. 

Asking hermits to come over to test their brain was out of the options too. Zed couldn't wear a shirt without irritating the burn, and he rather not have his friends bombard him with questions on what happened, even if what happened wasn't exciting. He was just carrying a bucket of boiling water from one side of the room to the other, and he was splashed by said water. 

Well, he supposed a nap would do him good for now.

The next few days went back slow. Zedaph kept himself busy with simple house work that he's been meaning to do. Being busy with all his experiments, his living quarters has become,,, quite messy, and not really a decent, livable mess. 

He caught up on laundry, cleaned his dirty dishes, cleaned his shower and sink, and generally just picked up. Between these activities, Tango would message him to remind him to put the medicine on his burn. If not Tango, Impulse or sometimes Xisuma would message him. Zedaph just assumed that Tango told them so that if he forgot, someone else would remind him. 

By the second day, the blistering was down, and Zedaph was able to wear a shirt again. The peeling had also stopped. In the afternoon, he did a few light activities related to science, that be writing down on the clipboards that kept forgetting to do. 

On the third day, the sheep hybrid was starting to get irritated. His living quarters were clean. Everything was written down. His burn didn't hurt anymore(except when he showered, and the water hit it). He even checked his floating sheep and the villagers. There was simply nothing to do. 

“Zed, how are you doing?!” A voice called out from the front of his base.

Zedaph perked up at the sound of Tango’s voice, and he met him in the front room by the sheep. He was wearing lounge clothes, sweatpants and a loose shirt to not irritate the burn.

“There you are! I am bored out of my mind here!” He huffed out.

Tango laughed at the shorter man who was huffing while almost stomping his hooves against the ground. The netherborn patted the other between the horns to get him to calm down before pulling his hand away.

“Why don’t I look at that burn?” He asked.

With one last huff, Zedaph pulled his shirt up to reveal the healing burn. The blistering was down, and it was starting to scab over. It wasn’t as bad as Tango had originally thought, but he also caught it before it could get worse. It was also clear that Zed was doing a good job with keeping it clean and covered in the ointment, given its slick feeling.

“It looks fine,” the netherborn said. “I don’t see why you can’t continue your experiments for,,, science.” The last part was said in a playful, teasing tone.

The sheep hybrid huffed again and turned away, pulling his shirt back down. Tango laughed as the other stomped away.

“Where are you going?” He called out.

“If I’m going back to studying science, I need my lab coat,” Zedaph called back, leaving view.

Tango only laughed harder at his friend’s actions.

[davanthegay]

Do I constantly forget to share my work? yes. Am I particularly proud of this one? also yes. Will I forget again? why do you keep asking me these questions when you know it's yes?

[dead-man-in-the-grave]

Dinners and Dates (Can Be Really Stressful When You're In A Fake Relationship Or Two)

(Cross-posted on AO3 and with fanart by @freaky-fan-official.)

part one | part two (you are here) | part three | part four

Step one of "Getting Your Oblivious Friends To Realize They Like Each Other" (by GoodTimesWithScar) is to not tell them outright. If you do that, then the moment of realization won't be as sweet.

No, instead, you have to lead them into it, slowly but surely.

And that's exactly what Scar is currently doing.

He's been fake dating both Grian and Mumbo for the past two weeks, with little to no progress in getting them together. It's frustrating. Infuriating, even. He's gotten the urge to tear his hair out more times than he can count.

But it'll all be worth it, in the end. Well, as long as there is an end to this madness. Scar's not sure if there is, at this point.

Nevertheless, he will get these two together if it's the last thing he does.

His newest plan involves setting up a nice, fancy dinner date.

Now, fancy dinners aren't exactly Scar's specialty. He's good at massive, breathtaking megabuilds, he's one of the best terraformers on the server, he can even manage redstone, on a good day. But dinners? Nah. Scar's diet is made mostly of golden carrots and baked potatoes; not something that would typically be served for a dinner date.

But if this is what it takes to get Mumbo and Grian together, then he'll do it.

Now, first things first, finding a location.

None of their bases are particularly suited for hosting dinners, so that's off the table. He needs to find somewhere scenic, somewhere romantic, somewhere that will take their breath away.

Scar summons his vex wings and takes to the skies.

It takes a while, flying all around Boatem before deciding that Boatem doesn't quite have the vibes he's looking for.

He flies past Cub's biome and Xisuma's base, past Big-Eyed Cove and over the swamp.

He's starting to think he'll need to settle for something lesser than what he had hoped for, when it finally happens.

After flying for Void knows how long, Scar finds a spot. The perfect spot.

It's a remote clearing in the northern dark oak forest, somewhere to the south of Gem and False's bases. There are roses, lilacs, poppies, lilies, all sorts of flowers scattered across the clearing, soaking up the sun and hiding amongst the tall, wild grass.

Scar could imagine it now, a gazebo of spruce wood to contrast the dark oak in the surroundings, a round table piled with food of all kinds (vegetarian and chocolate free, just for Mumbo and Grian), with candles and lanterns being the main source of light.

It would be perfect, he'd make it perfect.

Scar just has to get to building.

He jots down the area's coords and flies back to his base for building materials. He digs through his chest monster, which is quickly growing out of hand, and retrieves some spruce and dark oak wood, a few candles, and some lanterns, and piles it all into an empty shulker box. He stashes it in his inventory and takes off, making a beeline for the clearing.

He has the design in his mind's eye while he's building the gazebo, and he frequently has to tweak things when they don't quite look the way he wants them to, but such is the nature of building.

By the time he's happy with the design and has put on the last finishing touches, night had fallen, and mobs kept attacking him. He'd had to call it a night. He's lucky that no creepers had shown up.

He'd finished the build, and it looks absolutely amazin' if he did say so himself.

Next, he needs food, but that can wait for tomorrow.

He's still excited when he gets tucked into bed with Jellie. It takes a while, but he eventually falls asleep.

It isn't the best sleep he's ever had – he's too excited for tomorrow – but he knows he needs to sleep or else he'd be severely regretting it tomorrow. So, he does.

And when he wakes up the next morning, Scar practically leaps out of bed. Scratch that, he does leap out of bed, summoning his wings to stick the landing before putting them away again. He grabs his cane from beside the bed, leaning on it as he checks the time on his comm. It's 11:47, later than he'd wanted, but still enough time. He still has to make all the food he has planned for dinner tonight.

So, plan in mind, he heads down the ladder to the lower floor of the Swaggon's main cart.

The kitchen in the Swaggon is small, just a small countertop, a cauldron, a couple furnaces, and an iced chest to keep the food from spoiling. It didn't really see much use after Scar got his hands on a reliable source of golden carrots, and with the layer of dust covering everything, it shows.

So, before he even considers doing any cooking, Scar wets down a rag and cleans off the dust. It'd just be gross to cook while the kitchen's dirty.

Cleaning the dust off doesn't take very long, but cleaning out the furnaces when he finds evidence of something living inside one of them takes an additional hour.

Scar really can't catch a break, can he?

And even after that whole ordeal, he still has to make all the food for the dinner in – Scar checks his comm – five hours.

Maybe it's just how much Scar's been through in the last week (Mumbo and Grian are both annoyingly good at being blind to each other's feelings), but this almost feels like more trouble than it's worth.

Almost.

Scar still loves both of them, and would do anything to see them happy. And "everything" does include all of this.

So, what can he cook that will be suitably romantic and fits both of their dietary restrictions?

Anything with meat is off the table, with Mumbo's vegetarianism, and there can't be anything parrots can't eat because it'd make Grian sick. That really doesn't leave many options.

Spaghetti could work, if there wasn't any meat in the sauce, but he'd have to make the noodles by hand… As much as he loves Grian and Mumbo, he's not sure he had good enough fine motor skills to make a reasonable amount of noodles for three people. So that's a no-go.

Scar wracked his brain for anything all three of them could eat. Bread, carrots, apples, beetroots, melon, and pumpkin are all safe, he thinks. But what kind of meal can he make out of all that? Beetroot soup with a side of carrots?

…Actually, beetroot soup wasn't a horrible idea. All three could eat it, and it was a "main course" kind of food, no one hated the flavor or texture…

It could work.

Cooked carrots weren't a bad side dish either. Bread rolls wouldn't be all that difficult. Pumpkin pie is a good desert. He could even make steak for Grian and baked potatoes for Mumbo, as long as he made sure not to cross-contaminate…

Plan in mind, Scar gets to cooking.

After several straight hours in the kitchen, all the food is finally done. And just in time, too, dinnertime is nearing rapidly. Scar tucks the food into his inventory and flies back to the clearing.

The flight seems to last forever. Scar watches as the sun grows closer and closer to the horizon, but he gets there before it truly begins to set. He sets the food out meticulously on the table in his gazebo, making absolutely sure nothing is out of place before taking a step back and admiring his work.

It looks amazin' if Scar has anything to say about it.

Though, it is a little dark…

He nabs a shulker from his inventory and grabs some spare torches from it. Not the prettiest - or safest, for that matter – but they'd keep the area lit. He places them on the trunks of some surrounding trees and prays to the Void they don't light the forest on fire.

Scar sends his coords to Mumbo and Grian individually, and then sits down to wait.

...

Mumbo is inside his base, tinkering away at one of his machines that just refuses to cooperate, when he gets a message. Its a private message from Scar.

Mumbo ignores his heart beating wildly behind his ribs.

<GoodTimeWithScar> 508/70/381

Mumbo stares at the message with concern. Are those coordinates? Why would Scar be sending coords?

Maybe he's in trouble? Mumbo's heart speeds up more at the thought.

He decides to wait a few minutes to see if any other messages were forthcoming, whether a private message from Scar or a death message saying he was blown up by a creeper or something.

No other messages show up in chat, so Mumbo switches to his own coordinates, and starts heading for Scar.

...

Grian's in the middle of restocking the G-Train when he gets Scar's message. It's just a set of coords, and that could mean anything when it comes to Scar, but Grian is ready to drop everything on a whim for that man.

And that's exactly what he does.

Grian stuffs the deepslate he was putting in his chests back into his inventory, spreads his wings and launches into the sky. He's fairly certain what direction Scar is in, but he'll probably have to check when he gets closer.

For now, he equips a sword and shield, just in case there's a fight.

He'll protect Scar until his dying breath (and then some), if he has to.

...

Scar isn't expecting anyone to show up for a while, and that makes Grian's divebomb from the forest's canopy all the more surprising.

He lands roughly, and Scar sees his windswept hair, ruffled sweater, and the way his wings are fluffed like they get whenever he's expecting a fight – trying to make himself appear bigger. There's a sword and shield in his hands. Why he thought he would need those, Scar doesn't know.

He's also gasping for air, like he flew here the second he got Scar's message.

That would explain how he got there so quick…

"Grian!" Scar says happily. He doesn't miss the way Grian flinches and spins to face him. "I wasn't expecting you so soon!"

Grian stares at him, still panting slightly, eyes roaming, searching for… something. He either finds what he's looking for, or doesn't find anything, as he huffs a sigh and relaxes. The sword and shield disappear into his inventory.

"Well, I thought you were in danger or something," Grian says, sounding exasperated, "I flew here as fast as I could."

For the first time since he got here, Grian seems to take a look around. He blinks a few times, rubs his knuckles over his eyelids, then takes another look.

"Scar…? What is all this…?"

"It's the venue for our dinner, of course! But, even if you're here, we can't start without our last guest… hm…" Scar trails off.

Grian stills.

"Last guest?"

"Hm? Oh, Mumbo should be here, too! I'm pretty sure I sent him the coords as well-"

Speak of the devil, Mumbo stumbles out of the treeline and into the clearing.

"-And there he is!" Scar claps once. "Now we can get started!"

Scar chooses to ignore the looks both his fake-boyfriends throw him.

...

When Mumbo stumbled into the clearing Scar had sent him the coordinates to, finding a candlelit dinner, put-together Scar, and a dishevelled-looking Grian wasn't something he'd planned for. But that's fine, he can roll with the punches.

What he can not roll with his how romantic this whole thing is!

Seriously, a candlelit dinner? In a remote area of a dark oak forest filled with flowers and soft lighting? Mumbo was either going to get lucky or he was going to get murdered .

Well, in any event, Scar was herding Grian and himself toward the table, and the food that was set out there did smell delightful…

Resigning himself to his fate – whatever it may be – Mumbo allows Scar to direct him to the seat closest to the baked potatoes. Grian is sat to his right, conveniently close to the plate of steak. Scar takes the remaining chair.

No one moves to take any food.

"Well gentlemen," Scar breaks the silence, "don't let all this food go to waste! Dig in!"

Scar grabs a bowl and fills it with, Mumbo assumes, beetroot soup.

Grian follows his lead, piling his plate with steak and bread rolls and wasting no time shoving a roll in his mouth.

"Jeez, Grian, did you forget to eat again? You're eating like a starved man," Mumbo jokes, serving himself baked potatoes and steamed carrots. Grian, thankfully, swallows him mouthful of food before he answers.

"Ah, maybe- but in my defence, I was mining deepslate. Hunger wasn't really on my mind." Grian then grabs a steak and rips a chunk out of it with nothing but his teeth, as though it's the normal way to eat steak.

Though, to be fair, Mumbo hasn't really seen him eat steak any other way.

"You need to get better about that."

"I know, I know."

Mumbo shifts his attention to Scar, who's been oddly quiet the whole time.

He has a dopey-looking grin on his face, watching him and Grian. His cheeks look slightly red. Maybe he's catching a cold?

"You okay there, Scar?" Mumbo asks. Scar seems to snap out of it, grin turning closer to his normal smile than it had been before. The colour stays in his cheeks.

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright!" He says, gesturing placatingly, "You guys are just really cute."

Mumbo's face heats up rapidly. He's 100% sure he's red as the beetroot soup.

"I- wha- I'm not cute!" Grian splutters. His face is red too.

"You are though!" Scar insists, "Cute like a little baby bird." Grian's face is completely flushed. In embarrassment or anger, Mumbo doesn't know.

"No-! Oh, whatever…" Grian rips off another bite of steak, but the slight quirk of his lips betrays that he's not really angry.

Scar and Mumbo share a laugh at Grian's angry bird act and return to their food.

They must spend hours there, talking and eating and laughing, but it feels like no time at all. Eventually, all the food's been eaten and the moon is high in the sky. The groans of zombies and hisses of creepers seem far away, but all three know they shouldn't stay out too late, regardless.

It's 12:28 AM when Scar mentions the time, and that they should all head home. Mumbo agrees, and Grian is eventually convinced as well.

Scar gathers the dishes, puts them in his inventory, and blows out the candles that are still on the table.

"You guys want to race back to Boatem?" Scar challenges, his wings shimmering into existence on his back.

Mumbo would never get over how cool that is.

"One two three go!" Grian shouts, launching into the air at, frankly, insane speeds.

"Hey! No fair!" Scar laughs as he takes off after him. 

"Wait for me!" Mumbo scrambles to equip his elytra and wastes several rockets catching up.

Grian, naturally, makes it back to Boatem first, landing next to the Boatem hole. He's gasping for air, and laughing giddily. Mumbo lands just in time to watch Scar shove him into the Boatem hole.  They are rewarded by one of the shrillest screeches he's ever heard from the avian.

"Scar!" Grian shouts in mock outrage as he flies back up.

"Oh, did I forget to mention that the winner gets to be sacrificed to the Boatem hole? Oops, silly me!"

Maybe it's just how late it is, but no one even tries to stop the fit of giggles that overtakes the three of them.

That is, until they're interrupted by Pearl.

"What are you three doing up? Go to bed." She says, stepping out of the nether portal.

"Oh, alright ," Scar says, "G'night Mumbo, night Grian!" He wraps one arm around Mumbo's shoulders and one arm around Grian's, which results in Mumbo being forcibly bent down and Grian pulled onto his tip toes. They must be quite the sight.

Grian returns the hug immediately, and after a moment's hesitation, Mumbo wraps his arms around Scar and Grian as well.

Grian's wings wrap around them all, feathery and warm. Mumbo can feel Scar and Grian's heartbeats where they're pressed together. He feels safe. He feels loved . 

The hug doesn't last long enough, in Mumbo's humble opinion.

They all bid each other goodnight and head back to their own bases.

Mumbo feels warmer and lighter than he has in weeks.

...

Scar painstakingly pulls himself up the ladder to his bedroom, joints aching and muscles protesting his every movement. It's possible that he'd overdone it with all the building and cooking and flying around.

He might have to stay in bed for a little while to recover.

Hopefully it'd only be a day or two; he doesn't want to worry anyone.

Scar carefully climbs into bed, trying and failing to reduce the pain under every inch of his skin.

 Jellie hops up after him and curls into his side. She immediately starts purring, as though she understands that he's in pain and doesn't know how else to help.

Scar runs a hand through her fur, ignoring the ache it causes.

[floef-likes-everything]

Feeling nostalgic for Hermitcraft S8?

Might I, in that case, very humbly recommend my fic World Eater? A finished, 100k+ words Hermitcraft fanfiction set in Season 8. Fan of Ren and Doc's lore for that season? Well, you're in luck because it heavily ties into that!

No shipping in this one, but sometimes friendship is the best ship. Just the Hermits trying to save themselves from a Server that is falling apart as it quickly becomes clear that somebody is working against them. Here is a quick summary:

GoodTimeWithScar fell from a high place

The message had been the last one sent via the communicator and it had been from two days ago. Grian had not thought much of it the moment he received the death message, as it was normal for Scar to die multiple times a day. But Grian had not heard anything from Scar after that. He had not seen him go around Boatem, had not seen him at the ever growing chest monster behind his house, had not seen him say anything via the communicator. Where had his friend gone off to? And why did it seem like the communicator had not been working for the past two days?

Something weird was going on.

CW// Injury and burns (though nothing gory or described in detail), impersonation, implied character death.

Feel free to check it out, it's my first actual big project I managed to finish and I think it's a cool concept!

[crash-hawk]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Dream SMP, Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Joel | SmallishBeans/Lizzie | LDShadowLady (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza Characters: Captain Puffy (Dream SMP), TommyInnit (Dream SMP), Wilbur Soot (Dream SMP), Awesamdude (Dream SMP), Lizzie LDShadowlady (Last Life SMP), Dream (Dream SMP), Philza (Dream SMP), Technoblade (Dream SMP), Black Rose Pirates (JRWI Riptide [Cameo]), Technoblade's Sister (Cameo), More TBA Additional Tags: Kaleidoscope AU, Inspired by passerine - blujamas Series: Part 5 of Kaleidoscope Summary:

Twenty years after the events of Three, the survivors of the Green God’s original deadly game find themselves back in horrifyingly familiar circumstances...but this time, the rules have changed, and so, the players find, have they. SURPRISE!  Bet you thought you’d seen the last of this AU.

These shorts, exploring Last Life in the context of the Kaleidoscope AU, were originally written wildly out of order, as is my wont, over the course of a year.  Some of them were posted to Tumblr and to Hermbi and the Kaleidoscope discord servers, but with the chronologically-first chapter finally completed and the next Life Series right around the corner, they are finally Fit for AO3. All credit for the setting, as always, goes to Kyle Thcscus’ seminal DSMP fantasy AU novellas Passerine and Shrike.  The masterpost for this fic and all other works in this AU can be found HERE!  (Note: while not completely necessary, reading Three, @lunarblazes‘ stellar followup give me back my heart, you wingless thing, and the first four chapters of Hurricane will definitely enhance the experience.)

Chapter 1 -  you know you’re one of us (there’s no escaping us): Puffy regales young King Wilbur and Prince Tommy a dark tale from long ago on a stormy autumn night, of a famed pirate queen known as the Shadow Lady and her quest to hunt down the entity who’d once cursed her husband to a terrifying fate for no better reason than pique. Chapter 2 - gonna turn your vision red: The Green God introduces a new wrinkle into his deadly game, with the help of an old “friend”.

[sammakesthings]

CROOKED CATHEDRAL - UNFINISHED HERMITCRAFT 8 FIC

[Story below the cut]

I finally got into my old Google Docs account and found this thing collecting dust. It is two years old, and my first/only fic, so please excuse the less-than-adequate writing. I don’t really remember what it was going to be about, but maybe I’ll pick it back up, because it’s kinda cool so far. Anyway! :-)

-

He was immune to the shrieking phantoms that plagued him that night and every night before; by now, he knew precisely the tempo of their beating wings, and their faces down to the tooth. It was a well-known fact that he didn’t sleep, and never would for as long as any Hermit could tell.

Hurried footsteps fell with the rain. “Doc. I can’t sleep with those godforsaken phantoms following you around. Could you linger elsewhere?” Ren had halted behind him, lab coat draped over his head. There was a disheartened sigh as he glimpsed what Doc was clutching, regarding so intently: a plan that was infinitely complex and made no sense both at once. The usual. Ren sat next to the insomniac, hoping that if he were quiet enough, he might hear an explanation over the deafening downpour.

Doc was what the universe might consider the delinquent, for if anyone knew how to break its rules, it was him. He could conjure canteens that would never empty, walls that you could walk through, and boreholes without bottoms. He had traveled to where this world ended and next began. He was a genius; he was a blasphemer. He laughed in the face of impossibility and spat at its feet, where others would simply surrender.

But recently, Doc’s interest had strayed from what could not be possible, to what should not be.

And the intricate diagrams, the notes and the numbers on that paper:

These were among the should-nots.

-

A tumultuous roar shook his desk as the great mahogany doors were awoken, and two heads poked through: Head of Design, and Head of Sales.

“Evening, good sir!” hooted Head of Sales, tipping his comically colossal tophat. He strutted forth, as loudly as one could strut, to thrust a drift of papers onto the desk. “Half of these are records on our recent transactions, and the other half are coupons I think you’d appreciate.” He winked. The mayor decided to ignore this advertisement and cut to the chase. “How is our Octagon situation faring?” he inquired, leaning forward.

The Head of Sales sucked in his teeth, eyes straying to the faraway plafond. “Well, they aren’t giving up anytime soon, that’s for sure!” he declared with a huff. “We can’t afford to keep them running— and I don’t mean just financially.” Boatem Incorporated had been plucking away unnecessary expenses as of late: the prettying up of pathways, the hosting of mini games, and any futile frippery of the sort. Not only did Octagon Town dominate this list as the biggest waste of money in corporate history, they were the biggest danger as well. From towers that invited lethal lighting, to mechanical monstrosities with craters for footprints,

-

and that’s where I left off. Man was it abundantly apparent that I did adamently admire alliteration. Well I hope you enjoyed anyway, and please reblog if you’d like me to continue this fic or write new ones :-)

[wander-wren]

if i don’t look New Media in the eye i won’t develop a hyperfixation, right?

i say, binging seasons 8-10 of hermitcraft as fast as humanly possible, diving into fanfiction and finally understanding why people write about mcyt, and pivoting to watch double life with my shipping goggles on

[redstoneglitch]

Explicit Hermitcraft fic, throughout the years

In July 2022, I set out to collect some data, hoping to figure out when explicit Hermitcraft fics really started to take off. I had heard stories of how people were against anything that didn't fit into the neat bounds of canon, which included shipping, among other things.

This made me curious though. When did it start getting posted? Where has it taken us? ...is there really a disproportionate amount of Omegaverse fics? Well, TL;DR... January 2019, over 1,400 fics being posted, and no.

However, I hope you stick around a bit longer! My analysis of the graph I made is posted below. The blank version, plus the text from the analysis, is under the cut.

This version of the graph includes everything from January 2019 – April 2023. Fics may've been counted twice, due to collecting two batches of data (one in July 2022, and another at the end of April 2023)

Funnily enough, the third fic posted to the Hermitcraft tag is explicit, and the first three are all shippy. (And yes, I checked to see if the works were backdated, which they're not! The first Hermitcraft fic was actually posted in 2015)

Since July '22, there's been a decrease in the percentage of explicit fics! Just one percent, sure, but it really shows just how popular Hermitcraft is as a whole. There were 8.9k fics back then, only 920 of those being explicit. Now there's over 15k, and 1.4k explicit fics! That's over 6,000 fics added since July '22! Not to mention all the ones that may've been deleted, which appears to be over 40 in total.

Finally, I'd like to point out the obvious: between a season start and end, there's a massive jump in explicit fics being posted. And subsequently, when the season ends, or a new series begins (like the Life Series), there's a substantial dip in fics being posted to the tag.

Now that the important stuff is out of the way, feel free to look below the cut if you'd like, for the text from the image + the blank version of the chart.

Notes:

There are roughly 1,400 explicit, and 15,000 total fics at this point (This means there’s around 13,600 non-explicit fics. Alternatively, about 9.3% of fics are explicit – a 1% decrease since July ‘22)

Due to the fact that this data was gathered both during July ‘22 and April ’23, there may be some discrepancies (At least 40 fics have been removed since July ‘22. Since fics may’ve been counted twice, this number is likely more)

The shipping war was from 2019 to 2020* (*Unknown end date)

January 2019: Half a year (about 6 months) after the start of Hermitcraft S6

June 2019: 3 Grumbo fics are posted, likely due to Grian and Mumbo’s popularity (According to archive.org, Mumbo and Grian were at 2.7M subscribers at the start of 2019… and only grew from there)

March 2020: Start of Hermitcraft S7… and then the pandemic hit, and lockdown started

April 2021: 3rd life started, and Flower Husbands helped normalize shipping

June 2021: Start of Hermitcraft S8

September 2021: Last life started

October 2021: Kinktober (69 fics… nice)

December 2021: End of Season 8 (The dip is probably due to no videos on Hermitcraft)

March 2022: Start of Hermitcraft S9

June 2022: Double life started

March 2023: Limited life started

[Image ID: a chart, spanning from January 2019, to April 2023, regarding explicit fanfiction for Hermitcraft. The main growth periods are from March 2020 to March 2021, October 2021, and from March 2022 to January 2023. /End ID]

[enderwoah]

WRITING COMMISSIONS!!

It’s been a long time coming and rather heavily requested, so I finally (finally!) took the time to open up a Kofi and throw my hat into the ring of writing commissions.

If you don’t know me, hi! I’m Ender. I’m a fanfiction (mostly oneshots) writer for the MCYT community, primarily focused on content regarding the Life Series/Hermitcraft/Empires members. Some of my best works (as deemed by readers) include:

this limited life bad boys oneshot (hurt/comfort, jimmy + grian-centric, 4.2k)

this DSMP crimeboys oneshot (hurt/comfort, tommy-centric, 3k)

this empires s2/hermitcraft s9 ranchers oneshot (hurt/comfort, jimmy + tango-centric, 17k)

this fae AU mumbo-centric fic (mumbo-centric, 25k, 4 chapters, incomplete but now updating again)

…along with my longest and most popular fic, to write is human (c!tommy goes to hermitcraft, tommy + grian-centric, 125.5k, 22 chapters, incomplete).

If any of that stuff interests you, maybe check out my commissions! As I am an MCYT blog, all commissions will be MCYT for the foreseeable future. :D

SERVERS I WILL WRITE FOR:

Life Series (3rd Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Real Life)

Jimmy and Grian focused works are my strong suit, but I can do just about anything when it comes to AUs.

Hermitcraft (Seasons 8, 9, 10)

Grian focused works are my strong suit, along with s10!Joel.

Dream SMP

Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, c!Wilbur, Techno, and Philza focused works are my strong suit.

QSMP (events/characters up until the end of the first Purgatory event)

Outsiders SMP (c!Owen focused)

Empires SMP S1 (e!Scott focused)

Empires SMP S2 (e!Scott, e!Jimmy, e!Pix, e!Shubble focused)

This list is subject to updates! New servers come out all the time, and some might fall out of favour. I'm also willing to write about any characters not listed, just ask!!

WHAT I WILL WRITE:

Platonic relationships

Familial relationships

Canon divergence (“This person dies instead of this person,” “this event doesn’t happen,” etc)

AUs (modern, college, coffee shop, mermaids, fantasy, etc)

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Whump

Horror (I’ll try my best o7)

WHAT I WON’T WRITE:

NSFW ANYTHING

Detailed gore

Torture

Romance (sorry, not yet)

Anything that I deem uncomfortable in the moment!! I reserve the right to refuse a commission if I so please.

PRICES:

1k Words or Less - $10

1k - 2k Words - $20

2k - 3k Words - $25

3k - 4k Words - $30

4k - 5k Words - $35

I’m capping it out at 5k for my own sake. It might increase once I have more consistent writing habits, but, for now, that is the absolute limit. If I end up going over the words you commissioned, I will not charge more (because that would be unfair). I’m also only having five slots open at a time so I can actually complete things in a timely fashion.

Payments must be made directly through Kofi! When requesting, please give as specific of a description as you need for the fic. If you just want something set in an AU or something general (“ranchers domestic fluff,” “monoduo bonding,” “Bolas Rojas fantasy AU,” etc), that’s perfectly fine, but expect it to take longer since I’ve got to come up with the idea from scratch!

Given that I am in college, it may take a while for your commission to be completed. If a month has passed and your commission isn’t at least 2/3rds of the way done, you’ll receive a full refund.

And here's the link (again)! Thank you for supporting me! :D

[landscaping-your-mind]

[ID: A bad things happen bingo card. From left to right, top to bottom, the squares are: Never Got to Say Goodbye, Cabin Fever, Thrown Down the Stairs, Fingore, Victim Blaming, Caught in a Storm, Secret Caretaking, Isolation, Painful Wound-Cleaning, Tourniquet, Precarious Ledge, Blackmail, Suffocation, Raspy Breathing, Neglect/Abandonment, Knocked Out, Toxic Gas, Tricked/Scammed, Verbal Abuse, Missing and Presumed Dead, Locked in a Cage, Trapped in a Burning Building, Falling Through the Ice, Blindfolded, Kneecapping. /End ID]

Here is your card for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Happy writing!

Fandoms:

Breath of the Wild & Tears of the Kingdom

Dracula

Hermitcraft, Life SMP, & Adjacent

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent

The Mechanisms

Original Work

Riordanverse

Rusty Quill Gaming

Sense8

Welcome to Night Vale

I won’t write sexually explicit material, sexual abuse, or anything glorifying/romanticising abuse (at my discretion). Anyway please send requests.

If you’re put off by the addition of MCYT and think I write RPF, I do not, here is my stance on it:

MCYTers when they are playing Minecraft are playing a character, they’re doing improv. They’ve acknowledged this on several occasions, saying “my character” or saying they’re doing things for a bit or for the lore, see Moon Big arc in season 8, or the entirety of Life SMP and Empires SMP. Even DSMP if you feel so inclined. I am not writing RPF, I am writing fanfiction about characters played by improv actors.