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thetomorrowshow · 3 months ago

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Whumptober Day 15 - Childhood Trauma

title: should i then presume?

fandom: hermitcraft smp

Cub has always worked quietly. Even as a kid—he’d always been the sort to hide in his room and work for hours, tinkering away at a redstone kit or reading or building with Legos. He found that in that quiet, he could get all sorts of things done.

He’s never liked being loud. It was always his parents that were loud, growing up. When he was loud, he was in trouble.

So he stays quiet. He stays quiet and works on his projects, and he ducks away from praise and just works.

It’s . . . when Scar decides to be his friend, it’s weird.

Cub’s had friends. Here and there in school, people who invited him to sit with them at lunch, robotics club members who told him about their weekends. Not much in the way of friends at college. Then, after joining Hermitcraft, he began to think of the Hermits as friends. Technically, Scar had been his friend before he decided to, just by nature of being a Hermit.

Scar doesn’t leave him when the work for the day is over, though, like most friends. He wants to spend extra time with Cub, he has questions and stories, he invites him places and seems to enjoy hanging out.

Cub can’t figure out why. He doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, though.

Nobody has ever sought out his company. He thinks, at first, that Scar must be a loner like him, but when they hang out with other Hermits, Scar’s the life of the party. He gets along with every other Hermit, full of jokes and laughing, loud and attention-attracting.

It makes Cub nervous. He doesn’t say that to Scar, of course—he’d always been jealous of the people who felt comfortable enough to express themselves like that, and he would never want to make Scar feel less so. Just because being loud scares Cub doesn’t mean he needs to demand that everyone else conforms to that.

It still catches him off-guard, of course, but he can get used to it. Doc has sung far too many overly loud drinking songs for him to jump at someone shouting.

Which is good, because Scar shouts all the time. When he’s surprised, or scared, or excited, or trying to talk over someone, or all the moments in between. It takes some getting used to. So when Scar bursts into loud speech, one day, staring at Cub’s simple machine, Cub carefully doesn’t jump.

“Cub, how do you come up with these things?”

Cub’s shoulders shoot up to his ears. Usually when he’s asked that kind of question, it’s with exasperation. It isn’t even anything that unique or odd, all he’s built is a redstone counter, so there’s no reason for Scar to be upset.

“I could never!” Scar continues, and Cub forces himself to relax. It’s just Scar laying the charm on overly thick. “I can’t even think straight when it comes to redstone! But you make it look so easy!”

Oh.

“Well, yeah,” Cub says awkwardly. He isn’t sure how to respond.

Scar turns a smile toward him, excited and bright. “Really, it’s incredible! Cub, we make an excellent partnership.”

Cub shrugs off the compliment, turning away. “Yeah.”

But he doesn’t forget it.

He carries that little compliment with him; he remembers that Scar is generous with compliments. The next time he constructs something of redstone, he makes sure to show Scar, shoulders tense and body bracing for the derision that doesn’t come. Scar compliments him again, even more extravagantly, and Cub almost drowns in the intense feeling of being recognized.

It becomes a pattern. Accidentally. Cub doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it until pretty far along—he’s even started creating with a little bit of anxiety, hoping that this next machine will be up to Scar’s standards.

The praise feels good (because of course, Scar always praises him). But Cub does miss how it used to be—how he used to just make things for himself, and himself only. He misses knowing that there wouldn’t be any response. The feeling of empty satisfaction had sustained him for years, and it was so much easier to deal with than the overly-warm stress he experiences now.

When he was really little, he would try to show his parents his work all the time—only for them to pick it apart and point out all the ways it wasn’t perfect. He’d stopped, eventually. When it became too painful. He’d stopped, and he’d kept it to himself.

The only person to see and judge his work. If something wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it to be, that was fine. He could try again a different day, no harm done. There was no pressure to perform.

Now though, every time he shows Scar something, he can feel his own eyes scanning the project, seeing all its imperfections and the countless ways it could be better.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t work that well,” Cub says, deflecting whatever nice thing Scar had said.

“Eh, it isn’t pretty.”

“It could be better, though.”

“I should’ve upped the tick.”

“I should’ve added more hoppers.”

“I’m not a builder, it isn’t good.”

“It isn’t easy enough.”

“It isn’t good enough yet.”

Scar never says anything to these comments, and Cub grows certain that it’s because he silently agrees. He’s just too polite to say anything.

He still shows them to Scar. Every time. Waiting, just waiting for Scar to tell him exactly what he can fix. Begging for criticism without making a noise, wincing at the compliments and dreading the moment that Scar becomes harsh, pointing out every measure of Cub’s inadequacy.

Scar never says anything bad. In fact, he says nicer and nicer things, and Cub feels his heart close off more and more.

He needs to go back to his room. His tiny bedroom in his childhood home, where he could build with Legos on the threadbare carpet and ignore the yelling of his parents downstairs. The time when he could build whatever he wanted and know that it was just for him, and he could destroy it and build something else if he didn’t like it without any expectations.

He wishes Scar would just tell him the truth. If he would do that, then Cub could feel justified in never showing him a thing again. Never showing anyone anything.

It never happens, and then they don’t work together in Season Seven, and Cub goes back to being alone.

Like he wanted.

Right?

But. . . .

Now that he’s finally free of it, there’s a hole in his heart that used to be over-full with Scar’s compliments. It was so warm, too warm and he couldn’t stand it, but now that it isn’t there, he just feels cold.

He’s felt that way his whole life, but it’s different now, because he’s had the warmth and he wants it back, in some odd way. The coldness aches in his chest, the frost burning worse than the warmth ever had, which doesn’t make sense because he knows the cold. He always has.

It would be easier if he could make up his mind about what he wants.

It would be easier if Scar would just let him down.

That doesn’t happen, because Scar doesn’t visit his pyramid base. Nobody really does; Cub implies that he’s busy and that he’d rather not let anyone see what he’s working on, so nobody comes by to visit.

He tinkers away, day after day, creating game after game and design after design, his alone time where he makes imperfections and sets them next to the last one.

He isn’t lonely.

This is how it’s always been.

He just misses having Scar at his side, sometimes. They’d spent two seasons inseparable, so it’s weird to be here by himself with Scar out working on other not-Cub-related projects. Cub doesn’t mind. It makes things easier, because it means that Scar will never have to say anything bad about Cub’s flawed games and redstone mechanisms, about his boring pyramids, about anything, and he can destroy them like he always has.

Until Scar shows up one day.

He wants a tour, because of course he wants a tour, so Cub shows him around his base and then his arcade, dusty and untouched by anyone but the creator.

He alternates between pointing Scar toward his greatest works and his most-flawed. He can’t decide which he wants destroyed the most.

Scar, of course, has nothing bad to say. He spends the tour in awe, his monocle repeatedly falling out by how wide his eyes go. He looks all around himself and whistles and says “Cub, how have you not shown anyone all this? It’s incredible!”

He shows Scar the ugliest parts of his redstone and Scar doesn’t even comment on the mismatched materials. He shows the parts closest to his heart, more vulnerable than tearing out his own soul, and Scar gasps and tells Cub that it’s all wonderful and that he’s a top-notch builder and even takes notes. He takes notes on building, as if he, Scar, needs them, and that might be what pushes tears to Cub’s eyes.

“It’s not perfect,” Cub says almost desperately. “It’s not that good, even.”

Scar waves him off. “Nothing’s perfect, that’s just life! But it’s really impressive—can I try playing the games?”

Cub swallows around the lump in his throat. “Nobody’s played them before,” he warns, clicking on one of the arcade games. “Just me.”

Scar tilts his head, confusion painting his features. “Why? They look fun—is it okay if I play?”

The breath feels like it vanishes from his chest, but Cub nods. “Y-yeah. You can play. They’re just not very good. That’s . . . that’s why nobody’s played them.”

Scar sighs, and Cub cringes away, pretending to focus on the redstone of the game.

“Cub, you know I won’t care.”

“Yeah, but why?” Cub bursts out before he can stop himself. It’s too loud, he’s never raised his voice like that—immediately, he stands up straight, panic flooding his veins. “Sorry, forget it. Just—just, you can play it.”

Scar stares at him. Something flits across his face; what, Cub doesn’t know.

“Do you want a hug?” Scar says softly, uncertainly, and he half-raises his arms.

Scar hugs are an experience. Scar has the odd talent of creating the most comfortable-yet-uncomfortable hug, a combination of pure love and bony arms, cozy warmth and Scar’s chin digging into Cub’s shoulder.

Cub’s never minded, though, and he hasn’t had a hug from anyone in a while, so he acquiesces, leaning into the invitation, into the warmth.

Scar’s breath against Cub’s neck makes him shudder, but his hands are rubbing soothing circles on Cub’s back and—

And one of those tears slips free.

Scar makes a small noise of concern when Cub sniffs, trying to force the tears back into his eyes. “Oh, Cub. It’s okay. What happened?”

Cub doesn’t know how to explain that nothing happened. Nothing happened, but the stress of waiting for someone to notice everything wrong with him and pick it apart under a microscope has started to get to him.

“Just—just be honest,” he says, because it’s all he can stand. “Do you—my things suck.” “Hey, now—”

“Why won’t you tell me that they suck?”

Scar sounds confused. “Because . . . they don’t suck?”

That would have been everything that he wanted to hear in the past, back when Cub believed that Scar might have been telling the truth, but now he’s just tired and too high-strung to keep up the act.

“Be honest,” he chides.

“Do you want me to tell you that they’re bad?”

“Yes,” Cub says, not quite sure why he’s admitting it. “Just say it. I know you’re thinking it, just say it.”

The hum that Scar makes in his throat vibrates unpleasantly against Cub’s shoulder. “I’m not thinking it. Cub, I love the things you do!”

“But they aren’t—” Cub lets out a deep breath, squeezes Scar a little tighter. “I’m not Etho. My redstone is nothing compared to him, or Doc. I can’t build like you and Grian. I keep trying, but I—I can’t. It isn’t good enough.” “It is good enough. You aren’t Etho, or Doc, or Grian. You’re Cub.” Scar punctuates his name with a tap on his back, then continues rubbing circles. “You’re Cub, and that’s why what you do is good. Because you made it. That’s all that matters.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Scar sighs again. “It should be,” he says determinedly. “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but I love what you do because you’re my friend, and you made it, and that makes me happy. Okay?”

It isn’t.

It isn’t okay.

But Cub’s too tired to get into that right now.

Instead, he nods, lets out a breath.

Scar doesn’t let go for a long time, and Cub doesn’t try to pull away.

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ikemenomegas · 1 month ago

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@animeomegas This post crossed my dash and I immediately thought of you with cockblock sasuke headcanons haha. Itachi might be exasperated at worst and desperately horny at best during that time, thinking he understands and Sasuke will too when he's older. But I love the idea of Itachi who is sorely mistaken, has pups by the time Sasuke is courting, and is just like this. Suddenly extremely concerned for Sasuke's modesty, "are they making you wear that?" when Sasuke wears something revealing, tries to be nice because he knows Sasuke wouldn't accept someone he's not already serious about, but Itachi's eye is sort of twitching and his alpha has their second child in their arms and are staring at him like "are you okay?" when they have a second alone at a family dinner. He realizes Sasuke might be having extramarital sex and accidentally squeezes a chicken too hard when he's carrying it around in the garden and gets screamed at by a hen - not like Itachi didn't also, but Itachi was already practically married by then! and is his stupid cute little brother being safe? is it possible to be sneaky about taking him to the doctor to get checked out?

Itachi might be a little insufferable during Sasuke's teenage emo/goth rebellion too. Like he learns how to make clothes specifically because he knows Sasuke will wear anything Itachi gets him and they're all cute bulky sweaters or comfortable traditional robes. Sasuke mostly wears them around his house or when he's visiting Itachi, but it lets Itachi delude himself into some semblance of imagining Sasuke dresses like that most of the time instead of being bare chest out in the streets.

Ooh! and maybe part of Sasuke's courting story is running into his future alpha on the way back to his family's home from Itachi's house and he gets flustered and embarrassed at how obviously adorable they find him in sweater paws instead of his current off-both-shoulders, no juban, open-down-to-the-navel uniform.

#itachi's alpha would find this behavior hilarious #i think they have less sympathy for sasuke #and get back at him a leeetle bit #“oh sasuke your brother made you such a nice sweater. he knitted for weeks! don't forget to wear it” with a shit-eating grin #while sasuke is like -_- i am going on a mission and then to the club #itach: "not dressed like that. it's cold (loops a sweater around sasuke's head)#and you'll catch a chill (finds a cape somewhere)#and you'll give otou-san a heart attack (they both pause)#all the layers come off and sasuke wins this round #much to itachi's alpha's disappointment #this is also not a commentary on modesty lol #but Itachi grew up in a more conservative era of his whole family #and i honestly think he hated several of the people and ways they looked at him when he was sasuke's age #so itachi's choice was to mostly wear standard shinobi clothes or jackets or rather baggy clothes most of the time #or at least stuff that covered quite a bit of skin and his neck #vs Sasuke who will cut a bitch for looking at him crossways and has the family to back him up in an everyone lives au #so he personally is less concerned. when they're older they might sit down and talk about this a bit #just about what Itachi went through when he was in anbu. like they start with joking about it and then Sasuke gets a whole new kind of angr #when he finds out about the bullying and harassment Itachi went through behind the praise their father heaped on him #whoops this spiralled out of control #oh well #naruto #uchiha itachi #uchiha sasuke #from the margins #yelling across the chasm

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