#the rift hermitcraft

[isjasz]

2- Two of Wands

(Planning, Decisions, Discovery)

My piece!! for @the-hermit-arcana :D!!! I had such a blast drawing this piece, though the colors and lighting were actively trying to kill me HSKFNEKWJ. Spot all the empires on the globe 💥💥 (This is also a reference to the original Raider Waite deck!)

And definitely check out the whole arcana HERE! This is SUCH A COOL PROJECT ISTG EVERY CARD IS SO PRETTYYY and the graphics of the booklet are phenomenal <3 go read my description for my card too ;3

[kayawolfhorse]

Farewell to one of my favorite Hermitcraft bases ever

[djts-arts]

E!False!!!

[applestruda]

This is why scar is my favorite

[gingermaple]

how do we feel about a watcher Etho for the fanon swap?

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT ACTUALLY

etho is so humble and down to earth that other hermits often forget his true nature, as even amongst watchers etho is particularly ancient and powerful.

i believe the games would've been quite different had it been etho behind them.

[daydreaminglifelesslove]

it’s incredibly sweet and mind boggling how joe hills and oli theorionsound seemingly met by fated chance and coincidental accident because of the hermitcraft x empires planned crossover, of joe hills spawning and ending close to where oli was coming from on empires season 2, of after the hermits getting back home after being trapped on empires — bringing the empires season 2 cast over via the opened rift, of oli on hermitcraft/streaming it on twitch getting himself accidentally killed in situations and needing anyone free online to help. that being joe, who kept helping and coming to oli when he got himself into situations and trying to keep him alive. and them outweirding and being funny chaotic guys and because oli was playing a bard on empires and is a guy who goes into song whenever irl when he wants, just them connecting and building a unlikely but extremely works well friendship for the while. and coming to the now, august of year 2023, of empires s2 being done, the rift in grians basement being closed to the multiverse of empires s2 before s2 was finished, joe hills a couple days ago on youtube stream minecraft chat messaging cubfan saying he misses oli - his bard, who he knows is in pirates smp now currently, and wants him back and how cub whose been stealing things for the museum should take a piece of the rift or somehow turn it on to work to bring oli back. also oli on twitter replying to joe hill’s tweet progress of his pinball machine he’s making on hermitcraft and wanting to play it. pls. get oli back on hermitcraft, somehow multidimensionally pull him back on, he wants to be on, joe hills misses him, please.

[sophiemuffin]

This is me announcing that I’m officially the part of the Hermitcraft Postcard Zine and I also painted the Rift from Season 9 for my school project

[thenerdperson]

Ok hear me out, I know we all love talking about how the time period of Grian getting possessed is taking less and less time as things go on, but what if there was a reason for that?

The Watchers did not like Grian's affinity for mischief and rebellion, they didn't realize when they made him one of them that it was inevitable he would rebel but they quickly realized. So, they carved an empty space in his mind, making him oh so easy to possess if he got too out of hand. However, despite this countermeasure, he escaped.

The trauma runs deep, and Grian is secretly constantly scared the Watchers will find him and use that space to possess him and turn on his friends. So he comes to the reasonable conclusion (in his mind) that if he doesn't want the Watchers in that space then he just needs to fill it!

The Mycelium was never malicious and actually quite liked the greenery, however she's never gotten to interact and play with the players before! Grian's deal with her means she gets to play pranks and have fun along with everyone else! She doesn't mind sharing control over Grian's body so long as she gets to be apart of the fun, and had no issue leaving Grian when they won the war because she had so much fun!

The Void was lonely more than anything, and they rarely got so much attention, and the sacrifices were really nice of boatem to provide. (Though the Void was far more interested in Scar than Grian, Scar's mental shields were too great to even think about possessing him, plus Grian gave Scar so much attention the Void hardly had to do anything anyways)

The moon didn't really possess Grian, just occasionally came along riding in Grian's head in the possession equivalent of carpooling. The moon just really liked seeing the man who made a whole cult in their honor through the eyes of someone who loves him. The moon really just sticks around to see the silly little cult man and their favorite moth through the eyes of someone else. (The moon has a long established deal with Pearl but really likes the new perspectives sometimes)

The Entity was more of a kid than anything, and only stayed with Grian long enough to give him instructions on how it wanted to look, and quickly moved to possessing its new body. It took a bit of time for the Entity to learn that players were kind of fragile and squishy unlike Grian, but it quickly learned, and was very happy to finally be able to communicate on a level everyone could hear instead of the frequencies only something as powerful as a Watcher could hear.

The Rift was far more cautious than its younger sibling, but when it saw how Grian treated the Entity, even when the Entity made mistakes, the Rift reached out. While the Rift was far older than the Entity, it was not unlike a touched-starved young adult, old enough to understand things better, but not yet fully matured, and quietly desperate for any contact. (The Rift was Grian's favorite, though he would never admit it, and he felt a lot of kinship to it) The portal to Empires was the Rift's attempt at a thank you, giving Grian an opportunity to see Jimmy again.

The Skulk tried to possess Grian, it was probably going to take advantage to how vulnerable Grian was to possession, however it was a bit to spread out (ha) to give a good effort to overcome Grian and the Rift was too powerful to overcome its stake on Grian. It never got further than one floating bolder.

The Ocean was not unlike Mycelium in just wanting some mischief and the Void in wanting attention. However she quickly realized she was far more interested in the attention the pretty red-head gave her. She was having fun with Grian, but she realized she felt rather bad (she's never felt guilt before and she really doesnt like it) upon messing with Grian by giving Scar the mending book. She quickly decided to fix her mistakes, and gave Grian a mending book of his own, however she does occasionally come over when she is in need of a friend and Grian wants a break (excuse) from the permit office.

[barrierblock]

[lunarcrown]

Comm for @pixiemage of their au they wrote a fic for HERE !!

In it, Jimmy doesn’t remember Tango and co when they pass through the rift to empires, and Tango TRIES to stay out of things…….but he just can’t stay watching in the background when the Jimmy-bullying goes too far!!!

FIGHT MODE ACTIVATED!!!!!!!

[daily-grian]

i dunno rift are you sure you got the right realm?

OH GOD OH NO GRIAN WATCH OUT

[happy-hermit]

HELLO HELLO EVERYONE :D

This is a fic for an AU where young teenager TCD Scar comes through Grian's rift :) It's a trauma reveal folks <33

Enjoy!!

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

Grian was beginning to believe that the rift had some form of sentience, given that at times it appeared to become quite… temperamental. Some days it would be almost eerily still and slow. Others it would— Well, it would do what it was currently doing. 

The rift was swirling with more shades of purple than usual, dark patches appearing and disappearing with alarming frequency. There was an electricity in the air that made the hair on his arms stick up, and Grian had the strange feeling in his stomach that the thing was emitting some sort of sound that was too low or high for human ears. It felt a bit like a thunderstorm. 

Grian had set up shop immediately upon noticing something was different, resorting to sitting in a chair staring at the Rift waiting on it to do something. It was horrifically tedious. Grumbot — in true Grumbot fashion — was refusing to give him a straight answer. Grian was beginning to suspect that he simply didn’t have one. 

So he waited. With several cups of coffee and messy notes strewn around him on the ground, he waited. 

He was sleeping when the whole thing really started —  because the Universe hated him personally, he was sure. 

He was already sitting up by the time he regained consciousness, heart beating in his chest, eyes wide and darting around in confusion, trying to make sense of his surroundings. It was too bright, and his vision was too blurry from sleep, and where in void’s name was that wind coming from?

The rift chose that moment to start spitting lightning at him, and Grian let out a strangled yell as he dove behind Grumbot’s messaging system, abandoning his empty coffee cups to an uncertain fate. He ducked down and shut his eyes tightly as the glow of the Rift got brighter and brighter, as the high pitched noise emitting from it got higher and higher, until finally something in the fabric of reality snapped under the strain. 

From across the room, there was a short, terrified yell, cut short by the impact of something hitting the ground, and a clatter, like the person had dropped something. There was sudden and complete silence, until it was broken by a quiet groan. Heart in his throat, Grian opened his eyes and shifted, peeking over his makeshift shield to check things out. 

The Rift was back to what he considered to be normal, glowing a serene purple, calm as anything. His notes were strewn about the room and burned at the edges. His coffee mugs were nowhere to be seen. 

On the ground was a person. They were curled up on their side, clutching at their head with gloved hands. Their clothes were ragged and torn, bandages peeking out from under them as the figure shifted slowly. And then they sat up, and their face drifted into view. 

Grian’s breath hitched, his knuckles turning white where he gripped the blocks he was hiding behind. It was a kid. He had messy brown hair, jagged and uneven, like he’d cut it himself, and a bandage creeping up the side of his face from under his chin. He had a bandana tied around his neck, mostly a faded green, except for the faint splatters of dull red. His face was gaunt and his eyes were wide and scared as he patted himself down frantically, muttering to himself. The kid couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. He did not look like someone who believed he would live for much longer. 

Grian let himself poke his head just a bit higher over the barrier, frozen in shock and confusion as his unplanned visitor started whirling around and looking at the floor. His gaze finally landed on something that Grian couldn’t quite see, and his shoulders dropped in what seemed like relief as he went to pick it up. 

Grian… didn’t know what he was expecting. A sword, maybe? No. 

The raggedy little teenager had popped through an interdimensional rift in Grian’s basement, looking like absolute hell, and he picked up a gun. 

The kid checked that it was loaded in practiced movements, almost with the grace of a soldier. It contrasted sharply with the youth of his face, and the way his shoelaces were untied and tucked into his shoes. It painted a very concerning picture. 

His visitor was just beginning to gather his bearings, hauling himself to his feet with suppressed sounds of pain. He was favoring one leg. The gun was poised at the ready in his arms. 

Never let it be said that Grian was a smart man, given what he did next. 

“You can’t have those here.”

The kid made a strangled noise of alarm as he whipped around to face where Grian now stood apart from his makeshift cover, his hands raised in what he hoped was the universal gesture for ‘I mean no harm’. And then he was staring down the barrel of a gun. It wasn’t the usual kind of chaos that happened around here, but he was going to try his best to take it in stride. What was the worst that could happen? He’d get shot? 

He’d respawn. But the kid was staring at him like he wasn’t aware of that. Like maybe he was counting on the opposite to be true. 

Grian forced himself to look past the very threatening weapon pointed at him to get a better look at the person's face, and he met his eyes. They were a striking shade of green, trained on him with pinpoint accuracy and refusing to waver. At first glance, he looked almost angry. Grian knew, though, that it was only a thinly veiled cover for the heart-stopping panic crowding in behind it. For the confusion and pain and fear. (And why could he read a stranger so well?)

“I won’t hurt you,” Grian said, calm as he could manage, wings tense behind him. “But you’ve got to put the gun down.”

“You can talk,” the kid said, quiet and shaky. Like it was surprising. Something about it made Grian’s chest squeeze. 

“Yeah, I can,” Grian said, gentler now. “So can you. Can you tell me your name?”

The gun trembled for a moment, just slightly, and then went eerily steady once more. The kid swallowed hard and glanced around for a second before locking back on to Grian. 

“You’re not… infected?” The kid asked finally. 

Grian frowned a bit in confusion, his brow furrowing and wings rustling in unease. Infected. It sounded like a word with more weight than was really warranted. Like it came with a history. 

“I’m— No, I’m healthy as a horse,” Grian said, cracking an awkward grin. “Eat my vegetables and everything.”

The kid tilted his head, just slightly, and the gun dipped just a bit more towards the ground. Or, well. Towards Grian’s stomach. 

“A horse?” The kid repeated slowly, still in that carefully quiet tone, and if Grian didn’t know any better he’d think that he didn’t know what a horse was. Maybe he didn’t. 

“Yeah, you know— sort of like cows,” Grian said, now feeling absolutely insane. He was explaining the concept of horses while held at gunpoint. “But they’ve got longer faces, I think. And you can ride them.”

The kid, if anything, seemed more confused by that, and Grian gave up on the agriculture lesson for now. 

“You don’t need that here,” Grian redirected, gesturing carefully at the gun. The kid flinched a little at his movement, and Grian softened his voice as much as he could. “You’re safe, here. It’s safe.”

It was the wrong thing to say. 

The kid's shoulders tensed even further, the gun recentering itself firmly on Grian’s forehead and those oddly familiar green eyes shuttering back into a mask of calm. Only the slight tremble of his mouth gave away his fear. He was scared. A tangle of frustration and heartbreak and helplessness coiled in Grian’s chest. 

“It’s not,” the kid said, firmly. “It’s not safe anywhere.”

Where had he come from, that he believed that?

“Look, you— You see that behind you? It’s a portal,” Grian explained, motioning to it in jerky movements. “Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re somewhere new.”

The kid shook his head, desperate eyes flickering from Grian to the Rift and quickly back again. They were shining with unshed tears, his mouth wobbling almost imperceptibly, and for a moment he looked terribly, horrifically young. Too young to be holding a gun. Too young to be scared of the world. Too young to be so convinced that it couldn’t change. That there was no more hope for things to get better. 

“But I— No. I didn’t go into any portal,” the kid said, voice raising a little, accusing. “Then how did I get here? Did— You did something.”

“No no no,” Grian said, hands raised again. “That thing has a mind of its own, I didn’t do anything. I just sat here.”

“Well I didn’t do anything, either!” The kid said, sounding slightly hysterical. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Grian said, as gentle as he could manage. His protective instincts were going haywire; he didn’t really know why. “Look, just— Weird things just happen sometimes. Trust me, I’d know.”

“Then where am I?” The kid asked, voice shaking horribly. 

“It’s called Hermitcraft,” Grian said, voice still carefully calm. “We’re in my house. Well— Under it.” He paused, hesitating, and his next question came out hushed. “Where did you come from?”

The stranger let out a shaky breath, gun unwavering and silence hanging in the still air around them. He didn’t answer. Grian could guess that it was nowhere good. 

They had run out of ways to stall the inevitable, in which the kid had two options. Shoot him or don’t. They were at a standstill. Something had to give. 

A soft noise from across the cavern interrupted Grian’s racing thoughts, and it took him a moment to place it as a muffled baa from one of the sheep in his sheep farm. It was barely anything, and yet the kid reacted as if it were a creeper beginning to explode, whirling to face the noise with wild eyes, swinging his gun in that direction. Namely, away from Grian.

Before he could think better of it, Grian rushed forwards, using his wings to propel him, and he disarmed the other before he even had the time to yell. A stray bullet shot somewhere into the ceiling in the brief struggle, loud enough that Grian knew someone would be coming round to check on it soon, and when the dust settled he was holding a gun, looking into the pale face of a terrified stranger.

“No!” The kid shouted, the loudest he’d been since he’d arrived, pushing at Grian with shaky shoves as he grappled for the gun. Grian deflected his attacks, heart sinking into his stomach as he watched the other grow increasingly frantic, breaths coming fast. “It’s mine! Give it back, it’s mine! You can’t have it, it— it’s mine. Please, please, it’s—”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grian said, out of his depth, practically pleading. “Nothing is going to hurt you, okay? But you— you can’t hurt anyone else, either.”

The kid just shook his head, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes as he backed away, hands in trembling fists at his sides. He glared at Grian with all the fire of a hardened soldier and all the fear of a child, green eyes flashing dangerously. Something prickled at the back of Grian’s neck. Some feeling he couldn’t identify. Déjà vu, maybe.

“It’s mine,” the kid repeated, firmer and quieter. “It has my name on it.”

Grian looked down, mildly curious among the adrenaline and confusion. 

He stopped breathing. Froze completely, hands white-knuckled on the gun. His skin went cold, heart tripping over itself in his chest. 

On the gun, in capital letters, was a name. 

[ SCAR ]

A name that he knew. 

Slowly, Grian looked up, breath hitching in his throat when he met the eyes of the stranger(?), now looking a little confused himself. There was a bandage on the side of his face. Judging by the size of it, it was covering a pretty nasty wound. Likely to leave a scar.

Grian knew exactly what it would look like, when it healed.

“Scar,” Grian said, his voice sounding odd in his own ears, blank and emotionless. “Your name is Scar.”

“I named myself,” the kid — Scar — said, still shaking a little, glancing around near-constantly. 

Grian swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat, mind void of any clear thoughts.  “It’s a good name,” he said, chest aching.

“Do you have one?” Scar asked. His hands were fisted in the front of his jacket, twisting anxiously.

“A gun?” Grian asked faintly.

Scar shook his head. “A name.”

“I’m… Grian. My name is Grian.”

“Grian,” Scar repeated, nose wrinkling a little, like he thought it was odd. Scar — his Scar — had made the exact same face last week when he’d come across a problem at his park. Grian felt sick. “You’re—”

The rapidly approaching sound of fireworks cut off whatever the kid had been about to say, and he flinched like he’d been struck, turning wide eyes to the sky as he stumbled a few steps back, towards Grian’s content generator. Grian looked up as well, torn between relief and frustration. The kid had finally seemed to be calming down. 

“It’s okay,” Grian said, rushed and panicked as he held out a placating hand towards Scar. “It’s just one of my friends. They won’t hurt you.”

“Friends?” Tiny scared Scar hissed, like the very idea was ludicrous, and Grian was mildly offended.

Before he could come up with a reply, there was a call of his name from above, and Grian snapped his gaze back skyward, heartrate accelerating. 

Of course, Grian thought, watching as Scar crashed unceremoniously into the ground a few yards away. Of course it was him. Grian took a steadying breath and prepared himself. This was either the best possible option, or the worst. There was no telling where luck would have him fall, this time.

“Grian, I heard explosions!” Scar said, elytra disappearing as he straightened up from his rough landing. “Are you blowing things up without me? You know how much I—”

The builder cut himself off with a strangled noise, face falling quickly into something haunted. Almost scared. Any doubt Grian might have had about who the kid was vanished. They had the same way of being afraid. 

The way Scar was looking at the gun Grian was still holding confirmed it. He was looking at it with wide eyes and tense shoulders, breathing quick and shallow. He was looking at it with recognition.

“Where did you get that?” Scar asked, in a voice that Grian had never heard from him before, dark and small and shaking. 

Wordlessly, Grian stepped out of the way. 

And he watched as Scar locked eyes with his younger self. Just another day on Hermitcraft.

[the-mcyt-crackships-brackets]

[soul-sand]

Inktober Day 17: Circuit

close the loop

[dmwrites]

“Scott?”

“Mm?”

“Will you tell me a story?”

Scott hummed, shifting to a sitting position and looking out over Jimmy’s cod empire. Jimmy smiled up at him, still laying back on the picnic blanket, content after a good meal.

“There’s this story I was told as a kid, well, more like a prophecy, really.”

“Oo, a prophecy? Go on.”

“I would if you’d be quiet.” Scott said back with no heat in his voice. He was too content by his day with Jimmy, and now a memory so curious. “The legend, prophecy, story, what have you, went like this: one day, there will come a man who walks on lands we will abandon. He will not be from here. He is not a god, not a man, but a traveler. He does not know what he seeks, or why, but he doesn’t stop walking. I think the story’s just trying to say he’s lost.”

“How is that a prophecy?” Jimmy asked.

Scott chuckled. “I suppose it is more of a story then a prophecy. But my family always said it more like it was fact then fiction. Maybe it’s just a reminder that nothing lasts forever. But I don’t know how on earth some random stranger is supposed to get here after we’re all gone. Like, surely the world will have all exploded or something by that point, right?”

“You’re getting existential again.” Jimmy elbowed him playfully. “Well, either way, it’s a good story. I wonder what some random person would think of all of this, after we’re all gone?”

——

“What the fuck? Where the fuck am I?” xBcrafted looked around, kind of dizzy from the rift and the sudden explosion of color and sunlight. “Keralison you bastard! This isn’t where my friends are!”

xB slowly turned in a circle as his brain caught up with his current predicament. He was in a small jungle, standing next to a campfire with a few seats dotted about. There were a few wagons off in the distance, and he could hear water lapping somewhere. And he was alone. Very alone.

“Where am I?”

His voice sounded quiet, even to him. His heartbeat damn near in his teeth, xB set off in search of a way out of the unfamiliar land, terrified and pissed off all at the same time, desperate for a way out.

[possiblyhomer]

The sub 1 club falling and almost dying really reminded me of Hermitcraft ss9's The Rift saving Grian from a fall