#this is giving me a deep ache in my chest i need grian on the qsmp

[solargeist]

Au where Grian was on the QSMP and Xelqua was his egg

xelqua egg... !!!!!! ok i made a design for qsmp Grian......

[k-asternix]

ahh hiii

can you write a little watcher grian drabble/oneshot about how the watchers keep tormenting him and sending him nightmares about s@m and also about how he thinks they are going to try to invade/destroy hermitcraft soon and in the end he goes to scar for comfort because desertduo my beloveds

Your wish is my command! Thank you very much for this prompt! I had a blast writing it!

Please note: This fic has been cross posted onto AO3

-

Grian is curled into a ball on the foot of his bed. His head is tilted upwards, he tries to keep his focus on the glittering night sky above him.

It's been…close to five days since he last had a proper night's rest. He knows he's going to have to fall asleep eventually. And it's going to be sooner rather than later if the foggy feeling in his head is anything to go by.

Grian digs his nails into his skin. A final, ditch effort to keep himself conscious.

It doesn't work.

Grian is running down the corridor of his old school. Sam is behind him. Sam has a knife.

Grian is losing air faster than he's able to regain it. His chest hurts. Badly. Grian keeps running, heaving with every breath.

Pain burns through Grian's body with each step.

His legs are going to give out on him. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.

The exit is so close, Grian can see it, it's right there. All he needs to do is reach the door—

Black spots fill his vision. He can't see, he can't move his legs. Sam is still behind him. His feet catch on themselves and Grian's body slams violently to the ground.

Sam's footsteps grow closer. Grian can't move. He can't breathe. His vision is still clouded with black spots. Grian writhes around, like a fly that's been caught in a spider web.

"You put up quite the fight, Gree-on."

Sam presses the tip of his knife to Grian's back. He yelps.

Sam laughs, his voice warps into something else, something deep and sadistic until it hardly sounds like Sam's voice at all "Did you really think you could escape? That's funny. You'll never escape."

Grian jolts awake. It's still dark out. Sam's words echo in his mind 'You'll never escape'. His whole body aches.

Only those weren't Sam's words, were they? Those words were fighting words, a threat that has yet to be acted on. A promise to Grian that nothing is ever over. Those words came from someone else. They came from the watchers.

The average person might not know how to tell the difference between a regular nightmare and a watcher-induced nightmare. Grian has become somewhat of an expert at it.

That one was watcher-induced. No doubt about it. He can practically taste their lingering aura.

It's been happening so often lately—they keep trying to send him messages. It's terrifying. No doubt they have some kind of plan.

The fact that he's been getting more and more of these dreams mean that they must want to take him again, they must be waiting to pounce, ready to invade Hermitcraft at a moment's notice.

Grian doesn't want to go back. He can't go back. He stands. His legs seem to move on their own, before his brain has the chance to think. He wanders, directionless, until he finds himself in Scarland. Grian hadn't consciously been seeking out the man but now that he's here, he really hopes to find Scar. He keeps waking, down main street.

"Scar!" He calls, between panicked breaths.

"Grian?" A tired voice answers back.

Grian turns. He spots Scar sitting on a nearby bench. Scar pats the spot next to him, inviting Grian to join him. Grian does.

"What are you doing wandering around so late?" Scar asks, clearly not comprehending the gravity of the situation.

"The watchers are coming back. They want to invade Hermitcraft—they keep sending me nightmares to warn me. Scar, we aren't safe!"

Scar is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks, his tone soft and cautious as if he were soothing a scared animal. Grian feels a bit like a scared animal.

"Are you sure that's true? Xisuma has a pretty good barrier set up around the server."

"But I saw them in my dreams! I felt their essence!"

"Hm. Grian I have a question."

"Yeah?"

"When did you join Hermitcraft?"

"Season six."

"And what season are we on now?"

"Season nine."

"So, don't you think that if the watchers were planning to invade Hermitcraft they would have done it already? Why would they waste their time taunting you about it? If they were going to invade wouldn't they just… do it?"

Grian sighs, long and hard. It isn't often that Scar acts as the voice of reason between the two of them but he's right in this case. The only way the watchers can hurt Grian is if Grian allows himself to be scared by them. They'll never be able to invade the server.

Grian wraps his arms around Scar, his breathing slows. He'll be okay, he just needed a reminder.

"Thanks Scar."

"Anytime, my friend!" Scar grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes "Now, that'll be ten diamonds!"

"Scar!" Grian shouts, barely holding back laughter.

[case-57-with-the-enclosure]

Chapter 4

of lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting!

( 1 & 2, 3)

"For a long moment, Grian stares at them, mind as fresh and blank as new snow. It feels like he’s circling something, drawing inexplicably closer to its event horizon with each new revolution– like any minute now it will pull him in, and he’ll fall, forever tumbling to regain his balance."

oh the spiral,,, love the use of event horizon here hell yeah

"It only takes a few simple ingredients to invert a healing potion. All he needs after that is a little time to brew them, when nobody else is looking."

extremely personally attacked bc -and this might shock you /s- my special interest is this block game and as soon as Tango mentioned potions the entire chart popped up on my brain.

this one, almost exactly. backstabbed by my own autism once again

"Three or four." Grian keeps his face carefully neutral. "I dunno, maybe five?"

WHATS THAT LIKE, 15 HEARTS OF DAMAGE? 30 IF HE GIVES HIM HEALING II???? GRIAANNNN

"It's a familiar tic, and the aching thing in Grian's chest spiderwebs out in fragile fractures. He's never enjoyed lying. Half-truths, sure, and he's always loved a good loophole– but outright lying? That's not his normal style. Tango is right, five is an absurd number– it's a miracle he's even entertaining the thought."

"spiderwebs out in fragile fractures." AUGH oh how i love literature fuck yeah. that hurt

"But five will be enough to make sure. No last minute resurrections, no sudden rescues. Just himself, the void, and the universe they all belong to. He wonders if it will sing to him as his code falls apart."

*dies*

"You weigh like, nothing, dude," Tango informs him, and there's a little hitch in his voice Grian doesn't want to parse. It makes something in his chest shudder and curl up, tight and cold. "What the hell."

there's something so infinitely funny to me about the direct contrast between the narration and the dialog- its like tango is a muppet starring on a Noir film. very good.

Grian's chuckle is a small, reluctant thing, breaking in his throat midway, but Tango's entire demeanor brightens as if he'd burst out into howling laughter. Something swells in the air around them, and it takes a moment for Grian to pinpoint that feeling as hope.

HEAD IN HANDS orz I'M- (sobs) I'm a weak man i see hope and i go nuts

Maybe it's the knee-jerk fear that makes Grian do it, the bone-deep terror that this will somehow pollute his resolve– or maybe it's just cruel impulse. Either way, this question has been spinning in his mind ever since they found him in the void, and Grian blurts it out before he can swallow it back down. "Why are you even here?"

i loooooove dread and terror man, hooting and hollering for cruel impulses

"I'm serious, man." Tango sets his jaw, then heaves a sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. One foot taps anxiously against the wooden floor. "It's… okay. Okay, I’ll admit it. It's actually because of Jimmy." It takes a beat for that to sink in. When it does, Grian’s eyebrows rocket into his hairline, incredulous. "Tim?"

gay people?? on my block game????? more likely than you think

ok i didn't grab any specific fragments of Pearl's appearance but oh boy oh buddy oh fuck if my back didn't tense up :^> ass clenched i fear

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

Closing Thoughts

i know it will get worse before it gets better. but i can't help but to hope and i think that's a wonderful thing to achieve while writing angst <3

i have the urgent need to do ANYTHING minecraft-fiction related, so i might start workshoping something with my friends and i's mc ocs :Dc idk im inspired

[bluiex]

*Gives you whatever the heck 1 am me wrote* Have some anxious birb calling Scar a sap bc Scar deserves to be a little silly before the big sad.

--

Night appeared quicker than Scar would’ve liked. Grian sighed.

“I’m gonna check the creeper farm, see if there’s more gunpowder.”

Scar watched as Grian almost ran to the UFO in the sky. An ache crawled from shoulder to shoulder, and it was getting harder to place TNT in the holes Grian made. Doing the same movement for a couple of hours tired his shoulders. He groaned internally, realizing Grian would need to help him eat whatever food they had left. The organization in the chests was back into being a mess. Scar couldn’t remember in which chest he saw their last ration of food. 

Grian’s red sweater came closer in the corner of his eye. He rolled his shoulders to ease the ache (he didn’t know why he kept doing that knowing it was useless), and smiled at his partner. Grian had a frown on his face, fingers playing with the hem of the sleeves, wings twitching furiously in the binds. Scar’s smile dropped.

“What’s wrong?” Scar asked, walking closer to bring any sort of comfort.

Grian groaned and ran his hands over his face. “The minecart stopped running, and we barely have enough to cover what I wanted to cover.”

Scar winced, that would spike Grian’s anxiety back.

“That’s so annoying,” Grian grumbled.

Scar tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Well, at least a big chunk of the desert is covered.”

Grian gave him a deadpan look. “What if the Red Army comes from where we didn’t cover the desert? What happens then, Scar?”

Scar’s brain scrambled to find a plan, but seeing Grian spiraling made it harder for him to focus on a solution. “Uh,” was the most intelligent thing that left his mouth. Grian raised his arms in frustration and walked away.

“See? We’re screwed, my trap is going to fail once again, and we won’t get any kills at this point.”

Scar picked his nails. Think, c’mon, think!

“What if we get Scott and Jimmy to help us?”

Grian sent him an unpleasant look. Scar sighed.

“Grian, take some deep breaths for me, would you?”

His partner shook his head, his shoulders trembling. “I try so hard to be useful, to win this war, but I’m just doomed to fail.”

Oh, Scar was having none of it. He determinedly walked to Grian and asked: “Can I touch you?”

Grian shook his head, arms pressed against his side, wings ruffling. Scar’s hand clenched and he crouched in front of Grian.

“G, believe me when I say this, you are amazing with traps. You’re just inexperienced. And nobody has died to traps as far as I know. You’re so creative and your plans helped us get out of sticky situations I put us in.” Scar took a deep breath. “You mean so much more to me than serving me until you lose your first life.”

He made sure to look into Grian’s eyes. Grian’s breath stuttered, eyes wide in disbelief.

“You mean that?”

Scar just wanted to hug him right then and there, but he didn’t have permission, so he softened his face.

“Yeah, I meant every word.”

Grian looked ahead, eyes misty and blank. He gestured Scar to follow him, which Scar did with a skip to his step. Getting up from his crouching position made him fall on his butt and he needed Grian’s help to stand up. He shouldn’t crouch every again. They entered the bunker as the groans of zombies, the rattle of bones and the hiss of creepers filled the silent desert. Scar kept glancing at Grian, not really sure if the paranoia took over him or if he was relaxed. He hummed a melody, not really sure where it came from. 

Grian opened one of the chests in the bunker and tossed Scar a golden carrot. He tried to catch it, but missed. He tried to keep his whine in, but at Grian’s look, he knew gears were turning. To Scar’s relief, Grian simply let out a chuckle, small smile on his face. 

“C’mere,” Grian said in a soft voice.

Scar obliged, glad to see a smile on his partner’s face. He couldn’t help himself as Grian fed him to make small content noises, probably closer to moans. He just felt happy to be with Grian, and he learned to appreciate the help when his body couldn’t do certain things. Grian simply giggled.

“What’s got you so happy?”

Scar shrugged. “Your smile,” he answered honestly. 

Grian let out a surprise sound, almost a choke, disbelief written in his face. He shook his head in laughter and brought a golden carrot closer to Scar’s mouth (he made sure to exaggerate his “nom” noise).

“Sap,” he said fondly.

“You know you love it.” Scar smirked.

Grian rolled his eyes in reply. He leaned closer, a grin forming. Scar’s stomach twisted, nervous but intrigued. Grian gave him a peck on the cheek and took a bite out of the golden carrot. 

After they ate, Grian labeled the lever, making sure Scar knew to pull it during the endgame and not before. Scar suggested putting dirt blocks around it, to make sure it was out of sight, but Grian firmly disagreed. Scar had given him a cheeky smirk before walking around it, barely touching it every time. Grian had pulled his hair, squawking and begging Scar to stay put. Scar had laughed and simply grabbed Grian to crash on their temporary bed with him.

Grian squirmed, cheeks red and breath heavy. Scar kept his smirk.

“You’re insufferable,” Grian let out.

“You know you appreciate my company,” Scar replied with a grin.

Grian shook his head, letting out a laugh, and took off the binds of his wings. They puffed up, presenting themselves, and Grian sighed, red dusting his cheeks before he folded his wings. He repositioned himself more comfortably on Scar’s bare chest. 

Scar brought his left hand to the base of Grian’s neck, making the avian shiver and fluff his feathers. He rubbed circles there, earning a rumble from Grian’s throat, vibrations tingling his whole body. Scar first thought Grian was purring, but he eventually learned avians made a resounding sound without the noise. Just the oscillations within their throats. Scar adored it and was fully taking advantage of it. 

Grian eventually lazily mouthed Scar’s neck, making his partner hum in appreciation. Scar played with his feathers in return, creating a loop back feed on both end. They stayed like that for the whole night, ignoring the threats outside their bunker, living in the present moment, enraptured by each other’s presence.

-- Bloop anon, who's been writing this fic for two months and it just keeps growing, I can't stop it guys. Help /hj

THEY'RE SO IN LOVE THEY'RE SO IN LVOE WAAAAH THIS IS THE CUTEST EVER

[arts-and-drafts]

Collision Au

I don’t have a working title for this but this is the official beginning of the collision au I hope you like it!

-

It wasn’t the sunrise that woke Tommy up that morning, nor was it the sound of an impossibly enthusiastic Tubbo telling him that breakfast is ready (because really, how the fuck is someone that happy at the start of their day? It’s absolutely fucking insane), it wasn’t even the brand-new alarm clock that hung over his bed. Instead, it was the sound of an early morning screaming match between the recently completely-turned-bonkers Wilbur and whoever he decided to fuck with today.

“What the fuck, Techno? We’re at WAR! You’re supposed to be getting weapons and armour, not wasting all of your time with your goddamn potatoes! I thought you were here to help me!” The high pitched screeching was absolutely unbearable as it bounced off cave walls and reverberated in the air with the sole purpose of giving Tommy a migraine. Tommy rubbed at his templed futilely in an attempt to stave off the incoming ache in his skull. Same shit different day in the fucking paradise of Pogtopia.

And then the world staggered.

Really there was no way to describe it, it was just like the tectonic plates under Tommy’s feet just decided to go for a fucking stroll. Tommy’s chin almost slammed into the bedside stand with how badly he stumbled. And then it kept going. The world swimming like a bunch of potatoes in the world’s shittiest stew. Somehow, Tommy managed to get his feet to work together long enough to carry him into the main corridor running through Pogtopia, where Wilbur and Techno were similarly clung to walls in an attempt to remain tethered to the ground. And when it abruptly stopped just as quickly as it had started, there was a loud boom that shook the walls and masked any reflexive vomiting that may or may not have happened as the three boys fell on the floor again.

“What the… fuck was that,” Tommy mumbled out of breath as he tried to keep whatever he ate last night firmly in his stomach where it belonged.

“Hell if I know,” Wilbur admitted, cradling his head in his knees, quite clearly in the same situation as Tommy, “I just hope it didn’t set off my TnT,” Wilbur frowned and Tommy’s blood turned to ice. Tubbo. Tubbo was still in L’manburg. Tubbo was still in the middle of fucking L’manburg. If that was the TnT then there was no way—

“It wasn’t the TnT, we would have heard multiple explosions, there was only one, and we wouldn’t have been able to hear one TnT from this distance,” Techno dismissed the concern immediately, his ears pricked up to gather as much information as possible. Tommy could physically feel the stone in his stomach dissolving as the smooth logical tone washed over him with a sense of relief.

“We should check to see what the fuck just happened,” Tommy used the wall as support to drag himself to his feet, swaying and stumbling slightly. Techno nodded approvingly, taking a deep breath and standing in one fluid motion. Fucking showoff. Wilbur appeared to debate it mentally while looking at Tommy and Techno.

“Sure, let’s go,” Wilbur decided, accepting a hand from Techno before being yanked up to his feet quicker than he had expected. And so the moon sets behind the trio of brothers as they make their way up the ravine.

* * * * *

“Grian? Grian, I need your help please, I woke up and Jellie was missing, can you help me find her?” Grian shot up from his position next to his chest monster with a start, scanning around frantically before spotting Scar in his traditional wizard’s garb and calming down.

“Sure thing, at least Jellie’s not gonna consume me whole like this will,” Grian half-heartedly gestured to the chests upon chests sitting on the grass lawn outside the G-Mansion. Scar’s face broke out into a relieved smile hearing Grian’s response.

“Thank you so much, Grian,” and I know it’s super late, so I’ll make sure to repay you with some nice diamond blocks,” Scar’s appreciation was plain on his face as he flashed Grian a thankful smile and offered him a hand up..

“No, no, I can’t accept your diamonds, Scar, I’d do the same thing for any hermit in need, and you’d do the same in a heartbeat, really, it’s no big deal—” and then Grian was interrupted by the literal earth coming undone and surging beneath their feet. Grian fell flat on his back, squishing his feathers and, judging by the thud and sound of air rushing from Scar’s lungs, it seems he’s in the same predicament. Finally, the pulsations seemed to subside and Grian shuffled to his feet only to, again, fall tail over teakettle back down to . The vwoop of an End-fruit sounded and Jellie’s insistent meows filled the air.

“Well, at least we found Jellie, but what in the world was that?” Scar asked weakly, running his fingers through Jellie’s fur.

“I dunno, but I wanna check it out,” Grian’s eyes lit up and rockets appeared in his hand as his elytra wings fluttered and twitched with anticipation, leading Grian to take off into the sky.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

For the writing requests: Zedaph with a fear of heights?

I seriously love getting such open-ended prompts like this because then I can just go wild. Hope you like what I’ve written!

CW: panic attack

…

  There’s a reason Zedaph doesn’t usually fly places. He prefers to travel by nether where possible, but on this occasion, there’s no point going all the way through the nether hub when he can just fly over the mountain to Impulse’s base. It’s a short flight so everything should be okay.

  But the one thing he forgets to check before he sets off is the durability of his elytra.

  As he’s flying over the cliff, he feels a jerk and realises immediately that his elytra has snapped. He starts to drop but, reacting quickly, manages to grab onto the very edge of the cliff, stopping his fall. 

  However, his grip doesn’t last long.

  He lets out a screech as he slips down the mountain face, struggling wildly for a foothold. After a few seconds, he’s able to catch one on on a small stone ledge sticking out from the cliff about a quarter of the way down. He manages to turn himself around but he soon realises that was a BIG mistake.

  Because now he can see the two hundred block drop below him. 

  Already starting to panic, Zedaph shakily takes out his communicator. 

<Zedaph> Help!

<Zedaph> Elytra broke!

<Zedaph> Stuck on a cliff!

<Zedaph> Can’t get down!

  As he’s typing out his coordinates, he gets three messages in a row.

<Tango> Are you okay? Where are you?

<Impulse> Where are you Zed?? 

<Xisuma> Where are you? I can help! 

  Zedaph manages to send his coordinates before panic overwhelms him and he presses himself against the stone cliff face, squeezing his eyes shut. His world sways around him, making him dizzy and threatening to send him pitching forwards to the ground below.

  Xisuma is the first to arrive on the scene. One look up tells him that Zedaph is too low down to be grabbed from above, so he sets about trying to find a way to save his friend from down here.

  “Where is he?!” Tango gasps, landing neatly on the ground next to him. 

  Xisuma points him out. “There. We need a way to either slow or break his fall. I don’t suppose you have any splash potions of slow falling, do you?”

  Tango shakes his head. “N-No, I don’t. What about water?” 

  “Good idea, but too risky. From down here, we can’t tell where he’ll fall and we don’t have time to cover the whole area in enough water to completely break his fall.”

  Up on the cliff, about three minutes have passed since Zedaph first called for help, but it feels like over three hours to the terrified hermit. One glance down tells him that a crowd is forming under him but he can’t force himself to look down long enough to see who’s there. The only thing he could make out in his brief glance down is the bright yellow design he recognises from Impulse’s t-shirt. 

  “Zedaph!” 

  He almost glances down again but the nausea and panic rising in him is causing him to freeze. 

  Tango tries again: “ZED! Do you have anything on you to help get you down?!”

  Zedaph knows he should look in his inventory. Perhaps he has an ender pearl on him? It would be worth the pain of pearling from all the way up here if it meant he could be on the ground in seconds, and avoiding a terrifying fall would certainly be a bonus.

  But he can’t. He can’t move. His hands are gripping the stone indents so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. If he lets go, if he moves, if he tries to check his inventory, if he looks down, if he even opens his eyes…

  ...he’ll fall.   “He can’t get down!” Tango gasps. “What do we do?!”

  “Slime!” comes a voice from above.

  The small crowd looks up to find Iskall swooping overhead. He lands quickly on the ground and starts handing out slime blocks. “This’ll break his fall. Quick!” 

  Tango, Iskall, Impulse, Xisuma, and a few others start to spread the slime blocks all over the ground, creating a bouncy platform that will save Zedaph if he falls. 

  But less than a minute later, a terrifying scream sounds from above them as Zedaph finally loses his grip and slips right off the ledge.

  Zedaph screams again as he plummets, his hands wildly grasping at the air in a futile attempt to slow his fall. He knows he will die if he hits the ground, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it from happening. 

  Below him, he hears two distinctive voices scream his name. 

  A second later, he feels himself hit a bouncy surface and ricochet off. Arms flailing, he falls the six or so blocks to the ground, taking only a heart or two of damage as he does. He lies where he fell, gasping for breath through panic and adrenaline. 

  “Everyone get back!” calls Xisuma’s hazy voice. “Give him some room! He needs air!”

  He feels someone drop down next to him. “Zed! Zed, can you hear me?!”

  Zedaph can tell from his voice that Tango is terrified out of his mind right now, but he can’t summon the energy to talk or even nod. He is fully hyperventilating now, his lungs heaving as he tries and fails to gulp in enough oxygen through his sobs. 

  “What do I do?!” cries Tango in distress. “I don’t know what to do! How do I help him?!”

  Then a newcomer arrives. “Stay calm, Tango. Reassure him that you’re there and he’s safe. Keep saying that. And remind him to keep breathing.”

  “O-Okay…!” Tango takes a deep, shaky breath. “Z-Zed, it’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The knot in Zedaph’s chest loosens slightly. 

  He feels Tango’s hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Zed. Breathe deeply. In, out. In, out.”

  “Don’t tell him to breathe deeply,” comes the other voice. It sounds familiar but Zedaph can’t quite identify it just yet. “Just breathe. Mimic normal rhythm and it’ll return.”

  “R-Right, right. In. Out. In. Out. Can you do that for me? In. Out. In. Out.”

  Even though Zedaph knows Tango well enough to see through his calm facade, just the presence of his best friend is allowing him to slowly calm down. He mimics the timing of Tango’s breaths, his heartrate slowly but surely returning to normal. 

  At that moment, he hears the voice of his other best friend from somewhere behind him. “-want to see him! I want to see Zed!”

  Zedaph’s eyes are closed but he feels Impulse’s presence immediately. He breathes shakily but deeply out, finally able to stem the tears flowing from his eyes. 

  He rolls onto his back, one hand resting on his aching chest. 

  Someone takes his other hand and clasps it tightly. “It’s okay,” Impulse’s voice whispers. “You’re okay, Zed. You’re safe.” 

  Impulse’s hand in his and Tango’s reassuring hand on his shoulder helps Zedaph relax. His breathing returns to normal and he tilts his head back slightly, his stomach swimming with nausea. 

  He opens his mouth and manages to croak, “T-Tango.”

  “We’re here.” Tango can hardly raise his voice above a raspy whisper. “We’re both here.”

  Finally, Zedaph manages to open his eyes. Sure enough, he finds the pale faces of his best friends gazing worriedly down at him. 

  As he struggles to sit up, Impulse and Tango both immediately place a hand behind his back to help him. “Take it easy,” says Impulse softly. “You gave us a real scare, buddy.” 

  Gripping his best friends’ arms for support, Zedaph lets out a long breath. “I-I gave myself the fright of my life, th-that’s for sure.”

  “Zed…” Tango hesitates. “What happened up there? Why didn’t you open your inventory?”

  “I...um...” Zedaph also hesitates. He trusts his best friends implicitly but this is something he has never shared with anyone before. “I have acrophobia.”

  Tango gives his best friend a concerned frown. “Zed, I’ve known you for years. How have you never told me you’re scared of heights?” 

  Zedaph shrugs helplessly. “I-I don’t know, it just never came up before. It’s not as bad when I fly with an elytra cuz I’ve had years of practise; it’s just extended periods of time where I’m high up and I just freak out completely. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. And I’m sorry for scaring you guys.”

  Tango quickly shakes his head. “No no, don’t apologise. I’m just so relieved you’re okay.”

  Zedaph closes his eyes and rests his head on Tango’s shoulder. “Me too.”

  In the ensuing pause, the same voice from before says, “How often do you have panic attacks?”

  Opening his eyes again, Zedaph looks up and finds Grian standing a few blocks away, a concerned look on his face. “Hardly ever. This one just got triggered because of my acrophobia. You?”

  Grian hesitates, glancing from Impulse and Tango to Zedaph. He realises that Zedaph can tell from the way he calmly and efficiently gave his advice that he’s no stranger to panic attacks “Not often. Anymore.”

  “Thanks for helping us out, there,” Tango says gratefully. “I wouldn’t have had any idea what to do if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been in both your places before. And let’s just say I know from experience that if there’s anything worse than having a panic attack, it’s having one in the presence of people who don’t know how to help you.” 

  Impulse gives a thin smile. “Well, we’ll definitely know what to do if it happens again in future. Thanks, man.”

  “No worries.” Grian smiles back at him, before glancing down at Zedaph. “And Zedaph, take as much time to recover from this as you need to, without feeling guilty or like you should be over it by now. I don’t know how many attacks you’ve had in the past but take it from me: rushing your recovery will make things worse. Take some time to relax.”

  Zedaph manages a nod. “I will. Thank you.”

  Grian nods back. “Feel better, man. I’ll see you later.” 

  As Grian walks off, Zedaph attempts to rise to his feet, but his legs buckle. Thankfully, Tango and Impulse are right there to steady him and lift him up. 

  “Where do you want to go, Zed?” Tango asks gently. “Anywhere you want.” 

  After a moment, Zedaph glances up at Tango, then at Impulse. “I want to lie on the grass outside Toon Towers with you two and as much cake as I can eat.”

  Tango and Impulse exchange a grin.

  “We can arrange that.” 

[underground-monarch]

W O L F  S P I D E R

Last Life SMP fanfic/novelization of Rendog’s episode 4

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

SUMMARY: Rendog is the Boogeyman, and time is short for him to find a way to cure himself without hurting those he’s close to.

Ren’s mouth felt like he’d just swallowed sand. The red words hung in front of his eyes for an eternal moment before slowly fading, though the afterimage was burned into his retinas like a brand.

His voice squeaked out like the hiss from a deflating balloon, the only three words his shocked mind could muster: “Oh my goodness.”

Instantly, the itch began to creep up the back of his neck, and Ren had to fight the instinct to react. He was in enemy territory, and if any of the Southerners noticed the twitch of his shoulders it would give him away before he could say “boo”.

He had to get out, quickly. Not that quickly; don’t attract attention. Don’t stop to talk. Don’t be suspicious. Go while they’re talking among themselves.

*

Back in the relative safety of Shadow Tower, Ren reassessed his goals for the week. He had been meaning to build a wall around his little hilltop, but obviously that would have to be moved to the back burner. He deposited the small bundle of mossy cobblestone that he had stolen from the Southerners in a chest, and tried to think of how to go about his new, grisly priority task. He would have to be crafty about it; everyone was so suspicious of everyone, and with so many secret deals holding power over the destiny of the server’s inhabitants there was no way of knowing what domino effects might be set in motion from whoever he killed – dominoes that could end up leading to a sword in his own back.

Trapping the Shadow Tower could be his best bet, Ren decided. So many people had come to visit him in the previous weeks, and if they already thought the Tower was safe then they might be caught out.

It was worth a try.

*

His back ached, but as he paused to crane his neck up towards the distant floor of the Shadow Tower, Ren felt darkly proud of his pitfall trap so far. It wasn’t yet deep enough to guarantee a kill, but he needed to take a break; he hadn’t spoken to the Shadow Queen or any of their allies yet this week, and he didn’t want them to think there was anything fishy going on.

With the itch of the Curse still burning his skin, Ren climbed out of his pit and headed for the Fairy Fort.

*

“Ah, Queen of Shadows. Greetings.”

Lizzie didn’t waste time on formalities. “Grian’s been snooping around. I was underground so he didn’t find me, but I made sure to scare him off.”

“Good. We need to keep him away from here; we’ve got important things to do down there.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I’m ready for the zombie villager yet; I’m working on something very important, very special, and I can’t wait to reveal it to all of my allies shortly.”

“That sounds awesome. Have we heard from any of the other Fairies? The other Shadows?”

“Yes. I’ve been up to see them, and they’re ready to go when we are. But I’m not quite ready yet.”

“Good. Any- any Boogeyman news?” Ren dared to ask. The hand holding his axe clenched.

“Oh, no. Are you the Boogeyman?”

“Nope.” He knew he had answered too quickly, but he had to try and play it off. “Are you?”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “Uhh, no. But I don’t believe your answer.”

Of course she didn’t. The Queen of Shadows had also carried the Curse; she could recognise the signs in another.

Ren forgot how to breathe for a moment. He glanced around for an excuse, but the universe denied him. After too long a silence, he gasped out; “Wait, wh-what do you mean?” He tried to inject laughter into his tone, but of course it didn’t work.

“I mean I think you might be the Boogeyman.”

“Well… I’m not!”

“Ok. I will… trust you.” Her words held one meaning, but her tone was the complete opposite.

Ren broke. He hated deceiving his Queen. “Oh, I’m such a terrible liar,” he muttered squeakily. He cleared his throat and spoke again, more gruffly: “Queen of Shadows… I am the Boogeyman.”

“Oh, Ren, no!” Lizzie’s voice was sympathetic. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. But I do know this: the Alliance is safe.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” The Queen’s voice proved her relief at the promise of safety for her people. “Yes, when I was Cursed I made sure to keep the Alliance safe. I could hold back from acting upon the Curse that much.”

Ren breathed a hurried sigh. “Oh god, I am such a terrible liar, but I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.”

Lizzie laughed. “Well, I can’t help you–”

“I know.”

“– but thank you for telling me, Ren.”

*

The pit was finally finished. It surely had to be deep enough for death, but if somehow it wasn’t Ren would have an arrow nocked in his bow to pop his broken victim and confirm his kill. The shovel in his hand twitched, as though the Curse puppeting his body was imagining bludgeoning someone over the head with it.

But that would be too messy, too easy to escape; the trap would be much cleaner.

The only thing left to do now was to build the mechanism to trigger the fall…

A message in the chat broke through the red haze in Ren’s eyes. He hadn’t even realised that the edge of his vision was already stained by the Curse. He shook his head, trying to clear it; the cryptic “velociraptor” that the Shadow Queen had sent must mean it was time for the Shadow Alliance to gather for the curing of their zombie villager, and Ren couldn’t risk the Curse forcing him to act against his fellow fairies. Especially not after he promised Lizzie he would resist it.

*

Back at the Fairy Fort again, Ren was greeted by Lizzie and a second, cheerful-sounding voice:

“Hello!”

“BigB, what’s happening baby?”

“Ren! How’re you doing? It’s good to see you!”

“Where are you?” Ren emerged into the clearing of the Fairy Fort, but there was no sign of BigB or Cleo.

“I’m up here. Eyes in the sky.”

Ren turned just in time to see BigB drop from the branches of the tree he had just walked under. “Oh my goodness! Hey Shadow Fairies, what’s happening?”

“Hello!” Cleo followed BigB, shield and sword at the ready.

“Ok guys, before anybody else arrives,” Lizzie began, “I have to show you something. This is in case of emergencies, ok?”

Ren nodded. “Ok.”

“I will use a code word in the chat if I get into trouble, and I need all or one of you to help me in this instant. If I say ‘pull the lever, Kronk’ in the chat, I need you to pull this very lever right here.” Lizzie led them around to the side of her little cottage, to show them a secret lever tucked into a crevice in the border trees.

“… Ok?” Cleo sounded confused.

“Anyone can test it out now, to see what it does,” Lizzie told them.

“Uh, before we do, Queen of Shadows,” Ren interjected, bowing his head, “I don’t mean to question your, uh, intelligence, but… That’s quite a long thing to type; I mean, you’d probably be dead by the time you’ve finished typing.”

Cleo and BigB laughed, instantly lightening the mood.

“No, I will use-” Lizzie scrambled slightly to regain her composure; “I will use words to buy myself some time, and I will also try to buy myself some time while you get to the lever to pull it.”

Ren bowed and backed away. “I humbly retract my statement.”

The others laughed.

“Plus,” Lizzie added, smiling, “you know, it’s obviously such a covert thing that people say, so it obviously won’t arouse any suspicion.”

While she spoke, Cleo had been slowly inching towards the lever. She looked at the Queen for approval.

“All right, Cleo, hit it,” Ren said, at the same moment as Lizzie told her “Please pull the lever.”

Cleo did as she was told, and to everyone’s surprise the Queen of Shadows vanished in a spark of red and purple.

Ren and BigB gasped, and Cleo quickly backed away from the lever. “Oh! Hello?” Ren said, looking around wildly.

“What?” “What the heck?” BigB and Cleo were also scanning the clearing for Lizzie.

“She’s a magician,” BigB said softly.

“Nice!” Ren exclaimed, realising what must have happened. “Ender pearl teleporting magic!”

“She’s downstairs.” Cleo pointed at where Lizzie’s nametag had appeared below the house.

“Oh, it’s genius,” Ren whispered as Lizzie emerged at the top of the ladder which led down to the secret tunnel. “Wow, alright well that’s amazing! That is so cool, I’m very jealous. I want one in the Shadow Tower.” As he spoke, he wandered over to the edge of the pond where Lizzie’s axolotl lived.

“Very cool,” BigB agreed, following him.

“Yes, we should all make one,” Lizzie suggested. All four of them were now gathered around the rim of the pond.

“What’s going on in the Shadow Tower?” Cleo asked, her tone tinted with suspicion – Lizzie must have mentioned something to her about staying away from Ren’s base.

Ren quickly composed himself. “Please gather around the axolotl.” The Shadow Fairies huddled in closer around the pond. “I have something to tell you. I’ve already told the Queen of Shadows this particular fact,” he murmured, glancing at Lizzie, who nodded at him, “but I will share it with all of you right now. Please keep your voices low and make sure nobody’s listening.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I’m very ashamed to say, but… I am the Boogeyman.”

BigB gasped softly. He and Cleo took a few cautious steps away from Ren. The only person who did not move away was Lizzie. In fact, she moved closer as she spoke reassuringly to the other two. “It’s ok, he won’t hurt us.”

Ren was touched at her trust in him, and glad of Cleo and BigB’s trust in her as they stepped closer again with no hesitation.

“This is good then,” BigB whispered.

“You guys are safe,” Ren promised. Then he glanced down into the pond. “The axolotl might not be, though.”

“Oh no!” Lizzie gasped, but there was humour in her voice.

“Don’t kill the axolotl,” BigB told him.

Ren turned serious again. “I am working currently on a death machine at Shadow Tower. Do Not Enter, my allies.”

“Ok, so what we need to say,” Cleo murmured, ever the crafty trickster, “what we need to say is that… Ren has the villager.”

The other three gasped, impressed by her cunning.

“That’s genius,” Ren whispered. “Cleo, you’re an evil, mad genius and I love your face.”

“I’m scared all over again.” Lizzie stepped back, towards the corner where her ender pearl lever was hidden.

“This is very true,” BigB said, referring to Ren’s statement on his housemate.

“So what we need to do,” Cleo continued, “is we need to cure that villager, and then go around and spread that information.”

“Ok, so you guys sort the villager out, I’ma go create death trap… um… Project A-1X_1 Appendix Z…”

There was a moment of faintly confused silence.

“Yeah, ok, you do that,” Cleo said with a chuckle.

“And we’ll try and lure someone in,” Ren finished.

“I have an idea for how we can lure them,” Lizzie began. “You know, me and BigB sort of have a bit of a reputation for maybe not being the most intelligent players; maybe the goofiest of the bunch-” The others tried to stifle their laughter as she continued, “- perhaps we can wander around, and somebody could overhear us talking about the location of the villager!”

It was a good idea, despite the slight insult she had just paid herself and BigB, but they all agreed on the plan.

“Alright,” Ren said, the itch of the Curse once again filling his body with determined confidence, “Shadow Alliance… disperse!”

*

The pit was dug. Ren had decided to blow out the floor with TNT minecarts for a quick trigger, plus the extra damage that it would cause his victim would definitely ensure that they splattered when they hit the floor. A dark sense of satisfaction bloomed in his heart, the Curse itching for blood.

The redstone was almost too simple for such a deadly trap. Despite the adrenaline racing through his body, Ren’s hands were steady as he placed the TNT minecarts, which was just as well: even the tiniest nudge would destroy his hard work in an instant.

With the explosives primed and the floorboards replaced, Ren’s trap was set. His heart pounded, and the roaring blood in his ears beat like a ceremonial drum, the Curse chanting ever louder for the kill, kill, kill, KILL, KILL…

Ren’s eyes flashed red, and a sharp-toothed grin spread across his face. The next poor soul to enter Shadow Tower would not be leaving in one piece…

*

“Why are you causing a ruckus around my Tower, Jimothy?!”

“Oh gosh-!” Jimmy stumbled and spun around; he clearly hadn’t noticed Ren standing in the doorway of Shadow Tower.

“What are you up to?” Ren spoke with a mock-intimidating tone; he had been friendly with Jimmy and the other Southerners so far, and he didn’t want them to be made suspicious by a sudden switch of attitude.

“I- sorry, I was just-” Jimmy stuttered, clearly conscious of his intrusion onto Ren’s territory, “I was just trying to sell these spyglasses, and the Fairy Fort was empty, and we know that they have a villager in there, I was just a bit upset, put some trees about…”

“Aww,” Ren said sympathetically, but his thoughts were preoccupied, plotting the best way to trick Jimmy into Shadow Tower…

“Do you wanna buy one?” Jimmy asked hopefully.

Ren blinked, the Curse still whispering maliciously in his ears. “Uh… What do I get from it?”

“I mean, it’s a cool item! Look what I can do!” Jimmy put the spyglass to his eye and zoomed in on something in the distance.

It was amazing how such a simple thing could be so impressive.

“Ooh!” Ren chuckled. Instantly the bloodthirsty wolf vanished and became an excited puppy. “It is cool, it does make an awesome sound, that’s for sure. What’s the going price?”

“I’m selling them for one diamond!” Jimmy grinned like a kid trying to make pocket money from a lemonade stand.

“Oh you are?” Ren checked his pockets; he had two diamonds in his inventory.

“Yeah! Have you got one diamond?”

Ren grabbed one and threw it to Jimmy “Give it to me,” he said, deadpan, indicating the spyglass in the man’s hand.

Jimmy gave an excited squeal and passed the spyglass to Ren before picking up the diamond. “Oh my gosh, my first purchase!”

“Sweet!” Ren zoomed in on Jimmy’s grinning face, testing out his new acquisition.

“That’s amazing! Thank you thank you thank you!”

And the part of Ren’s mind that wasn’t possessed by the Curse smiled too.

*

With his web woven, all Ren had to do now was wait for his prey to become entangled in the trap. The only issue was that there didn’t seem to be many people wandering around in his area of the server. He had spent some time on the top of a nearby tree, scanning the surroundings with his new spyglass, but unfortunately the only person he had seen was Joel – and it was too early in the game for a red life to be lost.

He decided to pass the waiting time trying to make Shadow Tower look as un-suspicious as possible, adding homely details like a front door, just trying to appear as though he was simply working on his base and not harbouring a deadly trap.

Using the cobblestone he had dug out of the pit, Ren returned to the task he had originally planned for this week: building the wall around the Tower. If he was outside, he might be able to strike up conversation with anyone walking past, and then he could lure them in to the Shadow Trap.

*

The sound of a voice on the other side of his wall instantly made the itch of the Curse flare up again, and it was all Ren could do to maintain his calm.

“Ah, a young Skizzleman is at our boundaries!” He jumped up on top of the wall to see Skizz staring up in wonder at Shadow Tower. “Hey brother, what’s happening, baby?”

“This is just beautiful!” Skizz praised, looking around at the wall.

“Why thank you!” The Curse was pushing him to draw his sword and attack, to see the ground stained red like the edges of Ren’s vision, but he forced himself to remain amicable. “I mean, it’s not much yet… It’s getting there!”

“I disagree, I like it! May I come in?”

“Of course you can!” This was exactly what he had been hoping for. Ren bent down to break away a column of his wall so that Skizz could fit through. “Let me make a little hole for you…”

“All I can do is just hope that you’re not the Boogeyman,” Skizz said conversationally as he passed the wall. “I’m just hoping, I’m just hoping.”

Ren’s vision was darkening. Trying to keep an un-suspicious tone, he replied: “Well, I’m hoping you aren’t either; you look geared out of your mind right now, dude! What are you doing wandering around here in the middle of the day, hmm?”

Skizz stood in the centre of Ren’s little courtyard, in his full enchanted diamond gear with sword and shield at the ready. “I, um-” Skizz stuttered briefly, “This is a huge risk, I get it, but I wanted to come look around, there’s so much of this land I haven’t seen. Like, let’s just take a step back…” Skizz walked away from the Tower; Ren was terrified for a moment that he somehow knew that it was trapped.

“This is why you’re one of my faves!” Skizz continued, admiring the Shadow Tower with the almost-setting sun behind it from a better angle.

“Aw, I love you too, man.” He felt again like he had swallowed sand; you don’t say things like that to people when you’re about to trick them into falling to their death. To avoid looking at his friend, Ren bent down to his wolf, who had been following him, and made them sit; he didn’t want the innocent pup getting caught up in the explosion when the trap was activated. “It’s known as the Shadow Tower, Skizz; the Shadow Tower of Azadul!” he finished dramatically.

“Ah, see you come up with the greatest names!” Skizz stepped towards the Tower again. “I haven’t been to this area…”

“I mean, there’s quite a bit to see around here…” Ren moved forwards, trying to subtly lead Skizz inside. “From the top of the Shadow Tower you can see across the land, which is pretty sweet.”

“Yeah…”

“It’s, uh, it’s a pretty good view from up there…” Ren was trying to let the conversation lead naturally, but the Curse forced him ahead. Time is running out; blood must be spilled!

“Whose is that over there with the glass on it?” Skizz was looking over at the Castle on top of the mountain.

“That, I believe is ZombieCleo and BigB’s ‘Avenger’s Tower’ I believe is what they’re calling it.” Ren had moved inside the Shadow Tower now, staring intensely at Skizzleman still stood out beyond the door. “So yeah…”

Finally, Skizz followed him into the Tower. The rhythm of his beating heart was rising to a crescendo in Ren’s ears, so loud and fast that he was sure his victim must be able to hear it as well.

“This is it,” Ren said, looking around as though giving Skizz a tour. “Kinda private around here, if you know what I’m saying; got my own little bathroom and whatnot…” He stepped towards the little screen of wall he had built on one side of the Shadow Tower, but what Skizz didn’t know was that behind that wall was not a place for relieving oneself from nature’s call, but a single button that would relieve Ren of the Curse of the Boogeyman. Still talking casually, Ren reached over and pushed the button.

The effect was instantaneous, as he had hoped. Ren just barely managed to cling on to a ledge below the floor that he had been standing on milliseconds earlier, and the last thing he heard through the ringing from the blast was Skizzleman’s exasperated cry of “AW MAN-” before his voice cut off with the sound of his body smashing in the bottom of the pit.

The fly had fallen into the spider’s web.

Ren turned, breathing fast, hardly daring to believe it. The floor of the Shadow Tower was gone, as was a decent chunk out of the back wall. There was no fanfare, no message from the universe proclaiming him to be free of the Curse, but Ren knew his job was done.

“Got him!” The bloodlust had been fed. Now Ren just had to hope that Skizz would be able to forgive him for what he’d had to do.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thank you so much for reading! I haven’t written fanfiction in so long, but I had the idea for the title and just felt I had to; also, as I’ve fallen off writing for my original novel that I’m working on I thought doing this quick (ahem not really but anyway lol) novelization would be good practice :D I might add a second part of the rest of Ren’s episode with the aftermath of his kill and then *spoilers* BigB’s betrayal, but I’m not sure yet - I just wanted to get this done and posted before everyone’s episode 5s come out :) thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Ky

[justletmeplayminecraft]

So um. I saw the dialing thing and the line “never speak of this again” with Scar and Mumbo or smth? I dunno I just really liked their dynamic together in their recent eps and I’m super interested in what you’d do with this :D

i couldn't resist the urge to write some fluff with these idiots. based in a future where mumbo's base is fully operational, here's ~1.7k words of mumbo & scar desperately trying to share their single braincell. i hope you enjoy !!

Of all the stupid things Mumbo has done this season, he did not expect getting trapped in his own base to join that list. But, here he is, in his pitch black storage room, in a smaller yet cobblestone and dirt shelter. Trapped for the foreseeable future as he frantically scrolls through his communicator to see if any other hermits are online. It's embarrassing. Absolutely and utterly embarrassing. And the worst thing is, he should have been able to see it coming!

There are reasons he's part of the one braincell squad. Several, in fact, but this moment has to be up there in his top ten.

On the other side of the wall, a zombie groans too close for comfort. He's sitting on grassy ground in a one block space, with only the light of his communicator for comfort. His stuff is going to de-spawn at this rate. This is terrible. Why is nobody else online? Usually there's at least a few others around at this time of day!

<GoodTimeWithScar joined the game>

Ah. Mumbo's not sure if he should be relieved or kiss his items goodbye. Maybe both. He sighs, fingers already moving to send a message.

<MumboJumbo> scar

<GoodTimeWithScar> Mumbo! Good morning!

<MumboJumbo> i need your help

<GoodTimeWithScar> Oh?

<MumboJumbo> could you come to my base? with a golden apple please?

<MumboJumbo> i promise i will pay you back but im in a bit of a pickle

<GoodTimeWithScar> The great Mumbo needs my help?

<GoodTimeWithScar> What do you even need a golden apple for? Just a normal one, right?

<MumboJumbo> second question, yes

<MumboJumbo> first question, my base died with me trapped in my storage room and it needs feeding to revive it

<GoodTimeWithScar> You know maybe I shouldn't have asked.

<GoodTimeWithScar> I'm on my way. Call?

<MumboJumbo> thatll work.

Mumbo leans his head against cobble, navigating through Scar's contact until he's able to find the call icon. He takes a deep breath, thankful for the good connection across the server. What would he do if he couldn't contact anybody down here? Cry, probably. Die a lot. His communicator dials, then rings for two seconds. Two seconds too long, if you ask him.

"Mumbo!" Scar's voice is accompanied by the explosion of a rocket, wind crackling through the call. Mumbo sighs in relief.

"Scar you are a... sound for sore ears?" Scar laughs, and Mumbo can't help a small giggle in response. He moves to his headphones, hoping to block out the mobs filling his storage room. Why did he think this was a good idea for a base?

"Okay, Mumbo, you're going to have to guide me through what I need to do here." It's strange to hear Scar so straight forward, honestly. His voice still holds that light-hearted note in it, it'll be dark day when Scar loses that.

"Right, okay." Mumbo takes a deep breath, picturing his base in his mind. What's the most Scar-proof way he can explain this? Oh, if Scar dies as well- "So, on the outside of my base, there should be these big towers of redstone lamps, right? They'll all be off right now. But, near the bottom, there should be a chest. You put the golden apple in there."

"Ah, in the like. Big blocks of four?" Mumbo claps, before wincing at how loud that probably was over the microphone.

"Yes! That! Can you see a chest at the bottom?" Mumbo listens closely to the burst of a rocket, the sound of feet stumbling on the ground. He holds his breath, waiting for the confirmation that this situation might finally be over.

"I see it!" His body sags with the release of air. "Okay, uh, I've put the apple in." Mumbo listens closely, taking out a headphone. Distantly, underneath all the mobs, he hears pistons, a familiar heartbeat starting up. If he sinks down any further he's going to become a puddle. "The lights are coming on!"

"Okay-" Mumbo's hands wave in front of him as he speaks "-Go to the centre of my base, there should be nether portals and a massive hole leading downwards." The sounds of movement, footsteps echoing on the walls.

"What the heck, Mumbo, how many mobs do you have down there?" Mumbo sighs, closing his eyes. They're so close.

"Are all of the lights on?" He checks.

"Well, it's lit up. I can see your chests, and I think that's your stuff? Jeez, if I knew I was going to need to fight I would've been more prepared."

"How bad is it?" The high hum from Scar is a pretty good answer.

"Could be better." He hears a block move, followed by Scar telling him, "Alright, I've set my spawn. I'm gonna try to snipe them." Mumbo leans forward, awkwardly manoeuvring so he can break a dirt block against the ground. Light floods into the one block space. He can see the feet of mobs wandering between tall grass. In the distance, there's a clang of an arrow finding a skeleton. He breathes out, wincing at the ache as he pushes up from that position. He's too tall for this.

He thinks he remembers where his stuff was. If the coast is clear, he might be able to run for it and duck back in here. Get his sword equipped, elytra on, and things will be fine! He could salvage some of his dignity. Hopefully. Probably not.

"Scar?" He asks, "Could you tell me if the coast is clear so I can grab my stuff?" It takes a second to get a reply, marked by the ding of a successful hit.

"I can do that." Scar sounds distracted, focused. "Wait- oh, nononono-" Mumbo's communicator dings. He doesn't need to look to know what message will greet him.

<GoodTimeWithScar fell to his death trying to escape a skeleton>

"So, uh, Mumbo. We might have a bit of a situation." Mumbo buries his face into his hands. He twists his body down again to get an idea of how many mobs are left. Counting the number of feet and shadows he can see, it's not looking good.

"Yeah, we certainly might." His voice is high, stressed laughter escaping him with his face pressed into the dirt. "What do we do now!" Scar's bubbling giggles are accompanied by the scramble of feet across stone.

"Um, die a bunch?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's arms give up and he falls into a heap. His shoulders shake with his own giggles, the two in harmony over the call.

"Maybe it's a good thing nobody else is on."

Scar has to wait for his laughter to die down to speak, "I bet I'll die less than you." Mumbo smirks.

"You're on."

-

About half an hour later, Mumbo is sorting his stuff whilst Scar scrolls through their death messages. He's bruised all over, has collected a few scratches from loose arrows, but it looks like all of his items are here. This has gone better than he expected. He still wants to crawl into bed and never get out again.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I've won," Scar announces, looking up from his communicator with a pleased grin. Mumbo makes a noise, pulling up his own screen.

"Absolutely not. There's no way, you died so many times!"

"Yeah, but I died eight times. You died ten." Honestly, he's probably right. Mumbo lost track after death three. Everything blurred into a mess of sprinting off the bed to get his items, picking up half of them, maybe getting a swing or two, dying. And then repeat that apparently ten times.

He sighs as he finishes counting up the deaths. Scar did indeed win. He puts the last of his items in the right slots, leaving the rest to the sorting system. Finding his bed, he flops onto it. Scar is sitting on the stone centre beaming at him. The cut on his forehead is barely healing up, a bruise on his cheek.

"No, no. I want to know exactly how you ended up in this position." He's leaning forward, smug curiousity on every inch of his expression. Mumbo shuts his eyes, whining at him.

Mumbo lifts his hand, gesturing towards his chests, "I should have potions in here somewhere, if you want one." Scar giggles, shaking his head.

"Do you have to?"

"I want to know why I died eight times, Mumbo!"

"You're going to laugh."

"That's the plan." Mumbo shakes his head, rolling around so he can sit on the bed. Scar is waiting patiently, even crossing his legs like he's expecting a bedtime story.

"I made my base alive?" Mumbo explains, not sure why he's questioning himself. He did the redstone and everything. "And, as it gets unhappier, more things close off."

"Including your storage room?" Scar asks, clear amusement in his voice. Mumbo finally breaks into a giggle, falling onto his knees.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time!" He exclaims. "It stops sorting items, the lights go out, and then it locks itself down!"

"With you in it."

"I forgot Xisuma was working in the area!" His groan gets mixed with a laugh. "Oh, I am such an idiot."

"How about we agree to never speak of this again?" Scar suggests. Mumbo's halfway through nodding when Scar adds, "For a few diamonds?" Mumbo bursts into surprised laughter, quickly dissolving into giggles.

"You know what, you deserve them after this." Scar laughs.

"Maybe I'll have to die for people more often," he teases, watching Mumbo as he heads to his diamond chest.

"I wouldn't advise it personally." Mumbo looks over his shoulder at him. "That's how Grian gets you."

"Mm, very true." Scar takes in the storage room again, pocketing the diamonds Mumbo offers him. "Do you think you could show me some of the redstone behind this place? I am absolutely fascinated by how you managed to make such a counterproductive system."

"Well, you know I'll never miss an opportunity to show off my redstone." Scar takes the hand Mumbo offers him, smiling.

-

It's an hour or so later. Mumbo is showing off how he sends the signal between floors when their communicators beep.

<xisumavoid> should I be concerned about the number of deaths in the log?

They share a look and laugh.

[mine-sara-sp]

The memory of the observer [Ch4]

"I can’t believe I'm helping you." Grian heard his friend mutter under her breath.

"You always say that!"

He chuckled as he carefully placed the TNT around the room, creating a checkerboard pattern in the floor. 

This was going to be hilarious. They would be so scared to walk around here! 

"I always mean it," He heard a little bark coming from the door's direction as he placed his last bit of TNT.

"I'm gonna put Rufus outside, it's too dangerous in here for puppies!" 

Grian smiled, of course, she would think about the dog's safety. 

He turned in her direction ad saw her picking the dog up in her arms. The puppy barked and waved his tail happily as he tried to give her kisses on the face. 

She laughed as she tried to open the door while holding the puppy away from her face.

"Aww! He likes you N--

Grian woke up suddenly in his bed, his heart was beating frantically and his ears ringing. 

Almost instantly he tried to look at his watch to know the time, but he had to take a deep breath first and felt the smell of gunpowder in his nose.

That usually meant one thing.

He looked inside his inventory. Empty.

He had died. He had died while he was spacing out again. 

He quickly looked at the main chat on his communicator.

<Grian was blown up by Creeper>

Grian groaned. Of course It was a creeper! What perfect timing! 

He saw a glimpse of some messages as closed the com but he would think about those later. If he was lucky they were talking about other things and not asking about his new death.

He didn't feel lucky today, not with this start. 

Grian pressed the palms of his hands on his eyes for a few moments, trying to recollect what little he had remembered before thinking about what he was doing before. 

He almost had a face, he almost had a name! 

What was it again?

How was she?

 She was.. she was nice. She was.. caring.

Grian's chest ached a little, a feeling he couldn't really pinpoint. He missed this person he couldn’t remember maybe?

What was her name?

Something with an N? 

Something...

His thoughts got blurry quickly, he felt as if what little he was feeling and remembering was about to escape from his hands like sand. He closed his hands into fists as he felt frustration build up in him.

 The wandering thoughts. Trap them in ink.

Grian jumped down from his bed, leaving it a mess and rushing to the nearest ender chest.

He quickly grabbed a spare elytra and clumsily put it on. It was slightly crooked. If the other saw him they probably would have scolded him for putting it on so badly, something about it being unsafe. It didn’t matter now.

He needed to get to his stuff quickly.

The took off was messy, he almost face-plants into the three line of the commune. The others would have been right telling him that flying with an elytra non-properly secured was a stupid idea. Still, he managed to fly off. 

He landed at Hermitland pretty soon, tripping a little on his steps and feeling the elytra twists around his back uncomfortably. 

Where was he before? Where did he die?

He should have looked for creeper holes while he was still flying, but didn't think it through properly. He was too preoccupied with landing without crashing.

He tried to remember.

What was he doing before spacing out? What did he need to do?

He was.. he..

The Sahara Eats stand! He was restocking it!

With a grin, he ran on the gray pathway in the direction of the mini shops. 

He caught a glimpse of a familiar gray helmet peeking from the entrance of Dig straight down as he ran past it.

“Hey Grian-” He heard Xisuma call but he didn’t bother turning around, he arrived at the shop and saw the hole that the creeper had left.

The shop was slightly damaged but nothing that couldn't be fixed in a few minutes, he looked at his scatterer belongings and quickly jumped down the hole, grabbing everything but most importantly what he needed right now.

The book.

He flipped through the scribbled up pages until he got to a blank one.

He tried to put down what little he had remembered, but he couldn’t really find the right words. 

She's caring, her name starts with N. She's a dear friend.

Grian felt frustration build up as he didn't seem to be able to add anything more to it. Nothing else. 

He took in a deep breath and tried to let the emotion go away. Don't get angry, just think a little bit more.

What did her face look like?

She looks- her face- her smile- 

Grian stared at the tip of his pen as a drop of ink fell on the messy page. The image he had in his head wasn't clear enough to put it in words.

Maybe words weren't the right idea.

He started scribbling messy lines, he wasn't exactly an artist but he did draw from time to time, usually building projects. It surely wouldn't do justice to this person but it was better than leaving the page blank.

In the middle of the page, there was now a drawing of a faceless figure holding a puppy. 

Grian resisted the urge to rip the page out of the book.

"Is everything alright?" Grian instinctively closed the book before looking up at the voice.

Xisuma looked down at him from outside the hole, Grian didn’t like not being able to tell what his expression was like because of his helmet, he could only see his eyes when he wore that. 

“Yeah! I just..” Grian clung hard on the book for an instant then stood up quickly, taking some dirt from his inventory, putting the book at its place. “Need to patch this up, and Sahara eats too! I didn’t hear the creeper.”

“I see,” X replied calmly.

Grian started filling up the hole, trying not to look at the admin. Which became a little more difficult when he jumped down the hole too and started filling it with him. 

Luckily Xisuma didn’t say anything, just helped to fill the hole and then fixing the Sahara Eats stand. Grian was glad about it. 

“Thanks.” He said, unsure if he was thanking him for not asking anything else or for fixing the hole. Probably both. 

“No problem.” He was about to walk away but stopped, as he had remembered something.  

“Say, did you see Doc and Scar around lately?”  

Grian frowned, thinking about the last time he had seen the two of them. He was sure he had seen them work on the entrance of area 77 at some point a week ago… or was it two weeks ago? Still, he didn’t see them in a while. He assumed they were busy with whatever was going on inside the depths of the military facility.

"Not really, I think they have been working on the inside of area 77.."  Probably on his time machine actually. "Why you ask?" 

"Keralis asked me to go check on them, he seemed a little worried… I'll probably go take a look today."

Oh? Was Keralis paying more attention to them than he was? He knew that he had built his house in a place specifically chosen to look in the area, had he noticed something he and Ren didn't? Or was he just a worried friend? 

Probably the latter, Keralis seemed like a very good friend, even if he had spoken very little to him, he had shown he was a very good person in those moments in the cave a few days ago. 

Maybe he should visit him later. 

"I'll keep an eye out for them. I should be doing that anyway." 

Xisuma tilted his head to the side. 

"Try to also sleep sometime. You could use those bags under your eyes as extra inventory space."

It sounded like a joke, but at the same time, it wasn't. Sleeping had been too difficult lately. 

Grian instinctively brought his right hand under his eye. Was it so bad? It's true he was going on mostly 4 hours of sleep per night this week, but he didn't think it would be so noticeable. 

"Well, maybe that was my goal all along!" Grian replied with a slight grin. 

Xisuma chuckled lightly. 

"Seriously, take care."  He said softly before walking off. 

"I'm trying to" it's what he wanted to say. But he held it back. He waited until the admin was out of sight to move, he didn't know why but he felt as if he was stuck in place until he was completely out of his line of sight. 

He managed to finally restock Sahara Eats and fixed the straps of his elytra. He was about to fly back to the commune when he felt the low buzz of his communicator. 

[Private message from MumboJumbo]

<MumboJumbo> Can we hang out today?

He looked at the message for a while. 

Technically he should go back to work in his way inside area 77. He had started to dig a tunnel to get in there, but he had noticed that spending too much time in that tunnel made him.. space out more frequently. As long as he was inside of it.

He thought about the book in his inventory, he had managed to map out an entire room from his memories. A room he used to have, with tunnels everywhere going under people bases. He knew all the tunnels were supposed to be named, but he didn't remember the names yet. 

That's what he saw the most when he went down there.

He needed Ren around to shake him up from time to time to actually work on the tunnel, and today Ren was busy building something else. 

So maybe spending some time with Mumbo was a good idea. 

Sure, if he didn't fall asleep on him. 

He sent a simple reply and flew off to a nether portal. 

---

In the main redstone room of the Sahara building, Mumbo smiled tiredly at his communicator. 

[Private message from Grian]

<Grian> Sure! Where are you?

<MumboJumbo> Sahara

He signed in relief as if a giant boulder had been taken off his chest.

He hadn’t been able to calm down up until that point, he didn’t know why he felt such a rush of anxiety when he saw that death message.

<Grian was blown up by a creeper>

Mumbo had twisted and turned nervously the little gold ring on his finger for minutes on end. 

Was it an accident? Was it that again?

He couldn’t know. That’s probably what made him so nervous 

He put had the communicator back in his pocket and tried to get back to work. He needed to get himself a little busier, but even working on the complicated redstone of Sahara didn’t help him much.

He had made a promise. And he intended to keep it. 

But that promise didn't really have a clear definition.

 Grian said he wanted to be treated normally, he didn't want to see their worry or concerns.

But Mumbo just didn't know anymore what would feel normal to Grian. 

To him worrying was normal, he couldn’t stop. Even if he wanted to. 

He wanted to ask if everything was all right, to go check on him so often. But he had to hold himself back. 

He didn't know what was the limit. 

How much concern could he show to his friend before he felt like he wasn't being treated normally? 

What if he asked one too many times how was he doing and Grian shut completely?

What if Grian felt Mumbo broke his promise? 

He couldn’t let that happen. He cared too much to risk that. 

He thought about all the possible outcomes to every question and every conversation, he saw the worst first and then the most likely. He picked words carefully when he could. 

Though messages it was easy, he could stare at the messages and read them over and over before sending them. Till they felt safe enough.

He had spent way too much time just writing “Are you okay?” or “Is everything alright?” and any other variations of these phrases, to just cancel them a few moments later. 

This probably wasn't "treating him normally" but Mumbo couldn't help it!

He was scared.

He was so scared of what was happening to his friend, he was scared he would get farther and farther away from him if he didn't do something quickly. 

He was scared he would stop talking.

Grian was right when he said that he and Iskall couldn't help. It felt so true, but they still tried! They tried so hard.

Mumbo took a deep, deep, long breath. 

He was overthinking everything again. 

Right now he needed to finish his work on the redstone circuit and then he’d be able to just..hang out with Grian! Nothing else. 

If they could spend a day together without worrying about anything it would mean that everything was going mostly okay, no?

He hoped so. 

It didn’t take much for Grian to arrive and the first thought that crossed Mumbo’s mind was that he needed a nap. 

He looked tired, but Mumbo had seen him in worst conditions actually, which reassured him slightly. He remembered how he and Iskall looked when they were working on the G-Team base, they looked more dead than Cleo. 

"Hey dude!" Mumbo called him from the top of the redstone contraption. 

Grian looked up and gave a small and tired smile. 

“Still updating the system?” 

Mumbo nodded. 

“Yeah, but I’m almost done, don’t worry about it!”  He said as he speeds up the pace to finish his work.

He also realized that he didn’t really think of what to do with Grian yet, sure hang out, but what else? Maybe they could go play some of the games over at Hermitland, but Grian probably had just came from there! He should have thought about it better. 

Maybe they would decide on something once he was done.

“How’s the hippie stuff going?” He asked without stopping his work on the machine. 

“I’m trying to make a tunnel and Ren made a “shroom room”... I can still smell the mushrooms on my clothes!” 

Mumbo frowned, unsure of what a “shroom room” looked like, then he grinned slightly and looked down at Grian, that was still standing near the entrance of the room.

“Ah, yes. I can clearly smell them too!” He said jokingly. 

“Hey! I don’t stink that bad!” Grian gasped in fake offense as he held back a laugh. 

Mumbo chuckled seeing his friend trying to hold back an amused smile and failing miserably. 

“My nose says otherwise!” He added as he went back to his work. 

He spent a few more minutes working on the circuit, it was almost done, just a few more blocks to be placed and then he just needed to check if it all worked, tho, even if it didn’t work he wouldn’t spend more time on it, he would fix it later. 

“Is it because of your tunnel that you look so tired? Did you spend all night digging it?” He then asked hesitantly.

Grian didn’t respond right away and when he did it came out more very softly and hesitant almost as the question before. 

“No… that’s not why.”

Mumbo waited quietly for his friend to continue. 

He didn’t. 

“Uhm, Why then..?” he asked as he placed the last piece of the machine. 

No response. He fidgeted with the ring on his finger. 

“Grian?” He called as he looked down. 

For a moment his blood ran cold as he saw the familiar sight of Grian standing there, gaze fixated on an undefined place on the window. 

He was about to jump down from the machine and go next to him but Grian seemed to snap out of his little daze very quickly. 

It maybe lasted a minute or two then. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and then reached for something in his inventory.

A book and quill. 

He sat on a nearby chest and started writing.

Mumbo let out a shaky breath and stopped fidgeting with his ring. This was fine, he was.. fine. He didn't even hear his question but it was okay, he would ask again later.

“What are you writing there?”  Mumbo asked trying to peek from the height of the Redstone contraption. Not that he could see anything other than black splotches all over the page.

Grian seemed a little startled as if he was so concentrated on what he was writing that he had forgotten Mumbo was in the room with him. He almost let the ink fall down on the page but managed to stop the bottle from spilling and only get a few drops on his hand instead.

"Sorry.." He muttered under his breath, looking for something to clean his hand with. Then signed and put his hand on a blank page, leaving a few stains and probably deciding to clean the rest later. 

He looked down at the page for a few instants then up at Mumbo. 

"I've been trying to write down all I started to remember," He looked back down on the scribbled up page and added a few lines "It should help, I hope." He added speaking softly.

Mumbo rubbed his hands together to get rid of some of the Redstone dust and jumped down from the machine, letting his elytra activate to get near Grian in a swift landing. 

"Can I see?" He asked holding back the urge to start fidgeting with his golden ring once again.

Grian's first instinct was to close the book with a quick and loud sound. Like he had done earlier when Xisuma saw the book. He had been contemplating whenever it was a good idea or not to show it to others and his guts kept yelling at him that "no" he shouldn't show it. 

The amount of scribbled up sentences without rhyme or reason, the messy drawings and random words. In his mind, that would have made him look insane to the eyes of others.

But he too had made a promise. 

He would talk. 

He clutched the book tight leaving some ink stains on the cover. "It's messy..” He muttered before handing it to Mumbo.

Mumbo smiled taking the book. Seemingly relieved.

“If it’s anything like your base then be ready to catch me, ‘cause I will faint” He joked. 

Grian chuckled slightly. 

Mumbo sat beside Grian on the chest and opened the book. 

The first thing that caught his attention was the phrase written on the back of the cover.

"Wandering thoughts are easier to keep track of if you trap them in ink?"  He read out loud.

"It was already there when I got the book, it's just a way to say that I should write down stuff I remember."

"A very fancy way to say it."

"Yeah... At first, I thought it might have been by Joe, but I've seen his handwriting, he's not this bad."

Mumbo nodded looking at the way the message was written. Tilted to the side, heavy and not a single letter was the same size as another.

He remembered Doc having very bad handwriting, but it was worse like a "doctor" bad. Neat but at the same time unreadable. 

Cub used to have really messy writing, but he got better at some point, Scar got tired of having to write down all the important stuff by himself to have it readable.

Mumbo started flipping through the pages. 

The first few were not messy at all. Grian’s handwriting was pretty and a bit fancy at times like usual.  

Mumbo still remembered when Iskall showed him the letter to join the Architech Grian left at his base, full-on calligraphy there.

The first notes were things that made very little sense to Mumbo, but they were the kind of nonsense that he noticed Grian would get confused over at the beginning of the season. 

When he first appeared in their world.

 The list ranged from “stairs should disappear on ice” to “Chunk Errors are useful, they should be a thing here!”, some things he already heard him talk about and others not yet. 

“The chickens will not explode? That’s the egg thing isn’t it?” Mumbo looked at Grian and they both had a chuckle thinking back to the failed egg prank. 

“I was so sure that they would explode everywhere!” He whined but with a smile on his face.

Mumbo went back to the book. 

The more he advanced to the pages the more confused it became: Other than being written all over the place it was also written in every direction possible, he had to turn the book around a few times to read some of the words. The writing wasn't so pretty anymore but still clearly Grian's. 

“I wrote most of this stuff while I was half asleep…" Oh, so this is what he's been doing instead of sleeping, thought the redstoner. "I didn’t bother with what direction the book was facing.” Grian continued.

Mumbo squinted as he tried to read some of the more messy words. 

Some were clearly notes on buildings. Block combinations, room descriptions, and measures. Some drawings even. 

Very bad drawings but still.  

The one he seemed to have spent more time on was one of a large room with what seemed to be his face at the end of it and many corridors at the sides. There seemed to be some attempt at naming the corridors but any attempt had been scribbled on. 

"I don't like this one." 

Mumbo frowned and looked at his friend. 

"Why?" He asked.

"These tunnels should lead to...to friends," He crossed his arms, clearly irritated. "There should be their names and I can't remember a single one!" 

Mumbo nodded and turned pages. He wasn't sure what to reply to that.

He found a page mostly blank if not for a few phrases that didn't really seem to connect to one another. 

"The mobs falling keep hitting me. "

"They put obsidian on my chests and called me greedy. "

"I promised him cake at the end."

Grian didn't say anything to this one so he quickly moved to the next.

There were not many phrases in the last pages, mostly random words or letters, and a few more drawings. Some of them repeated multiple times. 

Empire was one of those. He had written it all over the edges of the pages. 

On one of the last pages, there was a single drawing of a faceless girl holding what seemed to be a puppy. The drawing took most of the space of the page but there were some small notes around it.

She's caring. She's a dear friend.

Mumbo felt incredibly sad watching that picture. For a moment he imagined what It must be like to know you forgot someone and not being able to remember their name or face.

Being realistic he was sure that he had forgotten someone, everyone on the server probably did. But he wasn't aware of it, he had no idea if he had forgotten 1 or 100 people, while Grian seemed close but not close enough to know how many people he had lost when he arrived in this world. 

He was close enough to remember how many and how he felt about some but nothing more. 

He wanted to help him.

Mumbo closed the book and stared at its cover for a moment, collecting his thoughts. 

Grian waited for him to say something at first but then decided that there had been too much silence in between that moment and when Mumbo had closed his book. 

“I know, it’s kinda creepy at times," He started off while pulling at the sleeves of his jumper "It’s just that I remember stuff at weird times and if I don’t put it down quickly I--” “It’s not that weird...Well, I mean, It is technically. But hey! You are doing something none of us ever did!” Grian Blinked.

“I..am?” He said unsure.

“Yeah! None of us remembers a single bit of what was before coming to Hermicraft, while you are starting to remember something!.” Mumbo smiled and gave the book back to Grian. "Sure, right now you don't remember everything yet but you're working on it, no?"

Grian nodded and looked down at his ink-stained hands for a few moments. 

“What if I can’t remember everything? What if I stay stuck like this with.. bits and pieces of everything?”

Mumbo didn’t respond right away. 

"Why.. Why don't you try building?"

"Uh?" Grian looked at his friend that right now just seemed to have realized something. He quickly reopened the book and flipped through the pages. 

"Hear me out, the first thing you always seem to remember is always build related." 

He pointed at the pages with the building notes, the room with the names and other less detailed structures. 

"It was made out of this or I made it in this style.  You're a builder! Your brain works in terms of structures."

Grian nodded and stared at the room drawn on the page.

He doesn’t have a base just yet. 

He doesn’t have all the names.

"Just...pick a block. A single material. Think of what you had to build with it."

Grian stayed quiet for a while and picked the book back from Mumbo. Maybe it was worth a try?

“Can you help me with it?” he asked hesitantly.

Mumbo smiled.

“Of course!” He said cheerfully “I wasn’t really sure of what we could do today anyway-” He then admitted sheepishly making Grian laugh.

The builder stood up and quickly put the book back into his inventory.

“Let’s go to my base,  I’m pretty sure I have a little bit of every existing block.” Mumbo let out a strangled whine. “Do we really have to look into your storage?”

Grian grinned and sprinted outside of the room, grabbing a handful of rockets and flying off. 

“There’s no escape from the chest monsters!!” He yelled as he took off.

Mumbo rolled his eyes to the sky and followed his friend with a smile. 

[sweetest-honeybee]

To Hell and Back

Chapter 12

Summary: Grian wonders a bit about the Hels dimension and Hels (the knight) has a lovely nap in the greenhouse.

Characters: Grian, Helsknight, Evil Xisuma

TW: None

——————

Grian couldn’t help but to wonder about the incident involving the NPC. With some further questioning, Xisuma had told him that it was the NPC that landed Hels in the Overworld. That there were other evil alter egos of all of the Hermits and they successfully attempted dethroning Hels from being champion.

Oddly, Grian felt a bit bad about it. He didn’t know why for sure but he did. The builder thought he banished the NPC or at least disabled him without a second thought that maybe he’d be back.

But Hels wasn’t one of their main dimensions. From Xisuma’s research, it was like the Nether just darker and moodier and almost all the land was covered in lava. He said plants don’t grow there, most entities don’t last more than a day upon spawn. There were still some entities that belonged in the Nether that resided in Hels, but not many. It was mostly overrun by overly competitive player-like mobs. Namely, the Evil Hermits.

Absentmindedly, he began continuing on the back of his castle. He needed something to do while he thought about it, after all. Grian wondered further.

NPC Grian wasn’t exactly what he’d call the official “Evil Grian”. But if the universe said so, he supposed it wasn’t too much nonsense. The thing was a demon after all.

Quickly, the builder ran through stacks of concrete and prismarine.

But nonetheless, he still felt bad. It wasn’t his fault that Hels was stabbed and almost died, though technically Grian was the one who summoned the demon in the first place and banished him to a random dimension fit for his actions. Grian also thought about the fact of survival. He would’ve guessed that NPC wouldn’t have survived this long, not unless he was endowed with powerful abilities.

Which he certainly had but it was bound to run out at some point.

How did the Evil Hermits survive? Why weren’t they killed off? None of the other Hermits made clones of themselves like Wels did. Wels has said that Hels said something about finally having a vessel or something. It only made his head hurt to keep thinking about it.

Nonetheless, despite his demented personality, Grian hoped that Hels didn’t hold a grudge against him for too long.

Finally, he was out of materials. Only about a quarter of the back was left to finish so he called it a day.

While Giran continued with his own activities, Ex was having a lovely time rambling about how to make flower dye to the knight sitting across from him on the floor.

“So basically, you just grind the petals up in the bowl here with a little bit of water. If you want darker colors, just add some squid ink. With lighter colors, you have to take some white dye and slowly add the other color because you can’t make light colors the other way around.” Ex thought for a second. “Kind of like paint!”

Hels hummed in response, continuing to pick and replace tulips while Ex continued to ramble.

“Hm, I should try painting. Maybe we should do that next time like finger painting. I think one of the Hermits figured out how to make canvases to paint on. Lots of wool involved since we can’t get cotton. Oh! Speaking of wool, I took up a knitting class a while ago. We can try that too and I can help you! I think you’ll look nice in a sweater. Anyways-“

The knight simply began tuning out Ex’s random thoughts, occasionally nodding or ‘mhm’-ing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the afternoon sun beginning to set, casting an orange glow in the greenhouse over the various flowers.

Had they really been there that long? That time span was quite a jump from how long their last hang out was. Without thinking, Hels yawned, catching Ex’s attention immediately.

“You tired? You can stop if you like, I have another batch I need to make so I can restock so I won’t be stopping for a little while.” Ex continued grinding at the petals while he spoke. Hels stopped his task with a grunt and leaned against the trap doors outside the flowerbeds, opting to just watch while Ex finished his work.

It was odd to see him with so much concentration given his general personality.

The sun lowered even more and a dim blue rested over the room. The soft grinding of the stone, occasional paper-like brush of the new flowers pulled away from their pile, and the crickets chirping outside brought on a serine night. Without thinking much about it, Hels closed his eyes. Though he didn’t intend to fall asleep, the knight rested further against the trap door, soon going more limp to indicate that he was now sleeping.

Well, a nap wouldn’t hurt.

Ex didn’t immediately notice while he was in the zone that Hels had even fallen asleep. Not until he grinded out the last few petals an hour later and dumped the remaining dye into a bucket that was placed between him and Hels. He stopped and gazed at the sleeping knight, only this time he didn’t see the peaceful expression Hels wore the day before. A frown spread across Hels’s face, almost as if he seemed sad.

A scowl, Ex could probably dismiss. But this didn’t sit right. Apologetically, he shook Hels’s shoulder.

“Hels...Hels wake up.” The action seemed to startle the knight out of his sleep. He jumped and sat up quickly, looking around frantically. That was until he rubbed at his eyes and sighed through his nose.

“I ‘m….I fell asleep,” he pointed out groggily.

Ex merely stared at him with a hint of worry. “You looked sad...And what was that? You nearly jumped out of your skin!”

Hels was still processing what the man was saying but managed to catch on to what he implied. “Nnn....Nightmare...I thiiink….” He yawned widely. “We done yet...? ‘M still tired.”

Ex chuckled at his quite drunken tiredness, thought the nightmare part was somewhat concerning. Again, like the day before, he wondered if Hels knew what he was even saying. Perhaps that was a habit of his that Ex seemed to discover. The knight looked around blankly, eyes stopping on a bundle of roses in the corner and making a face at it.

“What on Earth is that….” He then blinked a few times, eyes widening briefly. “Oh wait, still greenhouse. M’kay then.”

Without thinking, Ex began to laugh. “Hels, do you hear yourself?”

“Jus’ tired, we’re goin’ home now.”

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll just stock in the morning. We’re gonna go to my house then since you don’t have a place at the moment.” Giving him a hand, Ex lifted Hels from the floor. Now, the knight seemed a bit more awake at the sudden movement.

And became aware of the aching in his lower back and rear from his hour long position.

“Unfortunately, my place is quite a ways away so we’ll have to fly. Do you know how to use elytra? I have a couple in a chest near the door.” Hels nodded and the two each grabbed a pair.

Ex watched as Hels’s eyes widened in a sort of wonder at how the bug-like wings morphed into deep black and red bat-like wings. The knight looked back at him as if to say ��Did you just see that?!’. The other grinned as his own set slowly changed into sharp dark grey feathered wings.

“Okay you’ve got to lend me one of these.”

“All yours! Just follow behind me. Shouldn’t be more than a five minute flight.” Hels nodded once more for the millionth time that day and the two hopped into the sky with rockets in hand.

[hermits-that-craft]

Chapter 46 - Arch 2 - Lies

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/61129111 TW - Suicidal ideation, torture, mind control, betrayal,

He's tired. Sick of it. He knows he shouldn't be, that everyone has been patient with him, and that he's lost days, but he's sick of the arguments. The fighting. He wants to be left alone, he was happy in the room, but the yelling, the fear, the silence drew him out, physically and mentally. It wasn't better when he wasn't there, but it hurt a lot less. 

Walking is hard without an arm. His balance is off.

Scar runs to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. He let's the small man cling to him, sobs echoing through his chest. Evil Xisuma's helmet doesn't fit Scar, and it pushes against him as Scar clings to his back.

Iskall can't find himself caring all that much. The short hermit has been put through so much recently, it must help him to hug people, and it's not like Iskall has been hugged much since Grian and Mumbo went missing.

Grian and Mumbo.

Why did they betray the hermits? What made them do that? Why would they do that to everyone? Aren't the hermits all friends? Obviously not, since Scar has been attacked so much, but Grian and Mumbo are some of his closest friends, why would they betray him?

It hurts to think about them, so Iskall puts it aside, buries it. He buries it with the corpses of the memories that forced their way back into his mind, hiding the memories under false ones. He knows this won't help him, Void he knows that he's doing exactly what he told Ren not to do, but he can't help it. It hurts less to not remember. Not to forget - he doesn't deserve that blessing, but not to remember.

"I thought you weren't going to wake up." Scar mumbles into his chest. "I thought you died, permanently."

"Doc and Joe wouldn't have let me do that." Iskall says, attempting to soothe the smaller man. Joe frowns from where he stands, hearing what Iskall says. "Where is Doc, by the way?"

"He and Ren went to get armour from my trading hall." Scar smiles brightly through the visor, and Iskall can't help but to smile at that as well. Full sets of diamond armour, ready for the enchanting. That could turn the course of the war. "They left a few days ago and haven't made contact since though and I'm really-"

"There's also a chance to make you a new arm." Evil Xisuma interrupts Scar, pushing his long white hair out of his eyes. Cleo's face lights up and she runs over, braiding his hair out of his face. Evil Xisuma shrugs, letting her do it. "The watchers - were you properly awake for their arrival? It doesn't matter - offered to help make some. Etho is going to check his base for the designs."

"Etho is dead."

Everyone winces at that, and Cleo beckons him forward. Iskall unwraps himself from Scar's hug, slowly walking over to where Cleo gestures. He sits down in the seat, watching her braid Evil Xisuma's hair.

"Etho and Keralis were brought back," Joe looks to Cleo with a sort of questioning glance, one that tells Iskall who brought them back. "with undead magic."

Cleo nods, letting Evil Xisuma's hair go. The now long braid falls down Evil Xisuma's back, and she stands up, brushing her hands on her pants. Cleo sighs, waving Joe over to her side. They have a silent conversation, one that Iskall takes no part in, though Evil Xisuma is apparently fluent enough to roll his eyes. Iskall lets them talk, watching as Scar eats a plate of pancakes, and his traitorous stomach grumbles. Cleo looks over and smiles faintly.

"I'll get you a plate." She says to Iskall before she turns back to Joe and Evil Xisuma. "I'll see you two back here tonight, correct?"

"I don't quite understand why you need those things, but we will be back before sun down. Say hello to any hermits you come across for us, alright?" Joe walks to the middle of the room, dropping through the hole in the floor before he shoots up, leaving the building. Evil Xisuma rolls his eyes, pulling a rocket out and flying out of the room. Cleo soon leaves the room, and the sound of her singing to herself fills the room. Iskall will miss this, despite himself.

"You don't want to perma die, right Iskall?" Scar asks, worry split across his face like paint across a canvas.

"Of course I don't." Iskall lies.

---

He's running, sprinting as fast as he can. His wings sting as they are ripped open by the low hanging tree branches, and tears spring in his eyes. Are Wels and Xisuma still following him? Will they all escape or did Night capture them? 

Grian doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.

He'll find out soon enough, if he's captured or if he escapes. He doesn't want to lose this fight, and flight is out of the question. Night will see him. Observer will see him. Someone will see him.

In any case, the small fragile bones are shattered and set painfully in the wrong position. When he moves his wings he can feel the small bone shards tear through more of his muscles, and he knows that flying should be a last resort. Gliding would be dangerous like this.

His breathing is laboured, but he doesn't feel like slowing. Nothing sounds behind him but he knows he can't stop. His lungs scream but there is no pain. Nothing hurts, even as he feels his wings, feet and arms get torn to shreds. Adrenaline is one hell of a drug and he is so glad that avians have it. Grian aches, his sides split as his lungs try to rip themselves from his chest. 

The floor opens up underneath him and Grian screams, falling through the ground. The dirt turns to a blank, clean white, brighter than white concrete. Grian lands on his back, the air ripping from his throat, but he doesn't feel any pain. Grian takes deep breaths, looking through the infinity room. It reminds him of his main base last season and he misses it. Grian sits up, seeing someone in the distance. The person is far away, but not far enough away for Grian not to recognise him. A tall man with light brown skin and dyed blonde hair stands facing him, purple wings out. 

His father, Builder.

"DAD!" Grian screams, running into Builder's arms. His father wraps his arms around Grian, and Grian can feel Builder's wings wrap around him. He starts to sob, unable to stop himself. "Dad I knew you were going to save us, we need to get Wels and Xisuma out, if Night has them again they'll die."

Builder opens his mouth to say something, and the floor dissolves, forcing Grian to fall. Builder is gone, his father no longer there, as though he never was there.

Grian shoots up, his eyes wide open as a scream rips from his throat. The cell is dark, the only sounds being Wels and Xisuma's breathing as they sleep. Tears spring in Grian's eyes. They never escaped. It was a dream. 

Grian tries to suppress a sob as the smell of mold and blood hit his nose. He misses his jumper, the dress shirt not providing enough warmth as his tears hit the floor. He wants to leave, he wants his Dad back. It isn't fair, why would the universe give him a dream thats so hopeful if all it will do it rip it away. He wants to go home. It isn't fair. None of this is fair, why would the universe do this to them, to the hermits? They didn't do anything, none of them are related to Night. 

Except Grian.

Night is his aunt. Uncle? Grian doesn't know, doesn't care. He was hidden from them for a reason and this is clearly it. Grian doesn't understand why anyone, especially the void, would let Night live for this long. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense, what did the hermits do to deserve this?

Someone laughs, just beyond the area the light hits, and Grian doesn't have to look up to recognise who it is. He know that cruel laugh, he knows that if he looks up he will see glowing eyes, and if he's unlucky, a glowing smile. He knows that he will meet those eyes and be hurt, as daring to look up will be seen as a challenges, as a unbroken man threatening them. A lion ready to pounce at a god. 

But Grian doesn't have the energy, not to look up, and certainly not to keep his screams quiet so that Xisuma and Wels are not cursed with him waking them up. Is it so bad to bow for a moment, to give them the chance to sleep? Night's torture has woken them up so many times over the past few days, Grian needs to give them the chance to sleep. He's already let them down so many times. He should just submit, for this night, to let them sleep for longer.

Grian can't tell his thoughts from Bird's thoughts anymore.

---

Princess walks down the hallway, her hair and skirts flowing behind her like clouds. She knows she must look ethereal, she's seen glimpses of herself in the mirrored hallway. However, the hallway of mirrors is not her destination for today, and she walks past Night's chambers, catching a glimpse of her leader through the door. Night's mask is off, their purple skin shining softly in the glow of their room. Princess doesn't disturb them, knowing that they must be tired, protecting everyone here from the Voids lackeys. Princess knows her orders - ensure that the new captives are properly adjusting to their accommodations. Observer was particularly pleased by the redstone for their cells, so Princess knows that she should feel pleased by the rooms.

Princess racks her brain for the names of the captives, or more so the newly freed, though she knows that they will accuse her of holding them captive. A werewolf and a creeper. She knows that the creeper is necessary, something important to Night, and the werewolf is something that the creeper is territorial over, so she should keep her hands off of the creeper if one of them messes up. If she remembers correctly, the werewolf has a muzzle that she can put on him if he mouths off, but it was removed for some reason.

Ah, thats their names. Pet and Experiment. 

Night chose good names for them, now all they need to do is uncondition them, and recondition them so that they know who they truly are. It won't be too hard, the werewolf is reportedly soft, with the creeper caring more if its friend is hurt than if itself is hurt. Princess smiles to herself as she picks up the muzzle outside the room, tucking it away in her inventory, out of sight.

Princess crosses the threshold into the room, taking in the sights. It's dark, comforting, even though it smells of iron and salt. Tears or sweat, Princess can't tell, and Stress is remaining rather quiet through this whole ordeal, not that Princess minds. Princess watches with a slight smile on her face as the werewolf and creeper lean against the window besides each other, their hands up against the glass as though they wish to hold hands. It's cute, the trust between the two men. She can't wait to break it.

The werewolf looks up with tired eyes, but he perks up upon seeing her, happiness written across his face, and Princess smiles back, a cruel smile that only the creeper seems to pick up on.

"Stress!" Pet yells happily. "Stress I'm so glad you're alright you have to get us outta here, Stress there's so much that you've -"

"My name isn't Stress, werewolf." Princess growls, putting the muzzle into her off hand and summoning a wither rose. The werewolf flinches, the happiness falling to fear "You clearly have learnt nothing. Luckily for you, I can teach you."

"No, Stress please...." His voice is quiet, if it weren't for the silence of the room Princess knows that she wouldn't have heard it, but she doesn't care for his fear.

"You're still making mistakes." She chides, rolling her eyes. "It's like you want me to do this."

Princess taps into Stress's power, which fights against her, vines creeping up her throat and strangling her, though she doesn't care for it. She summons some vines outside of her body, using them to drag the werewolf to the centre of the room. She walks to him calmly, pushing the muzzle over his mouth with enough force to snap his head back. The werewolf struggles against the vines, not getting any room to move at they constrict around him, and Princess spies tears in his eyes with glee.

Stress' heart breaks for Ren, and she relaxes the vines ever so slightly, though Princess constricts them harder around Ren's chest. Apologies fall from Stress, but Princess hordes them with delight as she refuses to let them leave her mouth.

Princess gently places a wither rose at the werewolf's feet, watching as he struggles to get away from it, kicking his legs towards her.

"I thought you were supposed to be tame, mutt." Princess growls, and out of the corner of her eyes she sees the creeper walk away from the window, his hand clenched into a fist. She wonders where his other arm is for less than a second, turning her attention back to the werewolf. "But it's clear you're just a feral dog, even less than one, aren't you?"

She doesn't get to finish what she was about to say, however, as rains down around them and the creeper lunges into her side, slamming her to the floor.

---

Wels walks through the dark oak forest, his sword in hand. He isn't in his armour, instead a ceremonial outfit that he once swore to never wear again. A scream echoes through the woods, and a chiding voice teases him as he turns, gripping his sword. Someone is being hurt, most likely by Night. The voice is not one he recognises, but he refuses to allow it to scream for longer. 

Curiosity is not a respectable trait for a prince, a voice reprimands him, though Wels tries to shake it off. He hasn't been a prince for years, he refused the title before Theran fell, and he does not regret that kingdom falling, even if it took his mother down with it. Though that woman is hardly his mother, considering how many of her own children she had beheaded.

Wels can only pray that his sisters are the personal demons haunting his mother in the deepest pits of the nether.

In any case, he marches forwards, ready to fulfil his role as knight. He swore an oath to protect people and he'll be damned if he lets someone die. He's already failed Keralis and Etho in letting them die, and so many of the hermits in not stopping Night. He must protect this person. He must not fail.

He already has failed.

Wels walks along the tree line before the ground opens up beneath him. The screaming goes from quiet to faint as he falls through the world, though he doesn't fall into the void. No, he falls into a white room, landing on his back. Pain doesn't hit him, and Wels comes to the realisation that this mustn't be real. A dream.

A break from reality. Wels accepts it with open arms.

A woman stands before him, short blue hair sending jolts through his body against the bright whiteness of the room. She wears shining armour, romanesque rather than like his own knightly set, but he notes that the way it sparkles in the light shows battle scars. She's heavier built than he his, Wels notes with a smile. She must be a warrior, a knight of her own realm. A protector of her people, not a mercenary. 

"You must be Welsknight." She says, walking towards him. She towers over him, and Wels comes to the realisation that she can't be entirely human.

"I am." Wels nods. "Do you have a name?"

"I'm Protector." She says, and Wels notes the small necklace adorning her neck. A wedding band hangs from it, as well as a dog tag, with nothing more than a watcher symbol on it. "One of the original watchers."

"And you grace me with your presence." Wels is little more than annoyed. Two powerful deities apparently have the ability to toy with his mind, and he'd prefer them to leave him. "What do I owe the pleasure for?"

"I know you're annoyed." Protector shrugs. "I'll keep this short and simple then. I need to ask you a few questions about where you are and whats going on. I need to know where we need to send forces in to get you all out."

"Shoot then." Wels shrugs. "I clearly have nothing better to do."

And she does. Wels answers her questions as best as he can, but his head spins. It hurts, the bright white of the room. The voice in the back of his head taunts him, laughing as he winces in pain. Protector looks sympathetically down at him, and her face screws up, the white light dimming. Protector smiles as Wels relaxes, breathing easily.

"Is there anything else I should know."

"Xisuma, Grian, the stars and I aren't the only prisoners Night has." Wels says, resisting the urge to reach out to her. "They have Doc with them. They gave us his arm."

"Shit." She swears under her breath. "That's, that's not good. I can work with this. I always knew this was going to happen anyways..."

"What's going to happen?" Wels asks, though he doesn't know if he wants the answer.

"I shouldn't bother you. A prophecy, fate, it doesn't matter. My life is set in stone. Yours is not. Lets make sure your chapter in history ends positively." Protector's voice sounds hopeful, but something in Wels' soul feels sad, mourning her. He doesn't know why, perhaps she was close to Night before this happened, she did say that they're siblings.

"Wait, their sons. You need to find and protect their sons." Wels' panic grows. Two kids shouldn't be destined for Night's side.

"We know. We've already lost one to them. We'll protect his brother." She smiles weakly at Wels whose head spins with the information. Who was with him, who also had a brother? He can't work it out. "Would you prefer a dreamless sleep?"

"Please." Wels doesn't mean to sound desperate, but he knows that he must. Protector laughs quietly, touching his forehead.

The world turns into a blissful darkness, and silence fills his mind.

---

"What are they doing?" Scar asks as Protector sits on the floor, her eyes screwed shut. Builder walks around the room, occasionally bumping into things, but his eyelids remain closed, even when he nearly falls to bedrock.

"They're communicating with your missing friends." Rose says simply. "I've never understood it, but it's essentially speaking to people in their dreams. Builder does it more than Protector."

"That's obvious," Iskall turns, smiling at Rose. "Does Protector talk to you in your dreams when you're separated?"

"No, because she knows that if she disrupted my sleep I would stab her." Rose smiles at Protector, the only expression in her eyes being love. "And she would do the same to me."

"Romantic." Scar giggles, dodging Rose's halfhearted shove. "So, if Protector is married to you, does that mean that she's my aunt?"

"Of course." Rose cocks her head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

"Isn't Grian her son?" Scar ignores the question, and Iskall snorts, turning towards the Vexian woman and the mage.

"Adopted."

"And Night is her sibling?" Scar's voice is quiet, and Rose's eyes widen, though she nods, not answering verbally. "And Xisuma and Evil X are their sons?"

"What are you getting at?" Rose smiles.

"Cub, Grian, Xisuma, Evil X and I are cousins." Scar mumbles, and Iskall breaks into laughter, loosing his mind as Scar comes to that realisation. "We're cousins?"

"Local mage, Vex man, gremlin man and server destroyer are cousins, mild mannered brother wonders if introducing them was a bad idea. More at seven." Iskall cackles, and Rose and Scar burst into tears of laughter. "Oh poor Xisuma! You all are insane!"

"Hey!" Scar protests. "You're one to talk Mr. 'Lets take anything dangerous'! What are you going to do with all those pufferfish?"

"Prank you, clearly." Iskall jabs back. "Concorp scum."

"Typical Sahara nonsense." Scar fails to keep a straight face. "At least we broke even. You guys didn't even do that!"

"Oh come on." Iskall giggles. "You had so many shops, that's hardly fair-"

"What are you kids talking about?" Builder asks, and Scar and Iskall jump, looking up at the suddenly awake man. Neither of them had noticed that Builder was awake, and Scar snickers, pushing Iskall forward. Iskall wobbles a little, unable to balance himself without his arm. "Nothing illegal, I hope."

"Oh, only illegal things." Scar sends Builder a cheshire cat grin.

"The most illegal. Very crime." Iskall nods sagely, and Builder laughs, rolling his eyes. 

"Well, I hope your illegal activities are profitable." He says, and a serious looks replaces the laid back look that he had, as though he had seen, or remembered something upsetting.

"Is something wrong with Grian?" Scar asks, wrapping his arms around himself.

"I couldn't stay with him for long enough to know. He's definitely wounded, most cannot wake from my powers without being in serious pain." Builder's serious look is quickly replaced by a worried look. Tears spring in his eyes, and Rose wraps him into a hug. "I never even got to talk to him."

Protector shoots up with a gasp, jumping to her feet as a sword appears in her hands. She relaxes slightly, putting the strange brown sword away. Scar wants to touch it, to know what it's made of. It almost looks like netherite, though Scar knows that no nether produces that anymore.

"I spoke to Wels. We have coordinates." She says. "And information. I know what we need to do."

"What do we need to do?" Rose asks, and Protector looks at her, a tear slipping down her face. "Tori, what do we need to do?" Rose's voice is soft, quiet. She leaves Builder's side, wiping a tear from Protector's cheek.

"You remember the prophecy?"

"Tori no." Rose pulls Protector into her grasp. "Not now."

"I'll get better." Protector mumbles. "You know I will."

"You won't remember anything." Rose says, clinging to Protector before she pulls apart. "Is there anything else that we should know? Did you find out anything else from Wels?"

"Night has Doc and Ren." Protector doesn't look at Scar and Iskall, probably for the better. Iskall sits down, his face white as a sheet, and Scar's face drops, guilt tearing at his insides. Doc and Ren were sent to Scar's base. They were kidnapped at Scar's base. Their disappearance is his fault.

"Scar are you-"

"I have to go." Scar says, running out of the room. Rose reaches out for him, but Protector holds her back. Iskall watches, helpless, as Scar flies away. He wants to follow Scar, but he can't get an elytra on him if he tried. Builder sighs, a painful affair, and stands, leading them all towards the door. He gently picks up Iskall, and they fly out towards the shopping district. No words are spoken, not between the gods, nor between them and Iskall. They are all praying for two things:

Scar's appearance at the shopping district, safe and secure.

The finishing of this war, that everything will return to normal soon.

They land, Builder putting Iskall down onto the mycelium floor. Iskall walks towards a large building, one that stands out like a sore thumb. It's built with cobblestone, clearly one it was built for functionality and not for design as thats the only building material used. It's ugly, plain and simple, but False's face peeking out from behind the wall brightens the build.

"Hey guys!" She calls, running over to them, though her face falls as she counts the number of people in the small group. "Where's Scar?"

[zap-writing]

The sun sets on another day - TRSNS fanfic

@redstone-sun‘s fic fucked me up so I did what I know and wrote about it to cope asdfghjhgf

the basic summary of this fic: Mumbo has a Bad Day(TM) and we stan Good Guy Iskall 

AO3 Link

On days like these, Mumbo felt his guilt like concrete weights tied tight around his throat.

The actual impulses and desires to obey that sanguine call no longer affected him as often as they used to―perhaps out of sheer necessity rather than true recovery, but the fine details didn’t matter. Not to Mumbo at least. The intrusive thoughts and feelings, however, were another story.

Sometimes he wished he could just press a button and fix all of his problems like one would a faulty machine, force him through some kind of psychological reboot. His prescribed process was tedious enough as it was; exposure therapy was a snail’s race by nature, and the transitions were mind-numbingly gradual. From mentions of redstone, to discussions of redstone, to looking at redstone, to touching redstone, to holding redstone, to――

And so on and so forth.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and the process was anything but linear and orderly. For a long while it felt like every step he took forward, something would send him three steps and a stumble back. One moment he was setting up semi-complex circuits from memory in his obsidian home, the next Grian would make an off-hand comment about a test contraption one of the hermits built nearly killing him and Mumbo would find himself involuntarily wishing it had.

Those moments scared him. He knew that it wasn’t really him thinking then, that it was just some heinous, corrupted part of him, some deep innate brand of the Red Sun festering behind his eyes. But it wasn’t any less terrifying to catch himself tempted by the crimson voice in the back of his mind that told him he didn’t belong in the overworld, that he needed to continue wiring in the quartz covered plains or he’d never be satisfied, to beg and steal and lie and cheat if it meant getting back to the Sun’s dimension, that if anyone got in his way he had to kill kill kill kill kilL KILL KILL KILL KILL K―

. . .

Those nights, Mumbo felt pain beyond anything he’d known before, from the crescent welts of his fingernails dug deep into the meat of his forearms, to the once-foreign hopelessness that left him wondering why anyone thought he was worth saving anymore.

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

On days like these, Mumbo found himself convinced that he’d never be released from his blood-stained binds.

It hurt more than he cared to admit, having redstone so intrinsically ruined for him. Sure, he had brute-forced his way into standing it enough to look over blueprints with Iskall and play with it like a child when he was alone, but it was never the same. Nothing compared to the satisfaction of improving on an existing design, nor the pride and excitement of inventing something entirely new.

Inventions. Redstone was such a progressive material, a resource far beyond any of the hermits’ understanding. It was able to do just about anything if only someone could crack the code to get there. Most of them already knew of the wonders it could provide--plenty of the hermits used redstone-based bionics, or at the very least a form of enhancement.

Iskall was no stranger to them, obviously. Perhaps Mumbo shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when the man came to him amidst his wallowing with a stack of crudely arranged notes in hand. He was somehow more chipper and cheeky than usual if the bright smile on his face was anything to go by. There was a proud sort of flourish as he handed the papers to Mumbo, who sat with wariness and confusion. That apprehension, however, was quickly replaced with curiosity.

Blueprints and notes regarding the conception of redstone-powered contraptions and devices would typically be a quick read for Mumbo, but even having been friends with Iskall and Grian for quite some time, there was no way to scan through the chicken-scratch handwriting and less-than discernible doodles in a short amount of time.

Mumbo’s initial attempt at cracking the code that was Iskall’s notes was interrupted not ten seconds in when two loaves of bread, an apple, and a bottle of water was set down in front of him, making him flinch slightly. He stared at the selection for a moment, mouth suddenly dry, before nodding his thanks and reaching for the apple. It was in that instant that Mumbo realized he didn’t remember the last time he had something to eat and swallowed down his embarrassment.

The two men soon fell into silence as Mumbo worked through the notes bit by bit, often pausing to right papers that had somehow folded or flipped upside down in Iskall’s attempt to organize them. Though it took a while, a careful read through informed Mumbo of Iskall’s plans to research a possibility of mechanically repairing his vocal cords.

There was a prominent section on the usage of prismarine crystals and diamond powder to color match the box with his eye prosthetic, and another that explored the possibility of controllable pitch and volume settings.

(In a better scenario, Mumbo would have been terrified at the possibilities that would come with giving Iskall such power, and even now he wondered who the first prank victim would be.)

All of it was quite clearly in the early stages of development, but Mumbo could help but brighten up at the thought of Iskall being able to talk again. It wasn’t something he liked to think about for long or often, but he missed Iskall’s voice. Before the incident, his friend’s laughs and sly comments were one of the things that helped the days go by, and Mumbo knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so. The man deserved his voice and more for what he’d gone through.

But information on Iskall’s voice-box plans came to an unexpected stop halfway through the stack of notes. Suddenly Mumbo was reading through two different handwriting styles about mechanical joints and synthetic muscle fiber and artificial nerve endings and――

He stopped reading. This section contained far too many things he knew too little about.

Head spinning from unfamiliar jargon, he looked up at Iskall in question.

“F...f-for Gri..ian,” came the harsh rumble from Iskall, startling Mumbo in the process. Both of the men stared at each other for a moment, each sheepish in their own right, before Iskall pulled out a relatively new-looking book and began writing.

[Doc let me take a look at his arm a bit ago and helped me out with the technical stuff. I’m hoping that we can replicate a pair for Grian. Took much more work comin up with this blueprint than it did for my voicebox plan lol ]

Mumbo went from bemused to ecstatic as he read Iskall’s explanation, feeling surprisingly hopeful for the first time in a long time. The sheer thought of his friends getting back what he took from them made his heart swell with guilty joy.

The technician’s part of his brain fired off a million different inquiries about how they could get these plans to work, but his heart ached knowing this was a project he wouldn’t have much part in if any. He didn’t specialize in bionics for one, but even if he felt like dabbling in the expertise for the benefit of his friends, Mumbo didn’t want to get too involved out of fear of relapse.

Especially not after today. He just wasn’t ready.

“These plans are incredible, Iskall.” Mumbo whispered in awe, flipping through both sections of the packet thrice over. A part of him yearned to add notes and suggestions of his own along the margins of the already messy prints, but he swallowed down the eagerness and handed the papers back to Iskall with a shaky hand. Far too fast for him to subdue, bubbling apprehension rose into his chest again as a presence beneath his ribcage scolded him for not ripping the notes to shreds when he had the chance and Mumbo turned away from Iskall in shame. He didn’t even notice himself staring off into the corner of his room until the scratching of a feather pen against paper got his attention again.

[I was hoping you would say that. Wouldn't be Architech patent-worthy without your approval :) ]

Mumbo gave a half-hearted as smile his dear friend stored the notes away in a light blue shulker box he hadn’t seen get brought out. As Iskall packed the box up, a red hot silence burned within the room and Mumbo flushed at the uneasiness of it all, hating the fact that he couldn’t enjoy the company of the people he loved anymore. It made him feel like an ass when he was so unresponsive and caught up in self-pity, but at the same time it felt like acting as if nothing ever happened would be a slap in the face to everyone he wronged. He was halfway through a mental reprimand when Iskall huffed through his nose and came to sit beside him at his birch wood table.

A beat or two passed in silence before a steady hand reached out to fix the uneven part in Mumbo’s hair, smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, and pat him gently on the side of his face. The warmth of Iskall’s hand damn nearly drove Mumbo to tears. With cloudy eyes, he watched as Iskall tilted his head, expression a melancholy mix of fondness and sorrow.

[It’s bad today, huh?]

With a sharp intake of breath and clenched teeth, Mumbo glanced away from Iskall. He’d rather pretend he was fine than admit to the Red Sun’s influence holding strong sway over him today. But before he could come up with something to say, Iskall was already shoving his book back into Mumbo’s hands.

[Don’t try to lie to me, I can see it in your face. And in the stubble on your chin.]

“I…“ Mumbo started, cotton-mouthed and ashamed, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from glossing over his vision.

Sweet scarlet whispers pricked at the back of his head and swirled behind his eyelids, reminding him the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets, and he tensed his jaw to try and drown out the words with a high-pitched strain. The world around him grew warm and tight and dark, and despite his best efforts, the voices seemed to just get louder.

All at once, Mumbo realized that Iskall was pushing at his shoulders and letting out determined, wordless noises as he tried to bring the man from his panic. Mumbo brought down his hands from where he found them pressed firmly against his ears, noticing that his face felt warm and wet. He silently wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, defeated.

“...Yeah. It is.”

“I-I...It’ss oh-k-kay.” Iskall offered gently, releasing his hold from his friend’s shoulders and sliding them down to his arms as he scanned Mumbo for any more signs of distress. As soon as his hands were free, he reached for his book again.

[It’s a nice day out today. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll shoot Grian a message to meet us in the shopping district.]

Before Mumbo could begin to read, Iskall plucked the book from his hand and began writing frantically, leaving Mumbo to wipe at the heavy tears that pooled over the edge of his eyelids once again.

[Let’s not tell him about my plans yet. I don’t want to get him excited for something that could take months or more to even start on. Promise to keep it a secret for now?]

Mumbo couldn’t help but flash him a warm smile. This man has done so much for both him and Grian even in wake of his own obstacles and responsibilities. There was nothing in this world or the next that Mumbo could offer as retribution.

“Sure thing. You have my word.”

Iskall huffed a laugh, grabbing and immediately shaking Mumbo’s hand with unnecessary earnest.

[Jolly good cheers mate! Let’s get you ready for our stroll, shall we lad? Pip pip!]

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Mumbo stood from where he’d been sat since early that morning, bones audibly popping from inactivity, and made towards his room to change into a clean white button-up and dress pants, leaving his coat on the bed. It took him a moment to brave the mirror in the corner of his room, but once he could stand to look at his reflection, he made an honest attempt to make himself presentable. After smoothing out the folds and wrinkles in his shirt, Mumbo pulled at his mustache a few times in an attempt to style it, lamenting that he didn’t have the time to shave the shadow from his jaw.

There was a soft, gentle hum from Iskall that got Mumbo’s attention as he exited his room, and he walked closer to read what his friend was saying.

[Handsome.]

Bashful, Mumbo blushed and shut the book. Compliments always made him somewhat embarrassed before, but it hit him much harder nowadays, especially when he felt bad about not being able to clean up as much as he preferred. Despite his self-consciousness, Mumbo was grateful for Iskall’s encouragement and offered a small smile in thanks.

As he and Iskall locked up his house and began the journey towards the shopping district, Mumbo watched him message Grian and shake with silent laughter―probably at something stupid Grian responded with, knowing them, but he was too engrossed in thought to catch what was said―and noticed that for the first time in a while that he couldn’t hear the honeyed song of the Red Sun, nor could he feel its pull deep within his bones.

Truly, Iskall and Grian were gifts from the universe he didn’t deserve. It was a bloody wonder that they still stood by him after all they went through. Despite everything, his friends still cared for him. Still loved him. There was nothing he could do to repay them for that. And nothing could compare to the outpour of adoration he felt for them in return.

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

On days like these, with his best friends at his sides, Mumbo felt free.

[soft-sea-lanterns]

The Portal

Chapter two!

I’m not set on a title yet so I changed it to this for now.

The first thing Grian noticed was that he got incredibly nauseous while in the portal, his mind felt like it was being ripped open and torn to pieces.

But it ended as quickly as it started. He landed on the ground, dry heaving and gasping for breath. He held his head, groaning before looking up.

He couldn’t tell where he was until he saw one of the many shops the hermits had made over time. He smiled but felt slightly embarrassed. He got so nervous about a creepy portal and all it did was send him back to the shopping district. He got free diamonds too! It was a win!

He coughed and sat on his knees, gathering a bit of strength before pushing himself up to stand. He brushed off his pants and looked around, it was pretty quiet. He grabbed his fireworks and launched into the air, looking over the shops.

Something felt..different but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly. That’s until he looked in the direction of his pickle shop and he felt immediate dread.

His pickle shop was gone! All of it! Not even a trace that it was once there. He quickly landed, stumbling a bit and running a hand through his hair!

Was this some sort of prank? It had to be! Yeah, that’s why concorp distracted him with a dumb portal and made it look creepy just to sell it. He huffed, but it didn’t explain it exactly. How did they take it down so quickly? And why? He worked hard on it and they just destroyed it.

He grabbed his fireworks again, preparing to go back to concorp and give them a piece of his mind. He launched off, gliding over the district until another thing shocked him.

Nononono- Sahara was gone too! Nothing was there, just uneven terrain. Why would they grief him? Sure he did pranks on the other hermits all the time, but he never destroyed their builds!

His chest hurt and he didn’t know what to do. He was distracted with the empty terrain until he heard fireworks go off above him. It was Mumbo!

Mumbo didn’t stop in shock at the lack of Sahara, he must’ve already known about it!

Grian jumped and set off with the help of a firework, following Mumbo quickly “MUMBO!!” He yelled.

Mumbo startled at the yell and it would’ve been funny if Grian wasn’t so panicked.

Mumbo landed, looking confused and a bit panicked.

“Mumbo!! Did you see what they did to Sahara?! It’s gone!! All gone!” He yelled and Mumbo winced.

“P-pardon me? Sahara?”

Grian rolled his eyes “of course Sahara what do you me-“

“Who are you?” Mumbo asked, looking uncomfortable. Grian was almost angry, how could Mumbo joke at a time like this?!

“Mumbo stop with the jokes! Sahara's gone- my shop is gone!” He yelled at him, “Take this seriously! Someone got rid of Sahara and we need to figure it out!”

“I Don’t know you!” Mumbo snapped, he felt bad being so rude to an obviously distressed man but they were yelling at him for no reason. Mumbo took a deep breath “I’m sorry er.. I’m not joking. I don’t know you”

Grian felt like he was punched in the gut, he looked at Mumbo with wide eyes before suddenly taking off, he needed to think.

***

Mumbo could only stare as the strange man flew off. He pulled out his communicator, sending a message to the other hermits.

MumboJumbo: I didn’t know there was a new hermit?

It was only a few seconds before he was getting a reply

Xisumavoid: What? There isn’t a new hermit. Why?

MumboJumbo: I just saw someone who I’ve never met before, he looked really distressed

Xisumavoid: What did he look like? This doesn’t sound good

MumboJumbo: Red sweater, messy brown hair and jeans. He knew my name, and was talking about something called Sahara then flew off

***

Xisuma was having a good day, there were no problems until Mumbo messaged the chat.

Now he has a possibly dangerous and distressed person in the server that they didn’t know, but the new person new Mumbo at least. This was awful.

He had to locate this person soon.

Xisumavoid: If anyone sees someone fitting the description Mumbo gave, try to at least talk to them

Xisumavoid: If they’re violent, take care of it how you feel fit

He ran a hand down his helmet and headed out, flying around with his elytra to try and find this person

***

Grian sent messages to the chat, but no one was responding. Was everyone playing some sick joke on him? He headed towards his base, hoping to find comfort in his parrots before another tragedy struck him.

His base wasn’t there, just like his shop and the Sahara. It was as if he had never built it. He looked down towards the water and even Squidward and spongebobs houses were gone! His ship in a bottle wasn’t even there. Well, technically the ship was there but all the glass that took him ages to make was gone.

Everything was gone

He took a sharp turn and was too distracted by his thoughts to realize he was headed for land fast.

He took a quick dip upwards but crashed into a tree. He landed onto the hard grass, gasping for breath as he started sobbing loudly. He didn’t care if he sounded bad, he’s sure he injured his arm on impact and he doesn’t dare move it.

He laid there and cried for a while until he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.

***

Joe wasn’t expecting to get such messages during his peaceful afternoon, he knew Xisuma was already stressed so his plan of action was to help find the stranger. Anything he could do to help would hopefully lift the load off his friends shoulders.

He headed out to look for the new person, Searching over the shopping district and around it, even near Mumbo’s base.

He searched for a while and was about the give up when he heard faint sobs. He was immediately heading towards it. He didn’t know if it was one of his friends since he was told the new person was distressed. So it could be them.

As he neared, he realized that it was, in fact the new person, they were laying next to a tree, arm bruised as laying limply beside them as their other arm covered their crying face. He was shocked but headed towards them slowly to not startle them. He bent down to his knees and put his hand on their shoulder.

It was probably not the best course of action as they flinched away but he gave them a calm smile as they looked at him with tears eyes.

“Howdy there! My names Joe Hills! And I uh see you hurt your arm there!”

The person looked up at them, sitting up and rubbed their eyes with their good arm, not even attempting to move the other one “I know who you are. Stop with the stupid prank!” He buried his face into his knees “You went too far! I worked hard on my base and do you know how long we took on The Sahara?!”

Joe didn't know how to respond, but this person needed to be calmed down “I swear this ain't a prank. You’re obviously in pain, let's fix that then we can talk, okay?”

He smiled when he got a hesitant nod in return.

“I think I have a potion of healing in my enderchest, you don’t mind waiting do ya?” When he got a shake of the head as a response he took off towards the shopping district, luckily it wasn’t far off so he could get to an ender chest quickly.

***

Grian watched as Joe took off, he said it wasn’t a prank, but still didn't know him. Joe would keep a prank going if it was hurting someone, right?

He tried to ignore the ache in his arm as he pushed himself to a nearby tree.

Mumbo didn't know him, Joe didn't know him. All the stuff he’s built is gone. What the hell was that portal?

Then it clicked.

The portal wasn’t a normal one. It sent him to a place he didn’t exist!

Wait, that sounded stupid when he thought about it. Was there really a portal that could do that? Apparently.

After a few minutes, Joe was back with the potion, still smiling though a bit nervous. He handed Grian the potion and as the injured man drank it he asked his question.

“Alrighty, Who are you?”