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thetomorrowshow · 1 month ago

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Whumptober Day 15 - Childhood Trauma

title: should i then presume?

fandom: hermitcraft smp

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

But he doesn’t forget it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eh, it isn’t pretty.”

“It could be better, though.”

“I should’ve upped the tick.”

“I should’ve added more hoppers.”

“I’m not a builder, it isn’t good.”

“It isn’t easy enough.”

“It isn’t good enough yet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like he wanted.

Right?

But. . . .

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn’t lonely.

This is how it’s always been.

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

Until Scar shows up one day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cub, you know I won’t care.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And one of those tears slips free.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Be honest,” he chides.

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

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

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

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

“No, it isn’t.”

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

It isn’t.

It isn’t okay.

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

Instead, he nods, lets out a breath.

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

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lyxthen · 5 months ago

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@mewhenthhe asked, and you shall recieve!!!

The Characters:

ANDRAE MONRAGEN (She/He): Andy was born from an old prestigious family. Andy always tried (and failed) to comform to their standards. She was smart, which earned her praise, but not well behaved; impulsive and entitled, she had a tendency to get in trouble and big anger issues. As a teen, she ran away from home and eventually joined the first revolutionary army. As an adult, she goes on to study law and earns herself a prestigious goverment position as a sentator at age 30.

WYNN RANHET (He/They): Wynn was a kid raised by his grandmother. His people, a cultural minority, are refugees from a natural disaster that made the archipelago they used to live in uninhabitable. They have a lot of knowledge about the stars, about math and music. He cries and breaks down and becomes helpless. Andy finds him and defends him, though. She sticks by her side since, joining the army and going on to study mathematics. By 30, he becomes a goverment accountant.

LUWËN MONAULLA (She/Her): Luwën was a child of a family who only recently became rich. They are very concerned with "looking good" to high society, to act like they deserve their place. Luwën plays the part well, that is, until she ends up pregnant as a teenager, after which her parents disown her. She becomes a pianist, and later a sex worker. She becomes acquainted with Wynn during the war, both of them becoming close friends. At 32, she is still a pianist and sex worker, though her situation is a lot less precarious than when she was 20.

The Story:

The story involves a lot of fantasy politics, but at the core of it, it is about the deteriorating relationship between Andy and Wynn. Andy is becoming increasingly ruthless with her methods, and while Wynn has overlooked (and taken part on!) many atrocities while in the first revolutionary army, he did so thinking it was "for a greater good." It is only through his deel platonic connection with Luwën that Wynn manages to escape his toxic situation and learn to deal with his past mistakes. It is important to note that he and Luwën stay queerplatonic: for a lot of her life, Luwën was pressured into sex and relationships when she wasn't comfortable, and Wynn was dehumanized and only seen as a tool to further the army's agenda. By the end of the story, they are each other's life partners, though their relationship is never turned romantic.

Andy's story ends quite sadly. She eventually realizes she is perpetuating the same harmful power structures she once wanted to destroy and which kept her and the people she loved opressed, but by then it is too late. The people are unhappy with how the new goverment is run, and she becomes a political target. She is eventually captured, tried, sentenced, and executed by the second revolutionary army. Wynn is left to take care of their child, and takes care of them along Luwën's own daughter.

This is a drawing of them as adults, just before all the melodrama goes down. While above I drew them with modern clothing, the setting, aesthetically and thematically, is more akin to 1910's Mexico and Russia clumsily thrown into a meat grinder. I must also mention that both Wynn and Andy are both technically "non-binary" as their culture broadly recognizes five gender categories instead of two, and they do not fit the categories that would correspond with our concepts of man and woman.

#lore rekindled #my art #Your honor. I love them.#Sorry for the long post! Have you considered I love them

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