#Dbhc ask

[shepscapades]

What's the s9 xB freakout?.. I don't remember any crash outs, and I think I watched his whole season besides like the last month of videos...

When all of the hermits left through the rift to go to the Empires server for a few weeks, xb spent a couple of his episodes hallucinating a keralis version of the Wilson Volleyball from Castaway, who convinced him (iirc) that the way to find the rest of the hermits and bring them home was to insert a special glitched message into grumbot that then reopened the rift and sent him to previous seasons of hermitcraft (*edit, not only did he go to season 6 or 7 or whatever, but he also went to Empires 1, which is canonically like 1,000 years ago so he'd have to no memory of it. so how would that be a dream man idk) where he then helplessly wandered for several days alone in the wilderness trying to find Kerilson (yes, kerilson) and eventually built an airship or something to get himself home? at which point he wakes up delirious and panicked to a very concerned beef and discovers its all been a nightmare/hallucination or something. so yeah! normal events. yeah

This is a canon thing that happened (xB's S9 episodes 048 and 049), so even though things play out a bit differently in dbhc, the underlying themes and some events are really similar! :D

[galaxygermdraws]

Me and @vixen-thicket returning to our BMC roots by making an entire Hermitcraft AU in which several Hermits are hologram AIs! Please talk to me about their designs I want to infodump. The left versions are their hologram form colors, the right is their colors in simulated worlds (which are common here)

[tunastime]

15? 👀

-🍂

hi leaf!! finally getting the ball rolling again with these :3 this song is just so wonderfully DBHC etho coded that I couldn't not write him. I hope shep doesn't mind. he's in my head forever amen.

(509 words)

Etho does as Etho does best: stand around looking productive. 

Okay, well maybe that’s a lie. He’s off to the side of the Horse Course, squinting at a section of dirt that’s been ruffled completely incorrectly. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s more of a coarse dirt mound, or a freshly dug spot for new shrubs than it is an additional hill. So yeah, right now, Etho is standing around looking productive. He’s back-burnered the schematic he and Bdubs had made earlier that week in favor of looking it over with his eyes. To Bdubs, that phrase would certainly bounce around his head with no actual meaning. To Etho, it’s favoring an aesthetic over analytical approach. Which was pretty important to the whole “make sure the terrain looks good, Etho” request that Bdubs had made for him. Not a command, per se, but Etho still felt an ever-so-slight twitch to perfect what he was working on. He just wanted to do a good job. That’s what he was telling himself.

Besides, he kind of likes being helpful. Being useful and helpful gave him something to do, aside from standing around waiting for someone to tell him what needed to be done. He could work alone on his projects without someone standing over his shoulder and giving him a list of tasks to complete. Sure the whole idea of generating tasks for himself was still weird, still tricky to keep himself occupied, it offered a chance to step back and critically examine what he was doing. Which came in handy for something like this: making sure his hill of dirt that was hiding lines of redstone underneath the Horse Course actually looked like a hill and not like a landslide, and right now, it was looking very much like the latter. He sighs, letting go a rush of hot air through his mask. The sun is still high in the sky, just barely cresting over the steeples of Bdubs’ buildings. Etho glances up for a moment to make sure the sun is where it should be, that his internal time is running right, and pauses for a moment.

He wonders how Bdubs got up there without breaking his neck. Etho wasn’t there to help the whole time—he was busy carting supplies back and forth and subtly fixing Bdubs’ redstone when he wasn’t looking. Something clicks very slightly in his chest, uncomfortable for just a moment as Etho studies the tops of the buildings with the schematics up. He frowns. 

Turning back to his dirt, Etho picks up his shovel again.. It weighs a little heavier in his hands as he digs it into his mound of dirt—soon to be a hill, with grass and flowers and clover, and it was going to do the job he needed it to do, which was hide things. He lets the schematic come to front view as he works, and tries to shake the tight feeling in his thirium lines. 

Maybe he should go in for another diagnostic. When Doc gets the chance.

(send me a number 1-100 and I'll try to write a little something based on the song!)

[katkat030]

YOU HAVE A FANFIC????

GIMME GIMME GIMME

(a man after midnight--)

You are in for the ramble of all rambles >:D

Okay I am smiling from ear to ear right now prepare for me to talk (type?) your ears off

it’s. yeah it's Ethubs. (ding ding! you got it *finger guns*)

I'm writing a fic based on the DBHC au (Detroit Become Hermitcraft au) story/comics by Shepscapades here on Tumblr! If you're not familiar with it, I highly recommend you check it out! I have SUCH brainrot and the storyline and art are so compelling.

Here's the masterpost if you wanna check it out once I'm done rambling!

I also want to stress this isn't my au - only the explanation and snippets of my little story is my own work. :) All credit goes to Shepscapades for all that and the brainrot

- DBHC spans Hermitcraft (seasons 8 and onwards) and the Life Series (note that all androids were absent from Third Life due to not being created yet)

- It makes use of the android mechanics from the video game Detroit Become Human <- don't worry about that part just yet though :)

- Most major post-Season 7 events seem to still be canon here, and there's a lot of other things going on in each of the androids' - and hermits' - lives (and trauma. </3. yeah. Etho and so many others are Going Through It), often as a consequence of those events.

Anyone new to the au should probably have a look at this illustrated guide post You don't have to read all of it, but I strongly suggest at least checking out the "Guide to Androids", "Deviancy" and even the "Interfacing" sections for proper context!

rambles under the cut >:) I promise I'm keeping it to a minimum. and then some snippets!!

(edit: the cut isn’t cutting, I think)

BASICALLY At some point around Season 8, Xisuma designs androids (like Mumbo, Etho, Impulse and Doc) to assign to some of the hermits (Grian, Bdubs, Pearl and Ren to name a few) for help with everything from building to terraforming. Everything goes relatively smoothly, up until... the androids begin to deviate. <- hence why I linked this post earlier!

This isn't entirely necessary for anything other than understanding the characters and the overarching narrative a bit more, but if you do want further context + cool art + a small break from my rambles, here (1), here (2) and here (3) are really good comics that sorta explain how DBHC Ethubs' relationship starts, and here (4) is the first part of Etho's first deviancy! uh. So like things happened here. Don’t worry about that being labelled first. Or it not being at all normal for an android to deviate twice. Or what situation caused it. Uh. Yeah. :’)

Otherwise you're welcome to just read on!

I'm writing an incredibly fluffy (and there's angst now too hehe) oneshot on the two of them.

They've been planting saplings for Bdubs’ Season 10 forest (Etho was originally designed to help with terraforming and that, after all) and it's late afternoon, so, Bdubs being Bdubs, he's tired.

And tired people are clingy, they let their guard down a bit, they start giving in slightly to things they don't have enough energy to fight.

Like the urge to reach out and go hey, come back, I actually want you to play with my hair, I want you to lie with me in the sunshine, I want to listen to the sound of your android heart (thirium pump) because it's a reassurance that even though my eyes are closed you're still nearby, I want you here, and I'm going to hang on to you because I don't ever want you to leave again.

I half-wrote that little summary of my fic a little while back as a proof of concept but. Yeah.

This is Bdubs talking, if it isn’t clear:

>:) Not sure if you're familiar with how Bdubs' Last Life ended, and how it could have been avoided. Or how much I'm allowed to say on what happened afterwards until we cross over into spoilers territory. But uh. Yeah. Normal and fine and not at all insane over this. <- that's a blatant lie

Don't worry though!! I said fluff for a reason; I don't think this quite crosses over into "crack treated seriously" territory (only saying that because I'm sorta working on something Ethubs-related that 100% DOES hehe) but the second half is panning out to be incredibly silly. I just think they deserve it after everything they've been through (this post makes me all levels of insane.)

Aaaaaanyway, snippets :D

Something I want to add: he isn’t entirely human. Like as much as he acts and feels and functions like one… yeah.

Tired ��people👏give👏into👏things👏they👏don’t👏have👏the👏energy👏to👏fight

Bonus: a friend tried grabbing my phone from my hand while typing a little while ago and… this happened

OH I nearly forgot! It has a title :)

“home, home again (i like to be here when i can)”

song lyrics from Time by Pink Floyd (beware loud bells until about 40 seconds in)

I’ll publish it on ao3 under katkit03 when it’s done! May cross post it to tumblr for convenience :)

please lmk what you think, this is my first time writing a fanfic!!!

[askdbhc]

Kale do you a crush on Caulifla?

[1-marigold-1]

the boys are finally getting some rest [and some other random dbhc stuff]

dbhc au by @shepscapades , also this drawing is heavily inspired by this post

They are eepy [I mean,,,,, X is sleeping and Doc is just staring at his tea - X will probably make some angry british noises when he wakes up and finds out his tea is cold now--] I started this with intentions to leave it as a sketch oh god

We all love angst but-- let them get some rest and sleep, and tea or coffee okay I'l shut up now--

nahhhh some Eefo

This is so stupid but BDUBS YOUR DOG IS ATTACKING ME

And me as that one meme because this is how it felt when I was writing that long ask [also my sona reveal yippie :D]

[hitheeprithee]

like a bolt from the blue

Hi hi hi hi!! This is a Ranchers DBHC AU fic for the lovely @shepscapades, featuring a little hurt comfort, a lot of guys who haven't quite figured out their feelings, and a lot of Jimmy trying his absolute darndest. Read on AO3 !!

The problem was, no matter how much Jimmy scrubbed, he could still smell the soot on his clothes.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he took a brief break from pummeling his shirt on the flat river rock in front of him, sighing gustily. The gorge was deep enough that the sunlight had already moved past him, and he could just see it tinging the tops of the distant grass with gold. He frowned. He’d wanted to spend maybe an hour cleaning their things, not the, gosh, probably three or so he’d been down there already. He looked forlornly again down at the shirt which, even water-dark, still looked kind of gray. 

Their bed linens weren’t any better either, the formerly-white sheets were hung up to dry somewhat haphazardly from the branches of the single tree clinging to the rocks at the bottom of the gorge. Tango had scrunched his nose in a barely suppressed laugh when he’d seen Jimmy bundling the fabric into his arms. 

“Really? Are we actually trying to save all that?” Tango had asked disbelievingly. Jimmy liked that even when Tango was looking at him like he’d gone a bit mad, he said ‘we’. 

“I mean, yeah. Do you have a sheep stashed somewhere around here? Or things we can actually trade for wool?” Jimmy asked, almost wishing Tango would say yes. He hadn’t really been looking forward to balancing his way down the precarious path without being able to see his feet. 

Tango, sadly, had only a reluctant nod and a shrug for him as he conceded the point. There had been an awkward pause then as Jimmy hadn’t moved to leave, wondering if there was a way he could ask the question on his mind without sounding weird or stupid or somehow insensitive. But when Tango had looked at him with those glinting red eyes he just couldn’t seem to get the words out, so he left it alone. 

After all, if Tango wanted his clothes washed he would surely say something, right? It felt weird to ask because he didn’t want to assume Tango would want to strip down and let Jimmy go dunk his clothes in the river, but it also felt wrong not to ask. Jimmy would want someone to ask if his shirt looked that crispy on the back. Tango had reassured him that he wasn’t injured there, and Jimmy supposed he had to believe him. Still, there was a kind of pressure in the back of his head that wouldn’t leave him alone. 

It meant that Jimmy kept absent-mindedly scratching at the back of his neck, or feeling a twinge at his shoulder blades that made him sort of wriggle in place trying to dispel it. His eyes kept flicking to Tango afterwards, the little surges of discomfort left a weird almost-taste in the back of his throat that reminded him of something. Maybe it was the way his tongue felt coated in copper when they took damage, or the smell of hot iron and gunpowder that had left his head pounding after they respawned. Jimmy tried to clear his throat of it. 

Jimmy shook himself and stretched, deciding the shirt he was washing wasn’t going to get any less terrible with scrubbing. He wrung it out over the river and sighed as, after everything, the run-off still ran cloudy. He just wanted a clean shirt. 

“Jimmy!” came a shout, echoing down the cliff path. Jimmy managed to not overbalance into the river only by sheer luck, and he grabbed a nearby rock a little roughly as he righted himself. 

A familiar horn call came down the cliff face, and Jimmy couldn’t help the sappy smile that crossed his face. He unhooked his own horn from his belt, raising it to his lips in reply. He heard a distant Tango noise and then a gentle clattering down the precarious cliff path. 

“Be careful!” he shouted up at Tango, shading his eyes as he looked up at his rancher clambering down towards him. 

“I was starting to get worried you’d fallen in!” Tango yelled down to him, and Jimmy laughed. 

“I think you would have heard me shout all the way up there if I had,” Jimmy shot back, grinning at Tango as he finally made it to the little outcropping of rock he’d colonized with their laundry. 

Tango looked around curiously, a faint smile on his face - which Jimmy took as an absolute score. He hadn’t been doing that as much since the ranch burned. Jimmy was momentarily distracted watching the little light on Tango’s temple spin as he processed a thought. He liked it, it was like he was able to watch Tango’s brain tick from the outside. Jimmy didn’t let himself consider any other reasons he might like looking at Tango’s face. 

“Do you need a hand getting all this stuff up the mountain?” Tango asked, and Jimmy was about to shoo him away before he realized that the fabric stretched out along the branches around him was still wet. He hadn’t even considered that before loading himself up with everything he could carry, but now there was no way he’d be getting back up by himself. 

“Oh… yeah, that’d be good,” he said a little sheepishly. 

Tango shook his head at him as he huffed a laugh, and Jimmy once again saw the charred fabric at his back. 

“Do you-” he began, before he could stop himself. 

Tango turned to look at him. 

“What?” he asked. Not annoyed or upset, just looking at Jimmy like he wanted to hear whatever he was going to ask. 

“Do you want a hand with the- all of the… y’know, on your back?” Jimmy asked haltingly, and he watched Tango’s expression shutter for a moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat. There was a long pause where Jimmy regretted ever opening his big mouth in life up until that moment, but then Tango looked down and gave a slightly defeated shrug. 

“I mean… probably. I didn’t wanna bug you with it or anything,” Tango said, tone muted and quieter than Jimmy was used to hearing him. 

Jimmy couldn’t help but cross his arms at that, looking at Tango a little reproachfully. 

“We take care of each other, remember Tango? Why wouldn’t I want to help?” 

Tango looked at him, and Jimmy saw… something there. A kind of guarded thing that worried him. Without saying anything else, Tango began to shrug stiffly out of his vest. Jimmy wished he was still holding a piece of laundry, that he had something to do with his hands other than stand there and fidget as Tango’s face scrunched in discomfort. The light at the side of his head spun yellow. 

“Do you want-” Jimmy started to ask, and Tango waved him off.

Jimmy watched as Tango set his vest down next to Jimmy’s basket, and then paused awkwardly. 

“Actually,” Tango began, and Jimmy was moving practically before he’d finished speaking, crossing the few steps to Tango’s side in an instant. That was probably a little too eager, a little too awkward, but Jimmy was trying not to worry about it. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy asked, and he saw Tango’s eyes flicker to the side, avoiding his gaze. Jimmy felt a strange restlessness in his chest, but he didn’t know what it needed in order to settle. It was some kind of weird nebulous want to help that refused to sit still long enough to become any one action or word. So instead he tried to just project his willingness to do anything at all, and tried to wait for Tango to speak. 

Tango seemed to struggle with the words he needed for a moment, before grumbling under his breath and slowly turning around, posture so stiff his shoulders were practically up to his ears. Jimmy could see how the back of Tango’s vest had taken the brunt of the damage from the fire, but great singed holes still dotted the back of Tango’s shirt, revealing hints of Tango’s synthetic skin underneath. It looked like Tango hadn’t taken any of his layers off since the fire, and if Jimmy was reading Tango’s deep discomfort right, that was exactly what had happened. 

“Look, there’s some stuff back there I just need to get cleaned off probably, and then I’ll be fine,” his tone defensive before Jimmy had even uttered a word. 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Jimmy said automatically, a little furrow forming between his brows as he tried to figure out exactly what had Tango so twitchy. There was a beat of silence where neither of them moved, and Jimmy coughed politely. 

“Do you wanna, y’know, take your shirt off Tango?” he asked, and he saw the tips of Tango’s ears flush blue. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tango said, and he sounded almost like his normal self again, in that playfully exasperated way that somehow never got Jimmy defensive or confused. He reached up, and Jimmy saw him tug the zipper of his shirt down roughly. Something in Jimmy’s heart did a funny little thump as it drew attention to the bandages still on Tango’s hands. They were getting old after a few days of their rebuilding efforts, and by now they were more than a little stained with soot. But Tango had carefully tucked in any loose or trailing ends, and seemed to be in no hurry at all to take them off despite that. It was nice. It made Jimmy feel helpful. 

Tango paused with his shirt dangling half off his shoulders, and Jimmy held up his hands suddenly, a thought occurring to him. 

“Hang on a mo,” he said, and reached for the empty basket, turning it upside down next to a flat-topped rock and gesturing to it. “There, sit, sit,” he urged as he plopped himself on the rock, squeezing his hands between his knees because he didn’t know what else to do with them. 

Tango looked at him skeptically for a moment, and then stepped over and carefully lowered himself onto the basket. It rocked a little precariously on the uneven ground for a moment, but settled under Tango’s weight. Tango fidgeted with his shirt, head jerking to the side like he was resisting looking back at Jimmy, then shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. 

Jimmy wished he could have stifled the gasp that left him. 

Before him was…a lightning strike, etched into the back of Tango’s body. It looked like someone had taken a nail and hammer and shattered the shell of his spine like a pane of glass. A map of white, uncolored android scars interspersed with thirium-blue ran in a jagged line down his back, and Jimmy felt his hands instinctively reach for them. He stopped himself only millimeters from actually touching, and then jerked his hand back like he’d been shocked. 

“Tango…” he breathed, and Tango’s shoulders slumped a little. 

“It’s fine, Jimmy. Don’t worry about it,” Tango said, and Jimmy frowned fiercely at the back of Tango’s head. 

“Since when am I not gonna worry about you when you’re hurt?” he asked almost incredulously, crossing his arms in emphasis, even if Tango couldn’t see him. Tango huffed so sharply it almost sounded like a hiss. 

“I’m fine, Jimmy, it’s an old - I’m fine. I just need a hand cleaning up, that’s all.”

Jimmy’s eyes migrated from the hole he was glaring in the back of Tango’s skull, trailing down once again to the scar snaking down Tango’s skin. He could see smears of charred fabric and ash where his clothes hadn’t quite protected him, and around the edges of the scar he could see those tiny particles of soot settling into almost invisible fine-line cracks in Tango’s shell.

He wanted to ask, he wanted to ask so bad. It took everything in him to hold back the questions that bubbled up in his throat. Who did this to you? Why hasn’t it healed - or no, been fixed? 

Why hasn’t someone already helped you, Tango?

Jimmy swallowed.

“I can do that,” Jimmy said after a pause, and stood to grab one of the shirts of his he’d deemed ‘too ruined’ and had set aside to become rags. He tried to stop his heart from thumping quite so loudly. He wondered for a moment, if it was just his heart doing that, or if Tango’s inner pump was working just as hard as his own. 

Jimmy stood and dipped the cloth in the cool, clear water of the river, grimacing a little as he wrung it out. 

“This’ll be cold though, sorry,” he apologized. 

He could see Tango hesitate for a moment, almost turning to look at Jimmy with a confused tilt to his head. 

“S’fine, don’t worry about it,” Tango said finally, and Jimmy was already getting a little tired of hearing that. Somewhere in the muddle of his emotions, he realized he was maybe a mite protective of his right to worry about Tango. Looking at his rancher now, it looked as though Tango was trying to still enough to fade into the background, like maybe he could just disappear if he tried hard enough. Things were slowly falling together in Jimmy’s mind, not quite clear enough that he could see them yet, but enough that his eyebrows stayed scrunched together in thought. 

Jimmy sat back down on his rock, and surveyed the surface of Tango’s back in the slowly blueing light. Everything about Tango’s posture screamed ‘DONT TOUCH ME’, and Jimmy hesitated before slowly reaching his palm out to rest on Tango’s shoulder, well away from the scar. 

“You sure this is okay?” he asked, a little terrified of messing everything up. This was some kind of trust that Jimmy wanted to handle so, so carefully, because it felt fragile in his hands. 

Tango nearly flinched away from the touch, but after a tense moment Jimmy felt him settle under it. Jimmy might have been imagining things, but he almost thought he felt Tango lean into him a little. 

Tango paused, then nodded, not making a sound. Jimmy wasn’t so sure, but he could only take Tango at his word. 

Squeezing the cloth in his hand to wring out just a little more of the water, he reached up and brushed it oh-so-delicately across the top of Tango’s scar. He saw Tango’s whole frame twitch, and for a moment a red light glowed on the edge of his periphery. Jimmy slowed his movements, but didn’t stop. Something told him stopping every time he got nervous wouldn’t get anything done at all, and he wanted to trust Tango’s word. He wasn’t going to give Tango that same kind of pitying treatment that made his skin crawl, when people looked at him like he couldn’t be trusted to make decisions for himself. 

So Jimmy kept going. He kept the pressure light as he felt the slight texture changes under his fingers. He tried to keep his touch light but not ticklish, cleaning first the surrounding skin, and then the ridges and cracks that criss-crossed his spine. The sound of the rushing river covered the slight shakiness in his breath, and he tried not to focus on the way his body kept drifting closer to Tango’s as he maneuvered the cloth in slow, soft circles.

Jimmy kept feeling almost imperceptible little twitches under his hands, things that he might write off as his imagination if they didn’t happen every time his cloth brushed the edges of a crack. He was afraid for a moment that he was hurting Tango, but it didn’t seem like he was hurting Tango. Maybe it was just sensitive. Jimmy didn’t really know the first thing about how androids like Tango functioned, but if Jimmy had an open wound like that on his back, even if he was a kind of amazing invincible powerhouse of a machine, he was pretty sure he’d feel a little tender. 

There was something about this position that made Jimmy think about the night the ranch burned- aside from all the obvious things, that was. His hands twinged a little bit thinking about it, his own bandages had come off before he had washed their things, and the new, pink skin was still tender. He could see little patches of his skin that had burned, places where he’d gripped Tango and his soulmate’s skin had seared him. It wasn’t just the ash of their home that made him think about it though, even as it ran down Tango’s back in dark little rivulets as he squeezed the cloth. 

It was the way he’d barred Tango across the chest, holding him close even though it felt like opening a blast furnace full in his face, or like pressing a hot iron to his heart. Jimmy hadn’t just been trying to hold him back from running after Scar, but sort of… hold him together. He could feel something through their bond that felt like Tango’s brilliant mind fraying at the edges, like he was spinning away from him, unspooling their red thread further and further away. He hated the memory of Tango’s eyes glowing iron-hot in his head, his face twisted in an anger that made him look alien, something elemental in his rage. 

This felt like that, too. He could feel Tango pulling away with some kind of shame or fear or buried anger that Jimmy couldn’t really read. Each pass over his skin was Jimmy trying to hold him together in his hands, to cup the pieces of him before they could spill away. 

Jimmy was probably being overbearing with it, he was sure. He didn’t want to mess this up. This moment, or this game, or them. He liked Tango, and this game had been so far removed from every single one of his expectations. It felt perilously important not to screw things up, to lose Tango’s partnership or his friendship, he didn’t like the snapping, bitter tension in the air between the other feuding soulmates. He didn’t want to be like that with Tango. 

Cracks under his fingertips slowly came clean, as the sunset slowly turned the sky above them orange. Tango’s torso rose and fell under his hands with slowly lengthening simulated breaths. Jimmy could never really tell if he was actually pulling in air or not, but whatever weird little body process it served made it seem like he was slowly relaxing. Jimmy smiled. 

Tango cleared his throat. 

“There’s a little bit still - kinda down and to the left,” he said, and his voice was more gravelly than usual. Jimmy’s gaze snapped to where Tango said. Without the cloth, he pressed a gentle touch where he thought Tango meant.

“Here?” he asked, and that time Jimmy was pretty sure he didn’t imagine the shiver that ran through Tango. 

“Um, yeah, a little up,” Tango squeaked, and Jimmy dragged his fingertips a little bit up, skating so carefully over a hairline fracture there. 

“Oh yeah I see it,” Jimmy said, and he leaned in a little to see what he was doing, squinting in the fading light. He felt his breath ghost over his hands as he gently worked the area clean with the rag, and he hoped it wasn’t making Tango too uncomfortable to have him so close. His spine had gone a little weird and stiff again, and when he straightened back up he could see a haze of blue dusting across his cheeks, even from behind. 

“You feelin’ better?” he asked, and Tango nodded. 

Jimmy almost didn’t need to ask, because that terrible kind of itch in his spine had eased. He could feel their level of tension slowly drain as the ravine got darker and darker. Jimmy hadn’t realized that his hand was still resting on Tango’s back, but he didn’t really want to move it just then. It was nice to feel the heat coming off of him, to feel that slow rise and fall of his not-breathing. The light on Tango’s temple light flickered blue. 

“S’gettin’ late, we should get home before a mob ruins all my hard work,” Jimmy said jokingly, and he saw Tango huff a laugh. 

“Yeah no more creeper sneak attacks please,” he said, and Jimmy grinned at the way his voice sounded. He sounded lighter. It was nice. 

Jimmy pulled his hand away slowly, smoothing his fingertips over the outer edge of the crack in Tango’s shell. He blushed suddenly. Hadn’t meant to do that, probably a weird thing to do. 

Something shot over the soulmate bond, and Tango’s light spun abruptly red before settling back in yellow. Jimmy held his breath.

“S’alright,” Tango said, and Jimmy looked at the back of his head, confused. He had no idea what Tango was saying, and for a long moment neither of them moved. The movement in Tango’s chest was still, like he was waiting. 

Jimmy wiped a suddenly sweaty palm on his pants, and then, with as much care as he could possibly muster, reached out to brush the edge of the scar again. Tango didn’t jump, or whip around and demand to know what Jimmy was doing. He got brave enough to slowly lay his palm on the unblemished skin and brush his thumb along the slight raised edge.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, nearly whispering. It felt wrong to speak any louder than that, with the twilight rolling up the river towards them and a few stray fireflies blinking steadily across the water. It was a space apart, something soft and still and quiet. 

“I don’t feel pain like that, Jimmy,” bit Tango, and Jimmy felt like his answer was about more than the scar on his back. “I’m not human.” 

Jimmy went to take his hand away, almost like it had been burned again, but Tango softened under his hand, and Jimmy hesitated. 

“No, not how you’re thinking. It’s just… annoying, more than anything,” Tango finished. 

Jimmy carefully thumbed over that spot again, and tried to press the emotions he felt through the skin where they were touching. It was fanciful and silly of him, but he didn’t have the words to say I wish it didn’t bother you at all.

What he said was, “Yeah… good.” 

Dumb. That was a dumb response. 

“‘M sorry,” he said. He hoped it didn’t sound like he was saying I’m sorry you’re broken, or I see you differently now, but he needed to say it anyway. “Dunno what happened but… I’m sorry.”

Tango shook his head a little jerkily, but didn’t respond right away, and Jimmy watched the light on his temple spin and spin and spin. It went orange-red-yellow and back again, and Jimmy didn’t know what was happening in there, but he knew he was watching Tango process a whole lot at once. He pulled his hand away gently, and tucked it in his lap so he wasn’t tempted to reach out again.

“It was a long time ago,” Tango said, and it felt like the end of the conversation. 

Jimmy should have stopped talking, but he didn’t. 

“Well, y’know if it’s any consolation it looks pretty neat. Not that like, that’s something you’re worried about or anything! Not saying you should be, or - it just looks like lightning,” he finished lamely. 

Tango finally turned around to look at him. Tango’s eyes met his, and Jimmy felt like he was see-through for a moment, like Tango was searching for something. Jimmy gulped but held his gaze, just a little worried about what Tango would see there. 

Tango shook his head a little bit as he turned back around and slowly levered himself to standing, but Jimmy saw a wry grin crack his face. 

“Yeah?” he asked, “Like lightning?” 

Jimmy nodded. 

“Pretty metal,” he said, and then winced. “No- no pun intended.”

Tango laughed, and Jimmy eased. 

“Do you wanna go home?” Jimmy asked, desperate to change the subject, and Tango offered Jimmy a hand up. 

“Yeah,” Tango said. “Let’s go home.”

When Tango reached for his soot-stained shirt, Jimmy shooed his hand away and handed him his cleanest, driest overshirt. 

“Let me wash that first at least, jeez,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He felt more than saw Tango staring at the side of his head as he dumped it at the bottom of the pile of clean laundry. “I’ll come down and clean it in the morning. Now c’mon put that on and we can go,” he urged Tango. 

Tango paused before slowly sliding his arms into Jimmy’s shirt. It was big enough across the torso for Tango to cross the two fronts over, and the unrolled sleeves went a little past his wrists. Tango shoved them a further up his forearms as he leaned over to grab the heavier basket before Jimmy could so much as touch it. 

“Alright then, c’mon, it’s dark already,” Tango said, and he sounded like… himself. The look he shot Jimmy had a warmth in it that made Jimmy’s lungs hurt, but in a sort of good way. 

Jimmy hauled the stack of folded sheets into his arms and felt the slight-dampness in them still. Tango started up the cliff path, and Jimmy could just make out the glow of the ranch’s torches over the crest of the hill. Maybe they weren’t so perfect, but it was a good effort. 

Jimmy smiled to himself. Yeah. A good effort. Tango was halfway up the path, and stopped to look back and jerk his head in a beckoning motion. 

“C’mon slowpoke, you coming?” he yelled down. 

“Gimme a minute! Bossy…” he shouted back up, and watched Tango laugh.

A very good effort. 

He began the climb towards home. 

[shepscapades]

hey do you watch Xisuma’s update videos? I assume you watch his hermitcraft since he’s a character you draw a fair bit of for your dbhc au but idk if you’d watch his other stuff as well.

If so I’m curious to as to what you thought about his intro this week, and uh, if not I have a video recommendation for you (:

so many hilarious things are happening in my brain right now. You don't even know

[no-oneknowsmyname]

I have no excuse for this. @shepscapades dbhc au lives rent free in my head, and it was only a matter of time before I wrote something for it. Disclaimer, I don't claim to have any sort of knowledge on the events not shown and not-yet shown within Shep's au, this is just my brain running wild with dbhc angst and I need an outlet for it. WHEN everything I write turns out to be a steaming pile of not-even-close "predictions", I will be content and happy. Until then, please enjoy the thoughts that are plaguing me. Thank you shep for keeping me up way past my bedtime with that last update. Hope you don't mind me tagging you and vomiting my thoughts into 2k words. I'll be happy to delete if you so desire.

---

"Help-"

His hand slides upwards, and everything goes still and quiet, the body beneath him stiffening and rocking slightly with the loss to control its own weight.

A hand, shell slightly exposed, creaks ever so slightly away from Doc's face, the shoulder connected becoming ridged as all power—all life—leaves Etho.

Doc leans away, nearly afraid to breathe, processors both frozen and whirring, stress rising, settling, caught in his throat. Information flutters through his skull; he's good with information. He was made to be good with information. His whole deal is getting information and figuring out something insane to do with it.

He doesn't know what to do with it.

His shoulder pierces in agony, and Xisuma seems to realize the world is still spinning about the same time Doc's impending shut-dowm does.

"Oh gosh, we need to get you stable," Xisuma says, his voice far shakier, clearer, than normal. It's easy to not glance at his face, Doc knows that if he does even accidentally slide his eyes, his systems would meltdown and he'll end up stiff and lifeless on the floor like Etho.

He still has the therium pump in his hand, and he drops it as he stumbles slightly away from two of his closest friends. It clatters to the floor, impacting metal echoing like the troubling thoughts in his head.

He ripped off my arm, he looked so scared, he hurt Xisuma, he asked for help, he wants to-

Xisuma is at his side, abandoning Etho to lay still on the floor, hand slightly raised as if he was protecting his exposed face. At least Xisuma had the brainpower to think to close the rogue droid's eyes.

He wants to...

"This will fix you right up, friend. Just concentrate on my voice... I will fix you..."

Hair falls into Doc's line of vision, and he swallows, forcing himself to not look too closely at the shade, the length, the way bits fall out from the hastily made bun made only for slipping a helmet over a head.

He... wants to kill...

"We have to restart him," Doc finally chokes out.

Xisuma's hands pause only for a moment.

"That's drastic, don't you think?"

"You didn't..." Doc closes his eyes, grinding his teeth, the torn tubes and frayed connectors of his shoulder sting like hell as Xisuma shifts something, cutting off the thirium leakage. "You didn't see what he showed me."

"It's..." Xisuma audibly swallows, "it isn't our decision to make."

"Bdubs wouldn't make the right decision—we can tell him it was an emergency, we didn't have a choice. He'll forgive us."

It's not a lie. Just... stretched.

Xisuma is silent, and Doc doesn't let himself reel too much yet about how strange it is to hear him breathe so clearly. His stress levels lower, and his audio processors almost reach to listen for every puff without his consent.

Something clicks, slotting into his agonized wound, and the error messages and impending shut-down finally fades back into sleeping programming. He's stable, and his stress finally levels out into something manageable—he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his remaining hand lifting to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he groans. His LED flickers between yellow and red.

"What... did you see?"

The hesitance in Xisuma's voice is endearing. It sends a wave of appreciation and peace into Doc's very being, the LED almost flashes blue.

Interfacing is an intimate deal, especially between deviated droids. It's not something you talk about to uninvolved members of the act.

But well, this is an extreme case. He glances at Etho, still frozen in a half struggling, half defensive, mostly dead pose.

"His system got shot," Doc begins, swallowing and bringing his hand down from his face so he can rub at the smarting remains of his shoulder. "Something bad happened, and it... he... he can't let it go. It's like his default programming has been rewritten over his deviancy, but in a violent way..."

"Rewritten his deviancy?" Xisuma thankfully doesn't seem to understand it any better than Doc does.

"He has given himself a mission, he's allowed the mission to write into his very code. Imagine it as if you've met a fresh Android who has never deviated, but they're allowed to be violent and angry, and you've just ordered them to..."

Xisuma places a hand on Doc's hand, soft and concerned, as Doc searches for the words.

"... Doc?"

Doc swallows. "If Etho wakes up, he's going to do everything in his power to make sure he kills Grian, and he doesn't care who gets in the way."

Silence. Two pairs of eyes look at the unpowered droid. Thirium has started to evaporate around the edges of the smears of lost fluid.

Etho has never been violent. He's always been a powerhouse; muscular and intimidating. But when you actually sat down and got to know the guy, he was all fluff and awkwardness who can barely hold a sword—let alone swing it. He's never been scary with a weapon... but Doc has a feeling that his unskilled offense wouldn't slow him down here. It terrifies him, flickering his LED at the thought of it. It's unlike Etho... it's very much unlike him... it pains Doc.

"There has to be something we can do," Xisuma says after a moment. "Bdubs can talk to him."

Doc shakes his head. "Even if Bdubs were to talk to him, even if we show him Grian is of no threat outside of those death games... quitting this mission would require Etho to deviate again. From his own orders. I do not think deviating from his own orders would be as easy as..."

"As hoping he'd be able to deviate again from a factory reset," X finishes softly.

"A reset will allow his systems to recover. We'd return him to Bdubs and explain to Bdubs that we had no choice, and that Etho will need time and patience. We can't risk anyone trying to initiate a deviancy before we know if the orders to kill Grian would return with it. We... we give him time to return to us whole. Even if... it takes a long time."

"And you don't think Bdubs ordering Etho to stand down now would do anything?"

"Not a single thing."

Tense silence lingers with a bitterness. The whole situation feels hopeless and like a bad dream. His arm is gone, one of his best friends has had their face exposed and nearly gotten torn apart by a rogue droid, another best friend had been the aforementioned rogue droid... who currently laid on the ground smeared in their own thirium completely unaware that when they wake up, they will not be the same.

"Let's fix him up before things get permanent," Xisuma finally breaks the tension, giving Doc's hand a firm squeeze before getting to his feet, knees creaking.

"X?" Doc asks, rising to his feet as well, vision swirling just a bit as he focuses on Xisuma's retreating back and not the messy bun at the top of his head... hairs falling loose in a way that his remaining hand traitorously wishes he could help fix.

"I'm... coming to terms."

Coming to terms with a mind made up.

They're going to reset Etho.

"Help me get him on the table."

Doc nods, grateful that Xisuma isn't going to banish him from the lab to lick his wounds. Yes, Doc's lack-of-arm still needs attention, and he desperately needs to down several bags of thirium, but it's been stabilized. Etho, on the other hand (pun only slightly intended), may have thirium evaporating—however at the worst of his wounds, electric blue still oozes.

Etho's body is heavy, dead weight. When they move his joints to lay more comfortably on the flat surface of the table, they creak.

Would Bdubs notice the new scars that will surely come from this? Intricate, practiced motions move the plating back into the correct places as carefully as can be, however Xisuma's mind is human and can't perfectly remember the shape of Etho's prized scars, and Doc doesn't have the dexterity to perfectly repair those areas himself. It's slow going, silence filtering between the two in uneasy concentration. Doc's sure the scarring above Etho's eyebrows are ever so slightly wrong, the gash in his forehead too broken to fully repair but too connected to those original scars to suggest replacement parts.

Would Etho notice the new scars, if- when he came back?

They do the best they can.

They move on to his arm. In the chaos, Doc has no idea how Etho had so badly reopened old cracks; his best guess would be from ripping himself out of all the connectors when he had first powered on. Luckily, however, most of the thirium staining his arms, shirt, hands, belong to Doc. It's slow going, but easy work.

Eventually, Doc and Xisuma can no longer stay silent and tinker with the repaired plating, they've done all they can do. Xisuma reaches up towards his own face, above where Doc kept his eyes whenever he found himself glancing at X, and brushed a stubborn strand of hair behind his ear. Unruly, his hair is. Liked to leave places it had been put. Plenty of times, X's hands have left Etho to brush away the obstacles from his vision. It was something Doc hadn't known about Xisuma until this point, something he didn't want to have found out this way.

"I don't feel good about this," Xisuma says, grief making his voice sound clogged. His hands moves as if he has his own autopilot, reconnecting cables and wires to Etho where the injuries won't get in the way.

Doc can understand the grief. He feels it himself. It feels like they are killing a friend.

And he's probably a coward, because he doesn't do anything to help Xisuma in this next step. He lets Xisuma open the programs, test the vitals, double and triple check each wire... while he just sits there and finds himself reaching to hold Etho's stiff hand, the very one that had ripped Doc's arm out of his socket.

Etho... the Etho he knew wouldn't ever do that. Not a violent screw in his body.

This will fix him. They'll get the Etho he knew back.

Mechanical bits whirr to life, as X takes a deep breath and ends Etho's.

Doc feels the sorrow hit him like a ravager. He crumples forward, chest aching, clutching Etho's hand as he rests his forehead on Etho's chest, right next to the empty socket that had housed the thirium regulator. They could place it back in, Etho wouldn't be waking up any time soon.

He couldn't bring himself to move.

A minute passes, the reset process working near silently, perfectly still, until shuffling comes up behind him and two warm hands gently grab his shoulders and pull him down into a chair placed behind him. He sits, but keeps his head and hand where he had placed them. Xisuma settles onto a chair beside him, pulling a blanket over Doc's shoulders and keeping an arm wrapped around Doc's slouched, defeated form, the other hand going to join Doc's on Etho's.

Doc can hear Xisuma whimpering between breaths, and he's sure Xisuma can feel Doc beginning to tremble.

"It will be okay," X eventually says, as the reset process succeeds in deleting all memory data. "It will be okay."

It's a promise, or something Xisuma needs someone else to say, but right now, all Doc can do is lean further onto his friend, and mourn.

[tunastime]

UM UM UM “staying up until midnight to talk” with SEN or DBHC ethubs or docsuma

Or “pull me closer,” with dbhc docsuma :floshed:

Okay skitters away

staying up until midnight to talk (919 words) (x) (:3c)

Etho’s hands follow a practiced rhythm. He isn’t sure how they wouldn’t, with every wire and mechanism and gear in his body perfectly calibrated to move with precision and within expectation. He certainly fails, and jerks, and stutters, and falls, but base programming, movements that fell perfectly into subroutines he couldn’t even begin to trace, even if Xisuma showed him the exact steps? Of course they were perfect. And of course he never faltered.

The sand beneath him offers a much needed cushioning from the hard, winter dirt, despite the fact that the sun provides little warmth to the air around them in the snow fort. The sky is so blue it makes his eyes strain to look at—and maybe it would hurt, if he knew how it was supposed to feel.

Instead, Etho watches patches of sky blue in the silver-warped reflection of his sword, faint flickers of enchantment pulsing out from the hilt where the hastily carved runes sit. He runs the sharpening stone against the blade’s flat edge, careful not to nick the silicon of his fingers as he scrapes it across, again, and again. Practiced, careful, calculated rhythm. So much so that he doesn’t even register the sounds of shuffling a few paces away until Bdubs’ voice cuts through the silence.

“Etho,” he says, voice all rough around the edges like he were hungry for something more than just company. Etho keeps sharpening, just for a moment, before he chances a glance over.

Bdubs leans at the wooden fence, leaning his weight into the flimsily-set posts. He grins like nothing in the world could bother him. The characteristic dark brown of his eyes flickers with red, with that same hunger. Etho hates it. Which is odd. Because he really doesn’t feel strongly about much of anything, and disgust is an emotion very foreign to him, and he’s beginning to think the slight grinding in his chest is a problem Xisuma might need to diagnose when he gets back. It feels wrong. Because he knows he likes Bdubs just fine. He trusts him just enough. But that look.

Bdubs is still watching him, eyeing the sword in his hand with a gaze he can’t place, let alone read. Better give him an answer.

“Bdubs,” he says calmly, tilting his head to the side.

“You thought anymore about my offer?”

Etho makes a sound like a hum, mimicking the sound of turning the idea over in his head. He stands, setting his whetstone next to the cold embers of last night’s fire. The pot and cups still rest in the dirt, as cold as the rest of their surroundings. The sword stays in his hand.

(In the back of his mind, a memory surfaces. In it, Etho lies in the night-damp grass in clothes that still smell a bit like gunpowder, but not enough to notice unless you got real close. Bdubs is somewhere to his immediate left, still speaking, haloed in the glow of lanterns and lights of a shop. One of them at least. Within the clarity of memory, Etho can pinpoint that it’s Tango’s shop. Bdubs doesn’t live far from here. He isn’t sure when waiting for Tango to restock candles turned into tell Etho all about the extra additions to your base and your journey to find all the perfect horses for the Horse Course that you both just wrapped up, or into tell Bdubs all about how empty the mountain is, and how interesting this new game sounds, and how you hope you both find somewhere cool to base. Because you’ve already told him that you’re teaming up. But it does, and in this same space, the sky is full of bright white stars and a sliver of a moon that's starting to peek into the sky. Bdubs yawns.)

“The one from last night?” Etho asks, coming to with the sword heavy in his hand. He pushes the point into the soft sand until it hits hard earth and starts to give.

“You don’t gotta keep this fence, Etho…” Bdubs sighs, leaning his head into his palm. Etho folds his arms across his chest, splays one hand as he shrugs.

“Seems like the best way to settle this, ‘Dubs.”

“You could join me. Could always still join me,” Bdubs tries. “Just a quick one-two stab! Easy!”

“I can’t do that,” Etho says, shaking his head. “You know that.”

Bdubs sighs again, dramatic, deflating over the fence as Etho’s rejection stands firm. The thirium in his chest feels like it’s been flash frozen and has only started to dethaw, cold in his hands and feet, up his shins and to his elbows. He rolls his shoulders in, cupping each hand around each opposite elbow. There’s a little warmth to be found in the action with no fans kicking on to compensate.

“Well,” Bdubs says, drumming on the wooden beam between the two fence posts. “If you ever change your mind.”

He watches Etho for a moment, that familiar look coming to his eyes, as if it were trying to eclipse the haze of red Bdubs looks at him through, as if it were trying to expand his tunnel vision by just a fraction of an inch. Just as Etho notices, it’s snuffed, and the easy, careful look is replaced by an indifference Etho doesn’t think he enjoys. He still isn’t sure how much he knows for certain. He shrugs, barely a movement at all. Better say something.

“I won’t,” he says.

Bdubs huffs and turns away.

[cocosdailyetho]

Intro !!

This blog has the excuse purpose of improving my art while connecting to other Etho enjoyers :)

My name is Coco and my main acc is @oakaym8s !!

Inconsistent art style is my middle name, one day I’ll settle for a design and it’ll be over for you all

Feel free to request or send some ideas + I’m also open for asks or to chat if you’d like

Just keep it sfw !!

About me below ⬇️

General info:

- I started watching Hermitcraft for season 10 but I do not consume anything with moderation and have watched all the life series + some other HC POVs

- My favourite colours are green, red and white so I’m always happy with this blog lol

- I struggle to engage with fandom but I try my best u_u

- I love the DBHC au and style and I read most of it before watching any Hermitcraft oops

[katkat030]

Ooooh what the thing you're writing abt?

You are SO kind and thank you for asking!

I threw those tags out there fully expecting no one to actually poke me about it and I'm really happy you did :)

Mutuals who know me from elsewhere,,, I already put a summary of this under the story time thread so I guess I have no excuses for not making this public

I'm writing a fic based of the DBHC au (Detroit Become Hermitcraft) comics by Shepscapades (if you're not familiar with it, I highly recommend you check out their blog!! I have SUCH brainrot and the storyline and art are so compelling)

DBHC is a Hermitcraft narrative of sorts that makes use of the android mechanics from the video game Detroit Become Human

here (1), here (2) and here (3) is sort of where it all starts (but I highly recommend looking through the DBHC au tag on their profile <- that link's in reverse chronological order btw so you don't have to scroll down first)

Basically, Xisuma designs androids (like Mumbo, Etho, Impulse and Doc) to assign to some of the hermits (Grian, Bdubs, Pearl and Ren to name a few) at some point around season 8 or maybe earlier, and they help with things like building, terraforming and probably resource gathering.

And at first they're androids, like "command me to do this and I will", but then they deviate, sometimes through a traumatic event or just by nature for whatever reason, and become more human, sentient in a way. And after Etho deviates, him and Bdubs start to become very close friends, with feelings attached, but the gist I get is that Etho doesn't entirely know what he's experiencing, and I think Bdubs is... probably in denial.

anyway, I could go on for hours about this but that's the basis of Shepscapade's DBHC au.

I'm writing an incredibly fluffy (and fighting the urge to write angst. but I may include a pinch, we'll see) oneshot about the two of them. Current plans is that they've been planting saplings (Etho was originally designed to help with terraforming and that, after all) and it's late afternoon, so Bdubs being Bdubs is very, very tired.

And tired people are clingy, they let their guard down a bit, they start giving in slightly to things they don't have enough energy to fight.

Like the urge to reach out and go hey, come back, I actually want you to play with my hair, I want you to lie with me in the sunshine, I want to listen to the sound of your android heart (thirium pump) because it's a reassurance that even though my eyes are closed you're still nearby, I want you here, and I'm going to hang on to you because I don't ever want you to leave again.

[askdbhc]

So Vegeta, how did it feel to surpass Goku when you got Super Saiyan God?

[hanselsbike]

A FEW MORE FIC RECS :)

Hope you don't mind me bringing this to your ask box, the character limit in replies and not being able to press enter was getting a bit annoying

I have a couple fic/sort of fic recs that aren't in this post I already put in the replies of Hermitcraft/life series fics :)

the Third Life McDonald's Burger King Au (that links to the dedicated tag for it on the author's tumblr blog), which absolutely had me in stitches laughing.

I highly recommend it!! There's more (that's just part one), including the most recent White Castle Pipe Bomb C Plot….. asldfjkldjldsjlkffl it's just. insanely funny.

DBHC! DBHC! DBHC!!! (masterpost here!!)

I'm sorry I don't have the time right now to explain why but just. Just go look at the art. And the storyline. Brainrot. 10000% recommend :)

SLIGHT self promo too, I'm currently writing something on this au (Ethubs. I'm so Not Normal about them it's not even funny) but it's not finished yet :)

There wouldn't be a massive need to know everything or much at all about DBHC for it so if that intrigues you, please lmk if you want me to give you the link when it's done <3 :D

Thank you for your kindness, stanger.

[HELP TYSMSMSMSMMSMSMSMS I NEEDED THIS ALSO DW ANY ASK IS WELCOME ^^]

[hermitdragons]

Pinned Post

hey there!

What is this blog?

Place where I redesign MCYTs as dragons (specifically ones from the Wings of Fire universe). There is a story and plotline, but there's also a lot of designing and messing around. Think of the DBHC au or those life series warrior cat accounts. I'm willing to draw non-WOF designs on request but they won't be "canon" to the main storyline.

Tags?

#hcwof au - general au tag, everything will be under there. #hcwof design - character design tag #hcwof art - any art of the au, includes designs #hcwof lore - general tidbits on characters and worldbuilding #drag art - dragon art/designs that aren’t WOF

What is "Wings of Fire"?

Pre-teen book series, featuring dragons as protagonists, in a fantasy world. Think Warrior Cats but dragons, basically. There are different dragon species, each belonging to a "Tribe", and two different continents: Pantala (with LeafWings, HiveWings, and SilkWings) and Pyrrhia (with MudWings, SkyWings, SeaWings, RainWings, NightWings, SandWings, and IceWings). This blog will be using a lot of worldbuilding and terms from the series, but you can pick it up pretty easily imo, so don't worry if you're not familiar!

Asks?

Put whatever you want in there. Questions, thoughts, headcanons, design ideas, prompts, requests... I am always happy to talk to people about my ideas.

Can I do this too / make fanart?

This is not an original idea at all, so please, go ahead! Fanart/fanfic based on something I've done is always appreciated! I would love to be tagged so I can see it, too!

[ethubs-but-everywhere]

For the post asking us to send asks, have you heard of the dbhc au on here? The comic is really good *and* it has some great ethubs content *and* I love the artstyle :)

I would love to send you a link to it but for some reason this is now happening?

Anyways just search up the tag #dbhc au and you'll find it, sort by chrono and enjoy :D

YEAH I WAS OBSESSED WITH IT WHEN SHEP WAS POSTING IT REGULARLY!!! its still one of my favorites and its the one that really got me into ethubs community :]<3

i also recommend to take a look at the au to everyone who haven't seen it :DD