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thedo0zyslider · 8 months

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Running Towards The North - Chapter Two: The Southlanders - 7k words

Martyn grows closer to Jimmy and Mumbo over the next few days and weeks, they're not the only one's who seem to catch his eye...

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(obligatory mutual tag pt 2. @apollothetransboy and @happyrome0. i think u two will enjoy this especially :])

The next few mornings start a little more interesting than the first one in this world, Martyn does have to say.

Every day, after everyone wakes up, they share breakfast by the campfire they made. The meals are cobbled together with whatever food they have lying around, and sometimes eating bread every day does get a little repetitive. But he doesn’t mind much. It’s a good bonding experience, in his opinion, with how often they crack jokes and lightheaded little jabs at each other.

By the end of breakfast there’s usually at least two new valuable items thrown into the ahajar , as they’ve started to call it. It’s become a running bit to slip in an aha whenever possible, and they all want to see who has the most at the end of the game. Martyn is currently second, with Jimmy and Grian both tied for first. And Grian is starting to get playfully competitive about it, which just eggs Jimmy on further. Mumbo, despite his best efforts, has been stuck in fourth place for three days now, and poor Impulse just claims to be bad at thinking of puns. Though Martyn does slip him some aha ideas one morning, just so he can try and get more than two measly little points.

In the morning they each pass a life around to each other, until it reaches its original owner once again. A harness trust exercise that Grian has made up. It’s fun, all five of them joking every day as they do it, because it is early in the game that no one would ever need to run off with a life, even if Jimmy and Grian are both stuck at yellow for now. They could just go and force a life from someone else after all. They do it a little while after breakfast, doing so in turns, a new person risking their own life each day. Though none of them think of it as a risk for the time being, Martyn feels like they will one day in the back of his mind.

One day, after breakfast but before the daily trust exercise, when it is Martyn’s turn to throw something into the jar, he fumbles to find anything. The best he has on him is the spyglass Jimmy gave him during their first few days together, but once his fingers brush it, Martyn knows he cannot give it up. It was just that….well Jimmy had already had to make a handful of more spy glasses for everyone else, because they always threw them into the jar. And Jimmy just seemed to get so irritated by people throwing his gifts away, and Martyn didn’t want to like, genuinely upset him or anything.

Besides, it was the first gift he’d ever gotten in this world, the first one he could ever remember getting. And it was from Jimmy . So yeah, maybe it was a little special to him as well.

So instead he tosses in a few iron nuggets, not having enough to make a full ingot out of them anyways, and lies. He says he doesn’t have anything more valuable on him, that all his valuables are stored in his chests. Even though the other four should know him well enough to know that Martyn never keeps most of his valuable things, and certainly nothing that would be jar worthy, in a chest where it could be so easily stolen.

But instead they just groan and call him lame, and move on with their morning. All but Jimmy, who looks so utterly relieved , and smiles so widely at him. Something warm blooms in Martyn’s chest at the sight, and it bursts and seems to make everything go in slow motion for a moment. The blonde cannot help but fondly smile back, and knows that the mornings in this world are going to keep being good mornings just like this.

And he is right, they keep being good mornings. Because of Jimmy and his beaming smiles that can light up a whole room. And because of Mumbo, and his tendency to ramble about redstone, and because of the way he makes Martyn blush. Because of the way Martyn feels like he’s floating whenever they interact with each other. By god it makes every morning, everyday better just being around the redstoner, it always has since they first met, and Martyn never wants it to stop being like that.

To Martyn’s absolute joy and relief, it seems like it’s not going to stop anytime soon.

Mumbo kisses him sweetly one morning before breakfast is done, hiding inside his bunker and away from prying eyes. Martyn finds that he doesn’t mind, wants it in fact, and kisses back. He holds Mumbo’s face in his hands, and stares into beautiful dark eyes when they pull away to catch their breaths.

“That was…” Mumbo mutters, still close enough for his breath to ghost Martyn's lips. The blonde just giggles, and squishes the other’s cheeks in his hands.

“Amazing?” Martyn finishes for him, and Mumbo hums in agreement.

“Yeah, amazing .” His pale face is flushed red, so, so red it's adorable. And Martyn wants to kiss him again and again until it’s just as red as it can be, just to see that look again and again and again for the rest of time.

“We should be getting to breakfast now, shouldn’t we?” Mumbo says after a pause, and Martyn murmurs in agreement. He gives the other a quick peck on the forehead before they separate, and the two of them walk out of the bunker acting like nothing ever happened between them. If they are both noticeably brighter that morning, no one notices. And if they do they don’t say a thing about it, and breakfast continues on as normal.

It’s a good morning, because he kisses Mumbo, and he's getting along well with his new friends, and because there are small victories. Like Impulse managing another aha joke, one that Martyn didn’t supply him with beforehand. There are small victories like Mumbo giving him another hidden peck on the cheek before they part their separate ways.

The morning gets even better, because a few of them decide it’s time to get mining for some resources. And Jimmy asks Martyn to go with him. He doesn’t know why he’s so giddy about spending time with Jimmy, but it feels nice doing so, and Martyn will not complain about any joy he’s handed in a death game.

They head down into the mines, one that was started under Jimmy’s tower a day or so before, for diamonds. And maybe some extra amethyst if they can stumble across a geode. Jimmy was really hoping for that last bit, which just made Martyn hellbent determined to find those crystals for his friend.

The two of them don’t have much luck in the way of amethyst or diamonds, mainly because neither of them want to waste pickaxes trying to mine down that deep just yet. Though they do eventually stop strip mining, Martyn having broken into an entrance to a cave, and they develop a steady rhythm of mining and chatting.

A fair bit of iron is collected though, and Martyn manages to find an iron vein on top of the whole stack they’d already collected. It’s a good thing they found all this iron too, as they could make things like buckets and spare armor. Diamond armor would probably be better in the long run, but having the next best thing wouldn’t hurt either. In fact Martyn would rather not wear any diamond he gets, wanting to ensure it stays around until they’re really low on people, even if it puts himself at more risk now than probably necessary

He calls Jimmy over, and once they finish clearing out that segment of the mine, it feels like the two are practically inseparable as they decide to start on a continuation of the earlier strip mine.

They are so close in this cave, the two of them, and Martyn doesn't notice. Jimmy doesn’t either. Frankly, if either of them did they wouldn’t have found they practically cared much. They just stay close to each other as they mine, pickaxes sometimes almost hitting the same area of stone.

They are eventually distracted by buzzing in their communicators, the chat abuzz with discussion of when the boogeyman would be chosen that week. Grian informs them eventually that, from what he knows (and he knows a suspicious amount, in Martyn’s humble opinion,) someone is chosen randomly every week, and there is no warning to when it happens. But everyone will feel a countdown of sorts when it happens, just like the last time, so they only find out what’s happening in the moment.

Overall, the conversation doesn’t really get anyone anywhere, but it does give Martyn a pretty bad joke idea. Or a business idea, if you were feeling daring. So he turns to Jimmy, who is leaning against a furnace and crafting table they’d placed down a few minutes before, already smiling from his own stupid ideas.

“We could make a business,” Martyn suggests, his grin widening with every word that leaves his mouth. “The Boogey Blockers!”

“The Boogey Blockers!?” Jimmy parrots him with a small giggle, turning his head to face him. “And what would we do as ‘ The Boogey Blockers,’ hmm?”

“We’d block the Boogeyman from killing people, and save everyone a whole lot of trouble with it!” The blonde explains, going to lean on the crafting table as well, and teasingly getting in Jimmy’s personal space as he does so.

The canary giggles in return, seeming to focus on an oddly specific part of his face as he does. “Maybe we could do that!” He responds, eyes not seemingly moving from wherever the hell he’s so focused on.

Martyn furrows his brows at his friend momentarily, slightly wondering if all this time in the caves had driven him crazy. Or messed with whatever weird bird instincts he had. “Whatcha lookin’ at? Is my face pretty or something?” He teases, a little caught off guard by what happens next.

“I, um, here,” Jimmy says, reaching to hold his cheek. “You’ve got some dirt on your face.” His face is slightly red as he goes to wipe the grime from Martyn’s face rather delicately, cradling it the entire time. His brown eyes are focused on his small task, entirely honed in on the small, sweet task he’d put upon himself. The blonde just stares up at him, a bit mesmerized suddenly. Jimmy sticks out his tongue in concentration for a moment, and he can’t help but think of how adorable that is.

Jimmy brushes some stray hair out of Martyn's face as well, hair that would’ve bothered him if it stayed out of place for much longer. His breath hitches at that, but the canary doesn’t seem to notice. He just pulls back with a smile, one that Martyn has found himself growing quite fond of.

“There, all clean now!” Jimmy hums, going back to the ore he’d been working out of the stone previously. Somehow doing so like none of that had ever happened.

“..Thanks..” Martyn mumbles, barely audible, and all he can do to regain his composure is to go back to mining his own ore, and avoid Jimmy’s beautiful, beaming face for a few minutes, as much as he doesn’t want to.

They don’t stay in the cave for long after that, their pockets long full of mostly coal and iron, but there is some gold and redstone scattered in there as well. Not to mention the absolutely absurd amount of cobblestone they can now use to improve the wall and tower of the base above. Though there was probably never going to be a shortage of that material, having more never seemed to hurt. Other than the dozens and dozens of chests it was bound to occupy eventually.

So they head back up, still as physically close as they were before, and the two of them crack jokes like they were old friends. And with all these memory gaps, and the pull towards Jimmy and how familiar every moment with him is, Martyn would be inclined to believe it. He’d be very inclined to believe they were friends in another lifetime, and every moment with the canary was just as joyful and amazing there as it was here.

Once they return to the surface it is around midday, and they sort through everything they’d gathered slowly, enjoying being around each other as they do so. Sorting through and organizing is usually such a boring, mundane task, but doing it with Jimmy makes it fun. Doing most things with Jimmy makes them funner than they actually are, really. And Martyn can’t tell if that’s a him thing or just a universal Jimmy effect or something.

All and all it is still a good morning, just as it had started as a few hours before, and Martyn was glad he was still able to thoroughly enjoy himself in this world. For the time being, that is. (He knew not all mornings would be good like this, so he was going to cherish the good days and hours while they lasted, lest he let them slip between his fingers and he is only left with memories of the bad ones in the end.)

And well, just because the mornings and days are good, that doesn’t mean there aren't some down moments thrown in the mix as well. Down moments a certain, amazing, wonderful, and splendid someone is always trying to quell for him.

Mumbo and Grian emerge from their own, separate mining session barely ten minutes later, and the sight makes something unpleasant stir in Martyn’s gut. He narrows his eyes, watching the way they laugh together, over what has to be some sort of inside joke. (Which he’s right about, it’s some stupid game they mind out while diamond mining, he finds out later.) He watches as they stand close together, in a way that feels more than something friendly. He watches how Grian is so kind to Mumbo, offering to help him sort his ores.

Then, before Martyn can sweep Mumbo away like he so desperately wants to, Grian announces that they’re going to do some enchanting back at the spawn area. And maybe still the table while they’re at it. He and Jimmy bid them farewell and good luck, but as soon as the two have left the base Martyn is frowning, and muttering something probably very nasty under his breath.

Jimmy seems to notice, because when Martyn turns to glance at him again he’s frowning. Normally, he would hide it, but it’s far too late to do that now, because the canary is tugging at his hand softly; like he wants to lead him somewhere.

“Hey,” Jimmy says, his touch feeling like a warm fire on Martyn’s skin. “You wanna help me with the inside of my tower? I’ve got no idea how to decorate it.”

“I thought we all agreed there was no point in decorating if it’s a death game.” Despite himself, Martyn cracks a small smile. He can’t help it, Jimmy just has that infectious energy that makes you want to smile.

The canary’s gaze hardens, and he shifts until he’s holding Martyn’s both of hands firmly in his, their fingers interlocking. “I know! But I want to do it! I want to do it with you!” If the blonde wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now, his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“…Well, okay then. I’ll help.” Martyn mumbles around a fond sigh, and decides it’s worth it when Jimmy flashes that smile again. The one he can’t help but love so much. But he knows deep down that this will still not quell the horrible feeling in his gut. Not in the long run anyways.

Martyn knows he’s jealous, and that he’s running towards Jimmy to avoid it. But he doesn't want to acknowledge it, so the canary seems like a pretty good way to distract himself from doing that. And it’s an excuse to spend more time with him, which is always a bonus.

(Everytime he gets jealous after this he runs straight to Jimmy. And sometimes Jimmy walks into his tower, a frown that shouldn't be there etched onto his face, and Martyn feels like he’s running from his own jealousy as well.)

Jimmy takes him to the tower, still holding hands, and they don’t let go until it is time to sort through the canary’s rather terrible chest monster he’s made. And it works, it helps take Martyn’s mind off his jealousy almost entirely. Jimmy just has to be so damn good at cheering him up, doesn't he?

It takes them a good hour or two to do it, the same amount of time it would take the other two to get back. That didn’t escape Martyn’s notice, but anytime he seems down again Jimmy is quick to distract him. They even manage to put some things up on the wall, making some rather cute decorations if he says so himself.

Though towards the end of it though, Jimmy starts hiding something from him. Martyn tries to find out what it is, really he does, but everytime he gets close Jimmy either hides it with his wings, or playfully shoves him back. The canary’s being so vigilant, much more than he normally is, and all it does is making him incredibly curious about what he’s making on the crafting table.

He finds out towards the end, when Jimmy leads him towards the bed, and he has to stop himself from making some sort of dirty joke about that. The taller sits him down, still being as gentle as he had been before, and tells Martyn to hold out his hands and close his eyes.

The blonde lets out an amused snort at that. “What are we, five? ” He asks, the corners of his eyes crinkling in joy.

“Just do it! Please!” Jimmy huffs, and Martyn obliges with another amused sound.

His eyes stay firmly closed, with absolutely no peeking done whatsoever, and a minute later there is something cold and slightly heavy resting in his palms. There is also the lingering warmth of Jimmy's hands brushing against his, and Martyn has to stop himself from chasing it.

“You can open them now.” When he speaks next Jimmy’s voice has become slightly smaller, what seems to be nervousness and maybe embarrassment lacing it. Martyn just cocks an eyebrow at his tone, and slowly opens his eyes.

There, in his hands lies the best gift Martyn’s certain he’s ever gotten and will ever get, memory gaps or not.

He stares down at a spyglass, one clearly made with love and careful hands, mouth slightly agape. A normal spyglass is already fairly expensive to make, with having to find the amethyst for it and all, but this one has diamonds embroidered along one side of it. It’s…it's truly beautiful, that’s what it is. And it gets more beautiful when he picks it up to inspect the bottom half of the object. There, on the small trim around the glass, is a shy J + M engraved into the copper.

“Sorry if you don’t like it,” Jimmy murmurs, gaze now fixed on his lap. He's blushing ear to ear, much like the other man sitting on the bed with him. “I just thought you’d probably lost the old one, or put it in the jar by now, and wanted to make you a new one. One that you wouldn’t want to throw away…” “Oh Tim, no….” Martyn sets the gift to the side, and goes to hold Jimmy’s hands in his once more, the nickname slipping past his lips without a second thought. It’s something he’d picked up from Grian he thinks, or maybe it was one of those things he just couldn’t remember. But the way he got it doesn’t matter, because Jimmy likes it, and responds to it all the same. (And if Jimmy likes it, then it’s a good nickname. His nickname.) “I never threw the first one away.”

Martyn slowly pulls out the first spyglass Jimmy had given him over a week ago at this point, and the canary just stares at it in what he can only call a kind of happy disbelief. The item has clearly been used, the wood and copper having scratches in it and some of the glass being cracked, but Martyn never threw it away. He’d kept it on his person at all times, even when he never had anything to give up to the jar, he never threw it away. He only thought of giving it away that once, and vowed to never again.

“Well now I feel kinda silly…” Jimmy lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound of his lovely voice strangled with emotion.

Martyn smiles fondly at him, moving a hand to cup the other cheek without even thinking about it. “Don’t,” He says, shifting closer as Jimmy puts a hand on top of his. “Because now I have two wonderful gifts from you.” There is a fond smile stretching across his face, one so wide it almost hurts, but Martyn can't even bring himself to care.

Jimmy’s breath hitches, and then he laughs softly. It’s a nice laugh, his is, and Martyn can’t help but be memorized by it. He can’t help but laugh along and gaze at the canary’s face, watching as the flush from earlier spreads further across his features and the corner of his eyes turn upwards from joy. His eyes trace over every inch of his friend's face, from his eyes to his nose all the way down to his lips and all the blemishes and other small parts about it.

God , he wants to do something so incredibly stupid right now.

Thankfully, before he acts on any stupid impulse, there are voices calling for their names. Both of them jump back, startled, just as Impulse opens the door to Jimmy’s tower. Martyn scrambles away further, quickly trying to shove both of the spy glasses back into his pockets and away from any curious eyes.

Impulse gives the two of them a look, but seems to decide it’s something to ask about later. “Grian and Mumbo are on their way back!” He says, not commenting on how hard they’re both blushing, or how Jimmy’s wings have puffed out in a way that’s clearly flustered. Or how the two looked like they were about to suck face when he walked in. Or just, any of the million embarrassing things he could bring up right about now.

“With the enchanting table!?” Jimmy asks, standing from the bed in excitement, their little moment being pushed to the back of his mind for now. The mention of their two other allies had sent Martyn straight back into the earlier mood he’d been in, but even he is intrigued by maybe having full control of the world’s enchantments.

“Maybe!” Impulse says, an excited gleam in his eyes, and the two follow him out back into the main area. And maybe Martyn goes to hold Jimmy’s hand on another spur of the moment thought, and maybe Jimmy lets him and maybe they stand so close that no one can tell that they actually are, or if their hands are just brushed against each other weirdly.

Grian and Mumbo come back with no enchanting table, saying that it was already gone when they got there. Grian has a hunch, saying that he feels like Scar did it, with all his apparent talk of starting some sort of wizard business (which makes Martyn wonder exactly how Grian knows what the wizard’s been on about, because the group hasn’t seen Scar in a good few days.) Mumbo just laments that he wasn’t able to enchant his axe, or any of his armor, which Martyn briefly tries to cheer him up over. He isn’t sure if it works, but he tried at least.

Considering that the sun is setting, and they can already hear the sounds of skeletons' bones rattling and creepers hissing just outside the base's wall, the five of them decide that finding the enchanter is a job for the morning. And as soon as they do Jimmy drags him off again, acutely aware of the frown Martyn had sported since he caught sight of a certain someone with another certain someone once more.

He laughs as Jimmy mutters something to him, something about star gazing he thinks, and leads him up to the top of one of their towers. He’s leaning against Jimmy the whole time, as the two of them sit on the edge of a tower, legs dangling idly off the side. Jimmy pulls out his own spyglass, one he’s been so careful with Martyn’s fairly certain it’s the first one he’d ever made for himself, and the blonde pulls out the newest one he’d received barely an hour before.

That is where they stay the whole night, at the top of a cobblestone tower, entirely absorbed in each other. The stargazing is fun, it’s glorious to look at the night sky with someone you enjoy being around so dearly. They point out constellations to each other, and teach each other which ones are which when one of them draws a blank. And when the night grows colder Jimmy wraps an arm around him, and Martyn can do nothing but melt into the canary’s touch.

They sleep up there too, entirely unintentionally. Though before they do they slide off the edge of the tower, and lean against the wall, for they are far too sleepy to go all the way back down. Martyn falls asleep, Jimmy’s head rested snugly against his chest, and tries to push down the fluttering in his stomach and the strange feelings of floating he’s been getting around this wonder, wonderful man all damn day.

Looking back, those feelings he got around Jimmy should’ve been a warning sign. He didn’t notice at the time, had shoved it aside with all the other strange feelings he’d gotten over the course of this game, which he would soon learn to be a mistake. That was the feeling of butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach whenever he lays eyes on Jimmy. The exact same ones he got around Mumbo.

Martyn opens his eyes slowly the next morning, waking up to the sight of half a cobblestone wall and the dark oak trees just outside it. He was also incredibly warm, probably because he was sleeping in the sun with a hoodie on, but also because of the canary with an arm and a wing still wrapped around his torso.

He looks down with a smile, and sees that Jimmy is still in the same position he fell asleep in. His head against Martyn’s chest, wings spread out and crushing the other blonde’s legs under his body weight. Which just made him realize that he wouldn’t feel his legs at all, so that was great. But he doesn’t mind too much, as long as Jimmy’s comfortable and sleeping well.

Martyn shifts slightly, because sleeping against stone has left his back slightly sore, and begins gently playing with Jimmy’s hair. The other leans into it, letting out pleased chirps as he sleeps. He thinks it’s the damn cutest thing he’s ever seen, really. Martyn smiles wider as Jimmy nuzzles fully into his hand, and notices the last wisps of sunrise fading into the blue morning sky.

Yeah, yeah mornings on this server really were amazing, weren’t they?

Jimmy wakes up slowly, about twenty minutes later, and Martyn secretly thinks he was pretending for about half of that to keep getting his hair played with. Which, valid honestly, he would do that too. And it’s not like he wanted their soft moment to end early anyways

“Mornin’ pretty bird.” Martyn hums as wide, yellow eyes slowly blink open at him.

“Morning.” Jimmy chirps sleepily in response, blinking some of the sleep from his eyes. “How long have you been up for?”

“Not long,” Martyn smiles, shifting his position more now that he doesn't have to worry about waking someone up by doing so. “Mind getting off of me now?”

“Oh, sorry.” Jimmy mumbled a little sheepishly, scrambling off him in somewhat of a hurry. It was a big relief really, not having an entire person’s weight bearing down on him anymore.

Martyn just rolled his eyes and let out an amused snort. “Nah it’s fine, I just can’t really feel my legs anymore!”

“Well, they’re still attached to you, so that’s good!” Jimmy flexed his wings for a moment (Martyn totally not watching how they caught the sunlight, nope, not at all,) before reaching a hand down to help him up. The blonde takes it, a smile feeling permanently etched on his face, and holds onto Jimmy rather tightly until he can feel his lower half once more. Not that the canary seems to mind, he used it to be more physically affectionate in fact.

They go down to the ground floor of the base slowly, whispering and giggling like school children all the way down. Like some stupid teenagers in love, because that’s what it feels like with Jimmy sometime, truly. And by the time they get down all the way Grian and Mumbo are already awake and seemingly waiting for them.

“Well there you two are!” The shorter avian exclaims, hands going to rest on his hips. “We were starting to wonder what you both were doing up there!” Grian teases, wiggling his eyebrows a bit as he speaks.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know~” Martyn says, his tone a little sing-song-like, and pulls Jimmy closer by the waist and maybe lets his hands tease downwards just a bit. Jimmy just splutters, his face turning fifty shades red in the process. Grian cackles loudly, and Mumbo giggles alongside him, something momentarily flashing across his face.

“Anyways,” Grian continues once all the laughter dies down. “We were gonna go get that enchanting table, remember!?”

Three pairs of eyes light up at that and Jimmy, who is still thoroughly embarrassed and wants the attention off him, hurries them forward. So they all set off, teasing their favorite canary and not having any real expectations of how this little trip will go. Hopefully it goes well, and they can get some enchantments and go home alive and happy. That would be the best outcome, yes.

The visit to Magical Mountain ends up going horribly, as it was probably always going too. It goes so horribly that Martyn’s not sure if it could’ve gone any worse, actually.

Mainly because there is a trap, one that Grian spots instantly, and it’s pretty clear that one or both of their wizardry neighbors are probably the boogeymen. All four of them run out there, but not before Joel starts swinging his axe around like a bloodthirsty madman. Which he kinda confirmed that he was by doing that.

He’s going for Mumbo, and Martyn is trying to pull out his sword and also pull his friend away from their attacker, right as Mumbo manages to grab his sword, and knock Joel right off the edge. It’s a damn impressive move, especially because it was done entirely on accident. But a kill’s a kill he supposes.

The blonde turns for a split second, him and the two other Southlanders yelling in disbelief and excitement from the kill, and Scar throws lava down right on top of Mumbo’s poor little head. He wasn’t sure how horrifying watching someone burn alive is, but well now he knows. And the answer is that it's pretty goddamed terrifying.

“Mumbo!” Martyn screams his allies name, helpless to do anything but watch as his friend burns, and disappears, and he cannot do anything but watch and scream and back away from the former boogeyman in front of him.

After that it’s all a little bit of blur, but they do manage to scramble together all of Mumbo’s items, even the ones that had fallen down into the shallow ravine below. It’s a bit of a blur till Mumbo comes back, but Martyn does know he’s understandably quite shaken by his ally literally dying in front of him . Jimmy stays close to him the entire time though, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Maybe, he can’t quite recall everything.

When Mumbo comes back, he barely waits for the man to be given his items back before practically throwing himself at him. The redstone holds him as he runs up, Martyn;s borrows furrowed in what is undeniably great worry. He kinda forgets the other two are there in all honesty, and the fact that they are still rather close to Magical Mountain, his whole world becoming the mustached man in front of him for a few minutes,

“You okay?” He murmurs, holding Mumbo’s cheeks in his hands. He doesn't care that the others are around this time, and has a feeling Grian and Jimmy have politely averted their eyes already anyways.

Mumbo smiles softly at him, placing his own, colder hands on top of Martyn’s. “I’m fine.” The redstoner reassures him, voice true and genuine. “Just a bit shaken is all.”

“Good.” Martyn smiles, and leans upwards to press a swift peck to the taller’s lips. EVen such a simple gesture of affection leaves the redstoner blushed deep red, so much so that he can’t hold back the giggle that escapes him.

They separate from each other, and join the other two to start the long walk back to the Southlands with no enchanter in tow. It’s a sad walk really, one of shame and defeat, and the blonde becomes kinda determined to never to it again.

Martyn glances at Jimmy when they return to the other half of their group a minute later, and sees that his face has fallen a bit. It’s a familiar look, a jealous one that he’s seen before, and something turns in his gut at the sight. He frowns at that, but cannot shuffle closer to his the canary, because he has wrapped himself in some sort of conversation with Grian. All he can do is keping frowning, and try to listen to whatever Mumbo’s on about as he tries to figure out how to fix this.

He keeps frowning, his thoughts almost entirely drowning Mumbo out, until there is a voice from the group's right. Four head’s turn at the sound, and there is a Ren Diggity Dog in the trees, waving them down with questions about what the hell just happened, exactly? Which is a fair question, because the blonde isn’t even sure if he knows himself.

Martyn looks at Ren, and suddenly, after a moment of blank staring, there are voices; ones that are not his own, in his head and whispering things in his ear. They sound familiar, like pleasant and welcoming voices, but they are faint and distant. He can barely make out half of what they’re saying really, much to his own frustration.

All he manages to catch is a whispered “Trust each other….never doubt…” And well, he was already thinking about making good with Ren before, and the weird little voice had just been another motivator to go through with that. A weird little voice he could worry about later, when he was alone and not surrounded by people. (Worrying about it is absolutely going to slip his mind by the time he gets home, by the way. Unfortunately)

So he goes through with it while the other Southlanders are distracted, after Ren asks all his questions and the other three have started to properly discuss what happened back on the Mountain. He grabs Ren’s arm gently, and leads the two of them behind some of the nearby trees. The dog looks started, but thankfully makes no sound as he’s led off to the side. There is this feeling of instant, natural trust between them, one that neither of them even think to question as they hide behind a tree.

“Here,” Martyn says, keeping his voice low as he speaks. It doesn’t escape his notice how close they are, how he’s leaning his back against a tree and Ren is almost flushed up against him. It at least makes it easier to slip him some of the netherwart he’d kept on his person, and even he can see the way Ren’s eyes widen in excitement as he takes it; despite the sunglasses. Maybe his tail even wags a bit, thumping gently against Martyn’s leg, and maybe the blonde finds it just a little endearing.

“What’s all this about, dude?” Ren asks, keeping his voice just as quiet if not quieter than Martyn’s was a moment ago. He pockets the netherwart and his tail stops thumping, and Martyn tries to hold back the disappointment at that.

He smiles as he speaks, leaning back a bit further to get a better look at Ren’s face. “Just wanted to make a friend is all, be in good standings with someone who isn’t a Southlander.” I like you quite a bit goes unsaid, but Martyn hopes it gets across anyway.

“That’s not a bad idea…” Ren hums, one of his ears twitching in thought. “You have been quite friendly to me so far..”

“You could always join us, you know. Make our quintet into a sextet?” The offer wasn’t meant to be said aloud, only kept in Martyn’s brain, but his mouth moves before he can stop it. He doesn’t even think Ren was done speaking and he’d gone ahead and done it. And now the offers out there in the air, and he is mortified and embarrassed and praying he didn’t just ruin a possible allyship. (The worst part of all this is just how badly he wants Ren to say yes , to agree and run back home with him, even if both of them know that will never come to be.)

Ren, maybe catching the quick gleam of embarrassment in the blonde’s eyes, doesn’t react horribly. “I would love to, really, your group looks lovely and all. But I’ve already got allies back in the shadow lands, you see.” He smiles as he speaks, a giggle slipping through his lips. A giggle that shouldn’t make Martyn feel as light as it does.

“It’s kinda cute how eager you are to be friends with me.” Ren huffs a moment later, and moves to stand just a bit farther away from Martyn. Probably because this short interaction has gone for long enough, and if the blonde tunes into the world around them he would be able to hear his friend’s conversations coming to a close.

Somehow, he manages to keep his compuse and not turn into a bumbling, blushing fool. “Yeah, whatever!” Martyn laughs, a genuine smile stretching across his features, and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets as he moves away. He hears Ren’s footsteps follow him back, and sadly they don’t quite manage to keep their secret meeting all that secret.

“What were you doing with Ren behind that tree, huh?” Jimmy teases him in a low voice after they part ways, the whole group giving the dog hybrid their goodbyes. The two blondes are walking towards the back of the group, Grian having dragged Mumbo into some sort of conversation. One where they laughed a lot. Which he tended to do fairly often….

“I was just warning him about Scar and Joel, since they’re both so bloodthirsty.” Martyn shrugs, hands still shoved in his pockets. He didn’t want to admit to giving away supplies as precious as netherwart, even if he could probably weasel his way out of it. Jimmy just makes a suspicious chirp, and nudges him in the side playfully.

“Yeah, I’m sure you need to be that close to do that.” It comes out as a tease, but Martyn would have to be a fool to not notice the slight twinge of something underneath all of his the canary’s smiles. It sounds like jealousy, or something akin to it, and part of him has to wonder why Jimmy, of all people, would be jealous. The other part of him gets a little too hopeful at that.

“It was nothing, I promise it.” He lets his voice turn gentle, reassuring this time. Because whatever that was was nothing. It would mean nothing in the long run, not when he was kissing Mumbo and spending all those hours in the caves with Jimmy. (Even if he wishes it wasn’t nothing, secretly)

He locks eyes with Jimmy when he speaks, and thankfully that seems to work. The canary’s shoulders seem to relax, and his smile gets a little brighter, it beams a bit more too. His smile looks more real than it does fake, and that’s all Martyn could really ever ask for. For his friend to keep smiling like that.

“Okay, if you say so!” Jimmy smiles, and nudges him again. Martyn lets out a small, breathy laugh, and elbows his friend in the side. Jimmy goes to retaliate, about to smack him over the head with a wing, but before the scuffle can continue Grian is yelling at them over his shoulder. The parrot avian asks if their children, and he gets his response in the form of Jimmy ramming into his backside, almost sending both of them toppling into the grass.

Martyn catches up with them, and can do nothing but laugh along with Mumbo as the two birds fight. Though he would be lying if he said he was paying more attention to the two than Mumbo, constantly trying to hold the redstoner’s hand and getting lost in the sound of his laughter. The avians play tussle all the way back to the base even, until all four of them have to separate and get some work done.

They return home after maybe an hour of walking back, and it’s before they all separate the four of them collectively realize that they’d forgotten a kinda important thing this entire goddamed time.

“Wait guys, where’s Impulse!?” Grian exclaims, right as the fifth and final Southlander, who all four of them had completely forgotten about somehow, emerges from one of the mines they’d carved out. The four of them had just had a harrowing adventure, and this poor fella had just been left out and stuck mining for god knows how many hours. Martyn feels slightly bad about leaving Impulse out, but also he didn’t have to witness someone die, so it’s not the strongest guilt in the world.

They explain everything to Impulse, and things get kinda hectic from there. Mainly because Martyn hears him and Mumbo having a slight debate over what happened, and Impulse feels bad that Joel died. So he decides he’s going to go off and give the two wizards, who are absolutely their enemies now, some business as “compensation" or whatever. It’s quite an intense argument, and avoiding it leads Martyn to Grian, who had snuck off to go try to steal the enchanter, and has now come back looking all sad. Much more sad than he would be for not getting a simple magical table.

And that is the point where Martyn decides he’s had enough of these specific people for today, and retreats into the nether to maybe replace that netherwart he’d given away to Ren earlier. Or get some blaze rods or other potion ingredients, either option would suffice for him really.

By sheer luck he actually runs into Ren in the nether, him and Etho that is, and they hang out for a while, messing around in a basalt delta. Which is a horrible place to mess around in, but trying to to fall into the small lava pockets in the rock does turn out to be quite entertaining.

They end up putting out Ren’s house, which somehow leads to Martyn spending at least two hours in the Shadow Lands, where he makes friends with Lizzie and manages to get Ren in on him and Jimmy’s Boogey Blockers idea. Which the blonde manages to do by just mentioning the concept actually.

He stays there for a while, until the mention of Boogey Blockers makes him miss Jimmy far more than it reasonably should, and he uses how low the sun is as an excuse to run back home and into the canary’s arms again.

Martyn heads home, his steps as light as the air around him. He smiles to himself all the while, already being able to imagine the adorable little reaction Jimmy will have to Ren joining their stupid little business idea from the day before, one that will probably never come to fruition in the end. The thought makes him giddy, it makes him want to get home faster, and so in response he picks up the pace; damn near running in the as the sun sets around him and the sky turns into a lovely orange hue.

Later down the line, it’ll be one of the few moments where he can actually remember feeling so light and free and full of joy. Because joy runs out here, eventually, something Martyn finds out sooner than anyone would probably like too.

#running towards the north #ron.writing #ron.fic #trafficshipping #solidwood #mirror birds #redwood #mumbo/jimmy #we need to make em a ship name frrr #last life

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blockgamepirate · 1 year

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Limited Life spoilers (I just didn't really wanna tag this but I also don't wanna spoil people so cut it is)

Unfortunately my hunch about the Clockers being the first full team out of the series seems increasingly likely.

Sure the Bad Boys are technically gone but Grian is still alive and that was my whole argument: I said I thought Grian would probably outlast all the Clockers and so far that's exactly how it seems to be going.

In all likelihood (even though we don't know Bdubs' time for sure) they're the team with the least time left AND their spawn point is trapped as well, so the first one of them to die next time will probably die twice. If it's Scar or Bdubs that'll probably be the end of their series. If it's Cleo, that only means the team member with the most time will be as low as the other two and makes the full team even more likely to go down early.

(That's unless Martyn changes his mind and disables the trap but idk, he might be too much of an opportunist to do that. It's 30 minutes, whether it comes from an ally or an enemy, and he can probably also tell that the Clockers are on their way out so it's not like the alliance is gonna last long anyway.)

Also lbr it's Scar, Bdubs and Cleo. Sure they can sometimes survive surprisingly well when they try but are any of them actually even trying? They've all just been having fun roleplaying, goofing off and playing recklessly and based on previous seasons that's unlikely to change towards the end of the series.

It also doesn't help that Bdubs has mixed loyalties as well.

Now admittedly Cleo has about four hours and Impulse who has the highest time among TIES only has about three and a half, so there's a chance that Cleo will outlast him. But out of the two of them, who's more likely to lose a life first? The one who was the second to last yellow or the one who's only above the former now because they had a different player take over for them and get two kills last session? (No offence to Cleo but it's true, and Cleo would probably agree.) And if Cleo dies before Impulse, she's gonna have half an hour less than him. If she also dies first out of the Clockers, she's gonna have one and a half hours less than him.

That said anything could happen of course, all it takes is Impulse having some bad luck. Or maybe Cleo (or Scar or Bdubs) will actually manage to get a bunch of kills somehow, idk. Admittedly Scar has been very aggro and has been getting kills and might have gotten more if Scott hadn't stolen so many.

Alternatively Grian could mess up really badly and die multiple times very early on, finishing off the Bad Boys, but he has an hour and a half more time than Cleo and is much better at getting kills. He has also outlasted every member of the Clockers in every season except the one where his life was literally tied to Scar's. And he has a new team now as well so he isn't even alone despite being the last member of his team.

My point is, the Clockers are pretty much doomed in every way, and unless TIES has very bad luck, or unless one of the other teams has EXTREMELY bad luck, the family is probably gonna be the first full team out.

(The thing is, I really hope I'm wrong because I'm rooting for Cleo, but it doesn't look good, not good at all. Well, then again it was always a long shot.)

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arospecsyourblockdudes · 3 years

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The way I see Last Life memories, is that anything that had a strong emotional impact last season sticks with them. Other stuff is fuzzy but anything major is clear as day

So, it’s easy for Bdubs to trust Cleo and he does so happily. His little cobble hut feels more like home when she drops by than it does when Etho is there. Of course he wouldn’t leave Etho, he cares about the other man, but part of him can’t help but fret over Cleo’s two lives. There’s still that urge to see if he’s welcome in her new castle, if he can protect her this time, try and get it right. He wont leave Etho, that’s for sure. But he feels himself relax finally when he notices Cleo’s gone up to three lives.

Scott frets quite a bit. After all, he’s so close to Ren now, someone who’s one fall away from hunting him. Just like last time. He keeps an eye on the tower when Ren’s up there, just in case, as a warning, so he’ll know to prepare this time. Pearl tells him there’s nothing to worry about but he’s not as confident as she is. After all, he’s been here before. Jimmy, also, he worries about, the poor man is so accident prone and got handed two lives. He has to talk himself out of marching down to the Southlands and keeping an eye on him. He has four people to watch out for him, Scott thinks, he isn’t alone. He still worries.

Grian and Scar keep running into each other. In a field where Grian promised to keep Scar’s stolen life safe (he felt a rush of nostalgia for the dry winds of a desert as he says that, and feels almost guilty when Bdubs takes that life back). In the Nether, where Scar could’ve easily killed him but didn’t (Grian still wonders if it was really because Scar didn’t know he could kill a yellow or if it was something else). If Grian wasn’t already committed to the Southlands, he’d see if there wasn’t a way he could live somewhere near Scar, but it didn’t shake out that way. No loss. They’ll see each other again.

Joel had no attachments last season. He remembers burning and he remembers hunting with his pack. So he doesn’t feel bad about setting traps to kill anyone, whoever was unlucky to fall for it (only himself it seems). He doesn’t mind stealing the enchanting table for himself and Scar. Certainly doesn’t mind telling Scar to his face that he might just decide to kill him. He has no attachments, he’s a lone wolf again. He doesn’t feel upset that his one chance to make a friend was stolen from him. He’s not bitter about being a lone wolf again. Absolutely not. Why would he. If he sits in his cave and sulks alone, it’s only over the loss of a life and not the loss of a friendship. Why would you think that.

Big B goes for allies early. Yeah, he’ll be friendly to everyone, but being a floater does you no good, he remembers. You’ll end up losing any choice in the matter and having to fight against friends. So he chooses his friends early now. Lizzie and Cleo, both formidable and frightening in their own way. Cleo’s eyes shine with a happy light when she suggests rigging her house to explode and Big B smiles as they dig up all the sand from the pond. Being friendly is good. He doesn’t like making enemies, but maybe being friends with everyone only gets you hurt in the end. Maybe this time, if he embraces a team and goes along with their chaos he can avoid betrayal. He pushes thoughts of loopholes and war and arrows through the heart away and digs his part of the tunnel to Lizzie’s

Ren is alone which is. It’s fine. He’s fine. Everyone else seems to have teamed up and left him to make a stupid salmon farm and a tower alone but it’s fine. He’s not upset. Etho is with Bdubs, Skizz is with Tango, Big B is with Lizzie and Cleo, and Martyn is with his group and it’s fine. He isn’t upset they left him. It’s natural! Everyone just connected with a different group and he’s not mad. He isn’t upset none of them came to at least say hi. It’s not bothering him. Maybe a bit, because Cleo says hi to Bdubs and Scar and Grian see each other all the time and Scott gives Jimmy a poppy again and he’s on his tower and no one has come by except to make business. He does like business, he does, but he likes not being alone more. He likes not having one spare life, so he wanders and asks anyone for a life in exchange for his undying loyalty. No one accepts his offer (which doesn’t hurt, it’s fine, he understands, a life is a lot, it doesn’t hurt) until Lizzie. She’s new and he doesn’t know her well but he has someone. He has someone and that’s all. So, he’ll follow her until the end. And he has three lives. So it’s fine. He has someone

#last life smp #last life spoilers #I think the idea has some potential yknow

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redorich · 3 years

Note

Eventually the Hermits get their hands on the one shulker box. They give it back a day later, filled with goodies as an apology for stealing, because they just needed it briefly so Doc could set up a shulker box duplicator.

(2/2) To expand on the shulker box ask I sent: It's cheating. They know it's cheating. They debate for a while over wether or not they should build it. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and dammit they need shulkers. Mules and Llamas can only get them so far.

---

(this takes place before the fic where puffy finds zedaph.)

---

The Hermits put up with mule highways and caravans of spitting llamas because they think they have no choice. At least one person complains about the lack of sophisticated storage transportation daily. Mumbo tries to create a system which will ferry items between bases, but it turns out to be more of a Rube Goldberg machine than anything, considering the items only travel at the speed of the water which carries them. Zedaph creates an actual Rube Goldberg machine for item transportation, but the only people who use it are himself and his neighbors, Impulse, False, and Tango. It’s more for prank transportation and snail mail anyway.

Things change when Stress, on a covert surface run, comes a bit too close to other humans on accident and catches sight of a blond man in a hoodie furtively checking his surroundings. Stress immediately does as she’s been trained, hiding herself behind tree cover and checking how long her invisibility potion will be in effect for. It says four minutes. As long as he leaves soon, she won’t have an issue.

The man surveys the muddy clearing with a keen eye, keeping watch for any evildoing interlopers. He places down an Ender chest, reaches his hands into it, then looks around once again to make sure no one’s there. Stress’s heart beats like a drum-- not the style of drums she usually plays, but rather the percussion of one of Xisuma’s favorite black metal bands. As the man’s gaze passes right over her, she feels the machine gun fire of her heart against her chest peak, breath catching in her throat.

He doesn’t see her. Quickly, he pulls something out of the Ender chest. A shulker box!

Stress’s breath stops for an entirely different reason. The things the Hermits could do with even one shulker box..! Item dupers are a thing, right? If anyone knows how to make an item duplication machine, it would be Doc. And a shulker box might be useful for an item duping machine!

She’s getting ahead of herself. Should she steal from this person? Can she steal from this person? Even disregarding the moral dilemma, the members of the Dream SMP are fighters through and through. She’s got the advantage of surprise because she’s invisible and this man doesn’t know she’s here, but how long will that last? Even if she manages to take it, what if the blond man (Punz, she thinks is his name) kills her and takes the shulker box back from her?

As Stress weighs the risks and the rewards, she knows she’s running out of time. Punz breaks the shulker box. Right as he’s about to put it back in his Ender chest, Stress, who can see the window of opportunity closing, springs into panicked action.

She sprints right past Punz, hoping with every fiber of her being that her invisibility potion will be enough to save her. Snatching the box right out of Punz’s hands, Stress takes off running. Punz shouts, swinging his sword wildly at the air. He’s so close that a few strands of hair, just barely the tips, get sheared off of Stress’s fluffy mane and become visible as they flutter to the ground.

Punz’s eyes narrow, tracking the potion particles that he can just barely see. Unfortunately for him, the invisible thief takes off into the mob-infested forest. He gives chase, but the thief gains on him every time he has to stop to fight a mob.

Stress knows she can’t outrun Punz. She’s not bad, but he’s really good. Stress absolutely cannot lead this man back to the canyon. Allowing the hostile mobs of the forest to buy her time by slowing Punz down, Stress looks around rapidly, searching for something, anything she can do to lose the hunter on her trail.

A lone cow catches her eye. Thinking fast, she bites her lip as she dumps her only water bucket out into a nearby pond where it won’t be noticed, then milks the cow. In the distance, a zombie groans as Punz takes it out. Stress hyperventilates, frantically digging at the ground beneath her feet with a silk touch shovel. Once she’s created a hole just barely big enough for her to hide in, she hops in and puts the grassy dirt she dug up just seconds ago above her head and immediately downs the milk, so that there won’t be any potion particles to track her by.

Slowly, carefully, and as quiet as she possibly can, she digs up the dirt beneath her feet in absolute darkness. Logically, Stress knows that Punz won’t be able to see the light from her torch, but she’s too terrified to think logically. What has she done?!

Her shovel stills as angry feet stomp above her. Dirt crumbles into her hair when Punz walks directly above her. Caustic mutters faintly reach her ears through the loamy earth, fading farther and farther away as Punz searches in vain for the invisible thief. Stress waits with bated breath for minutes on end, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

Tentatively, she digs up the diorite block below her with a pickaxe. A mob shifts aboveground and Stress, paralyzed with the paranoia that it might be Punz, spends another five minutes in immobile silence. Burying her face in her hands, she sucks in a breath and continues digging. Once she hits a decently low y-level, she digs forward, taking care to place all her blocks behind her exactly as they were before she mined them.

After a solid three hundred blocks, she begins to staircase back up. On one unfortunate swing of her pick, water floods into her staircase. She must be under a lake or a sea. She can make out some kelp, though, so hopefully that’ll be enough cover for her to go up and check her surroundings.

Stress takes a deep breath and plunges into the cold water. Swimming up, she catches sight of wood-- no way. There is no way she’s made it to the docks just outside of the canyon. Eagerly, she swims back down into her staircase for a breath of air and the chance to down an invisibility potion, then back up to the surface.

On the entire journey from the bottom of the sea to the elevator on the other side of the canyon, she expects someone to catch her, to notice the water she’s dripping on the ground, to somehow sense the guilt emanating off her in waves. It doesn’t happen. Stress makes it to the elevator and pushes the down button eagerly. Every foot the elevator descends down is another thousand pounds of weight off her shoulders. She’s exhausted, and so close to home base. If she can just make it into the Atrium, she’ll have succeeded.

The elevator dings, rousing Stress from her daydreaming. “I really am dead on my feet, ain’t I?” she murmurs to herself.

She makes her way into one of the village houses, avoiding the pressure plates and tripwires which she knows like the back of her hand by now. In the house, she presses a button, which opens a door which leads to a tunnel. Sagging in relief, Stress practically melts across the floor as she traverses the short tunnel and finally makes it into Atrium 1-- a large circular room with a rounded ceiling and plenty of light.

“Woah, Stress!” Ren exclaims, running to support her. The dark circles under his eyes make him look as exhausted as she feels. He’s been working round the clock at the tree farm to churn out enough wood to meet the demands of twenty-four Hermits.

“Stress?” Ren asks with concern in his eyes, gently shaking Stress’s shoulders.

She laughs, high-pitched and wild. She’s done it. She’s really gone and done it!

“I got a shulker box,” she breathes.

Ren gasps. “What?! No way, they’re not even a thing on this server!”

“Yes they are,” Stress sing-songs, “because I have one.”

She tosses him the cyan shulker box with a look of pride on her face. Ren looks at the box in his hands, then back up at Stress with wide eyes.

“We gotta go show Xisuma, my dude.”

---

The Hermits convene in the small meeting room in the residential district, then realize that the room is in fact small and twenty-four Hermits aren’t going to fit in it. Xisuma’s having a good day, so he decides to hold the meeting in Atrium 1.

There are many different opinions on the acquisition of the shulker box, which sits innocently in the center of the room. Some people like Wels believe that even if it’s a great boon, it was stolen and therefore the Hermits don’t have the right to use it. Things were different when they first arrived in the canyon; they stole small things in order to survive. A shulker is nice to have, but the Hermits won’t die without it. On the other hand, there are people who side with Grian, who believes that since the Hermits already have the shulker box, they might as well use it.

Doc rumbles a deep hm, indicating that he’s debating with himself whether he should say something or not. Finally, it seems that the side of him which wants to tell his fellow Hermits wins out.

“Have you guys considered shulker box duping?” he says. Immediately, there is a clamor of outcries, both for and against, as well as just plain disbelieving.

Tango speaks up: absolutely not. It’s cheating. False tentatively rebuts, though, that sometimes cheating is acceptable when it's for a good cause. After all, part of her season 7 base was dug out using TNT dupers. Mumbo awkwardly raises his hand and waits for someone to acknowledge him, which Grian does.

“Er… what if we give it back after we’re done with it?” Mumbo says. Tango still looks unhappy, but the idea seems to appease Wels.

“Friends,” Xisuma says softly. Everyone quiets down immediately. “Should we have a civil vote, or shall I decide?”

Immediately, everyone gets shamed into behaving. “We can vote,” Bdubs says. “Everyone in favor of not cheating?”

“Wait, what are our options?” Grian asks.

“Er,” Scar speaks up. “Keeping the box but not duping it, giving the box back, duping it then giving it back, or duping it and not giving the original back. Is that right?”

Bdubs nods. “Yeah! So, all in favor of keeping the one original box?” A few hands go up, maybe five or six.

“Giving the box back?” More hands go up.

“Duplicating the box, then giving it back?” Nearly a dozen hands go up.

“Well then,” Bdubs says, “I guess I don’t have to finish the options; dupe-and-return wins.”

Doc strides into the center of the room and mines up the shulker box before anyone can change their mind; Tango grumbles good-naturedly at having lost the vote. Meanwhile, while everyone discusses the vote, Joe ferries Xisuma off to his quarters.

“So who’s going to give the shulker box back when we’re done with it, my dudes?” Ren asks the room at large.

“I will,” Stress says immediately. “I stole it; it’s only right that I give it back.”

---

Two days later, Punz wakes up to a noise in his house. He reaches for a knife under his pillow; just because there is no one to be seen doesn’t mean that no one’s there, as Punz is well aware given the theft of his shulker box, which he is still smarting over.

He gets out of bed, treading softly. Right there, in the doorway, is the same shulker box he lost! He looks around. This has to be a trap. No one is around… Punz might as well spring this trap.

He opens the box. Nothing is missing. In fact, there are more items inside than there were when it was stolen from him! A totem of undying, four diamond blocks, two ingots of netherite, and a note which reads, Sorry I stole your box! I only needed to borrow it, but I felt bad so I left some extra goodies in. xoxo

“...Huh?” Punz says to himself. This is the weirdest prank ever.

He puts the box back into his Ender chest and resolves to think about it in the morning.

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sleepless-in-southlands · 2 years

Text

The Winner’s Guide to Surviving Survival

Ao3

Summary: In the wake of winning third life, Grian struggles. Content: Hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending; referenced character death (permadeath au), suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts/ideation, PTSD, survivor guilt, self-harm, self-neglect, recovery, funky POV + tenses for Effect i promise it’s great, obligatory characters not CCs Pairing: Ambiguous grumbo

One: Survive.

Two: Recognize that surviving is different from living, that it’s barely even a synonym of ‘didn’t die’. Recognize it when the first thing you do after that victory bell rings is take a dive right off the mountain you built on, you lived on, you killed on.

(It doesn’t work. The promise is that someone will leave the arena alive, and vile people keep vile promises. Not that you’re really alive when you walk out. It’s your body that’s alive, but that doesn’t actually say anything about you.)

Three: Understand that surviving changes things. Understand that if you were being hauled back in a cheap coffin more people would be able to meet your eyes right now. Understand that that’s not just because you refuse to take your gaze off the ground.

Drag yourself back to your house while ignoring the stares. Everyone you know knew him too. You know what they’re thinking, because you’re thinking it as well.

Drop your bag and then drop yourself right on the floor next to it. It’s cold. It’s hard. It’s solid. You miss the feel of sand.

People will knock at the door. You won’t let them in. If you thought they were going to beat you senseless, you might. But you know that all they have is fake pity and concealed disgust, and that’s not what you deserve. You deserve worse. So you won’t let them in, and you keep at that until they give up.

Four: Give up. You’ll be sick of surviving even before you’ve really begun, because surviving comes with some sort of living, and you’ll be sick of that too.

Forget when you’re supposed to eat, forget your hygiene, forget how much sleep you should be getting. Wear the same sweater every hour as you curl up in dark corners and sleep for an entire day before spending the next staring blankly at the ceiling and eating half a bag of chips that taste like dirt.

Ignore when it sounds like someone is still trying to knock on your door.

Five: Start dying, because giving up is doing the job but too slowly, and you’re afraid if you stay at that pace you might start trying to get better before the end, and you can’t face that.

Get a vice instead, something that will get you soon but not right away, because that’s the coward’s way out and therefore better than you deserve. Play cards hard and fast until you’ve got loan sharks out for your organs, or drink something foul until it soaks into your lungs and drowns you, or acquaint yourself with the taste of fire until it burns you out like a sparkler. Find brief peace with the phantom sensations of blood on your hands because this time it’s you they’re killing off.

Accept that most people don’t make it pass this step, accept that it’s because they’re not actually trying to. Accept they start dying because they want to die, not that they want to be saved. Accept you’re not an exception. Pray to your gods that someone comes through for step six all while knowing you’re actually hoping they won’t.

Six: Get saved. Realize that what everyone else would call luck you’re calling misfortune.

Don’t move when someone forces the door open. Stay curled up on your couch. Keep waiting for your vices to stop your heart, not enough value in it left to be saved or stolen.

Don’t move when they approach you. Don’t move when they take whatever vice you have nearby away and throw it to the side. Don’t move at all until they’re shaking your shoulders and talking about the hospital, and even then only move your eyes.

Suit rumpled. Tie missing. Moustache unkempt. He’s looked better. Not that you’ll say that. Kettles and pots.

Expect him to be angry. Find that he isn’t as he catches your gaze, trying desperately to exchange his frown with a reassuring smile. He gives up fast. He touches your face.

He wants to know why you’re doing this to yourself, even though he won’t ask, even though he already knows. You’ll tell him the truth, that you should have died in that arena that day. It doesn’t require more detail than that.

He doesn’t try to tell you you’re wrong. That will be for the best, because you wouldn’t believe it if he did. But he won’t stop touching your face either.

“Yet you didn’t.” He’ll say instead, and that’s a fact, and you can’t dismiss it, and that’s as good a start as any. He says he wants to help you when you don’t protest him, palm pressing against your cheek.

Seven: Let him help even as you remain stuck in giving up. Let him throw away the vices. Let him rearrange what everyone else is still calling your life while you watch like an unattached observer.

He’ll restock the fridge and eat meals with you to make sure you’re eating them too. A lot of them are the same but he’s trying and you don’t know how much change you’re capable of handling anymore.

He’ll nudge and bully you into showers and change your sheets when you’re not watching. He’ll do the same to get you to change your clothes until you’re digging nails into the sleeves of your sweater and nearly tearing holes because it’s the only comfort you can trust to stay, the only one you can allow yourself to have. He uncurls your fingers and lets you dig them into his hands instead. The sweater stays on.

He’ll find you in your dark corners and move you to your bed until you can’t remember the last time you woke up on the couch or the ground. When you can’t sleep he sits with you until you can. Sometimes he’ll talk, sometimes you’ll talk, sometimes it’s just silence. You’re not alone. That matters.

Eight: Ask him why. You’re not getting better. You’re not trying to. His efforts reap no reward.

Notice his many answers, never repeated no matter how many times you ask. He won’t let the arena get its only survivor. It wouldn’t be right to leave your house empty. You have ideas you need to finish. You deserve better than this even if you don’t believe that you do. You’re his friend. He refuses to lose anyone else he cares for. You have a life to live and he’s going to make sure you get to live it.

Nine: Ask him why one late night when he should be asleep at home and you should be considering your sins in the ceiling splatter, but he’s telling you that you need to sleep and shuffling you off to your bed.

You’ll lie down, but you won’t close your eyes, and he’ll sigh very quietly, and he’ll do something he hasn’t done before. And you won’t know why, you won’t know if it’s been a worse day for you or if he doesn’t know what else to do or if he just wanted to. But he’ll lie down next to you. He’ll lie down next to you, and he’ll curl up around your front, where you’re most vulnerable, as if he’s trying to protect you from the world rather than the other way around.

And you’ll ask him then. Quietly. You’ll hope he misunderstands. Or maybe even get offended. Maybe he’ll leave. Maybe he’ll finally abandon you, questioning his kindness so often, even when it’s so soft and open.

He doesn’t.

He tucks his chin over the top of your head. Pauses. Shifts. Presses his face into your hair. Answers there, where it’s muffled and hard to hear and nearly lost to the insubstantial and unsteady air of the late night. But you can make it out.

“I love you.”

The lightest press of lips to your scalp.

“I’ll take care of you.”

A shaky breath. You’ll reach out, crossing the small space between your bodies, place your hand where his heart is. Feel how it pushes back against you with every beat.

Cry. Cry and let him keep holding you through it.

Ten: Wake up the next day in an empty bed, with the sun spilling in underneath your curtains and the smell of something on the stove drifting down to you from the kitchen. For the first time in a long time, get up without being prompted.

Eleven: Start trying again. It will be slow. It won’t be perfect. There’ll still be so much, too much, for him to help you with, but it can be a little less.

Make more of an effort to fall asleep in your bed. Wash your face and hair even when you can’t get in the shower. Take your sweater off and count it as a point of pride even if it’s back on within the hour. Stand outside your door and get a breath of fresh air each day. Go on a short walk and manage to return someone’s wave before retreating to your house.

It won’t feel like much. But each time he sees you trying, he smiles like he’s more proud of you than you feel such small attempts should warrant, and that’ll be enough to make you feel like you should do at least one more thing.

Make dinner one night, because as appreciative of his efforts you are one can only have potatoes accidentally seasoned with redstone so many times, because you want to return the favor for once, because you’re trying.

It’ll be a bit too late when you realize you haven’t cooked anything proper since the arena, and you’ll end up serving overcooked rabbit with no seasoning, a meal perfect for when you were worried about food poisoning and time but not so much for a safe and casual dinner.

And despite it, he’ll tell you it’s amazing, and you think that maybe he doesn’t actually mean the meal.

(You’ll have a bite of the meal yourself and decide he most certainly does not mean the meal).

Twelve: Get used to trying. Get used to doing things on your own again, things that help you rather than hinder.

Get used to both you and him improving your cooking skills because you’re each making an equal number of meals. Get used to taking off the sweater more often because there are other comforts you can have too. Get used to sleeping when you should where you should.

Get used to still having bad days where you need more help than you can return. Get used to the fact the bad days are lessening. Get used to the fact that you’re starting to have more neutral days than bad days. Get used to the fact that you’re starting to have good days again.

Get so used to it that it’s not until one sunny morning when you wake up in his arms with the first thought on your mind about how it’s going to be a great day that you realize this is getting better. That you’re getting better.

Thirteen: Say it to yourself. Say it to yourself so many times you wake him up with it. Say it to him, too, because it’s the biggest revelation in your life since you decided you were never going to get better.

He’ll laugh, quietly, eyes soft with more than sleep, press his forehead against yours, agree with you like he already knew but the way you say it is revolutionary to the whole concept.

Fourteen: Recognize that living is different from surviving. Recognize that living is harder. Recognize that living is better. Recognize that you were never meant to just survive.

Fifteen: Live.

#3rd Life #third life #grian #mumbo jumbo #m.y funky words #im really happy with this fic personally #it probably isnt my best work in terms of how others'll like it but that's ok #i think it's really good and important

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smaidjor · 3 years

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you know i think one of the coolest and also kinda saddest things about last life was the potential for how absolutely feral scott could have gone. like especially in the last few episodes when he had those damage potions- he's incredibly effective with them, as we saw from his fights with martyn and ren! not to mention that both of the times he got boogeyman, he was more than capable of lying about it and just killing whoever he felt like, y'know? he's a really good liar, and he'd been a neutral enough party that people might have believed him. he even mentions in episode 8 how neat it is that everyone just trusts him not to kill them even though he's openly told them he's the boogeyman.

at any point during the whole thing scott could have turned on his allies, started fights, stolen or killed for his own gain, and yet....he doesn't. not until the end, and even then, he makes it an honorable fight. a battle royale between the remaining four, whoever wins it wins it. he even goes down to red because he didn't want to get a kill as boogey! and even as a red, his kills are strategic and not...random. he wants to go after cleo and pearl so they can be allied again, he goes after martyn and etho because no one can be allowed to have two lives when all the rest have one, he goes after grian and joel because they're an active threat. he doesn't seem to be taken much by bloodlust. in fact, some of his most ruthless actions (boogey kill on impulse, killing grian's dogs) were on green. and even then, he let impulse get his stuff back, made it clear that the kill was out of necessity.

there were a million chances for him to turn around and become a backstabber, and he just....never did. not even at the end- ren was the one to kill pearl, and scott killed ren for it.

#last life spoilers #last life scott #last life smp #he's so beloved gosh

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sweetest-honeybee · 3 years

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Down to Dust

Chapter 3

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Summary: Grian has a talk with one of the highest ranking Watchers.

Word Count: 1365

TW: Slight degradation

Note: Aisling’s name is pronounced “Ash-ling”

Enjoy!

———————

The egg wasn’t back. Grian spent his next morning searching once more for it and decided that it was never returned the night before. While he concluded his search on the roof of his house, he cursed to himself. It was only made worse by the glowing brooch awaiting him in his house upstairs. That alone made anxiety prick at the back of his neck. He was being summoned and he needed the egg terribly.

Scar wasn’t around, neither was Mumbo. It raised some suspicion in his mind. He could spam their communicators but that wouldn't help him in the slightest. They’d only deny it further and he didn’t have time to do what he planned to do at their bases. He was needed and needed now. Watchers hardly liked to wait.

He made his way back into his base. Upstairs, the brooch was lying on his bed expectantly. The avian sighed and pulled at his hair. What if they didn’t need the egg yet, he thought. It was a possibility but how much worse would his rank get if he couldn’t present the Mistress with her egg. At this point, even he was surprised that she considered him anything remotely important to her plan.

Grian picked up the brooch. Might as well get it over with, he supposed. He pressed his thumb into the center’s amethyst and within seconds a lilac mist surrounded his feet and climbed higher until he could no longer see his surroundings. As the mist cleared, he was met with a dark room that seemed to stretch endlessly much like The Void. Unlike The Void, however, the ceiling was littered with stars. Under his feet, a large glowing Watcher’s symbol that illuminated his face under the black cloak that conjured over his small frame. On his chest, the brooch, and behind him the hem of the cloak extended for miles.

At the front of the room was a lady that towered over him by tens of blocks- although at least twenty of these were from her floating from the floor. She was elegant and beautiful, not a blemish, stray hair, or loss thread dared to imperfect her features. Although, a crystalline veil shielded the top half of her face. It extended into a sun-like crown atop her head. To further emphasize her power, she emitted a white, milky glow over the room.

It was her Mistress, Aisling.

“Aisling,” he greeted with a nod.

“Grian,” she did as well. “We have some things to discuss.”

Grian cringed internally then swallowed thickly. “Go on then.” He gestured a polite hand towards her.

“You do understand that I know what happens to the egg at all times, yes?” she quizzed. Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve lost it. Well, it’s been stolen, I should say.”

He sighed. “You do also understand that they don’t know anything about that egg. It seems much like any other egg to them.”

“It is your job to keep it from harm until we need it. If that means you inform them of its contents, then so be it,” she spoke sternly. Aisling raised her chin. “And if you’re not up for the task, then find someone who can take care of it if you’re so irresponsible.”

The builder was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth and yet nothing escaped his lips. The only thing that he eventually squeaked out was a small, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good. I trust that you will get the egg back then. We are not the only ones who want the dragon’s egg.”

“I know,” he muttered. “You’ve said that the last four times I was here. But here we are,” he gestured around himself. “I’ve got no clue as to who you’re even talking about.”

“You are not a Watcher,” she berated. “You do not deserve any kind of details after you devastated our last mission. We cannot close the portal to HelCraft because of you.”

Grian avoided her gaze, fiddling with his sleeves. “Then why am I getting dragged into this if I’m not a Watcher.”

“The dragon laying the egg was connected to your server’s End. You are not a Watcher anymore but it was the closest we could get until Xisuma invited another Watcher to his server or that he watched the egg himself.” Aisling huffed. “I have already tried contacting him, he will not do it.”

This made Grian’s face scrunch in confusion. “That’s…odd. He usually does those kind of things for you.”

“I know but it is what it is now. Trust me, I am not any happier about it than you are. But this is-”

“But this is a once in a several million year opportunity. Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes.

She tightened her jaw. “Right then.”

The builder looked back up. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll bring it back,” he pleaded.

“It is not time for that yet. We will not require the egg for weeks, months even. It all depends on what Mistress Bain tells us. Until then, you have one task, an easy task, and that is to keep the egg safe.” This only received another eye roll. “Also, the egg is with Mumbo. He has kept it very safe.”

Grian couldn’t help but to chuckled at that despite the conversation. Aisling hardly seemed amused. “I had a feeling,” was all he said. “It was probably in a vault, wasn’t it.”

“It was,” she replied flatly. “There is nothing funny about it. Not unless you would like me to mock your lack of adequacy.” Her eyes narrowed. “I find it quite humorous.”

This brought the builder back to his previously timid state. “No, ma’am.”

“Good. We are done here then.” She turned and began to glide away. In seconds, she drifted away in a cloud of white smoke, still glowing as she had before.

This left Grian alone in the vast Void-like room. Once the dust cleared, each star slowly dimmed until he was left only with the Watcher’s symbol below him. He peered down at the brooch on his chest. It only left him more annoyed than anything, really. Not annoyed at the Hermits by any means, but annoyed at Aisling. Really, it was a simple task, all things considered. Even for someone who wasn’t a Watcher. Maybe if he could just keep it out of reach, express to Scar especially that the egg wasn’t to be played with in a way that would get him to stop permanently, then maybe all would end well.

But, Scar wasn’t the issue, not now. Grian somehow needed to find the egg in Mumbo’s possession which, like he mentioned before, was likely in some kind of vault. Well, “it was”, as Aisling said. That meant that he removed it. The builder groaned aloud in disdain.

“Of course,” he said. He waved his hand in a figure eight in front of himself, summoning the purple mist that transported him there before.

He was left with one ability left: the slowest form of teleportation anyone could have. He missed his Sight. If he were being honest with himself, he did misuse it more times than was certainly allowed. Sight and Conjuring. They were his most useful gifts from her Mistress. But, one thing led to another and eventually, after having only been a Watcher from mid-Season 6 to late-Season 7, they lost the ability to close the portal to HelsCraft.

It was humiliating.

Soon, the mist cleared and he was home. It was already late afternoon. Time goes by differently in the Mistress’s Conference Room, he remembered. The avian looked around. Nothing changed. He went downstairs. The egg was still not returned. Now he was annoyed with Mumbo, somewhat angry even. Although he was, he couldn’t really be mad, could he. It wasn’t like Mumbo knew and the Hermits liked to play little games here and there with no ill intentions as it was.

Still, he hoped that Mumbo would either give back the egg or he could spend the rest of his days searching the redstoner’s property until he did. Accusations alone wouldn’t ever get the egg back to him. Knowing Mumbo, he had to prove that his mustached friend had it in the first place and that Scar wasn’t the culprit.

If he were being honest with himself, it was likely as easy as just telling Mumbo that he was seen stealing the egg in the first place.

#long post #hermitcraft #down to dust fic #grian #aisling down to dust

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pinkpuffballdude · 3 years

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(psst, last life spoilers you've been warned)

Can I Just Talk About Scar's Most Recent Last Life, I Just Really Wanna Talk About Scar's Most Recent Last Life

GOD okay so like. I usually watch Grian's pov for last life, idk I just like his vibes best for it but youtube was like "you like Scar right? you like last life? here's Scar's most recent last life" and it was called "I lost everything" so I decided I'd watch it first

I am. REELING. ngl.

cause like he started the episode with seven lives if I remember correctly? he sets up his shop on magical mountain, tells the audience that he'll be selling weapons, tools, and souls. that his main goal with selling the souls is to make friends.

he's got no one! he had Joel, but Joel was the very first red life so he lost that connection early, Mumbo left him for the Southlands, and he's so high on his mountain that no one visits him. he's lonely!

so he goes out and starts telling people about his shop, and every time he is met with hostility. in the Southlands he nearly dies in their Grian trap, and it's a miracle he didn't die there, nearly gets jumped by BDubs and Etho, then runs into the red lives, stops to talk with Scott and Pearl, and THEN when he LEAVES to take a break (he called it a bio break idk what that means but it apparently involved a nap) he gets fuckin JUMPED by the red lives in his own base. and somewhere in all of that he gives a life to BDubs and gets murdered by Etho. EVERYONE is out to get him, and the only people who aren't are contractually obligated to or so far away it rarely matters.

and sure he successfully trades away what, four more lives? gaining a whole bunch of contractual friends in the process, but every single one leaves immediately after. his one goal for those deals, and they all leave.

he tries to take solace in the enchanting table, but that was stolen by Etho a whole hour ago, but he was so caught up in everything that he didn't notice. and Etho doesn't even have it anymore! if he did he'd be contractually obligated to hand it over, but no! he can't even have that! Scott greets him with "looks like you have another visitor", Ren greets him with suspicion, and from the sound of it there's a whole party going on there but Scar is on the wrong side of an iron door and only stays long enough to confirm Skizzle (and the enchanter) isn't there.

and. FINALLY. he goes back to the Southlands. they invite him in, they're friends, but they're all aware of what happened earlier when Scar nearly died, and reference it throughout. Scar is stuck on the wrong side of the door, the other side of which has a whole group of people, of friends, recently reuinited.

Etho traded with Scar to get BDubs another life, to bring him back from red. Etho wanted his friend back. when Cleo ran into Scar, the first thing she said was "you took my friend", referencing how BDubs was now yellow. Scar, who started this session with the most lives on the server, has single handedly pulled every single red life back into the yellow.

and then, as he is trying to enter the Southlands, as he is trying to make his way towards the group, to join in the fun, he dies.

and becomes the only red life on the server.

#idk how to fit this in properly but I do want to mention that when he survived the trap the first time #he said it was because of his magic crystals #that it was luck and his own wizard powers that let him survive that #and his last words #his VERY last words #are ''I got this it's magic!''#I'm going to go insane #last life smp #good times with scar #mcyt #last life spoilers #ALSO THE WAY HE LETS THE SILENCE SIT AT THE END??? WITH THE FUCKING PISTONS?????? I'M LITERALLY GOING CRAZY

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4h4hi · 3 years

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Pretty sure that's normal, right?

Hermittober 2021 -- Day 1 -- Wings -------------------- Etho's finally completed the No Wings Club! Which is great-- except for the fact that he no longer has an excuse not to use an elytra. (How do all the other hermits do it?!)

Or: Etho realizes-- with Bdubs' help-- that his experiences with elytra might not be the same as everyone else's. -------------------- Cross-posted on Ao3-- link in the notes! --------------------

To fly, or not to fly. That was the question.

Etho sighed, shaking his head. It was no use deliberating-- he might as well just get it over with.

After he reached his thousand days in the No Wings Club, he'd stored an elytra in his enderchest, as well as some rockets-- he didn't need it around his and Iskall's base, thanks to Riptide, but the other hermits were a different matter. Visiting Doc had been a hassle while the club was still ongoing, and with the giant mountains that every hermit on the server seemed to be constructing, it would probably be best to get in back in the elytra routine as soon as possible.

He shuffled the wings out of his enderchest, shaking them out before inspecting their condition. After ensuring the wings themselves were flying fit, he moved on to the horrible, awful, terrible straps of leather they were attached to, which were unfortunately also in working order. Sighing, he buckled them on-- he'd tried to pad the things before, even tried to etch some sort of feather falling-silk touch combo onto the interiors to make them magically less painful to wear...it'd worked with the surface-level pain from the constant digging into his skin through his vest, at least.

"Ah! Etho!"

He turned quickly, gripping the hilt of his sword before relaxing at the familiar sight of his friend's round, googly glasses. "Hey, how's it going, Bdubs?"

Bdubs grinned brightly, leaning against a tree. "Oh, just fine, just fine. Been doing some work here and there on the Big Eyes shopping district-- ran out here to get a few more spruce logs, you know how it is." He pulled out his axe, tapping the butt of the blade against the trunk-- then paused, intrigued. "Wait a minute... are you wearing an elytra?!"

"Yeppers." Etho flexed the faux wings experimentally. Good, the locking mechanism was working. "Got my final medal a few weeks ago, figured it was about time to get back into using this."

Bdubs whistled. "Wow, got 'em dyed and everything already. A few weeks, though? You could wait that long?"

"Well... 's'not like I really need elytra to get around in the savannah."

"I guess." Bdubs shrugged-- then hefted his axe, wedging it into the bottom of the tree trunk. "Where are you headed, then?" Thunk. "Kinda"-- thunk-- "middle of nowhere"-- thunk-- he set the axe down, exhaling loudly. "Alright. Don't chop and talk, Bdubs, it's impolite. Where ya headed?"

Etho shrugged. "Nowhere, really. I was planning on just flying around for a few minutes, getting back into shape, getting used to the whole thing."

A snort. "Sure... getting used to it."

"Yeah, well. I gotta make sure I don't fall in public." Etho shot back, perhaps a bit sharper than he should have-- "can't have the people know I'm not an expert."

Bdubs nodded in mock seriousness-- "right, right. Of course! Gotta keep 'em all fooled." A sigh, a kind grin. "No, I'm just teasin' ya. Go do your flyin', poor old Bdubs'll be here chopping logs."

Etho chuckled, giving his friend a mock salute before grabbing a firework out of his inventory, pulling the start string, and taking off.

Flying fireworks were a pretty ingenious invention-- Etho hadn't come up with them himself, of course, but he couldn't help but admire the design. A string attached to a fire-starting strip pulled through the base of the firecracker in order to ignite the gunpowder-- he pulled the string upwards, avoiding the flame, though it wouldn't hurt him through his standard enchanted gloves. (He'd have to customize those later-- dying them like his standard blue ones should be fine if he didn't come up with a better idea.)

He'd only gone through a few fireworks out of his stack, but he considered that a victory. What had it been, ten minutes? Twelve? Either way, his shoulders were already crying out for mercy; he grimaced underneath his mask, scanning the ground for a good place to land.

Normally he wouldn't have done his first flight around Bdubs, but... well. It didn't really matter-- his friend was probably having the same struggles, what with his flip-flopping between wearing elytra and going without.

He should probably tease him about that.

The forest below was missing... maybe three, four trees compared to before. Etho narrowed his eyes-- Bdubs was striking his axe into a fir next to the small clearing he'd created, completely oblivious to his altudiously advantaged watcher.

Etho grinned and dived.

"Aah! Wh-- Etho!"

He skidded to a stop in the grass behind Bdubs, twirling the stolen axe in the air with a snicker. "Did I get ya?"

"Get me? I almost had a heart attack!" Bdubs stomped over, slugging Etho in the shoulder as he swiped at his axe; Etho quickly adjusted so that the axe was held right out of Bdub's reach. "Oh good grief!"

Etho chuckled deviously. "Oh, sorry, I should hold this down for you, I forgot." He leaned down so that the axe was a few inches above the ground, earning a indignant shout from his friend-- and then dropped it, letting out an involuntary "oof" as his back protested at the motion.

Bdubs snatched his axe from the ground. "Hah! Serves you right. Old man Etho having back trouble?" he crowed triumphantly-- then paused, pushing up his googly-eye glasses to look at Etho in concern. "Hey, man, are you okay? Do you need to sit down or somethin'?"

Etho sighed. "No, I... okay, fine." He smacked away Bdubs' arm as the other tried to help him over to the shade of a nearby tree-- thankfully he was still able to stand up this time, at least for the most part. Using the tree to keep himself steady, he unbuckled his elytra before lowering himself to the ground with a pained huff.

"So," Bdubs started, flopping onto the ground next to him. "You okay, big guy? That was kinda out of nowhere."

Etho shrugged, then winced, immediately regretting the painful motion. "I mean, it wasn't out of nowhere, was it? It was my first elytra flight of the season. It's always gonna be a little rough, especially since I've gone so long without using one."

Bdubs frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You were up there for like... five minutes, tops. That shouldn't bother your back enough that you almost fall over."

"I did not 'almost fall over!'"

"Did too!"

Etho rolled his eyes. "Did not. Besides, it was more like ten minutes, right?"

Bdubs scoffed. "Do you doubt the clock-keeping abilities of the Time King, Etho?"

"Ah, the Time King. How could I forget." Etho deadpanned.

"Hey! Stop trying to get me off topic, you... you... ohhh, I know you're laughing at me, stop that!" Despite his protests, Etho did not miss the fact that Bdubs was laughing along. "But... seriously. Does your back hurt often? Like, have you been doing any heavy lifting lately?"

Etho thought about it for a moment. "Not more than the usual, no. But the pain's been pretty normal, too."

Bdubs looked at him oddly. "Normal? Like, what's normal for you? Like"-- he tapped his leg, seemingly reaching for the right words-- "like, let's say you've got a scale of one to ten, and one is 'I'm Fine,' five is 'I'm pretty uncomfortable and I might have to not, say, fly as much' and ten is, uh. Bad."

"Uhh..." Etho snorted. "Like, daily, or..." after seeing Bdubs' affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, back in Season Seven when I was flying a lot more, it was like, a four on a good day?"

"On a good day."

"Yeah?" Etho answered, perplexed. "And normally it would be around a five. But nowadays it's been better, what with the No Wings Club. Like, maybe a four or five usually instead of six or seven."

"Instead of--" Bdubs spluttered. "Etho!"

"What?" Etho laughed. "That's normal, isn't it? Like, we aren't built for flying like Grian or Pearl are. S'just how the muscles work on most players."

"And the-- the other pain?! Without flying?!" Bdubs half-shouted.

Etho pondered this for a moment. "Dunno. Never really thought about it."

"Never really--" Bdubs covered his face in his hands with a groan. "Etho. My friend. My fellow redstone genius." He looked up at him, a desperate expression on his face. "Do you mean to tell me that you... just... feel pain, all the time, and... you think it's normal?"

He stared at him. "Is... is it not?"

Bdubs stared back. "Oh my gosh."

"What?"

"You're an idiot."

"Hey!"

"No, but seriously!" Bdubs jumped to his feet, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly in an attempt to convey his extremely confusing point. "You... feeling pain-- it's not-- it's not supposed to be normal. Does it ever stop? Are you ever-- what d-- the-- you--" He pulled up the bottom of his moss-colored sweater, holding it to his face to muffle his frustrated scream. When he uncovered his head, he looked back over at Etho, who was genuinely surprised at how distraught his friend appeared to be. "Did... we've been friends for forever, Etho. Why didn't you ever tell me-- or Beef, or Doc, or-- or anyone?"

"I..." He didn't know what to say. "I guess I thought it was normal. And, like, I didn't want to bother anyone."

"You didn't want to... bother anyone," Bdubs muttered, disbelieving. "About... about... being in pain."

Etho shrugged, grateful his back had calmed down enough to allow him to move without dying. "I mean, yeah. Like, it's not a big deal, you know? I didn't think anyone would care."

"I would care!" Bdubs yelled suddenly, desperately putting a hand over his heart, waving the other towards the Boatem village-- "Doc would care! Beef would care! Hell, if you told any of the hermits 'hey, I'm Etho, my back hurts like I crushed it with one of my anvils, sorry to bother you' I bet you fifty diamonds-- no, fifty diamond blocks they would have helped out in a heartbeat! You can't"-- he laughed, exhausted-- "you can't just say 'no one would care!'"

Etho frowned, staring at nothing in particular. A few leaves fell off a stray oak tree. A squirrel darted through a fallen trunk.

"Well." He sighed quietly, hauling himself off the ground. "I... I guess I just didn't know it was something I needed to ask about." Stretching quickly, he touched his gloved palms to the pine-needle covered floor, legs straight. "If... if you're mad at me, I--"

"Mad at you? I'm-- I'm--" Bdubs' face melted as he walked up to Etho, putting his hands on his shoulders-- then grumbling, taking a piece of scaffold out of his inventory, placing it down, climbing on top and trying again. "There. Equal height. But"-- he took a deep breath. "Etho, I'm not mad at you. I just... I'm worried! You... you're my friend, Etho. I don't want you to be in pain, and-- and it makes me feel awful that I didn't notice you were hurting sooner."

Etho stared at him for a moment, taken aback. "Oh."

Bdubs snorted. "Yeah! 'Oh,' he says, 'oh.' C'mere, stupid." He pulled Etho into a tight, quick hug, then let him go, looking at him with watery eyes. "Oh, you."

Etho grinned. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you, stupid!" A pause-- then a sigh. "Ah, I'm just kiddin'. Love ya, buddy."

A snort. "Love you too."

...

"By the way, you'd better talk to Stress about this later."

"Uh... nice talking to you, Bdubs, real-- real good talking to you, but I gotta"-- Etho shuffled through his inventory, grabbing an enderpearl-- "uh, gotta go." He lobbed it... somewhere. Hopefully not in a lava pool.

"Uh-huh! Sure!" Bdubs yelled after him, even as he vwoop'ed to his new location. "Yeah, I'll call her myself if I have to! You'd better watch out, I bet she makes house calls!"

Etho chuckled as he started at a leisurely pace towards home. He'd talk to Stress about it at some point. Maybe. Probably. Bdubs' threat didn't hold any water.

Hopefully.

#hermitcraft #hermittober #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #soggy words

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thedo0zyslider · 11 months

Text

Lessons In Regret - 3k Words

Etho is haunted by some pretty annoyed ghosts, and isn't excited to join them. It goes better than expcted when he does, all things considered.

A03 Link

If you asked anyone else, they would’ve said Etho was a crazy man, that the game had finally gotten to him. That he’d lost his mind after half of TIES fell or something and now he was hallucinating their ghosts to cope. But no, he wasn’t crazy, and it was the one time he felt normal about talking to something that couldn’t talk back, even if Impulse did shoot him the occasional weird look. He did indeed have ghosts, just not Skizz and Tango. And they weren't something made up by his mind. It was his weird little surrogate family haunting him instead. Well he thought Tango was there sometimes, but he was trailing around Impulse mostly it seemed.

“Hey,” Etho spoke to the empty air for the millionth time. “Stop stealing my steak Scar, you can’t even eat anymore.” He sighed, snatching the floating meat from midair and shoving it back in the furnace. Etho didn’t know why the universe had chosen him to suddenly be the ghost whisperer, but he did know that Scar was the one pulling pranks now. He’d assumed it was Bdubs at first, and that the little rascal was doing it to mess with him, but in reality it was Scar; who was doing it for no other reason than for the fact that he was a menace, dead or alive.

And sometimes Etho thought he really had gone crazy, that maybe Grian dying pushed him to the breaking point. But then he’ll be shoved away from a creeper by something too strong to be anything like the wind; there will be a phantom tap on his shoulder alerting him to people nearby, or his stuff will float in midair, and then Etho knows for certain that he still has a little bit of sanity left. He just has some occasionally helpful, but mostly annoying ghosts.

They won’t do anything that would help him win. No, no, that would be unfair, unfun, and would probably anger whatever being runs these games. But they do warn him of stray skeleton arrows and mess with his stuff, so he guesses his family are alright ghosts. At least they’re not trying to get him killed, especially because they have every right too.

He has an idea of Scar’s response more than he actually sees it, but he’s pretty sure the former is blowing a raspberry at him right now. Communicating with ghosts is easy when you know them so well, like how he can always feel Cleo’s disapproving scowl on the back of his neck. Yeah, he is not looking forward to having that talk when he does eventually join them.

But for now he just pulls his mask down, presuming his ghostly companions turn away from his uncovered face just as they would have in life, and quickly eats the now cooked steak. Etho will need all the energy he can get. He and Impulse had just tried to kill Scott, and he could practically feel Martyn's vengeance from here.

"Hey," Etho repeated his earlier statement, not because of Scar though. He has a question on his mind, one that had been persistent since they showed up. He wasn’t really expecting anyone to answer, as he could just ask when he died. He supposed it would just feel more…meaningful if it happened when Etho was alive.

His unexpected answer is the sound of a chest opening, then a single piece of coal being chucked into the furnace. Bdubs. He decides. Scar probably would've stolen his food again, because he found that really funny for some reason, and Cleo would've damaged him somehow. He didn't know how she manages to hit a living person, and wasn’t too interested in finding out.

"How angry with me are you?"

Etho was promptly smacked upside the head with something stronger than a hand, a shovel maybe, and hard enough to take off about four hearts. Cleo

(He wasn’t sure the exact amount of damage he took, his hunger was full, he regenerated instantly. Them being able to do that was still scary, though)

There was the answer to that question.

"Can I make it up to you, somehow?" That was followed by silence, and they were never silent when they talked to Etho. It must've been a thinker then, his question. There is a sudden, ghostly feeling of a tail brushing against his ankle, which means Tango has joined their little family conversation. He must’ve gotten bored of Impulse stalking Skynet for the millionth time, which happened often. So maybe Tango was with the masked man more than he had assumed.

When no one responded, Etho piped up again. "I could try and kill Pearl?"

It's his only option to redeem himself, really. He'd allied with Grian; Scar and Cleo’s killer, and then the fool had gone and fallen to his death. That's why they were mad in the first place, he'd allied with Grian and now there was no Grian left to kill. The Clockers had been on good terms with Scott and Martyn, who wanted him dead anyways. Another third option was avenging Bdubs by taking out Impulse, but that was strictly off limits. Him and Impulse are what's left of TIES, and the latter has a far better shot of getting to the top three than Etho does with his measly amount of time left.

TIES gets to the final three.

His teammates' words ring in Etho's ears for the millionth time. Skizz’s sacrifice won't be wasted, he is not wasting a second chance to team with Skizz, not again, this isn't Last Life.

Impulse's kill had been fair anyways, and everyone knew it. Bdubs’s history of betraying and slaying the former was a little bit of an open secret. There was nothing to avenge, Impulse was just getting even. So killing Pearl will have to work, and it makes sense. She pushed Cleo off the ladder and killed her, which started that fight that permanently killed his ex-wife and oldest son. It’s not the best reason, it's a stretched one that he wouldn’t use under normal circumstances. But there aren’t any more normal circumstances, haven't been for a while. Plus, he’s running low on time and it's late enough in the game that people don’t need justification for cold blooded murder. That unneeded reason makes it seem like he wasn’t a deadbeat, but it's the best reason he's got, especially because he's not coming close to the final three.

He can't honor a teammate's dying wish, so the least he can do is make amends with his family and apologize later when he's gone.

The only response Etho gets is Tango leaving after a few minutes of silence, his tail flicking against Etho’s leg in goodbye, and a warning tap from Bdubs. (Bdubs, of course it was Bdubs.) Scott and Martyn are coming. The furnace is put away before the coal can burn out.

So Etho sighs, adjusting his mask a little; maybe he runs his fingers over the fabric a little, well aware it might be the last chance he has to feel it with still living hands. He grabs his axe, loads his crossbow with fireworks, looks down the side of Bad Boy Manor, and prepares to fight or flee.

He doesn't get to kill Pearl, he doesn’t even see a last glimpse of her. Not even five minutes later he's being shot off a water stream and listening to his bones crack against the ground as the world goes dark. Heh, Martyn fights good and he fights dirty .

He gets fifth place, right where he expected to end, and Impulse is left to carry on Skizz’s dying wish alone.

Etho ran out of time!

______________________________________________

Tango appears beside the family, and it is a very, very unfortunate time to rejoin them. Cleo’s fists are starting to ball up, in something more than irritation but less than fury. Scar stood there, icy and silent. The only one who casted him a glance was Bdubs, and he could understand why once he looked down.

Poor Etho had damned himself even further. The three already had problems with him when they had died, and now the man had gone and made it worse. The blazeborn loved his friend, he really did, but teaming up the guy involved with your ‘family members’ deaths? Bad move. Very bad move. Horrible move. Especially after Scar’s reaction to dying, though not that Etho could’ve known that at all.

“That little..” Cleo hissed between gritted teeth, and Tango made sure to steer a little clear of her. Instead he moved closer to Scar, with the other two preoccupied in watching the living for now.

“You good, bud?” He whispered, standing close enough that their arms brushed. The blazeborn aloud his tail to flick and weave between Scar’s legs, hoping that would bring some sort of comfort. The other just nodded, and mumbled. “Yeah, yeah it’ll be fine.”

They didn’t stay for long after that, all four of them phasing back once Grian had died. They returned to their normal shedulce afterwards, avian now having joined them, and haunted Etho till he died as well.

______________________________________________

Etho’s arrival wasn’t as silent as he expected it to be. The man himself was quiet as usual, but the rest of the players weren't. He’s swarmed as he spawns in standing, not even getting a chance to process what had just happened, or greet any of his friends before five people were crowding around him. Thankfully for him, the four remaining ghosts keep their distance for now.

The first thing he truly processed seeing was the wide smile of Bdubs, before Tango and Skizzle managed to shove the Clockers to the side for a minute; doing so a little rudely. Cleo gave them a meaningless glare as they did, which became suddenly meaningful when her gaze finally flicked to Etho. He shuddered under his coat, and silently thanked his teammates for delaying his inevitable doom.

"ETHO!" Skizz yelled, swiftly wrapping him into a hug and off the ground slightly. "You did so good buddy!" He giggled, unable to return the rib breaking embrace. Instead Etho just let himself melt into it, until Skizz was satisfied enough to put him down again.

As soon as the brunette let go of him he was being tackled by Tango, who's tail flicked wildly and happily in the air behind him. Etho let out a huff of surprise, his back hitting the grass softly. Tango didn't seem to notice how strong his tackle had been, despite literally tumbling to the ground, and wrapped his teammate in a hug of his own. Etho did the same this time, giggling a bit as the blazeborn's purrs reverberated through his own chest.

"You did amazing! As always!" Tango said, laughing loudly into the fluffy part of Etho’s jacket. "I don't even know how you lived that long! I swear you had an hour left dude!"

In response, Etho just rolled his eyes a little fondly. "You wanna get off me now?" He asked, letting amusement lace his tone. Tango seemed to realize the position they were in, and scrambled away all cat-like. Skizz’s warm laugh filled the air around them.

"Sorry, didn't realize how hard I tackled ya!" The blazeborn muttered a bit sheepishly, moving to sit on his legs. Etho huffed in response as he sat up, flicking at the other’s tail, which was now near his own legs. He raised a curious eyebrow when his fingers didn't catch alight. He knew touching fire was a bad idea, Etho just wanted to see if it still didn't spread in the afterlife is all.

"Figured you didn't." He teased, and Tango was whacking him with said tail playfully.

Before the play fighting could go any further, which it certainly was going to by the look on Tango’s face, Etho felt the hood of his jacket being tugged on. He made a startled yelp of surprise, finding himself being lifted off the ground and into the air, limbs now dangling limply. He could once again feel Cleo’s scowl on the back of his neck, well…the top of his head now.

You think Scar would be the one to this, He thought, listening to the stifled and slightly awkward laugher around them. With how ripped he always is. He always forgot how strong Cleo was somehow.

"He looks like a little kitten!" Bdubs’s voice came from beside him, and Etho glanced over to see the other’s beat up face close to his. The smaller was fixing him with a wide smile, making his missing tooth very apparent. He'd have stuck out his tongue in response, if anyone would've been able to see it through the mask that is.

"A very bad little kitten." Cleo huffed, and Etho shrunk in on himself. That was it, his doom could not be delayed any further. If he could be killed again, he was sure Cleo would be doing that soon. Hell maybe she would find a way to do it, break the laws of the universe and make him truly double dead. He believed they could, the zombie was scary after all.

Bdubs’s smile flattered at that, and his gaze flicked between Cleo and Scar. “Yeah, yeah he is!” He huffed, and shuffled off to stand beside his so-called brother. Scar said nothing, and gave Etho an awkward little wave. He returned it, reflecting how much this actually felt like an actual family disagreement. How the parents were at odds the kids would shuffle awkwardly off to the side and wait. The four of them played into these roles a bit too well, in his opinion.

“Can you put me down now?” Etho asked, glancing up at Cleo. The rest of their friends had already receded, giving the four of them a wide breadth. The zombie just looked at him, and let go of him unceremoniously. He stumbled, his balance thrown off, but thankfully did not faceplant. Etho just shoved in his hands in his coat pockets, and followed the other three to another spot; one just a bit further away, but close enough that the rest of their friends were still within eyesight.

“So, Etho!” Cleo started, her voice sounding far too cheerful. “Do you have any idea what you did wrong?”

“Ummm, Everything?”

“Close enough!” Scar chimed in with a giggle, one not filled with very much humor. “I think the dead beat dad bit was the first thing though.”

“After a while it wasn’t a bit anymore. That's when things started to actually hurt a little” Cleo said

“Yeah…” Etho mumbled in agreement, eyes flicking down to the ground. “Sorry…about all of that…”

“Well we weren’t perfect either.” Bdubs snorted, glancing between all three of them. Scar hummed in agreement. “So, yeah, we’re sorry too.” It took a moment, but even Cleo let out her own mutter of apology; for being such a wench of a wife, as she put it. He muttered his own apology for being such a dead beat, and that was that.

“We’re a little peeved about the Grian thing, though.” Bdubs muttered, and Etho raised an eyebrow curiously. The smaller, well used to interpreting all his cues and whatnot, saw that Etho had no idea what he was getting at. He knew Grian killed Scar, but he could tell it was something else that was bothering them.

“Okay, so like-” Bdubs began his rushed explanation, well aware of Cleo’s intense gaze burning into him. Scar said nothing, just looked at the grass, like he was ashamed of something. And Etho had no idea what he would ever have to be ashamed of, especially if it was something this serious. “So Grian killed Scar yeah? And Scar’s reaction to it was kinda bad? Kinda panic attack-y? And Grian’s kinda aware of all that sooo, um, yeah.”

Ah, that made sense, now. Etho opened his mouth to reply, but was quickly cut off by Scar. “I talked to Grian a bit ago.” He said, glaring at Cleo, who was clearly still sour about the whole thing. “He didn’t--he didn’t mean to. It was the red life, we’ve all had moments where it gets too strong and we did something we regretted.”

There wasn’t much to converse after that, other than a few more muttered apologies. When Cleo said it was time to head back, the air was considerably lighter than it had been at the start of the conversation.

When they walked back, Etho was swept away again. It was by Grian this time, the little avian now being the one to keep him away from the others. He kinda wanted to say hello to Joel, but he guessed that could wait. They were all dead, and had what felt like an eternity left up here.

“Hey.” The avian said, cracking a nervous smile.

“Hey.” He responded, hands resting comfortably in his pockets. The little bird seemed much more on edge than him, that was for certain. He’d let the other set the pace then, not wanting to rush this interaction.

“That--the sword thing--that was stupid , huh?” Grian laughed, running a hand through his hair.

Etho let out his own, slightly broken laugh after him. “Yeah, yeah. It was really dumb.”

The next question made Grian’s voice become quieter, made it crack a bit more with pain. “You hear about what happened with Scar? I know you two were family or whatever..” “Yeah. You didn’t mean it, so it's fine.”

Grian visibly relaxed at that, his shoulders sagging and posture becoming a little less rigid. “I…yeah. Yeah .” Once the blonde had finished his stuttering, Etho glanced off towards where the others had gone. His little found family, along with Tango, looked like they were about to jump off the edge of the mountain. Which was weird, unless it was what Etho thought it was.

“What’re they doin’” He asked, nodding his head towards the four of them. Grian’s mood shifted completely. His eyes gained a mischievous glint to them, and a wide smile cut across his features. “They’re gonna go down to haunt the living players, like they did to you,” Yep, exactly what he thought it was. “Wanna join ‘em?” The avian asked, holding out a hand that still had his Bad Boy gloves on, despite insisting the whole get up was stupid at every chance he got. He nodded silently as a response, that once detail making him feel a little fond. Grian was just a big ole’ sap underneath everything, wasn’t he?

Etho allowed the blonde to pull him forward enthusiastically, almost stumbling at the speed of it and trying to avoid a wing hitting his face. Scar spotted them, and flashed them a wave through a fit of giggles. Etho was holding back his own laughs as well, as he could only imagine what this looked like. He waved back to Scar once they got closer, Grian letting of his his hand to practically launch himself at the brunette.

“We could just stay up here!” Etho suggested when he reached the group, not too seriously. “Doesn’t coming back up and down get a little like…repetitive? Or tiring? “But it’s fun to watch them all die!” Cleo protested, and he had to agree with that. Seeing the grand finale with his own two eyes would be quite fun. With that in mind, Etho followed without much complaint, comfortably walking next to Tango, Cleo on his other side, and Grain behind him. He regretted a lot of things from before, but he was glad all the differences could be cleared, and he could walk beside these people as friends once more.

The group called goodbye to the remaining ghosts, the ones who chose to sit and watch from afar instead, and disappeared down into the world below

#ron.fic #ron.writing #limited life smp #limited life #ethoslab #zombiecleo #bdoubleo100 #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #skizzleman #tangotek #the clockers #team ties #silence after death

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jungledubs-archive · 3 years

Text

Hunt

Featuring Spector (Evil Doc), Rye (Evil Grian), Doug (Evil Ren), Penny (Evil Stress), and Reckless (Evil Impulse)

Questions about my Helsmits? Please refer to my Helsmits masterlist, or send an ask!

They were behind him. They were always behind him, what felt like just a few steps from catching him. Spector wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d fled the main area of Helscraft, but it was at least a few days by this point. And still his hunters had yet to give up.

Spector’s heart pounded viciously in his chest as he teleported forward again. That was his strategy—run, then teleport. Run, then teleport. It wasn’t the most efficient, but it let him stop to catch his breath without losing any ground. Which he needed if he were to keep outrunning the dead until Demise was over.

It was all just part of a big game, but it didn’t feel that way, when Spector was fleeing for his life. They’d elected to allow PvP in their version of Demise (the game idea having been stolen from Hermitcraft) to make it more interesting... but all that had led to was forcing those who wanted to survive into a desperate manhunt. Not that Spector wasn’t enjoying it—he just wished the demised would turn back and focus on a different target for a while. Let him win.

“Oh, Spec-tor...” came a teasing call, and Spector quickly ducked behind a tree. Shit. They were closer than he’d expected. He’d been getting too comfortable. Now he had to outsmart them and escape—he was too tired to simply start running again. “Spector! Buddy, c’mon, you know we’d never hurt you...” It was Rye’s voice, accompanied by Doug’s laughter. Spector knew for a fact that they had other companions, but he hadn’t stopped to take a look at the Helsmits trying to kill him before he’d fled.

Spector was shaking as he quickly teleported into the tree above his head, and luckily he was light enough that the branch didn’t shake enough to catch his hunters’ attention. He crept forward, looking out through the dark leaves at the grey-skinned Helsmits with bright, violet eyes.

It was Rye and Doug, as Spector had picked up on, but also Penny and Reckless. Four of them, and one of him. And they could all afford to die. Spector silently cursed again.

“I don’t hear him running anymore,” Reckless commented, hefting a loaded crossbow up into a ready position. “He must be hiding.”

Rye looked up at the trees and Spector quickly shut his eyes—being an Enderman was certainly helpful when he was trying to blend into a dark, foggy forest, but not when his eyes were beaming purple spotlights into the shadows. “Split up and look for him,” the phantom hybrid ordered, his direct tone very unusual. “Take your time. He’s here somewhere, and he knows he can’t escape.”

When he could hear demised split off in different directions, Spector blinked open his eyes again and shrunk back against the trunk of the tree. He let out a small, shuddering breath. This was bad. This was very bad.

But he knew how to escape.

Concentrating, Spector quickly teleported into the next tree over, and then to the next one. Doug’s head snapped up beneath him.

“Stupid bird over here making noise and distracting me,” Doug grumbled loudly, and Spector breathed a small sigh of relief. Doug thought he was a bird. Good.

He aimed higher into the next tree and landed perfectly, but then on the next he fumbled. The branch he landed on wasn’t quite strong enough, and it teetered and cracked beneath his weight in a terrifying symphony that drew Reckless’ eyes directly to him.

“There! I see him!”

Spector swore loudly and teleported away, landing multiple trees over this time. The demised crashed through the forest after him, but it seemed like none of them wanted to climb a tree to get him...

...and then Spector hear the flapping of large, leathery wings and remembered something about Rye that he really should have planned for.

The phantom hybrid came at him with fangs bared, and Spector thought fast and vicious. He raised his fist and punched Rye directly in the mouth, making him screech and throwing him directly into a nearby branch. Rye hit the ground hard with his hand over his face, blocking Spector’s view of the damage he might have done.

The other demised gathered around the bottom of the tree. Doug was growling, Penny seemed unamused, and Reckless was holding his crossbow like he’d forgotten about it.

“Would anybody else like to try to come up here and kill me?” Spector taunted nonchalantly.

“We’ll get you eventually,” Doug promised in a loud voice. “We’ll get you, Spector.”

Spector chuckled. “Good luck.”

And with that, he teleported away again.

#slime writes #hermitcraft #helscraft #evil hermits #my writing #spectorm77 #rye #ramdoug #pensivecreature101 #recklesssv #docm77 #grian

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

LoL Chapter 44- Monstrous Memories

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The hermits discover the secret Magistrate Dolios has hidden within the forest.

____________________________________

Zed reminded them it was probably best they don’t stay in the Forest of Memories overnight. Mumbo’s power surge spooked the shleep, and if they fall asleep in the forest, they’ll be fraught with nightmares, which will only give the Forest an in to their fears once more. As much as he hates having to force Mumbo, fresh from a surge, into walking again, they don’t really have a choice. Guess Zed just woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Thankfully, TFC and Xisuma agree with him. The hermits defend themselves with potions and amulets, though their greatest defense is just knowing they have one another. Mumbo stays close to Iskall and Grian, who both do their best to distract his worries about hurting Grian with their favorite stories. Like the time Grian nearly dropped Mumbo into the ocean from the sky, or Iskall almost blew away the cloud that Grian’s home perches upon.

Ren casts his spell again, following the veins of red back to the main leyline. It’s massive, so much magic and power that it scares Ren. Who, or what, needs all this magic? All this energy, stolen from all over Lairyon. What could Dolios need all this for?

BDubs gets a shiver, as if someone just dropped ice down his back. He turns to see if Stress is pulling a prank on him again, opening his mouth to make some smarmy quip, when he sees the leaves above him.

They look like they’re burning, blackened to the stem, grey embers frozen at the edges of the leaf. It looks so much like the husk magic, and yet at the same time completely different. BDubs reaches up, fingers shaking as he plucks the leaf off the tree. “I think we’re going in the right direction.”

He shows the once green leaf to the others. It’s as if the ground was saturated with dark magic, poisoning the trees rather than draining them. It’s impossible to distinguish the leyline from the rest of the earth around them. They've made it to the center of the Forest. They’ve made it to what Dolios is hiding.

The canopy is thick, impossible to see even the crown of the trees. Grian wonders if he flew above the Forest of Memories, would he be able to see this black spot from the sky? Or has Dolios even thought of that?

“Whatever Dolios is hiding, it’s here somewhere.” Xisuma states, pulling out a torch and lighting it using Tango’s hair. Tango objects at first, but when a distant rustle causes him to leap into Impulse’s arms, he allows the torches to be lit.

“But where? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.” Doc snarls. He wanders deeper into the darkness, holding his torch high before turning and looking at the other hermits. Both his mechanic and mortal eye narrow at the guild. “It could be as small as a pebble, or so mundane we’d never pick it out!”

Etho notices a shift in the darkness behind Doc, the swirling mist of grey and black cresting over an angled oval, creased down the equator. And he realizes he’s not looking at mist, he’s looking at slime. “Uh,” He whispers, “Doc, maybe tone it down?”

But Doc wasn’t listening. “We’ve gone on some wild goose chase, when we need to cut the head off the beast while we can!”

“Maybe don’t talk about killing beasts, Doc.” Hypno squeaks, realizing what Etho is seeing as well, He sees a grey tentacle, wrapping through the ashen ground like a sticky tree root, more creases all over the body.

“Why? It’s clear there’s nothing to find here! We’ve searched through the most dangerous place in all of Lairyon, for jack shit!” Doc raises his torch to prove what he means, eyes wild as he stares down the hermits. With the increased light, the entire guild can see the monster behind Doc. Mumbo nearly faints, Stress feels sick, and all the hermits can feel the pressure of dark magic weighing on their chest. It’s like Gildara, but worse.

“Doc….” Scar whispers, shaking as he creeps closer to the hybrid, trying to pull Doc away from the slumbering monster. They both trip over a slimy black tentacle, head over heels and the torch left behind. “Doc we found it!”

Slumbering in the trees, a monster beyond anything the hermit’s have ever seen looms. It’s larger than a dragon, made of ebbing and flowing grey and black slime- which takes a moment for the hermits to realize is pure dark energy, pouring over the creature like an overcoat. Citizens’ lifeforce, their magic drained to create this multi eyed, multi-mouthed eldritch horror. Tentacles, dug into the ground, sap the energy fed by the leylines.

This monstrosity, this manifestation of darkness, is still growing. Slowly, but surely, as it feeds off the leylines. This is but an infant, not yet born. And already it has done so much damage.

“Oh my word.” Zedaph wipes away a few tears with the heel of his hand . “This thing has no soul. It’s just...pure hatred, pure catastrophe. Why would Dolios bring such a dangerous thing to life?”

“What does it matter?” Beef shrugs, rolling his neck and preparing to cast his magic. “With this gone, Dolios will crumble.”

“Hold on.” xB grabs Beef by the horns, holding him back. “We have no clue what this thing will do if it wakes up. What could it do if we attack it right now.”

“xB is right.” TFC hums. “We would be foolish to fight a monster we know nothing of. Just like going in blind to Gildara, we won’t win that battle without knowledge.”

“So what do we do?” False makes the war hammer she summoned disappear, a bit disappointed.

Xisuma looks at the ashen ground, following it back to the edge of the monster’s meadow. He sees the four leylines, in four cardinal directions. “This thing is being fed by the leylines. The leylines are set by the obelisks, which are powered by crystals. If we starve the beast before it can awaken, we can take away whatever Dolios plans to do with this.”

“So...what? We just leave this thing here? Go back to breaking crystals?” Iskall shrugs.

“We came here for more information, and that’s what we’ve gotten. Information is more valuable than action sometimes.” Cub of all people would know. He looks at the others, then continues to speak. “We have all the pieces put together, we can finally see the whole picture of Dolios and his insane plan. With all this, we can fight back better. We know what to do. We starve the beast, and turn all of Lairyon against Dolios.”

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

“Hmm.” A low silky voice dances in the dark office, gold trimmed sleeve blinding the wizard to his crystal ball. Curly brown hair rests on the other hand, elbow perched on a plush arm of his office chair. A chair fit for a king- no, a god. Soon enough.

The single eye of the unborn beast closes. Eurynomos is far from ready, just a fetus at this point, but every day it grows stronger. The more stolen magic Dolios feeds the creature, the stronger it will be. The stronger they will be. Dolios is a patient man, he can bear to wait a little bit longer.

What he can’t bear is the infuriating interference of these hermits. Dolios knew that Mumbo was powerful- how he drools for all that magic stored in one vessel. And the angel, he’s yet to add such divine magic to his ever growing collection. The rest? Fodder. Or so he thought. They’ve been persistent, and they’ve gained too much knowledge. Just when Dolios thinks he’s caught up in making new corrupted crystals, those damn hermits destroy another. Just when Dolios has destroyed a guild or village no one will miss, they swoop in and stop him. He should’ve killed them in the dungeons that day, so long ago. But now, they’re a problem.

“Pen an order.” Dolios’s words cause an enchanted quill to stand at attention, tip poised over a blank piece of paper. Dolios doesn’t turn around, his eyes trained to the south. To the Forest of Memories. “The Council hereby declares the Order of Hermits enemies of the state, threats to Lairyon’s future, and a danger to the public. All known whereabouts are to be reported to the Arcane guard, and the Hermits face capital punishment for their crimes.”

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