Fly for Your Life

by theteaandbiscuits

Summary:

After a while, the boy looked up at Grian, “Why are you guys- Why are you so fuckin’ nice? I’ve been here for like half an hour, and no one has gotten angry at me for being a dick, that Xisuma bitch saved my life, and helped me calm down after a freakout- What the fuck? I don’t understand!” He cried, and Grian just let him talk. It hurt to hear, and made him wonder who hurt this kid.
His avian instincts weren’t helping either, it was not the time to be trying to take in an abandoned fledgling. It also did not help that between the ugly sobs the kid was making, he could hear the repressed chirps that struggled to pass through whatever barrier this kid had put up to stop any bird-like sounds.

~

(or; hermits - mostly grian - adopt tommy and are totally helpless dorks trying their best)
Expect: Slow healing, angst, hybrid intincts (mostly bird)

Notes:

Hello peeps! My brain did a thing and now I'm writing more winged bois. Y'all are in for one heck of a ride with this one, it's gonna be a long one. This one's going to cover canon-typical themes like manipulation, violence and some others such as malnutrition, so just keep that in mind when reading this.

Join my Discord Server!!!

Chapter 1: Dramatic Entrance

Notes:

CW: Panic Attack, Swearing, Religious Reference
(let me know if I missed something <3)

Hope you enjoy it!

With patience not many possess, Xisuma slowly built up his concrete making machine for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was only now starting to grind on his seemingly endless patience, so he made sure to take breaks. One of these breaks he spent sat up on a jungle tree, high above the concrete machine, but still not as tall as his actual towers. He sat with some hot herbal tea and a homemade biscuit from his fellow Hermit, Keralis. It was because Keralis was starting a baked goods shop soon, and the kind man had dropped some tasters off for his friend. 

The biscuit was delicious, as was the herbal tea. Xisuma spent most of his break enjoying them, and after they were gone he checked up on his duties as an admin. 

He didn’t do as much as other admins did, he wasn’t a ruler or abuser of his power, not in the slightest. It was decided that he was best with the technical side of things, and that his level headedness was a great quality for the Hermits’ leader, if they ever needed someone to sort out conflicts. That had never happened, their server was one of the most peaceful in the world. 

Something was awry, Xisuma could tell. Someone had been messing with the whitelist that kept Hermitcraft so secure. It was a safe haven for all of these Hermits, and it was Xisuma’s job to keep it that way. If someone had somehow surpassed the whitelist, then this could mean big problems for the future of the Hermits. 

Just as Xisuma was about to alert all the Hermits of this, a person joined the server. The last person to join Hermitcraft had been Grian, and that was years ago. Xisuma panicked. 

No one else knew, of course. Only the admin could see who had joined, but the person, whoever they were, had probably arrived on the spawn island. Knowing the Hermits, there was at least one person in the shopping district, and it was pretty hard to ignore a new person at the spawn island. 

Urgently, Xisuma sent a message to the main group: 

 

<Xisuma> There is an unknown threat currently on the server. Please stay away from spawn island and calmly retreat to a safe place. 

<Xisuma> Do not panic, the threat will be dealt with and so will the way in which they accessed our server

 

He turned off the communicator and rushed to the spawn island, grabbing a few battle supplies on the way, including potions and some enchanted golden apples. If this person spawned with nothing, then they didn’t stand a chance.

Xisuma flew to the shopping district, finding no players there. He sighed in relief, then looked over to the spawn island. There was definitely someone there. His heart beated a little faster.

With a few rockets, he was directly above the island, and could clearly see that there was a person cowering in the sand; pale, white wings wrapping around them and shielding them from view. They appeared to be shaking.

Feeling slightly more confident, Xisuma glided down and landed a good distance from the person. He could see that they were young, and probably a boy. The wings on their back meant they were an avian, like Grian. Briefly, Xisuma wondered if Grian and the avian boy would get along in the future. 

“Hello?” Xisuma called out, but the boy didn’t seem to hear him. From down here, he could hear the sobbing and choking sounds that the avian boy was making. His heart clenched. Whoever this person was, whatever had gotten onto Hermitcraft, they were terrified. 

He was wary of moving closer, “Can you hear me?” Xisuma raised his voice, but kept it soft, not shouting, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He reassured the boy firmly. 

The avian’s breathing picked up as Xisuma moved closer, and he finally got a glimpse of his eyes. They were pale, icy blue. 

Xisuma only then registered that the boy was having a panic attack. His icy blue eyes were fixed with a far off gaze, one that was stuck in some horrific memory or imagined worry. 

He didn’t remember what to do when someone was having a really bad panic attack, not properly, but Xisuma used to get mild panic attacks and he always came down from them better when someone else was there, grounding him.

Tentatively, Xisuma crouched down a metre in front of the boy, “I’m Xisuma, could you tell me your name?” He reached a hand out to the boy, an offer for something to grip onto. The boy had got his hands tangled in his hair and was pulling on it.

“I need you to focus on my voice, and what I’m going to tell you.” Xisuma tried to pull from personal experience, but his voice was beginning to tremble like the boy’s hands, “You’re on a server called Hermitcraft. It is a very safe place, one of the safest you could be. I need you to breathe.” 

It was hard, because Xisuma could feel his own memories swirling to the surface. 

Desperate for the boy to come back to reality, he placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling a violent flinch under his hand but not pulling away. This was his last hope to pull the boy back to awareness before he passed out. 

“Breathe, okay? Deep, long breaths. That’s all you have to think about right now.” Xisuma repeated, smiling as the boy’s grip in his hair loosened and his heaving breaths stuttered into something more controlled. 

“I’m called Xisuma.” He repeated as the boy was calming down, “What’s your name?” 

There was a moment of silence, then the boy locked eyes with him. Those icy blue eyes met his own through the visor, young avian eyes met older shapeshifter eyes, and he bolted. The boy ran as far as he could, which, incidentally, wasn’t very far, it was only a few blocks on the spawn island. His wings flared up and he stood on the very tip of the island, he was still breathing unnaturally. 

Now he was standing up, Xisuma could see the horrible state of the boy. He was covered in dirt, grime and blood, probably his own, and he was tall and thin, far too thin. His hair was messy and matted, clothes torn and he was covered in bruises. 

“Piss off!” He shouted, trying his best to sound scary, but only sounding more terrified as his young voice broke from the panic.

Xisuma sighed, and took off his armour. He wouldn’t be needing it. Carefully, he unclipped an instant health potion from his tool belt, along with a leather sack of golden carrots. 

“I won’t hurt you. I’ve got some food and a potion.” Xisuma said softly, sitting down in the sand and pushing the gifts away from him. He hoped maybe the boy would take them.

The boy still balanced on the very edge of the island, glaring down at Xisuma, “I don’t want your fuckin’ handouts, who the fuck do you think I am?” He spat, though his insults were empty and his hands still shook. Xisuma wondered if they ever didn’t. 

Instead of pushing the boy to accept the gifts, Xisuma just sat there, which seemed to confuse the boy even more. He stepped away from the edge of the island and started pacing around, arms crossed and wings still flared defensively. He cast an occasional glance at the satchel of golden carrots and the health potion, but for about five minutes didn’t do much else. 

“What the fuck do you even want!” The boy shouted for the third time, and for the third time Xisuma sat there in silence, patiently waiting. In all honesty, he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t force the kid to eat, that would scare him, and he couldn’t just leave him alone.

Eventually, the boy tired of pacing and slumped down on the sand.

“I can’t swim.” He mumbled frustratedly, “If I knew how to swim, I’d have gone to that crazy looking place over there.” He stared mournfully at the shopping district, “That’s probably heaven or something, and this shithole is hell. Or purgatory. Or some shit like that.” 

Xisuma stopped breathing. The boy thought he was dead. 

“You’re not in hell. Or anything like that. This is a server, like any other.” Xisuma responded, watching as the boy’s expression of apathy returned to fear. 

“A server like any other?” He got up, “Where’s your admin? I’ll fucking- I’ll-” The boy glanced around wildly, backing up to the very edge of the island again.

“This is a server called Hermitcraft. We’re all friends and we don’t fight or kill each other, not seriously at least. Everything we do is fun and lighthearted.” Xisuma slowly explained, watching confusion morph into the young boy’s expression, “I’m the admin.” 

The boy’s face dropped, and before Xisuma could even say another word, he had jumped off the island and into the cold ocean. He thrashed around a bit, desperately trying to get away, but it was no use.

The boy was drowning.

Xisuma couldn’t breathe.

He watched himself dive in after the boy, watched as he dragged the boy to the island, watched as he attempted to hit the water out of the boy’s lungs. He watched as the boy heaved up saltwater, bile and saliva, and as he collapsed under the weight of his soaked clothes and feathers. 

Xisuma wondered briefly why the boy didn’t try to fly away, then he came to reality.

All of the pressure came crashing down, and Xisuma let a dry sob wrack through him. Only moments later, he summoned some empty strength and had gathered his composure, and was messaging the Hermits:

 

<Xisuma> The unknown player is not an immediate threat, but he is very scared and just almost drowned trying to escape spawn island.

<Xisuma> I don’t know how or why he is here, but he is only a boy

<Xisuma> He’s an avian as well

 

The Hermits replied with appropriate levels of concern, Grian expressing the most, as expected. He asked to come over to spawn island, and Xisuma decided that that would be best. Maybe the boy would trust another avian more than Xisuma. 

The boy woke up quickly, “What the fuck… How am I not…” He whipped around to face Xisuma, “You… You saved me?” Somehow, the boy was more scared of kindness than aggression. Some twisted part of his brain supplied that people were most scared of the unknown. 

“You were drowning, so I saved you.” Xisuma stated, even though he wasn’t really there when he had saved him. 

The boy bore into him with those icy blue eyes, “Why?” He asked, not more than a whisper, but so full of emotion that Xisuma nearly sobbed again.

“I haven’t known you for very long. We’re little more than strangers, really. But I would never think you deserve to just be left to drown. You were scared. I was scared.” He explained, the honesty coming easily to him, “I don’t know who you are, but you do not deserve to die.” His own memories were leaking into the moment, this boy reminded Xisuma of himself, painfully so. 

The boy sobbed, proper loud and ugly sobbing, fat tears rolled down his bruised face. Xisuma shuffled closer to where the boy had fallen to his knees, welcoming him into a hug, but the boy shied away, instead wrapping his sodden wings around himself.

“I don’t know.” The boy muttered, “I just don’t know.” He sounded so much weaker, so much younger than before. His sobbing started evolving into heaving breaths, he was panicking again. 

Xisuma pressed his lips into a thin line behind his visor, “Calm down kid, you’re safe.”

He hiccupped a breath, “You’re the admin.” He choked, “And I already owe you my life.” As if saying his worries out loud made them real, the boy backed away and curled into himself tighter.

“That’s not how we do things on Hermitcraft.” Xisuma tried to explain, but the boy was panicking, “Hey, breathe. You’re going to have another panic attack.” 

The boy tried to take his advice, the breaths were stuttering and slowing, but there was still fear in his eyes. He feared for more than his life. 

“My friend Grian is going to be here soon. He’s an avian, like you, and I’ll leave you alone.” Xisuma promised him, “You owe me nothing, and I would never use my admin powers to do anything other than protect the server, I would certainly never use them to hurt someone.” 

The boy looked stunned. His breathing had stopped altogether, and shock painted his young face.

“The only thing I want from you right now, is that you try to eat some of the food and drink a bit of potion. You don’t have to, but it’ll make you feel better.” Xisuma said, backing away from the boy. Grian would be here in a few minutes, then Xisuma would fly away. 

Notes:

Next chapter coming very soon :D
Love you all <33

Chapter 2: Fledgling

Notes:

CW: Mentioned Panic Attack, Fainting

Ayo this is where the 'Wingfic' tags come into play. Enjoy! <33

Grian would usually smile whilst flying, it was his favourite thing to do when he needed to take his mind off of things, but his expression was stony as the wind whipped through his hair. There was a new person on the server, and they were an avian. Despite what Xisuma had said about them being a young boy, and scared out of their mind, Grian’s mind was still coming up with less than desirable paranoia-driven situations. 

Noticing that he had arrived at the spawn island, Grian flew in a few circles to bring himself down to land, then he did so a good few metres away from the two people already there. 

Xisuma was sitting a good distance from the boy, who was curled in on himself, his white wings wrapped around himself like a poor imitation of a hug. His wings were white, not purple. Grian sighed, letting some of the built up tension drop from his shoulders.

“Hey, Grian.” Xisuma greeted, sounding tired, more than usual. Standing up, Xisuma glanced at the boy then back to Grian. 

He smiled, trying his best to cheer up both of the people on the island, “Sorry for the wait!” He turned to the boy, “Hey there. I’m Grian.”

Lifting his head, the boy stared at him with some broken, awe-stricken expression, mixed with fear, “I knew that.” He grumbled, hiding his head on top of his knees once more. 

“Should I go now?” Xisuma asked, already getting his rockets out. 

Grian nodded, then switched his attention to the boy, “Is that good with you, kid? Do you want Xisuma to leave?” There was no answer. He sighed, and sat down.

The boy flinched violently when Xisuma fired a rocket to take off, and started wildly searching for the direction of the rocket, “What the- Where did that-” There was a visceral fear in his eyes, a kind that Grian could relate to on some level, though he wasn’t sure if he had felt something this constant and horrific as the boy seemed to be experiencing.

“Hey, hey. That’s just Xisuma taking off with his elytra. Nothing to be worried about.” Grian reassured, watching as the boy’s shoulders slumped.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. This is okay.” The boy mumbled, glaring at his hands. They held a slight tremor, one that the boy had obvious distaste for.

They sat in silence for a little while, it felt like they both needed some time to process. Xisuma may be great, but the man had his flaws, like everyone else. 

After a while, the boy looked up at him, “Why are you guys- Why are you so fuckin’ nice? I’ve been here for like half an hour, and no one has gotten angry at me for being a dick, that Xisuma bitch saved my life, and helped me calm down after a freakout- What the fuck? I don’t understand!” He cried, and Grian just let him talk. It hurt to hear, and made him wonder who hurt this kid. 

His avian instincts weren’t helping either, it was not the time to be trying to take in an abandoned fledgling. This kid probably had a family to go back to, or something, Grian hoped. It also did not help that between the ugly sobs the kid was making, he could hear the repressed chirps that struggled to pass through whatever barrier this kid had put up to stop any bird-like sounds. 

Out of habit, he trilled soothingly, it was what he would do whenever one of his friends started crying, human or not. 

The kid went silent, then choked back a few instinctual responses, fighting the urge to return the call to Grian. It just made him more angry for the kid. Someone had instilled into his mind that expressions of hybridity were wrong in some way, and that made Grian want to punch something, or explode things. Preferably in a way that would inconvenience the culprit of the boy’s fearful repression habits. 

Instead of satiating any of his destructive urges, Grian just clenched his fists a little tighter and smiled softly at the boy. He shouldn’t see that Grian was angry.

“Please kid, whoever told you not to make those noises, they were very wrong.” Grian tried to explain, “It’s like- On Hermitcraft we- This server is full of hybrids. We’re all really accepting, and it would, well it would actually make me happy if you let yourself show your hybridity.” He stumbled a little on his words, but smiled when the boy seemed to understand.

“I don’t believe you.” He said defensively, “That’s bullshit. I’m not doing any hybrid shit just because you want me to. Or it would ‘make you happy’.” With a huff, he returned to leaning his head on his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs. This time, his wings stayed tightly tucked behind him. 

Grian sighed, only now was he realising how difficult this was going to be. They hadn’t been able to get the boy to eat, drink or even tell them his name. 

“What’s your name?” Grian asked gently.

The boy glared at him, “No fuckin’ way.” 

He was getting desperate, “I’m trying to help you, why won’t you let-”

“I don’t need your fucking pity!” The boy shot up to standing, wings flared, “I don’t want help! I’m not some poor little kid that you have to save!” He shouted, trying his best to sound intimidating, but his legs were shaking. The boy was going to pass out, Grian could see it. 

Before he collapsed onto the sand, Grian rushed to catch the boy, managing to just make it in time. 

Suddenly, it was quiet. No more shouting, no more shaky breaths or sniffles, no more swearing. The boy’s eyes were closed, but the fear remained etched into his face, like he had worn that scared expression for so long it had stained his young face. 

Grian held him, jostling a little to avoid his wings, then he scooped up the satchel of food and the potion Xisuma had left. With the boy in his arms, Grian took off from the spawn island and headed to the shopping district. It should have been a lot harder, but the boy was little more than skin and bones, so it wasn’t like trying to fly with Mumbo clinging onto him. 

A little less gracefully than usual, Grian landed in front of the town hall portal, deciding to walk to his base through the nether. Whether taking the boy to his base was a good idea or not, Grian hadn’t quite gotten the time to think about yet. In the moment, it seemed right, though it was probably just his ridiculous bird instincts. 

He decided to go to his starter base, the small hobbit hole much more welcoming and homely than his empty, unfinished mansion. The boy was laid on a bed and covered in blankets, thanks to Grian’s intrusive instincts. All he could focus on was making a perfect nest for the boy to wake up to. 

Finally, Grian stopped mothering the boy and pulled out his communicator, messaging Xisuma privately:

 

<Grian> hes in my base now 

<Grian> he passed out and i carried him back

<Xisuma> Is it secure? He’ll probably run the moment he realises he can

<Grian> working on that

<Grian> hes very much asleep, and probably will be for a while

<Xisuma> Should I tell the other Hermits?

<Grian> yea probably

 

As Xisuma sent a message to the main group explaining what had happened, Grian worked on making the place slightly more secure. The boy was in a sectioned out bedroom area, with one door. It had a bolt on the inside, so it was pretty useless.

Grian worked on unscrewing the bolt from the inside and transferring it to the outside, hoping he wouldn’t wake the boy. It didn’t take too long, but made him feel a lot better about the boy’s safety. 

Once any possible escape routes were evaluated and appropriately dealt with, Grian decided he would join the boy in collapsing to sleep. He was tired, physically from shovelling sand all morning and mentally from dealing with irritating instincts whilst trying to help the poor avian boy.

Notes:

Another update tomorrow :D

Chapter 3: Runaway

Notes:

CW: Blood, Mild Injury, Fainting (again...)

Tommy makes a break for freedom, it goes about as well as the content warnings suggest. Hope you enjoy :D

Grian woke with a gasp, jolting from the sleepy drifting he had been doing in preparation to wake up slowly. Adrenaline forced him to open his eyes, kickstarting the day. Or the night, apparently, according to the lack of light filtering through his window. That was right - he had gone to sleep really early, so he had probably woken up at like four in the morning. 

A strange thudding sound caught his attention through his wondering, following the crash that had forced him awake. Then, a cry.

Grian threw himself out of bed, ignoring the fact that he was still in his less than flattering pyjamas, and ran to the room in which the avian boy was. 

Unbolting the door, Grian expected to see him cowering in the corner with the room a mess, but instead found the bed empty and the room more or less the same. The only proof of the boy’s existence was an imprint on the bed, a couple white feathers and the smashed window. 

Feeling ill, Grian took a few tentative steps to lean out of the window. It was round, and used to have two criss-crossing beams of wood over it, but they were ripped from their joints. He almost felt insulted that the skinny boy could tear apart his handiwork, but pushed that away in favour of working out what had happened to said boy. 

With the window torn apart and smashed, it was obvious he had escaped from the room. Being careful to not cut himself on any shards, Grian peered out of the window, seeing not much but the darkness of the night.

Oh.

It was night, and night meant monsters, and the avian boy was definitely not in a good state to defend himself from monsters of any kind. He could hardly stave off his own worry and panic, let alone fight dangerous creatures. 

Suddenly awake and full of instinct fueled panic, Grian hastily pulled on some amour over his pyjamas, snatching up a couple of swords and the health potion from Xisuma yesterday. All he could focus on was protecting the fledgling, making sure he was alive and safe. 

With a few beats of his wings, Grian came to the ground below the smashed window. It was scattered in shards of glass, some blood decorating the ground when he held a torch to it. There were two pieces of splintered wood, obviously the ones from the window that the spindly boy had managed to somehow pry from the frame in his fatigued state. 

Listening for any more sound, Grian silently traversed the jungle, in a similar way that he would entertain when pulling pranks on fellow Hermits. He was doing no such thing, though, there was a lot more at risk now. 

Grian hoped that he would hear the boy cry out, or something like that, and then he could locate the sound and find the boy. Sure enough, a terrible sound of pain tore from the depths of the jungle, amongst all the background grumble of monsters. 

Instantly, Grian rushed towards the direction of the sound, the traces of distressed avian chirps in the cry urging his instincts on. He had to save the boy, he couldn’t live with himself if he failed someone again. Whatever had hurt this boy, whoever had hurt this boy, Grian would protect him from them with all he had. No matter whether it was related to his troubles or not.

He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Within seconds, Grian came across a thick part of the jungle with a small avian boy trying with all his might to fend off the skeleton that was firing at him. Panicking, Grian twisted through the underbrush to try and reach the boy in time, but his wings were not helping squeeze through the bamboo stalks and trees. 

Then he saw it. A creeper, not too far from the boy, but moving quickly towards him. Grian cursed his mistake of not taking a long range weapon in his haste. 

It would blow up, and either kill or severely injure the boy. Neither were going to happen, if Grian had anything to say about it. Both of them would convince the terribly wary boy that Hermitcraft was dangerous and lonely. 

Riding on adrenaline and little sleep, Grian burst through the thick jungle, not able to tear his eyes away from the creeper about to blow up in the boy’s face. For a moment, they both locked eyes, that same haunting look of fear on the boy’s face, melded with pain and a bone-deep tiredness. 

Seeing the creeper prepare to blow up, Grian desperately beat his wings. He must protect the fledgling. There was no letting the boy die on his first night of Hermitcraft. 

Just as the creeper was about to take out the boy, Grian jumped between them, thrusting his sword a little too late to kill the creeper as it exploded in front of Grian.

His armour took most of the shock, but there was still a ringing in his ears and a throbbing of pain in his limbs as he took down the skeleton in two efficient swipes of his sword. 

A meek voice from behind him finally spoke up in the silence after the explosion, “Grian?” The boy called.

He felt dizzy, and tired out of his mind. Leaning up against a tree, Grian took a moment to process what had just happened. He was still in his pyjamas, yet he had just shielded a boy from a creeper explosion. 

“What the- Why did you- I don’t-” The boy choked, sinking to his knees. He was bleeding from an arrow in his left shoulder and the top of his right wing, but there were also plenty of cuts from the shards of glass that made his pale skin into a kind of patchwork of scratches, scrapes and cuts. Now he was full on sobbing, banging a few pathetic fists into the ground.

“Come on, let’s get inside. There are probably more monsters out there, and as much as I would totally do it again, I would rather not be your own human shield.” Grian suggested, attempting humour but feeling far too flat to try and make it sound as jovial as usual. Still, the boy let out a huff of a laugh between his sobs.

“I- Oh shit. I owe you my-” He let a long, painful looking sob wrack through him, “I owe you and the admin my life.” He said in the most tiny voice Grian had ever heard him speak in. 

Shaking his head and taking a single step closer, Grian assured him, “No, no, that’s not how it- We’re not like that here. It’s a favour, a kindness. Simple decency.” With a tired smile, he added, “Come inside, I’ll make you a hot chocolate. I could do with one myself.” 

Suddenly turned defensive, the boy stood up on his shaky legs and declared, “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to be looked after. I’m an adult.” His hands balled at his sides, “You’ll lock me up. I’m not- I’m not being locked up anywhere.” He finished with a shaky breath. 

“Okay, I won’t lock you in. But then you’ve got to promise me that you won’t go out at night like this on your own.” Grian offered, expression flat and far from his usual kind smile. Behind him, his wings flared slightly, twitching in anticipation for the boy’s answer. 

“I won’t promise. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again though. Pretty shit experience all ‘round.” He agreed, voice still afflicted by a slight tremor.

“Do you want me to treat your wounds?” Grian asked as they navigated the treacherous jungle.

The boy shook his head, “Just gimme any random first aid supplies you got lying around, I’ll make do.” He said coldly, “There’s no fuckin’ way I’m letting you near me.”

Ah, so he still doesn’t trust Grian enough. It stung, only a little, but it still stung to know that the boy that he had helped so much in the last few hours still didn’t trust him. It was justified, though. He’d probably trusted much easier once, and that most likely worked out to hurt him in the end. 

Grian grimaced. Just what had happened to this boy? What server had he been on?

“Could you tell me your name?” Grian tried, just to see if he trusted him enough to share such a harmless thing.

He looked like he considered it for a moment, then spat, “Fat fuckin’ chance. Piss off. Don’t test your luck.” 

Grian sighed, realising this would probably be a lot harder than he had originally expected. There was no way he would be cuddling this boy in his wings and preening him, like his instincts insisted to urge him to do, not for a very long time. It hurt, but in a way that made cruel sense. 

They got back to the house, Grian making sure the boy could see that he didn’t lock the door. Letting him sit on the couch, Grian dug around his horribly organised chests for something, anything, first aid related. If only Xisuma were here, he would have a perfectly up to scratch first aid kit packed away in a shulker box in his enderchest.

“I couldn’t find much.” Grian announced, “But I’ve still got food and a health pot’ from Xisuma yesterday, just make sure you eat before you drink the potion.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Piss off.” He grumbled, taking a golden carrot and biting into it, “Holy shit! I forgot how good these are!” For the first time, the boy grinned, wide and genuine. Of course it was food that made him smile. Grian almost laughed.

“I get them from trading with villagers, and sell them to people at the shopping district for diamonds.” He explained, smiling back at the boy, feeling his energy return to him, “I’ve actually got to restock the barge some time soon, I’ll probably do that later today when it’s a more sociable hour.” 

“What’s that?” The boy asked, curiosity barely hidden as he crunched through another golden carrot.

“The barge is my shop!” Grian said proudly, “I sell things like sand, gravel, golden carrots, logs- anything, really. I’m very rich from it.” He flashed a smirk at the boy.

“Fuckin’ good for you, big man.” He grinned back mischievously, “Think I could, y’know, borrow some of those diamonds for a very long time?”

Grian laughed heartily, “I’m sure I could spare a few!” 

They fell into comfortable silence after that, the avian boy munching through Xisuma’s golden carrots and Grian making two mugs of hot cocoa. 

“I haven’t eaten like that in ages, holy fuck.” The boy exclaimed, “My old server was pretty much constantly in a famine, the only time I actually ate was when I stole from-” He cut himself off, his easy smile that had been slowly slipping changing into a frown. 

Grian set down two mugs of hot cocoa, not interrupting the boy. This was the first time he’d mentioned his old server, so it was a big deal, but it didn’t make Grian feel very optimistic when the first thing he mentioned was the fact that his old server was often in famine. That explained his more than lean build. 

“Shit! Ouch! I forgot I had two arrows stuck in me!” The boy cried, “Fuckin’ adrenaline, let me face the pain like a man- Ouch! Ow, bollocks, that fuckin’ hurts like a son of a bitch-” 

Grian went to lay a hand on his shoulder to calm his thrashing, but the boy flinched away from the approaching hand.

“Fuck off!” He shouted, “Don’t you dare fuckin’ touch me!” He went to stand up, but only managed to stay upright for a single, painful second before he fell backwards onto the couch, having passed out from standing up too quickly.

Grian stood awkwardly, slightly in shock from the sudden yelling, as well as the passing out. Cautiously, he approached the unconscious boy, laying him on his back to avoid the arrows in his shoulder and wing. It felt invasive, especially after he had just yelled at him to not touch him, but there was no way the boy would be able to treat the arrow in his wing.

Ignoring the possible consequences and giving into his protective instincts, Grian carefully cut out the arrowhead, being mindful of the wonderful but terribly kept feathers. His fingers itched for a preening session, but that could wait. He wanted the boy to be awake and trusting when Grian finally preened his wings. 

After removing the arrow, he applied a bit of regen potion to the wound, hoping it would clean it out and make it less sore once the boy finally wakes. Grian wanted to do the same to the shoulder arrow, but refrained. He wanted the boy to still trust him, and plus, he was probably perfectly capable of tending to the wound. Nonetheless, he still dabbed a bit of regen to that wound as well, hoping it would hold off any infection before the boy could treat it properly. 

With a sigh, Grian finally got to his hot cocoa. It was tepid by now, and he also had another mug that wouldn’t be drunk any time soon. So he regretfully had to pour both of them down the drain. 

After that, there was nothing left to do except try to sleep before morning came, which meant laying on the couch opposite the boy.

Notes:

I'm doing this story from the Hermits' POV, so you'll have to wait until Tommy finally trusts a little more for his thoughts and stuff lol
Love y'all! <333

Chapter 4: Friends

Notes:

CW: Panic Attack

Nothing too bad in this chapter, and it's a new POV as well! (Mumbo)
Daily updates will stop soon as I won't be able to post or write for a few days, but I'll try and resume updates as soon as I can!
Love y'all, hope you enjoy! <33

Gentle morning light woke up Mumbo, spilling from the crooked windows in his cramped hobbit hole style home. It should have been a morning like any other, and it was as far as the pale sun was concerned, but Mumbo had plenty on his mind relating to the strange happenings of yesterday. He was also tired, having slept poorly, the worries of having someone new on the server invading his sleep. 

Everything seemed so painfully normal, yet Mumbo couldn’t stop worrying. Eventually, after a failed attempt at breakfast and some organisation of his in-between base, Mumbo caved in and sent a message to Grian on his communicator. 

His avian friend replied quickly, confirming that it was okay for Mumbo to visit his base. Vaguely, Mumbo knew that Grian had taken in the strange new player, but he knew nothing else in relation to the unexpected visitor. He kept an open mind, though, and tried not to worry himself as he flew over to his neighbour’s home. 

As gratefully as someone like Mumbo can, he landed in front of Grian’s door, which was oddly still in place. Brushing himself off, Mumbo knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

“Hello?” A raspy, young voice asked, definitely not Grian, “Who’s there?” They sounded both scared and aggressive at the same time, which baffled Mumbo momentarily. He didn’t have time to ponder upon such things, as whoever answered him opened the door a couple of inches. 

Mumbo peeked through the gap and was met with a young face framed by scraggly blond hair, eyes a strikingly pale blue. He looked as if he had been dragged through a bush backwards, if that bush was a bramble, and he had also been dragged through said bush forward, side-to-side and back again. And then doused in mud. 

“Gosh.” Mumbo said intelligently, “Are you alright?” 

The boy scowled at him, “‘Course I’m fuckin’ alright. Bitch.” He snarled, attempting to shut the door, but failing thanks to the black leather dress shoe that Mumbo had wedged in the gap.

“What the hell do you want!” He shouted, opening the door a little wider upon realising that he wasn’t going to be able to close it. Now Mumbo could see his pale, unkempt wings, ruffled and held stiffly like his shoulders. 

“I just came by to see Grian.” Mumbo explained, “I messaged him, he should know that I’m coming by.”

The boy glared at him, “I don’t trust you.” His eyes flickered over Mumbo’s suit, and he pressed his mouth into a thin line, “I don’t trust people in suits.” He attempted to slam the door in Mumbo’s face, but failed massively, as the wooden door slammed into the edge of his shoe and bounced right back to the boy. It whacked into his forehead, sending him reeling back in a daze. 

“Ow, ow, shit, ouch- Oh fuck-” He whined, a hand flinging up to grasp where the door had hit him, “Aww…” He moaned, sounding far more childish than moments before.

Mumbo was frozen, a deer in headlights, at a loss as to what to do. Eventually, one of his two brain cells decided it would be a fine idea to laugh.

“Hey!” The boy shouted in slight offence, “Don’t laugh at me!” It was lighthearted though, nothing like the tense and fearful atmosphere just moments before. 

Quickly, his chuckles grew to full on delirious cackles, the tension from the previous events finally releasing, aided by his lack of sleep. Mumbo was almost too caught up to notice how the boy’s expression suddenly twisted from mock anger and offence back to fear. 

“No, no, no.” The boy repeated, staring at Mumbo with glazed eyes, “You’re not- You’re meant to be dead! Why are you- How-” He kept cutting himself off, words losing themselves to his panic. 

Mumbo stopped laughing, re-focusing on the boy, “What’s wrong?” He asked softly. 

By now, the boy’s breathing had become concerningly shallow and frequent, his terror-stricken eyes fixed on Mumbo. His words were descending into meaningless muttering, the panic stealing all of his attempts at explanation. 

Hoping to help him, or something, Mumbo reached his arm out, willing the boy to come towards him, maybe to collapse in a hug. Instead, he flinched away, screaming, and backed onto Grian’s couch. 

What the heck was he supposed to do now? It was starting to make Mumbo panic, and that just wouldn’t do, the two of them in a state wouldn’t help at all. Where was Grian when you needed him? 

He couldn’t do anything. The boy was lost in some horrible panic, and Mumbo was helpless. He couldn’t ground him with a hug, couldn’t tell him that whatever threat he was imagining wasn’t there as he knew diddly squat about the boy, his only option was to wait until Grian got here.

The avian man appeared after a minute of Mumbo short-circuiting and the boy panicking, dropping whatever he was carrying and barreling into the room.

“Mumbo? What happened?” He queried, then he turned his attention to the boy, “Hey, hey, you’re safe. Mumbo’s just my friend, he’s as harmless as a fly, and about as intelligent as a spoon.” Grian laughed, glancing up at Mumbo from where he had sat on the couch with his usual smirk, though it was tinged with concern.

“I am not!” Mumbo retorted, trying his best to keep his voice soft, “I’ll have you know, I made all that redstone for Sahara, with Iskall’s help of course, but still!” He huffed, folding his arms, no longer lost. He was so grateful for Grian, despite his often insulting jokes, plus, they both knew neither of them really meant it.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know what that means, right kid?” Grian grinned at the boy, who looked slightly more present than before, “When you say ‘Iskall’s help’ you mean ‘Iskall designed it and built it, I just talked about it a lot and complained whenever something went wrong’, isn’t that right?” He winked, still grinning. 

Mumbo huffed, but could’t hold up the jesting front when the boy had just freaked out and he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

“You good now, kid?” Grian asked, shuffling a little bit closer. The boy leaned away, but didn’t complain. 

With a trembling voice, the boy said, “Yeah, I’m- I’m good.” He glanced between Grian and Mumbo, “You guys seem like really good friends.” He remarked, sounding curiously melancholic. 

“Oh!” Mumbo said, “Yeah, I- We’ve known each other for, what… a year now?”

“More than that. Two, I think.” Grian wondered out loud, then blew out a breath, “I’ve got no idea. Long enough!” He giggled, that cheeky and slightly malicious laugh that only Grian could pull off. 

Suddenly, Mumbo remembered that he’d never introduced himself to the boy, “Oh, do mind my manners, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Mumbo, Hermit since season two, and I mainly make redstone bits and bobs.” He smiled politely, “And you?” 

The boy stared at him, then said, “I’m- No, no, I’m not telling you my name. Bitch. I’m from another server and have no fuckin’ clue whatsover how I got here, and I mainly piss people off and start wars.” His voice was still shaking from his freakout, but his words were harsh and brash. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. You’ve probably got a server to get back to!” Grian jumped up from the couch, “Don’t worry, as long as it’s what you want to do, Xisuma and I will help you get back home.” He didn’t sound as happy about that as Mumbo figured he should be.

The boy’s expression dropped, “No, no, not back there. Not right now, not any time soon.” He said vehemently, shaking his head and drawing in his arms. 

Grian frowned at this, and Mumbo was just confused. What was going on? Was this boy alright? Well, obviously not. But could he be?

“We can help you here at Hermitcraft, if you stay here we could help you feel less scared-” Grian started saying, but was cut off by the boy jumping up and shouting:

“I don’t need your fuckin’ help! I don’t want pity, I’m not weak, I’m not a kid, I can take fucking care of myself, okay?” He sounded hurt. 

As Mumbo watched him rush towards the door, Grian called out for him to wait, but the boy didn't even spare a backward glance as he violently tore open the door and left.

“I don’t need any of you fucking weirdos!” He yelled, “I don’t need your dumb kindness!” 

Notes:

Tommy VS Door - Door wins.
Also yeah he ran away again. Oops.

Chapter 5: Meeting

Notes:

Hello people, I now get to post chapters because my trip was cancelled, thanks to covid.
I am having to re-write these notes because I am a fool and deleted them. The other notes were less dry, trust me.
This chapter is pretty chill, not content warnings because Tommy's not in it.
Hope you enjoy <33

Xisuma sighed, resting his head in his hands. He couldn’t focus, he was exhausted yet wide awake. He knew that cup of coffee was a silly idea, he had quit caffeine ages ago, but at times like Xisuma was terrible with falling back into old habits. It made his thoughts race and his focus waver. 

He hadn’t slept since the boy arrived on the server. It was too dangerous to leave the server unprotected, but Xisuma couldn’t find a way anyone could’ve gotten in for the life of him. There had to be something, a rift, a tear. A pathway that the boy had taken to get into Hermitcraft. 

It was even more important as the Hermits were depending on him. Hermitcraft was a safe recluse for a lot of the members, a place to finally feel at ease and accepted. Xisuma knew what that felt like, as it was exactly that to him as well. 

The boy had reminded him of his life prior to Hermitcraft, an angry boy with only hurt behind the anger. Just a kid, who had seen too much too quickly, a kid who the world had hated, so in return, the kid hated the world.

Of course, Xisuma was a changed man, using his past as a way to better himself. No longer was he using his hate to propel himself. Xisuma was tired of hating.

The avian boy, however, seemed both terrified and hateful. He swore and shouted, but also cowered. His temperament changed with whiplash-inducing speed from confident and brash to panicky and fearful. It wasn’t identical to Xisuma, but it was close enough to unsettle him. 

Another concerned message from a Hermit snapped him out of his thoughts. They should really hold a meeting at the town hall, maybe have Grian explain a bit about the boy and why he needs to stay in Hermitcraft. 

After talking with Scar, the mayor, and Grian, Xisuma announced a server meeting at the town hall. 

“Right, do we have everyone?” Scar asked, scanning the group of Hermits, then he looked to Xisuma.

With a nod, Xisuma prepared himself to describe the situation, “Thank you Scar.” He smiled under his visor, hoping Scar noticed it, “You’re probably aware of the recent events, and I would like to clarify just what has been happening. I would like to preface this by saying that I am working non-stop on a solution to how this boy got onto our server. Be assured that Hermitcraft will continue to be safe and inclusive.” He took in the expressions of his friends, most of them were curious with a hint of fear.

He carried on, “The boy is terrified of everything. He has clearly come from a bad place, and this has made him panicky, brash and angry. I’m sure you all understand.” The solemn nods he got in return confirmed this, “I haven’t spent much time with him, however Grian has been taking care of him, as the boy is an avian.” With an outstretched hand, Xisuma invited Grian to speak.

The other man took in a deep breath, held it for a split second, then he sighed it out, “The kid doesn’t trust anyone. He’s so scared, he won’t even tell us his name.” He pressed his lips together, finding words presumably, “Last night, he ripped out one of my windows and smashed the glass so he could escape. I obviously heard the racket, went to go find him, and there he was, outside in the jungle at night. He was hurt already, and I had to shield him from a creeper explosion. After that, he was petrified that he owed me his life, something like that. It’s like he’s confused by simple kindness and decency.” 

Xisuma felt ill just hearing that. He imagined the boy, barraged by a mob of monsters, then an almost deadly creeper explosion. Then there was Xisuma’s past self, a scared shapeshifter trying to find his place, hateful and violent towards both humans and hybrids. They felt a little too similar. 

“Is he okay now, though?” Stress asked, brow furrowed in concern. 

Grian shook his head, “He walked out a few hours before the meeting was called.” 

Oh, that was not good. That was really not good. Xisuma stared at Grian, hoping maybe this was just one of his strange jokes, but he found no traces of lightheartedness in Grian’s guilty frown. 

“Where is he?” Xisuma demanded, “This is a rather big deal. I thought you had made your house secure?”

Taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor, Grian answered quickly, “I promised to him that he could leave when he wanted. He really didn’t want to be locked in anywhere, I think that’s one of his many triggers.” 

Tango spoke up, “Does he have a communicator? Could we send a message?” He looked to Impulse, who shook his head.

“I don’t think he does. It didn’t seem like he could see our messages earlier.” Impulse reasoned, and there were a few hums of agreement from other Hermits. 

“Okay.” Xisuma announced, “As a group, what do we think we should do?”

“Does he have a place to go back to?” False questioned, and Grian responded almost instantly:

“No, nowhere safe, at least. I don’t think he should go back to his old server.” 

Rendog interjected, “How old is he, do you think? Like, teeny weeny kiddie, or…” He trailed off.

“Around seventeen, I’d guess. That’s in line with how he acts as well.” Xisuma clarified, and a few Hermits looked almost relieved knowing that it wasn’t a small child they were dealing with. 

“I say we help him as best we can.” Welsknight said firmly, determination painting itself on his face. Once Wels had made up his mind, he would do all he could to carry out his mission. Maybe that stubbornness was natural, but Xisuma guessed it came from his time serving as a soldier. 

The solid nods that followed confirmed that they would be helping the new member of the server. 

Xisuma deeply and selfishly wished they could just send him back to where he came from, but based on how he acted when he first joined, believing he was dead, he had a suspicion that the boy didn’t have a server he could go back to. Plus, he couldn’t send him back in good conscience, knowing even just a little about the boy. 

“We can’t help him if we don’t know where he is.” Xisuma stated gravely, “We need to locate this boy as soon as we can to avoid a repeat of last night. We must find him before nightfall.” 

The Hermits all nodded in response, some of them shifting in anticipation, antsy to search for the kid. 

“He was last seen in the jungle, at my base, so we should focus our search in that area.” Grian stepped towards the nether portal, “Although, he could’ve travelled pretty far since then, especially if he found a portal, so we should also have some people in the other areas of the server.”

Xisuma considered this. The boy was tired, possibly injured and unfamiliar. He was terrified of most things, who knew whether he was capable of travelling via the dangerous nether. 

“We should all focus on our base areas, I say.” Stress suggested, “We know our bases the best, and Ren doesn’t call our area the ‘Hermit infested jungle’ for no reason.”

Xisuma nodded slowly, “Yes, and if he had gone through a portal, he would’ve ended up in someone’s base, most likely.”

There was a contemplative silence, then Grian made a move towards the portal, “What are we waiting for, then. Let’s find him.” With that, Grian slipped into the purple nether portal, not wanting to waste any time. It was already apparent how attached Grian had become to the young man, and how it hurt him that the boy wouldn’t even share his name. 

As the rest of the Hermits followed Grian through the portal, that or they took off in the direction of their bases, Xisuma was left in the town square with Mumbo. The man looked shell shocked, and though he usually looked slightly confused, there was something deeper there as well.

“Mumbo? Are you alright?” Xisuma asked, taking a few steps towards the man to close any distance that might’ve been awkward. 

The man nodded, “Yeah, I- yeah. Just, the kid, he- I- I think I might’ve triggered something. I was laughing with him, then he suddenly started freaking out. He- I- I’m pretty sure he thought I was someone else.” Mumbo let out a deep breath, “Not someone good either. Apparently they were also dead.”

Xisuma furrowed his brow, trying to put together how this could hint to how his old server functioned. If the person he momentarily mistook Mumbo for was dead, then that meant that death was more than just losing your items and having to respawn on his old server. Clearly death was much more permanent and scary to this boy. A hardcore server, then? Most likely. 

He’d have to ask some of the other Hermits, like Impulse, someone who had past experience with hardcore servers and worlds. 

“Come on, then.” Mumbo huffed, “I’ll stop rambling, we should probably get searching for him.” 

They departed, Mumbo flying and Xisuma choosing to take the nether. It would give him a little time to think about his searching techniques, how he was going to locate the boy if he was somehow in his base. 

Notes:

Next chapter is Scar POV :DD
Wanna chat with me, vibe with cool people and get exclusive previews of upcoming chapters?? Join my Discord Server!!!

Chapter 6: Scar

Notes:

No major content warnings for this one! It's mostly just Scar and Tommy having a chat in a tree, but it ended up as one of the longest chapters! Hope that made the slight wait worth it.
The next two chapters are gonna be cool, I've got them all planned out. :D
Hope you enjoy! <33

Scar landed, albeit somewhat clumsily, at his magical village he had built, nerves strung high after the meeting. They were supposed to be looking for this new person, but Scar was honestly much more inclined to hide inside and wait for all of this to blow over. Or, at least that was what he wanted to do before the meeting. 

The boy needed them, apparently. And Scar couldn’t help than to feel sympathetic when Grian recited what had happened between them. Grian was the newest Hermit - before this boy anyways - to join the server, and he was also the reason they hadn’t sent invites out for the last few years. It had been a mission to help out Grian, to unpack his rather gruesome past, but once Grian trusted them enough to share with them, he became a valued and appreciated member of the server. 

Scar thought at first that a new, unannounced person would send Grian spiralling, but his friend seemed to have taken the new boy under his literal and metaphorical wing. 

Having spent a large amount of his life in singleplayer, Scar found talking with strangers was difficult. He didn’t want to have to talk to this new boy, but if Grian could, then Scar would try his best.

Clenching his fists and shuffling his elytra into place with a shudder of his shoulders, Scar began his search. He would scout out his buildings first - check all the small spaces a boy could hide himself in, then he would ascend to the treetop bridges and survey the jungle from above. 

Finding nothing out of place in any of his farms or their storage silos, Scar made his way to the open so he could fly up to the rope bridges. As he was locating some rockets, a flash of red and blonde hair caught his eye. Subconsciously, Scar assumed it was Grian, then he focussed on the figure. They were taller than Grian, their hair was lighter and they were wearing a red and white shirt, not a maroon sweater. 

Scar blinked, pocketing the rockets. Change of plan. 

He swapped the rockets for his communicator, quickly alerting the Hermits of the sighting. He was here, just behind the magical village, glancing around wildly. Surely the boy would spot Scar and run off.

Slowly, as if approaching some wild, skittish animal, Scar crept through the jungle. When they were about a fifty metres apart, the boy’s head whipped around in response to an obnoxiously loud twig.

“What the fuck!” He shouted out, the sound muffled in the thickness of the jungle. Some birds burst from their roosts, startled by the yell.

Scar blanched in response to the language, then gathered himself again, remembering what Grian had said. This boy was scared out of his mind.

“Hello.” Scar greeted awkwardly, frozen in place. The two were in a sort of stand off, both of them too scared to do anything. Attempting to break the tension, Scar slowly resumed walking towards him, so that they could hear each other.

The boy positioned himself to run, “No, you fuckers can leave me alone.”

“Um.” Scar fumbled for words, “We don’t want to hurt you, or force you to do anything. Everyone here wants to- to help you.”

The boy sneered, “Sure. Whatever. I don’t want your pity.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” Scar called out, and the boy actually stopped, to his utter surprise, “We don’t want you to get hurt during the night, please at least stay somewhere until you have your own house.”

With a scoff, the boy dismissed his concern, but didn’t make another move to leave, “I’m fine.” He stared at Scar, who had stopped approaching now they were within earshot, if they raised their voices a little. He seemed to have something else to say, and after a quick dart of his pale eyes, he finally asked, “I can build my own house?” He sounded much less angry than before, finally showing a little bit of vulnerability.

“Of course!” Scar smiled, “We build loads of stuff on Hermitcraft, I’m sure we could set you up with a plot of land to mess about with.”

This time, the boy took a tentative, shaky step forward, “And no-one else would touch it? Or mess with it? Or set it on fire, or explode it, or cover it in-”

“No, no, never.” He said seriously, heart twinging slightly at the way the boy’s shoulders slumped in what he assumed was relief.

With a sigh, the boy nodded, “Yeah, okay, I figured- yeah.” He wrung his hands together.

After a short moment of silence, Scar offered, “Would you like to see my base? It’s a whole village, I think you’ll like it!”

He considered it, then stepped back, “I don’t want to get trapped anywhere again.” His expression was steely.

“You can leave anytime you want, I just wanna give you a… a sort of tour, I guess.” He smiled, hoping it came across as welcoming.

“Really?” The boy asked, his voice small.

Scar nodded, then turned his back to the boy and walked off, “Follow me, then, it’s just over here!”

The boy’s footsteps were light behind him, the gentle crunch of the jungle floor being the only thing chasing the silence away. As much as silence was lovely, it was nice to have some unobtrusive background noise. 

“Holy shit! Jesus fuckin- It’s massive!” The boy forgot about being wary and distrustful, bounding forward instead of trailing behind Scar, walking through the entrance with a wondrous expression on his face. 

He flicked his focus around the village, not being able to take it all in fast enough, “Fuckin’ hell, man, how long did this take?” He gazed up at the wizard tower, then let out this strange, high pitched and raspy scream of pure excitement. Without so much of a glance back to Scar, the boy ran up the bottom of the wizard tower, placing his hand on the course wall of the tower.

“You made all of this?” This time he spared a look back to Scar, his eyes seeming somehow brighter. It wasn’t possible for your eyes to brighten from excitement, but the way the kid’s eyes were basically sparkling made it hard to believe.

After a while of the boy marvelling at the village, he set his eyes on the treetop rope bridges, immediately deciding that he would stay in one of the treehouse-like platforms. It was precarious, but much safer than the jungle, and he was an avian anyways, they liked height.

The same couldn’t be said for Scar, he was known for his accidental deaths, and those rope bridges were Not Scar Safe.

“I’m going to climb up there, watch me, wizard bitch, or whatever your name is.” The boy grinned, fixing a grip on the vines that crept up the old jungle trees. 

Scar chuckled, glad that the boy was comfortable enough to joke, “Sorry, I really should’ve told you earlier. I’m Scar, and you?” He hoped, a little optimistically, that the boy would share his name.

“Fuck no. Not sharing my name. You’re magical and shit, could curse me.” He grumbled, scrambling up the trunk, “Are you magical? I guessed you were, since y’know, magical village, hippy-ass crystal shit, and you look like you’re attending a fancy-dress party.” 

Startled, Scar broke out in quiet chuckles, “Oh my goodness- Yes, I’m a sort-of wizard. I have some Vex magic, but I don’t use it really, just for the crystals and stuff.” He laughed again, brushing his hands down his cloak, “Grian used to be a wizard, but he doesn’t like talking about that, or magic, or anything like that. In fact, forget I mentioned anything about Grian.” Scar internally face palmed, he shouldn’t have told this near-stranger boy about something Grian didn’t like talking about.

The atmosphere soured momentarily, “Why doesn’t he like talking about it?” The boy asked, making frustrated sounds as he tried to get a foothold in the tree. 

“Well, we all have things we’d rather not talk about.” Scar said, deflecting the question, “And that’s okay, but sometimes we do have to talk about them, but only to people we trust.”

The boy seemed to understand, “Yeah, I- Yeah. Finding someone you can trust that’ll listen is a right pain in the arse though.”

“Well, maybe we can help you. All of us are willing to listen, and only you are stopping yourself from trusting us.” 

They basked in the quiet after that, the boy slowly climbing high enough to be out of range of normal talking, so Scar shouted at him to warn him that he would be flying up now. He shot off some rockets, then landed on the rickety rope bridge, tensing as it swayed perilously. He hoped that some of his words had been taken to heart.

It was in Scar’s nature to help people, he was selfless to a fault, and he wouldn’t let this boy suffer alone if he had a say in it. Scar would not be hiding away and waiting for this to all blow over, he would be helping Grian gain the boy’s trust.

Thin but strong fingers gripped over the edge, pulling the boy onto the platform with a final, shaky push. He smiled to himself, seemingly proud of his achievement. For good reason as well - they were very high up in the canopy now. 

“I feel like I’m on top of the world.” The boy breathed, barely speaking loud enough for Scar to hear it. His awe-stricken face told him everything he needed to know.

“I love the height. Most of the Hermits have very big bases, and by default very tall bases, like Mumbo or Grian.” He sat on the platform, a good metre away from the edge, “Don’t avians like the height as well?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, it’s cool. I like the wind.” He still seemed in mild shock from the view, “I didn’t really have high up bases on my old server. I had a few towers.” He trailed off, looking away and chewing the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he collapsed onto the platform with a sigh.

“This is fuckin’ weird. I hardly know you, I hardly know any of you. But I haven’t been hurt, or stolen from, or anything like that.” He let out a shaky breath, “I don’t understand. I just don’t- I don’t understand!” He cried to the sky, the jump in volume startling Scar slightly. 

“What do you want! What do you want from me!” Desperate tears started to streak down the boy’s face, “Why can’t you just hate me, find me annoying or some shit, just fuckin’- Why? I need something familiar, god. Just leave me in the woods to fend for myself, it’s happened too many times before.” He slipped his fingers into his hair, his frustration starting to build into something more fearful and visceral. 

Scar, at a loss to what to do, offered the boy a small crystal, “Hey, hey. Take this, it’ll calm you down a bit so you don’t start getting panicky.” He held it out in his palm.

The boy stopped, giving the crystal a curious look before gently plucking it from Scar’s hand. Almost instantly, his tense shoulders dropped and his brows relaxed, no longer creased in that seemingly perpetual terror. 

“...Thanks.” He said softly after a while, “I still don’t get it though.” He sniffed, holding the crystal close to his chest.

Scar smiled sadly, “You don’t have to, not now anyway. Just know that all of the Hermits are completely intent on helping you. No one here wants you to be unhappy.”

Silently, the boy wrapped his beautiful white wings around himself. Scar wondered why he didn’t fly, but he didn’t voice his queries, not wanting to push the boy further than he had already gone and set him off. He would leave the avian stuff to Grian. 

“Do you guys have music?” The boy asked curiously, uncurling his wings. He was sitting on the edge with his legs hanging off the platform, and though it made Scar nervous, the boy could handle himself.

Scar nodded, thinking back to the shopping district, “Of course! There’s a few shops in the shopping district that do music - Beefy Tunes sells discs, jukeboxes and custom made instruments, and Etho does a custom note block song-making service.” 

The boy reacts with a strange expression, something excited but also laced with unmissable flashes of pain. He nods, “Good to know.”

Suddenly, Scar’s communicator goes off with a buzz, there was a message from Grian on it:

 

<Grian> is it okay if I come and see him?

<GoodTimeWithScar> yup, we’re just in the magical village, in a tree

<Grian> cool I’ll be five

 

“Grian’s coming, by the way.” Scar said, hoping the boy wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

He huffed, “Fine. I don’t care.” He crossed his arms and raised his wings up to put a barrier between him and Scar.

The silence wasn’t as comfortable as before, but Scar was glad when he spied red wings in the distance. The boy’s own wings ruffled slightly in response to him spotting Grian, but Scar had no idea whether that was good or bad. Avians were complicated hybrids, headstrong and confident, yet the world was never kind to them it seemed. Well, the world hadn’t been kind to the two avians Scar knew. 

“Hello!” Grian announced cheerily, though he looked a little less jovial than usual. There was tiredness beginning to build behind his usually bright eyes. 

Scar stood up and smiled at him, “Hey G-man! The kid and I were just having a nice chat. He's interested in music, so maybe we could take him down to the shopping district some time?” He glanced down at the boy, though he was still shielded by his wings.

“Music, huh? Cool!” Grian sat down beside the boy, though still a good distance away from him, “How are you doing?”

There was no answer, and Scar was just left standing awkwardly as Grian tried to coax the boy back into talking.

“He, uh, said he wanted to build his own house.” Scar interjected, twisting one of the strips of fabric from his wizard robes around his fingers. 

Grian smiled, “Well, building is my thing. I can help you design a cool house, if you’d like.” 

The boy’s wings lowered slightly, “Sure. Do whatever you want.” He scowled, then brought his wings all the way down, “It would be nice to have my own space, if I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

“Cool! Where do you want your house? We could have it close to my and Scar’s base, if you’d like, or somewhere a bit further out.” Grian stood up and started pacing, mumbling to himself and making little excited bird noises. Scar thought it was rather funny when his friend got in his inspired mood.

“Don’t worry, he’s just very passionate about building.” Scar smirked at the boy, then winked. 

Grian calmed down for a moment, “Right, right, right, I’m going to go collect some stuff, you-” He pointed at the boy, “-Get some sleep. Scar, give him some food that isn’t X’s golden carrots. Okay, I’ve got planning to do, we’ll build in the morning!” He called as he dropped off the platform. Clumsily, Grian wove his way through the trees, his excitement throwing his flight off slightly. It made Scar smile fondly, watching the once scared and quiet man so happy. He hoped that maybe this kid could heal as well. 

After that, he got the kid some spare blankets and pillows, along with a bowl of stew that Scar had made. He loved cooking and making food, hence the multiple farms he had. 

He flew the bedding up to the platform, then used an Enderpearl to transport the food up, avoiding spilling it. 

“Here you are, homemade stew and bread. All made from scratch by yours truly!” Scar beamed, handing it to the boy, who had been arranging the bedding against the trunk of the tree. 

He gave it a skeptical glare, but didn’t refuse it, eating it at lightning speed.

“If you need anything, I’m just down there, in the snail house.” Scar assured him, “I would say message me, but the other guys are still working on getting a communicator working.”

The boy just glared from his nest of duvets and pillows, using the bread to wipe up the last dregs of stew. 

“Goodnight!” Scar glided down to his base, knowing he wouldn’t sleep well with the knowledge of the boy in the treetops.

Notes:

Grian lore, spooky. Tommy is not the only sad, blonde avian in this server :]
Also Scar is so lovely. I love him.
Next chapter is Grian POV, we get house building montage.
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Love you, see you later <33

Chapter 7: Tommy

Notes:

CW: Flashback (outside perspective), References to Addiction/Dependence, Mentions of things Not being Real, Mentions of Death
(lmk if you think I missed something)

Sorry for the wait! I went to a party and got rather drunk, so obviously the day after was spent watching YouTube and reading. I hope this chapter makes up for it, though, since I'm pretty sure it's the longest and most eventful yet. Tommy doesn't get any hugs yet, though, you've gotta wait a while for that.

Grian woke up early with a start. He hadn’t been sleeping well since the new arrival to the server, his mind keeping him awake with unlikely, near impossible scenarios. It was taking a toll on everyone, including the new boy, but Grian knew he had drawn the short straw. Not that that was anything new with him - he often drew the short straw, his luck being just appalling with just about anything. He seemed to attract trouble like a messed up magnet. 

Blinking the muddled images of purple robes and wings from his nightmare away, Grian set his mind on the project for today: the boy’s house. 

Packing materials into a shulker box for transport helped the time pass to a more sociable hour, the sun rising quickly as Grian organised building resources with a gentle smile. He was looking forward to today, he had a feeling that despite his relapsing nightmares that it would be a good day. 

Placing the shulker boxes full of resources for the foundation of the house into his Enderchest, Grian got ready to leave for Scar’s place. The Enderchest was a pretty unique thing, it worked using weird Ender-magic that even Grian didn’t understand, and didn’t wish to look into. No doubt, he would love to know how it works, but he didn’t want to do any more exploring with the magical side of the world. Grian had done enough magic stuff for a lifetime and some. 

The flight over to Scar’s was short, but blissfully peaceful. It provided a short moment for him to clear his mind and prepare for the day ahead. 

He landed on the same platform as he had yesterday, joining Scar and the boy as they were eating breakfast. Oh, he hadn’t eaten yet. Oops. 

“Mornin’ Scar, and kid-”

“Not a kid.”

“-Do you think I could, y’know, yoink some of that breakfast? I’m starvin’, and that fresh fruit looks so, so good right now?” Grian continued, not acknowledging the boy’s childish interruption. Maybe that would convince him to tell them his name, he thought jokingly. 

“Good morning Grian! And of course, I brought up loads.” Scar passed him the plate, and Grian took a slice of mango, relishing in the sweet flavour.

He sat down between the boy and Scar, “So, how did you sleep?” He asked the boy, popping a red grape into his mouth. It was sweet, but also refreshing. 

“Best I’ve in a long fuckin’ time.” The boy answers, picking up a slice of melon, “What the shit is this? Is it even food?” He inspected it, sniffing it, looking utterly perplexed by the melon.

“It’s a melon slice.” Scar calmly explained, “I grow all of this on my farms.”

Grian quirked a brow at the boy, “Have you never had, like, fruit before?” 

“Piss off.” The boy waved a hand at Grian in a strangely fond manner, “Lemme try it.” 

As he bit into it, his entire expression seemed to morph from one of childish pouting to pure pleasure. His eyes were closed as he let out a satisfied hum that slowly dissolved into a strange, avian style purr. It was more of a rumble than anything. 

Grian found himself making a few clicks and a soft coo in response, but the boy didn’t seem to notice that he had even been making hybrid vocalisations, or that Grian had responded.

“Holy fucking shit.” The boy remarked, “That’s ten times better than potatoes or dry ass bread. Fuckin’ hell.” 

Grian decided to ignore the implications of that sentence, adding onto the things that they knew about his server, relating it with the fact that the server was also apparently constantly in famine. 

“So, have you decided where you want your house to be?” Grian asked, still warmed by the fact that the boy had let himself make a hybrid sound, even if he was in a kind of melon-induced trance. 

“Mm- Hold on, I’m still eatin’.” The boy said, muffled by the melon slice in his mouth, “Not too far, but I don’t wanna be next to anyone. Somewhere far away enough that I don’t have to deal with you lot, but close enough that I can steal from you if I want.” He explained, not even attempting to hide the fact that neither liked them nor cared about stealing from them. 

Grian laughed heartily in response, “That’s great! I think we’ll get along.” He gave the boy a mischievous grin.

Maybe if they got up to some shenanigans together sometime, it would help the boy open up a little and settle into the server, to not be so afraid of everyone and everything. Having another avian meant he could revive season six’s ‘Poultry Man’ gag. He smiled at the mental picture he conjured of the boy wearing a chicken costume. 

“His base is next to Mumbo’s, but only so he can steal his stuff.” Scar filled the boy in with a fond smirk, as if he was letting him in on a secret. 

They finished breakfast quickly, the boy reacting wildly to different fresh fruits, apparently something they didn’t really have in his old server, as most of the server was cold, harsh and infertile. It made sense, but it didn’t make it any easier for Grian to accept. 

The location for the boy’s house was quickly picked out, being out in the forest behind Grian’s mansion, a good distance away from the Hermits but close enough that it didn’t worry him. 

“So, we’ve got to lay some foundations down first.” Grian instructed as he pulled a shulker box out of his enderchest.

The boy gaped at the box, “Holy fucking- You have a fucking shulker?” He took a step back, as if he was afraid to be near the box.

“Yeah? Everyone has them. Scar sells them for a few diamonds in the shopping district.” Grian responded, slightly confused at the boy’s dramatic reaction, though he wasn’t surprised. His past server seemed to be full of strange rules and things. 

The boy takes a wary step towards the shulker box, “They were illegal in our server. The admin wouldn’t allow anything from the, uhm, End dimension.” He took another step closer, running a cautious hand over the dyed orange surface of the shulker. 

“Well, that’s not the case on Hermitcraft. Our admin - Xisuma - would never do something like that. In fact, he hardly ever uses his admin powers.” Grian said firmly, opening the shulker box and fishing out some planks of wood. 

The boy stared off into the distance at nothing in particular, eyes glazed and expression pulled tight. The grief didn’t look right on his young face, but somehow it felt normal all the while. 

“Come on, let's get building. How big do you want it to be?”

The worked for a few hours, marking out dimensions and then marking new ones after the boy set his unrealistically large, proclaiming that ‘a big man needs a big house’. It was refreshing to finally see him relax a little, to crack some jokes. When he wasn’t fighting a panic attack, the boy was actually quite fun to be around, Grian and him bounced off of each other easily. 

They had been working with putting some foundations in, some large sturdy spruce logs, when Grian decided it was lunch time.

“Right, kid, we’re stopping for a while.” He announced, dusting off his hands.

The boy laid down the large spruce log he had been dragging, “Oh, thank fuck, I’m fucking finished.” He huffed out a breath, then sat down on the floor. 

“What do you want for lunch?” Grian asked, going over the options in his head. He didn’t want to cook, but if the kid wanted something, he would get it for him. He deserved to be spoiled. 

The boy was now splayed out on the floor in a starfish, “Anything, not like I could give a shit. No potatoes, though. I’ll bite you.”

Taking this into consideration, Grian went to go storm his hobbit hole for some food, “Stay here, okay? Not that it looks like you’re going anywhere!” He chuckled, “I’m gonna pop off for a minute or two, bye!” 

With a few beats of his wings, Grian was airborne and on course for lunch from his hobbit hole. 

He collected some bread, slicing it up and cobbling together a few sandwiches, also finding a couple of golden apples for a treat. That was enough, they’d have something big for tea tonight since it was the weekly meal at the town hall. Not that Grian was going to take the boy, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but he would certainly make sure that Scar cooked an extra portion. He would not have the boy missing out on Scar’s excellent cooking.

When Grian came gliding into the clearing they had made, he saw no sign of the boy. Paranoia quickly shifted into panic, scenarios both likely and completely impossible running through his head as he scoured the nearby woods for the boy.

Turns out he was just sitting under a tree. That was a bit of an overreaction, if Grian was honest, but it was warranted when the boy was such a flight risk. With a huff of relief, Grian landed nearby the tree that the kid was slumped under. His twisted, melancholy expression broke as soon as he noticed Grian, flashing a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Grian wondered what he had been thinking about - maybe people from his past server that he missed when he left it. Did he choose to leave his old server, or was he ripped away without warning like Grian had been? Did the boy get a chance to say a final goodbye to his friends, or was he left without closure? Grian shook his head, just because this boy reminded him of himself, it didn’t mean he had been through the same things. If anything, it seemed like this boy had been through worse. 

“I have sandwiches!” Grian grinned back at him, “What do you want, egg and cress or cheese and pickle?”

The boy stood up, “Egg and cress, I guess.” He took the paper-wrapped package that Grian handed to him, pulling off the old newspaper to get to the food. He ate with the same vigor, one that told Grian he had definitely been starved before. It, once again, didn’t surprise him. 

They sat down in the grass, just enjoying the food and the satisfaction of their work. The boy finished first, though Grian wasn’t far behind, and then he presented their little treat.

“I thought, since we’ve been working so hard, I’d get us a little something.” He explained, digging into one of the pockets of his tool belt - one without any tools - and pulling out two shining golden apples.

The boy’s eyes lit up, like a morning sun shining on cold, blue ice, and he snatched his golden apple. He ate it quickly, though he also seemed to savour it much more. Once the golden apple was eaten, and the effects of it began to take place, his shoulders finally relaxed and his wings seemed to fall from their constant guarded position. 

Something about it felt wrong. Sure, golden apples were good, but they were just meant to give you a little boost, like a cup of coffee but more instant. They healed any minor injuries and were incredibly useful in battle. 

“Do you have any more?” The boy asked, starting to regain his usual anxiousness now the effects of the golden apple had worn off, “Please, man, I-” He exhaled shakily, taking one of his arms and gently scratching at the skin, stopping after he seemed to have grounded himself.

Grian started feeling incredibly uncomfortable, “I don’t think you should have any more. One is enough.” You didn’t eat multiple golden apples, unless in some dire situation, it wasn’t good. Sure, the magic worked wonders, but one was enough. Too much and… your body grows dependent on magic.

The boy rubbed his hands up and down his legs frantically, “I just- One more, please, I need to be- Please.” He started rocking with the movement.

“You shouldn’t be eating golden apples, or drinking health and regen potions regularly. You start to depend on the magic in them.” Grian swallowed, trying to keep his own memories at bay, “Trust me, I know my way around magic.” His voice only shook a little bit. 

The boy nodded, but didn’t stop his rocking. 

Not feeling up to eating it now, Grian placed his own golden apple back into the pocket. Someone had let this boy eat golden apples for days, long enough for him to become so dependent on their magic. Who had done all these things to this boy? Was it the same one person, or was it just a whole, serverwide issue? Grian felt old, violent urges come up, the same itch for revenge, an urge to take lives like he had years before. 

There was one difference, though, one that stopped him from spiralling into the notion that he hadn’t changed after all this time. This anger was no longer selfish, childish and uncontained. It was protective. He wasn’t angry at someone for hurting him, he had done enough of that. 

He was prepared to kill for this boy.

Taking a deep inhale, Grian sat down beside the boy, an inch closer than usual. He seemed to have spiralled deeper into whatever memory the golden apple had triggered, silent tears slipping from glazed eyes. 

“Do you need to ground yourself?” Grian asked, noting the scratching and the angry, red lines on his wrists. 

The boy, despite his usual inability to admit to help, nodded. Whatever was happening, the boy stayed dead silent, a harsh contrast to his previous panic attacks and freakouts. 

He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself present, “Take my hand, then I’ll talk to you about some of the shops we have on the server. Is that okay?”

Another silent nod, though he didn’t acknowledge Grian’s palm-up hand held still in between them. It was a stretch, but Grian knew a terrible flashback when he saw one.

He decided to start talking, “So, here on Hermitcraft - the server that you are on - we have a shopping district. That means that if you have lots of, let's say you have a massive iron farm and have loads of iron, then you can make a shop and sell that iron for diamonds.”

A shaky, thin hand gripped into his. It was cold and bony, but his grasp was vice-like, like his life depended on it. 

Grian continued explaining the economics of the server, and different shops. He bragged about the barge, complained about how much grinding it took to restock, and bragged about his richness some more. 

By the time he got to explaining the server newspaper, the Hermiton Herald, the boy seemed to have regained presentness. He smiled when Grian suggested buying the entire newspaper one week for an advert. 

“You back now?” Grian asked.

The boy nodded, and gave him a thumbs up with his free hand and a weak grin. 

Could he not speak after that flashback? It seemed to be a running theme with this one, the silence. It was unsettling to see a boy who had been so raucous and brash go completely non-verbal.

Grian didn’t push, it wasn’t the time to talk about it, “What do you want to do now? We could carry on building?” He made sure to offer up options that the boy could agree or disagree with. 

A shake of his head.

“Hmm, I could carry on rambling about Hermitcraft?” He offered, and was met with another shake.

“Do you want me to talk to you?” He asked.

A nod. Okay, there’s something he could work with.

“What do you want me to talk about?”

The boy opened his mouth, and closed it again, looking like a fish out of water. The words were choking him. Frustrated, he took his free hand and pointed it at Grian. 

“You want me to talk about myself?” He questioned, hoping he got it right. The vigorous nod confirmed that.

Whoo boy. Talk about himself? Well, Grian had a lot to talk about.

“Okay, you want my life story. This is gonna be a wild ride.” Grian sighed, mentally making a note of what to include and what to not. 

The boy grinned mischievously, then leaned into Grian and whispered, “Tell me your dumbest memory.”

Oh, okay, that was much easier. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, then tried to conjure up a stupid memory. 

“So, you know I used to be a wizard? Well, I was taught how to use spells and everything as a kid, but to actually use a spell, you have to kill another wizard.” He explained, “Now, I know what you’re imagining, some kind of epic wizard duel. But no, the way I got my first spell was by pushing a random wizard off of a cliff. That’s it, no epic wizard duel.”

The boy laughed quietly, then started talking, albeit in a slightly gentler voice than usual, “I don’t know any wizards, but I used to be friends with a young god. She was pretty cool, it was fun to hang out with a god.”

Grian felt ill. This boy talked to gods on his old server? Oh, that was not good. Grian knew gods far too well, what they would do to you. He sincerely hoped that nothing had happened to this kid as a consequence of bored gods. 

“Gods are difficult beings. I would leave them well alone. They are selfish, vengeful and cold.” He spat, purple robes and wings flashing in his mind from his nightmare earlier. 

The boy waved him off, “No, she wasn’t like that. Her older brother, a full god, was kinda shit though. Why do you hate gods so much?” 

This time, Grian was the one gripping the boy’s hand tightly, “They took away my old server. It was my fault for defying them. It’s just- If someone tells me that I can’t do something for a stupid reason, then I’m going to do it.” He half growled, as if the Watchers would hear him. 

The boy looked curious now, “So, was this god in your past server?”

Grian nodded, then said, “I don’t really want to talk about them.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He said, sounded far too mature for his young voice, “Thanks for telling me, I guess.” He mumbled, the words almost lost, though Grian heard it. 

They sat, watching the world go by, a bird fly overhead and a squirrel dash up a tree. It was nice. 

“I don’t really know how I got here.” The boy murmured, holding onto Grian’s hand tightly, “You know? I just died, then I turn up here. It doesn’t feel real.” 

Grian wanted so badly to know the deeper meaning behind his words, but stayed quiet, knowing interrupting would set the boy back.

“I want it to be real. There’s no death, no violence, no betrayal and no fucking countries here. But I can’t believe this. I keep thinking I’ll wake up, back in that prison, and-” His breath hitched, and he sobbed, “I don’t want to go back.”

There was a moment of quiet, the emotion rolling off the boy in waves, then Grian gently probed, “Do you have anything, anyone, to go back to?”

Another sob, “This is the thing! I miss my friends so fucking bad, and I miss my brother, but he’s fucking dead! I miss how things used to be.” 

Grian felt his own memories, those from a dead server, rise up. 

“I miss my friends, too. I haven’t seen them in three years, and I’ll never see them again.” Grian confessed, he didn’t usually talk about things like this, but the boy needed to know he wasn’t alone, and his avian instincts were begging him to comfort the fledgling, “I haven’t forgotten about them, but I couldn’t grieve them forever.”

The boy nodded, another sob wringing through him, “We’re both pretty fucked up, huh? You just know how to deal with it.”

“No, no, it’s not like that. When I was just a little older than you, I dealt with things horribly.” He dealt with it through violence, “I’ve had years to process and recover. You’re only just beginning.”

The boy started full on sobbing, still holding onto Grian’s hand. Shifting so he sat in front of the boy, never letting go of his hand, Grian let his irritating avian instincts out with a soft, comforting coo. 

This time, the boy let a few chirps slip between sobs as he started to come down.

“Fucking- Thank you, man, I- Shit. This is so fucking weird.” He stammered, swiping at his eyes. Grian just wanted to give him a hug, to wrap him up in his arms and then in his wings, to shield him from the world. To let him be the child he never got to be. 

“I should say thank you, as well. I haven’t really told many people about, well, my server before Hermitcraft.” It was true, only a few of the Hermits knew about what happened, “You’re a great friend, kid. Thank you.”

With that, the boy started crying again, “Fuck off, all I did was not make fun of you or try and blame you for things.” He sniffled. 

“That’s what makes you a great friend, you care and you know how it feels.” Grian assured him.

The boy laughed wetly, “Shit, I- I hardly know you. But then I also don’t.” He slipped his spare hand into his hair, “So much has changed, it’s crazy.”

Grian shuffled closer to the boy, “Come on, kid. The last few days have been pretty weird, huh?”

“Fuck yeah, they have.”

The forest didn’t mind them, the nature carried on with its day. The sun kept slowly sinking, and the other Hermits would still be building, or gathering resources, or farming. 

They sat in silence, a single hand between them, tears drying on both of their faces. 

“My name’s Tommy.”

Notes:

YOOO! It finally happened! He finally did it! More than 10k words in and I don't have to call Tommy 'the boy'!! Whoo!!!!
Love y'all, go shout in the comments at me, thank you, see you later!!

Wanna chat with me, vibe with cool people and get exclusive previews of upcoming chapters?? Join my Discord Server!!!

Chapter 8: Curiosity

Notes:

CW: Mentions of Death

Guys I am so sorry for the wait but I'm literally a mess of a human being. Please excuse this mess of a chapter, I'm hungover and sleep deprived and banned from caffiene (to avoid losing my shit).
That being said, this chapter is fairly chill, calm before the storm, innit?
Have fun, I hope it's not too bad.
<33

For once, Grian managed to sleep most of the night. Whether it was Tommy’s close proximity or just luck, he didn’t care, it was so nice to not wake up at two in the morning and know he can’t get back to sleep.

With a satisfying stretch and a sighing yawn, Grian climbed out of bed and shambled out in his pyjamas, only just thinking to pull on a sweater when the cold morning air hit him upon opening his bedroom door. 

As dressed as he could be bothered to be, Grian lumped some netherrack into his fireplace, lighting it up and waiting for it to heat up so he could boil some water. Tommy was still asleep on the couch, his expression eerily peaceful. 

The serenity of the sleeping boy seeped into Grian as well, any unease he had been feeling about Doc and Xisuma visiting today melted away. He fished through his cupboard for some of the very nice tea Mumbo had given him ages ago, finding it right at the back. Dropping a few teaspoons of it into the metal pot he used for boiling water, Grian took his makeshift teapot to the fireplace and nestled it in the netherrack. Despite its strange appearance and texture, netherrack was actually one of the best things to burn for normal fires. It burnt long, much longer than coal or wood, but it was rarely used for cooking food as it gave the food a strange taste. It wasn’t suitable for smelting either - it didn’t get hot enough, hence the metal pot in the fire. 

Tommy started to stirr, whining a little and shifting on the couch. Irritatingly, Grian’s instincts decided that making sure Tommy was okay was the most important thing ever, so he left his breakfast in progress. 

Tommy seemed to be waking up, his breathing gently quickening and eyes fluttering open. 

He seemed to be waking up peacefully, so Grian turned his attention back to the porridge oats he had been measuring into another metal pot. All he needed now was some milk from the larder, then he could warm the porridge on the fire along with the tea.

Wisps of steam were licking up from the boiling water, so Grian moved slightly to the side, where it would keep warm but not boil within an inch of its life. 

Soon the porridge was gently cooking on the fire, and Grian was pouring out the herbal tea into two ceramic mugs. Tommy was pretty much awake, and had groggily asked what was for breakfast. 

They had the porridge with some of Xisuma’s honey from his ‘Honeypot’ shop, it was the perfect thing to warm the soul on the cold morning. 

“So, you still up for Xisuma and Doc to come round today?” Grian asked after they had eaten. 

Tommy was gently tapping his spoon against the side of the bowl, but stopped to consider his answer, “Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t give a shit, really.”

Taking out his communicator, he messaged Xisuma to tell him that they were fine to drop by whenever they were ready, and that Tommy and him would be in the forest behind his mansion.

“Okay!” Grian stood up abruptly, “Ready for more house building?” He grabbed his dirty bowl and mug, and looked expectantly to Tommy for an answer.

“Sure.” He said, dragging himself up to standing and picking up his own breakfast dishes. 

 

The next step for the house was nailing the spruce planks between the gaps of the support logs. It was surprisingly easy and fast paced with two of them working simultaneously, and soon the outside edge was covered in spruce wood. 

By the time they were working on hanging the door, Grian got a message from Xisuma to warn him that they would be arriving soon.

“Hey Tommy?” Grian gently lowered the solid spruce door to the ground, “Xisuma and Doc are gonna be here soon.” 

The boy tenses up, his wings pulling in even tighter. It was obvious that he was worrying about the meeting as they were building, and now that anxiety was mounting. 

Finding some control and taking a long, shuddering breath, Tommy fought off any panic and asked, “Could you just not tell them my name? I don’t want anyone else to really know right now.” It seemed so wrong to see Tommy quiet and vulnerable. It would take a lot to contain his confident and raucous nature, and it made Grian wonder who or what had broken this boy.

“Of course.” He tried a reassuring smile, but Tommy still seemed high strung. 

After a minute or two of painful waiting, two figures came gliding towards them, doing a few tight circles to lose altitude, then landing gracefully in the clearing. 

“Hey guys!” Grian approached them, trying his best to prove to Tommy that these people were safe, “Got that communicator all set up and ready?”

Doc, a tall zombie hybrid, nodded, “Yup, it’s all ready for the kiddo.” His voice was deep and calming, tinged with an accent that Grian had never heard anywhere else, but it was soothing nonetheless. 

“I’m not a fucking kid!” Tommy shouted, losing all the quiet vulnerability and switching into defensive anger. 

Doc simply laughed, “Come on X, get the gadget out so I can show him.” He nudged his friend, who pulled a high-tech looking communicator from his belt.

Grian stood beside Tommy, and slightly in front of him, avian instincts causing him to feel the need to protect his fledgling, despite both Doc and Xisuma being close friends. It was pretty funny looking, probably, since all three of the others were over the six foot mark, and Grian was a very typical avian build - short, lean and lightweight. 

“Okay, so, I’ve been tinkering with the old communicators and trying to fix some of the bugs, and this one is basically an improved version.” Doc explained. He was a master of cutting edge redstone, like a lot of the Hermits, and his style of redstone was efficient, flawless and sleek. 

Xisuma sighed, “Come on now, Doc, no one needs to hear a rant.” He teased his friend.

“We haven’t got all day, I want to get this door hung!” Grian added, “Right, kid?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “I don’t know shit about redstone bits and bobs, so you might as well be speaking a different fuckin’ language if you start telling me about repeaters and ‘T-flop-flips’.” He stepped a little closer into the group, “Wait, holy fuck, are you some kind of half robot cyborg shit?” He gawked at the metal plating that covered some of Doc’s face, including his eye.

Ever good natured, Doc laughed, “I built it myself, with only one working eye as well.” He grinned proudly, “It works now, I’ve even made another one for Iskall.”

With childlike curiosity, Tommy listened to Doc ramble on about redstone powered eye replacements. Grian would probably describe Doc as the slightly mad uncle that comes over now and again and tells the kids about all the crazy things that he’s done. Uncle Doc does have a good ring to it, as well.

“Can I see the communicator now?” Tommy looked far more relaxed now, meaning Grian’s avian instincts were also more relaxed. 

“Yeah, let me just - Xisuma, pass - here ya’ go.” Doc took the device from Xisuma and put it into Tommy’s hands. 

“Tell me all the nerdy shit about this.” Tommy demanded, “I need all the knowledge, I need to know about something that isn’t how wood is treated or the way symmetry affects a build.” He gave Grian a glare, though he couldn’t find it in himself to be offended. 

Teasing meant Tommy was finally getting comfortable here. He had progressed so far from the scared little boy on the spawn island in just a few, tiring days. 

Although, now he would have to listen to Doc talk about redstone for ages. He gave Xisuma an exasperated look, but it turned fond quickly when he saw how well his fledgling was getting on with his friends. 

“Should we get going, and leave you two to house building?” Xisuma said after a while of listening to Doc highlight the intricacies of real time messaging and wireless redstone. 

Tommy’s head snapped up upon hearing Xisuma’s voice, and Doc went quiet. Reluctantly, both of them got up from where they were sitting on the grass.

“Sorry, you’re going to have to go back to stuffy house building talk now.” Grian smiled gently, “Thanks for everything, you two.” 

“Hey, don’t mention it, G-man.” Doc held out his fist, and they fist bumped. “You too, kiddo.” 

Tommy huffed at being called a kid, but returned the fist bump still. 

Xisuma nodded humbly, then said, “Before we go, do you remember anything about how you got here? You haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just trying to make sure no-one can get into the server that might cause damage.”

Tommy’s easy grin fell, his eyes stopped their happy crinkling and gained a glazed quality. Feeling protective urges rise up, Grian shuffled closer to Tommy and held out a hand, palm up, just in case. 

“I- I don’t think you want to know.” His hands had started to shake again, and one of them seeked out Grian’s hand and gripped onto it like a lifeline to reality. 

He kept his grip firm and reassuring, “Hey, remember, everyone here is willing to listen. We only want to help.” His wings itched to wrap around Tommy like a huge, feathery blanket.

“I didn’t mean to come here, I don’t even know what the fuck made me turn up here, I’m here though, and I can’t change it, because I can’t go back-” He choked on his words, going silent. His expression flashed so quickly that Grian couldn’t comprehend what he was feeling. There was one constant though; fear. 

Tommy’s face went steely, “I died, for real. No coming back, no respawn.” Tears started to streak down his face, and his blunt nails managed to dig into Grian’s hand, “It’s the worst pain I ever felt, and then suddenly, I’m somewhere fucking weird and alien and new, and all these people keep trying to help me like I’m some fucking charity case-” He cut himself off with a loud, ugly sob.

Stunned into silence, Grian led Tommy to sit down, not once letting go of his hand. The way he was gripping onto it made Grian sure that it was the only thing keeping him from slipping into a flashback.

Tommy had died on his last server. It made sense, however much Grian didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t go back because he had died permanently. Grian knew how scary perma-death can seem, years of fighting when he was barely an adult had him dancing on the edge of death constantly. 

“Sorry.” Xisuma said quietly, “Do you want us to go?”

Tommy sniffed, then wiped the tears from his cheeks, “Yeah, go. You’ve done what you wanted to do, now fuck off.” He snarled, though his voice was still shaking and his grip was still tight on Grian’s hand. 

With that, the two Hermits brought out firework rockets to launch themselves into the sky, and Tommy plugged his fingers in his ears to drown out the sound of fireworks. 

They sat there, Tommy softly sniffling and Grian holding onto his hand, for what felt like hours. 

“I want lunch. I’m fucking hungry.” Tommy finally broke the silence.

With a laugh, Grian agreed, “Me too, me too.”

Notes:

Guys next chapter is gonna be fun to write cuz he's gonna go to the shopping district and like- yeah. It's gonna be a nice chapter :D
I know I said this was gonna be from the Hermit's POV, but chapter ten is going to be Tommy POV. It's the only way I can move this plot point forward, and I have something pretty fun planned for it :)
Have fun with the nice-ness of these two chapters, it isn't going to last long. When I said this was going to a rollercoaster, I mean this is just the climb before it all starts barreling downhill and shit hits the fan.
Love y'all! :))))

p.s. - If y'all wanna make anything (art, writing ect) that's inspired/based on my own works, please go ahead! I love inspiring people!

Chapter 9: Shopping Trip

Notes:

Hi guys, I'm not dead, I just suck. This one is the last good one until it all starts to come crashing down. It also happens a few days after the previous chapter, so keep in mind a bit of time has passed.
Hope y'all enjoy this fun chapter before the sadness :DD

He hadn’t felt these kinds of nerves in a long time, not since before Hermitcraft. Xisuma trusted Grian, but was taking the new boy to the shopping district really the best idea? It had only been a week since his shaky arrival, he’d only just finished building himself a starter house. 

Grian had insisted, though, and Scar had backed him up. Those two had spent the most time with the boy, followed closely by Mumbo and then Doc. Xisuma had shied away after their first meeting, only seeing the boy once afterwards to give him his communicator. 

The presence of the boy dredged up unwelcome memories, but it wasn’t his fault, so Xisuma vowed to himself to make sure that he didn’t let his past affect him now. It wasn’t like Grian didn’t have his own fair share of troubled memories to be brought up by the boy. 

So, despite his reluctance, Xisuma stood at the shopping district portal, waiting for Grian and Scar to escort the boy through the nether. The day was a fine one, the sun creeping up in the sky and small, fluffy clouds decorating the otherwise blue sky. All in all, perfect. Xisuma, currently shifted into a Strider hybrid, preferred the warmer weather, though when shifted into cold weather favouring hybrids, he found himself liking the relief of a breeze and a cloudy day. 

“-here I come, bitch!” A shout cut through the peace, the language and childish tone denoting that the boy had just appeared through the portal.

Xisuma turned around to find that yes, the boy was now here. He looked about ten times better than on that first day, his cheeks had some colour in them and were no longer completely covered in cuts and bruises, only a few light scratches and a plaster on his jawline. He looked like a child for once, smiling and shouting. 

Grian and Scar quickly followed him, looking mildly exasperated, though their eyes were full of fondness. 

“Hi, Xisuma.” Scar sighed, watching as the boy gawked at the diamond trees. 

Grian, looking utterly exhausted, greeted him, “Morning, X-i-sumavoid.” He mocked his name with a smirk. He couldn’t be that tired then. 

The boy, not having even acknowledged Xisuma, was sprinting up the town hall steps to the diamond throne. He let out whoops of excitement, and Xisuma finally let some of those nerves go. This boy was healing, however slowly. 

“Holy shit! Scar, is this your throne?” The boy yelled down at them.

Climbing the steps, Scar nodded, “Yup, and if you look down there, you can see Bdubs’ seat! A small seat for a small man.” He gestured to the tiny diamond coloured stool that sat to the side of the proper throne.

Xisuma followed Grian up the steps, then looked at the boy, catching his attention.

“Good morning.” He said, trying his best to sound welcoming.

The boy scoffed and turned his head away, “Mornin’, bitch.” He mumbled.

Grian snorted, “Be nice, um, kid.” He stumbled a little on his words. 

The boy stared Grian down with an unimpressed look, “I’m taller than you, small man.” He grumbled, clambering over the diamond throne. 

Grian’s wings flared in irritation, “I’m average height!” In a blink of an eye, Grian had flown to the top of the throne and was now looking down at the boy.

“Who’s the tall one now, hmm?” Grian taunted.

It was nice to see that they were getting along, Xisuma thought to himself, glancing at Scar. He was watching them bicker with a fond smile. 

“Scar! Scar! Help me!” The boy cackled, Grian was pinning the boy down on the seat of the throne. 

Fond smile never leaving his face, Scar regarded the situation, then said, “Well, you know, I would like to help you but I also don’t wanna… Y’know, face the wrath of an angry Grian. He may be small, but he’s really quite strong.”

Xisuma finally found it in him to speak up, “He’s rather crafty as well. Remember all his tricks from the turf war?” He looked over to Scar, who had obviously been the leader of the HEP Agency as the mayor during the turf war. 

“So many fake bases.” Scar shook his head. 

The boy stopped yelling and screaming to ask, “What are you talking about?” He looked up to Grian, “What do they mean by the turf war?”

Before anyone else could explain, Scar jumped in, “It was a little fun prank war, basically. Not anything like an actual war, we just did it for a joke.”

The boy nodded, dropping his shoulders from where they had tensed up. He wriggled out from under Grian and jumped all the way down to the floor, the air catching his wings slightly to soften the fall. He didn’t open them though, not like Grian did. Xisuma wondered if there was a reason behind that. 

“I was the leader of the Mycelium Resistance.” Grian announced proudly, “This was once a mooshroom island, you see, so I thought it would be funny to try and slowly change the grass to mycelium.”

The boy scrunched up his nose, “But it’s like… Really fucking ugly.”

They walked out of the town hall and down the main street, and Grian continued to explain some of the intricacies of the turf war. All the while, the boy gawked up at the diamond trees and the mismatched shops.

“We should go to the barge.” Grian stated as they came up to the grand building’s entrance. 

Scar nodded, “Yeah, then what about the concrete store, then we got to Beef’s area for the music store?” He thought for a minute, “We’ll go through the barge.” He glanced at the TNT shop and the firework shop that were both just a little further down the main street, and Xisuma understood. It was amazing just how much these two seemed to care about the boy. 

The barge was probably one of the most visited shops, as it always seemed to have that one thing you needed. You just had to hope it was stocked, though the past week the barge hadn’t been kept very well stocked, and all the Hermits understood. 

“Don’t mind me, just grabbing some carrots whilst I’m here.” Xisuma took some golden carrots and replaced them with a diamond from his enderchest. 

The boy looked at him, seemingly inspecting him, “What’s so good about golden carrots?” He said it as if he expected them to taste horrible. 

“Try one!” Grian suggested, and Xisuma held out a golden carrot to the boy. 

Warily, he took it. There must be some kind of meaningful parallel to draw between their first meeting and this, a growth of trust and a recovery, no matter how small. 

Upon the first bite, his face lit up, “What the fuck! Why is all the food here so good?” He took another greedy bite, “Fuck, I wish we had this kinda stuff back home.” Soon, the carrot was completely gone.

“They’re pretty good, that’s why I tend to have them as my main food source.” Xisuma explained. It was true, though once he got his hoglin farm up and running he suspected he’d be eating a lot more pork. 

The boy tipped his head back to look through the top of the barge. The shop had a lovely airy feeling about it thanks to all the glass in the design. “You’re all so lucky here.” He said quietly. Behind him, his wings twitched. 

Xisuma may not be an expert in avian body language, but he thinks the boy might want to fly. There was nothing obvious stopping him, so Xisuma thought there might be some other reason, physical or mental, that he didn’t fly. He’d leave the avian stuff to Grian though. 

“I’ve also got some new netherite tools and stuff on sale here.” Grian produced a skillfully made netherite axe, “I get the diamond tools from trading with some of the local toolsmiths, then I coat them.”

The boy reached up and pulled a sleek netherite sword from the display, “Woah.” Something flashed in his eyes, and his posture went rigid. His eyes subtly scoured the surroundings, something frantic in their darting.

Xisuma had been a thief once. He knew what one looked like. Although, for some unknown reason, he knew the boy wasn’t going to steal the sword. 

They continued on their trip, making their way through Grian’s strange stock and eventually to Xisuma’s concrete store. The boy seemed to be entranced by the richness of variety in shops as they went past Scar’s greenhouse, Bigger Logz Incorporated, the multiple redstone stores and Lookie Lookie at my Bookie. 

Soon, they came to Beef’s beach-themed shopping area, and eventually the music store. 

“I love music, it’s probably one of my favourite things.” Xisuma said as they approached the quaint music store.

The boy looked at him curiously, “Really? I used to sit and listen to music with my friend, and my brother used to play music for me.” He added on the last bit slightly quieter. 

“That’s cool, I play guitar.” Xisuma gestured to a display guitar in the music shop.

Grian sighed, “Please don’t play anything too scary, X.” 

The boy cocked his head, “Scary?” He laughed, “Guitar music is not scary.”

With a small smile, Xisuma pulled one of the electric guitars down from its display, “Do you really want me to play?” 

“No, thank you.” Scar chuckled.

“Fuck yeah! That guitar looks way cooler than-” He choked on a name, holding it back, “Yeah.”

Slinging the strap over his shoulder, Xisuma tested the guitar with a few chords, deeming it in tune. This kid didn’t know what he had coming, Xisuma thought. Most people’s first reaction to death metal wasn’t exactly to dance and sing along.

He made sure it was all plugged in and set up, then he found one of his own personal discs and placed it in the jukebox. 

Then, he let the music take over as he blasted the furious melodies and banged his head in time with it, channeling all the rage and dredged up memories into heavy, angry music. It was wonderfully therapeutic.

Once the song was over, he took a breath and tuned back into reality. The boy had an expression of pure awe, and both Grian and Scar were smiling fondly. 

“Holy fucking shit. That was so badass.” He grinned wider, “I totally didn’t take you for such an angry guy.”

Xisuma waved a hand as he pulled the guitar over his head, “I’m not an angry person anymore, I just have ways of dealing with it.” He hoped the boy understood. 

“You’re Xisuma, right? Admin guy?” He asked, the slightest quiver in his voice, “I’m- fuck. I’m Tommy.”

Grian and Scar erupted in praise.

“Well done, Tommy, I didn’t expect you to- Wow.” Scar laughed in surprise.

Grian smiled widely, “You’re so brave.” He let out some kind of avian noise. 

In response, Tommy made a similar avian noise, but it was shy and stifled slightly. 

After that short soft moment, Tommy started rummaging through the discs, looking for one in particular. He said it was called ‘cat’, and that it was the song he and his friend used to listen to. 

After searching pretty much the entire shop, they found no ‘cat’ music disc.

“We should ask Beef about it, see if he’s ever seen one like it.” Scar suggested, and Grian nodded along.

Xisuma got out his communicator, “I’ll message him, we can see what time would work for him.”

Tommy huffed, “It should totally have been in there. It’s a really good song, I don’t know why your stupid music store doesn’t sell actual music. It’s bullshit.” He kicked a rock, bringing up a load of sand with it. 

Xisuma thought that if this boy could settle into their server, then he’d be a fine member. Maybe they could get him to drop the swearing habit, but it wasn’t that bad. There were plenty of Hermits who swore now and then, Grian included. Xisuma didn’t like it, and he was sure Scar wasn’t physically capable of being rude. 

The road to recovery looked long and twisted, but it led somewhere. Xisuma hoped that Tommy could get better.

Notes:

Next chapter is a Tommy POV, be scared. If you were wondering, Tommy had also told Scar his name before this.
See ya later, love you <33

Chapter 10: The Plan

Notes:

Hello there! This one is short but sweet, I promise the next chapter will be much more juicy. Things will pick up from here, all the crap will happen.
This chapter is in Tommy's POV, by the way!

CW: Mentions of Self Mutilation

Hope you enjoy! <33

Tommy paced around his house, eventually lifting the two floorboards and climbing down into his secret bunker. He couldn’t relax because he was waiting. 

Waiting for night to fall so he could sneak into the shopping district and steal all the tools, weapons and armour he could find. Potions as well, Scar mentioned a potions shop. He needed everything if he was going to go back to the SMP.

See, Tommy had been planning this since he got here. It was the perfect place to take a quick break, a pitstop, then leave in a flurry. All he needed was the stupid admin to send him to the hub. He’d heard the other Hermits talk about it, a connection between all of the servers, meaning he could get back to the SMP from there. 

Tommy didn’t know if all the stuff he carried with him went across servers, but he didn’t know why it wouldn’t, so he put on all the armor he’d gathered and waited for night to fall.

Once it was pitch black, he would sneak out and through the nether, stealing everything he could from the shopping district, then one morning when he was ready, he would ask Xisuma to send him to the hub. It was foolproof, in Tommy’s opinion.

It meant he could return to the SMP well fed and strong, he could finish Dream for once and all. He could protect his friends, Tubbo most of all. 

Tubbo. Tommy had never felt so lost. He needed his best friend here. And, well, Tubbo needed him. Tommy knew it, he knew it. His friend must’ve been so lost when Tommy ‘died’. 

Tommy thought about what will happen in this server once he leaves. Sure, Grian and Scar were okay, and Doc was pretty cool, Xisuma’s music made him feel something- okay, he would probably miss the cushy week he’d spent under the care of the Hermits. He’d definitely miss Grian’s avian calls that scratched an itch in his stupid hybrid brain that had been so deeply repressed he hadn’t even noticed it until Grian started making weird bird sounds at him. 

He needed to stay strong though. He wouldn’t be able to do those stupid bird things in the SMP, it was too looked down upon. It was an unfortunate truth that the majority of the SMP hated hybrids, even though there were a few of them on the server, Tommy included. 

At least he could hide away his hybrid traits, someone like that tall bitch, Ranboo, had it much worse. 

He hadn’t left Hermitcraft, but was already mourning the kindness he knew he didn’t deserve. Despite all that, Tommy had to leave. For his friends, for revenge. 

It was dark by now, and Tommy was too restless to wait any longer. He climbed out of his bunker and crept through the forest to Grian’s massive mansion. 

The scale of buildings on this server was out of this world, there was nothing that tall, that big or that beautiful in the SMP. There was hardly anything beautiful in the SMP, except maybe sunsets. 

The journey through the nether was uneventful, he made it to the shopping district portal quickly. It would be quicker if he could fly, of course, everything would be quicker if he could fly. He glanced back at his stupid wings. 

The urge to fly when he saw Grian do so, it was almost unbearable. He couldn’t though. 

Gritting his teeth, Tommy went through the shopping district portal. 

When he returned, his bunker was full of armor and weapons, ready to kill Dream. He had taken a bunch of potions as well, and some gold to make golden apples. God, he craved their reassuring glow, and wished that Grian would just not care like Techno had. His older brother had been fine with him eating golden apples constantly, even if he knew how bad it was. It was comforting, especially after the emptiness and pain of exile. Tommy shivered, his wings fluffing up. 

Honestly, he hated them. It made him stand out, it made him vulnerable. It was just a sensitive limb for Dream to take advantage of. Sometimes, Tommy wished he could cut them off, once he even got as close as to bring an axe up to them, but he couldn’t inflict more than a line of blood.

His feathers were probably a horrible mess, he picked and pulled at them constantly. Oftentimes he would see Grian staring mournfully at them, like he wanted to preen him. The closeness both terrified and drew him in. He wanted to trust, to be close with people, but it wasn’t ever as easy as that. 

He imagined another world, a universe where Tommy trusted Grian and the Hermits, where he let Grian hug him and hold him close as he cried. Like the caring older brother he never really had. He would preen his broken wings, he would help him fly again, he would comfort him after nightmares. 

In return, Tommy would do the same. He knew that Grian, and most of the Hermits for that matter, had a past. Tommy would hold Grian as he cried, and they would share stories together and talk through the nightmares until they all went away. A perfect world. 

He brushed the thoughts off. He could wish all he liked, but that would never get him anywhere. This was the harsh reality, however much Grian seemed to doubt it and tried to change it. 

Tommy was going to kill Dream. He would leave this server behind, because he needed to finish what he should have finished all that time ago, in the stupid vault thing. He should have killed Dream that one last time. 

And now, with the stolen weapons and armor of the Hermits, Tommy would take Dream’s last life and free his friends from the once powerful admin.

Notes:

See you soon! I'm currently working very hard on a troublemakers AU (benchtrio centric ofc) so sorry if updates are a little slow!
<33

Chapter 11: Falling

Notes:

Hey guys! So sorry about the slow updates, I'm having a few mental health struggles along with the stress of this year being my final exam year, I have mocks in a few weeks and then in November again, so life is a bit hectic at the moment.
Anyways! I still am loving writing this story, and I am so glad it's finally beginning to pick up a bit in pace. This chapter is the big one where everything starts to go wrong :DD Hope you enjoy!

Grian watched as Tommy carefully measured the legs of the table so that it would sit flat, cringing as his pale, white wings that would be beautiful if Tommy just let him take care of them folded into his side and were held tensely up by his shoulders. Why didn’t he fly, Grian thought. The wings were totally big enough, and if he just let him preen him, then he would be a fantastic flyer. 

Grian had been thinking about this for as long as he had known Tommy, which though wasn’t long, it was enough time for him to become concerned. 

Finally, Grian asked Tommy, “Hey, do you want to go flying with me?” 

Freezing suddenly, Tommy’s wings shifted further into his back, but they twitched with what Grian knew was an urge to fly. He wanted to fly.

“Tommy? Why won’t you fly?” Grian asked, knowing he was pressing a little too hard, but he needed to know what was wrong. He wanted to help Tommy, his fledgling. 

“Piss off.” He snapped coldly, “I don’t want to go flying.” 

Grian didn’t miss the way his wings were twitching, begging to be opened to their full, glorious span, and he started to get desperate, “But I can see it in your wings, you want to go flying! Why won’t you!” 

Tommy stepped back, looking slightly scared by Grian’s change in temperament. He sighed, frustrated that he let his temper get the better of him in such a fragile moment.

“I- Sorry for snapping.”

Turning slightly away, Tommy shook his head, “No, fuck you and your stupid server, all your happy family games and shit- Just fuck you all!” He was scared, Grian could tell through the way his wings threatened to open. He wanted to fly away, he would fly away if Grian didn’t do something. 

“I don’t fly because I can’t.” Tommy spat bitterly, “I fucking can’t, and I hate it, I hate it so much. I want to fly away but I’m fucking grounded.” 

He couldn’t? Grian felt the pieces line up. His wings were either too injured, malformed and destroyed to fly, or he hadn’t flown in a very long time. 

“Do you know how much it hurts to watch you fly? How much it hurts to watch the other guys, who don’t even have fucking wings, fly, when you’re stuck on the bloody ground?” Tommy spat, taking a step backwards with every raise of his voice. 

Then, he turned and ran.

Tommy bolted down to the corner of his house, quickly prying up a floorboard and locating a cleverly constructed trapdoor, dropping down and covering it up after himself. 

Grian gaped at where the hole to the basement had been. His fledgling- Tommy was gone. He had built a secret basement.

He had planned for this to happen. 

For the first time in years, Grian felt abandoned. He hadn’t been left alone by someone in a long time. 

Then, pushing past the melancholy, came the dread. Grian knew that now he had, well, pissed off Tommy, that the boy would take a long time to finally trust him that little bit. All because Grian can’t control his stupid emotions after years of honing his grasp on them, it only takes one lost fledgling to break down his walls. 

The fledgling that can’t fly. Tommy can’t fly. He wanted to, he wanted to so badly, but he can’t. 

Then, the anger came bubbling up. A fiery rage, a fury of a young warrior, what he had once been. A killer. 

Grian was a murderer, when all was said and done. With his own magic, he killed countless monsters and people, doing terrible things just because he was young and full of hate for the world. When one had seen the things that Grian had seen, been stuck in a trio of friends that did nothing but belittle you, and been looked down upon constantly, it was hardly surprising that he craved the power that killing provided. 

Hot tears started to stream down his face. He was a horrible person. He did not deserve the trust that Tommy tentatively gave him, only for Grian to smash it into tiny pieces. Most of all, he did not deserve the peace of the Hermitcraft server.

They were right. He was little more than selfish and greedy. 

Emotion wracked through him painfully, gripping him as he tried to stay quiet. Grian hadn’t thought about the Watchers in a while now, what they had done to him and his server. They were the elusive Gods of his past server, and once the server had no fun left, it was simply obliterated. Right now, Grian wished he had been obliterated with it and his friends, but no, he was special. 

He would start seeing the Watchers’ purple if he didn’t calm down now. 

Taking deep, long breaths, Grian tried to think about what he was going to do now. Tommy had left, he had accepted that, he was out of the cute little spruce forest cottage. He had a bunker, so he was planning to escape, which was what hurt Grian the most.

What was he doing wrong? Why didn’t Tommy want to stay? He obviously was enjoying the peace, and seemed much more at ease in a safe environment, so why had he run?

The tears returned, but they were pathetic and not panicked like the other ones, he had lost all energy to panic. Grian was not a suitable caretaker for Tommy. He needed someone strong, someone not broken, someone who wouldn’t snap at him or push him over the edge. 

Someone patient, sympathetic, understanding and most importantly selfless, all the things that Grian was not. He was chaos. 

In Grian’s darkest days, the days of working with the trio for the king, around the age of nineteen, Grian had burnt down villages. There had been reasons, good ones, but not enough to justify burning everyone alive. His mind had been fragile, and by the time the trio were locked away in another prison and Grian had obviously been targeted for torture, him mind was fractured. 

He was only young, joining the trio and killing from the age of seventeen, and he was so, so angry. They deemed him unfit for work after the physical torture in the prison, and he was kept in a cell until they decided to send him into the main server hub, where he found Evolution, the Watchers’ server. 

All in all, Grian was not a suitable guardian for Tommy. The boy reminded him of his past self, if not a bit more put together, but he still couldn’t care for him. 

It hurt, incredibly so. 

All Grian wanted to do was help, and all he did was hurt. It was in his nature, after all. 

 

---

 

Scar decided that he would bring some of the spare fruit juice he had just pressed over to Tommy and Grian, so he sealed it in a glass bottle and flew over with a couple of firework rockets. Not finding anyone at Grian’s base, Scar decided to check the quaint little bungalow that Tommy had built in the spruce forest nearby.

He found Grian inside, kneeled on the floor, tears running dry.

“Oh! G-man!” He called, then he saw the grief in Grian’s expression, “Hey…? What’s wrong, buddy?” He had seen his friend crying like this before, but not a while. Leaving the bottle of juice by the door, Scar kneeled next to Grian. 

“I’m a horrible person, Scar.” Grian whispered, “I’ve killed people. I shouldn’t be looking after a kid like Tommy.” 

Scar sighed, so it was this one today. He gently held onto Grian’s shoulders, “Xisuma has killed a lot of people as well. Some of us have. It’s in the past, though, and this is the present.” He opened his arms for a hug, and Grian shuffled closer so they could embrace.

After just a moment of appreciating the hug, Grian said, “Tommy’s in an underground bunker. I think he’s going to run away.” He sounded so resigned.

Scar hummed, then pulled away, “I’ll go see if I can talk to him.” He smiled softly at Grian, as if assuring him that he was capable.

A lot of people assumed that just because Scar was kind and clumsy, he was immature, but that was far from the case. He liked to keep things lighthearted, but when he needed to be serious, he could be. 

After a moment of searching for an entrance to the aforementioned bunker and finding none, Grian pointed out a couple of off looking floorboards.

Scar lifted them up and found a well constructed secret trapdoor, leading down to a ladder and what he presumed was Tommy’s secret bunker. Cautiously, he lowered himself into the hole, climbing down the ladder and giving Grian one last glance. 

Descending into the darkness, Scar scanned the pitch black bunker, only to find the slightest sliver of light reflecting from a bottle and a tell-tale glow of a potion. 

Tommy - Scar could see it was him now - took the bottle to his mouth and started gulping the soft, pinkish red liquid down rather violently. It was not the only potion, and Scar suspected he had already consumed a few others. 

“Tommy…” Scar whispered gently, hoping to not startle the boy.

His head snapped up, potion almost forgotten, “Get out. You don’t need to- Just fuck off, I’m busy.”

When Scar took a single step forward, Tommy jumped to his feet and it became obvious he was wearing a full set of enchanted netherite armor. Scar didn’t miss the netherite sword at his side either. 

“Piss off, Scar. I need to do this. You don’t need to help me anymore. You earned your fucking morality points, or whatever.” Tommy spat, then he went back to downing the potion. 

“We care about you, Tommy, we want you to be safe-”

Tommy snapped, “I don’t need to be cared for! Not by you lot, not by some fucking strangers, all I need is my friend, and right now he needs me, and if you want to try and fucking stop me I’ll take one of your lives right here and now!” He raised the sword.

It hurt Scar to think that Tommy had slipped back into the mentality of his old server so quickly, but it was doing no good continuing to push the boy, so he simply backed out. 

“Good! Good, fucking leave, get out!” Tommy yelled after him. 

Scar left, knowing that Tommy could take care of himself, but still guilt weighed down his heart in knowing that he left a child all alone. It was for the best, though, and Tommy couldn’t get into any real harm. It wasn’t like anyone on the server would hurt him. 

 

---

 

Xisuma was simply going about his daily organising when he got a message on his communicator. Upon checking it, he found that it was a message from none other than Tommy, the newest and youngest member of the server. 

 

<TommyInnit> i need a favour

<Xisuma> Can we meet in the shopping district in five minutes and talk about this favour?

<TommyInnit> yeah okay

<Xisuma> see you there! :-)

 

Intrigued, slightly worried and mildly confused, Xisuma found some firework rockets and zipped off into the sky, taking the overworld route to the shopping district for the first time in a while. Why would Tommy need to talk about a favour? The only thing that Xisuma could think about was that it was somehow related to him being the admin of the server, which only made him more concerned. 

He reached the shopping district before he could overthink anymore, deciding on the theory that it might be to do with his death metal performance at Beef’s music store as to calm himself a little. 

Tommy was waiting by the portal, head to toe in netherite and with potions strapped to his belt, along with a netherite sword at his side. This did not look good, not at all.

“Hi Tommy.” Xisuma greeted as he landed in front of the boy. It was slightly strange how the kid stood at his height, yet looked so much more fragile than himself. Years of fighting had left him with a lean and muscular body, whereas Tommy had obviously been living in malnutrition for most of his life

“I need you to send me to the server hub.” Tommy demanded instead of returning the greeting. His voice was steady, but it held the telltale twinge of someone who was incredibly upset. 

Xisuma was slightly taken aback by the sudden request, “Why? Where do you want to go?” 

“I’m going back to my server. My friends need me.” He sounded terribly insistent. Xisuma knew that he wasn’t going to give this up any time soon.

Still, he shook his head, “I can’t do that. I can’t let you go back there.” 

“I can’t just let my friends die! They might be dying, they might be- I need to go back, I need to go the fuck back.” Tommy shouted, his steely exterior finally giving way, “And don’t try and pretend you know what’s good for me. Just- just fucking send me out, I’ll find my server, help my friends and fucking kill that evil bastard, and you lot can forget about me.”

“I can’t just send you back to the place where you were abused-”

“You’ve helped me enough!” Tommy took a step backwards, laying his hands on his sword, “Now just please, please, you have to help me this last time. You can’t just keep me here like some kind of pet, a charity case to help you feel better about yourselves. Let me go. I’m perfectly capable.” 

And, well, what else could Xisuma do? Tommy was right in a way, and Xisuma knew that this was coming eventually. The boy was bound to have a life to go back to, friends he wanted to save and people he cared about. Maybe it was a mistake letting him go, but Xisuma wanted to help the boy, and in that moment, Tommy needed to see his friends.

 

<TommyInnit left the server>

Notes:

OKAY how was that for a chapter??? Any theories as to why Tommy can't fly? Love to hear them!
Important note: Grian's backstory is based off of his Evolution series and PARTS of the 'Kingdom of Valor' series. No way am I including all of the stuff in there, because it makes me feel wildly uncomfortable, just know that I used some of the parts in that series but cut out others (Episode ten, I'm looking at you). Please, please be warned, if you want to watch the series, there is an ongoing theme of potentially triggering NSFW stuff, that I would never include in this story.
Lastly: This story is meant to be about healing, and how the Hermits try their best to help Tommy to recover. Some of them have radically different ideas to others due to the things they have experienced and how they dealt with said things. No one here is totally in the right, but all of them are trying their best. I like to write stories about people being imperfect and human, because it's the most relatable way you can write about someone. Sure, it's lovely to read a story where the people are perfect and help someone recover flawlessly, but it's so much more interesting to read a story where the characters fail and have breakdowns whilst trying to help people. I don't know, felt like ranting. Hope you enjoyed listening to my little waffle!
<33

Chapter 12: Selfishness

Notes:

CW: Nothing too major

Hello people! I know it's been like a month, and do not worry, I have not abandoned this story, I've just been incredibly busy. I also recently got very ill from Covid, and had to spend a night in hospital! The Discord know everything that went down, it was all rather dramatic, but I'm much better now and enjoyed writing this chapter now I have the free time.
Hope you like this one, and sorry for the wait!

“You let him- What!” 

Mumbo could see the dangerous magic that bubbled under the surface of Grian’s eyes, something that most people would mistake for passion or anger, but being his best friend, Mumbo knew that the sparkle in Grian’s eyes was more than just tears. 

Xisuma raised his hands in surrender, responding calmly, “He was begging, and at that moment I knew we couldn’t just keep this near adult locked up in our server like a pet when he doesn’t want it.”

“But- But-” Grian stammered, taking a defeated step backwards into Mumbo, towards the shopping district portal. They had all gathered here as soon as Xisuma had messaged them.

He laid a comforting hand on Grian’s shoulder, then looked up into the visor of Xisuma, “You knew as well as all of us that that kid did not want to go back to where he came from.”

“Guys-” Scar tried to interject.

“Fuck, I need to go back to the server hub. I am in no way prepared for this.” Grian muttered, pressing his palms into his eyes. The swear caught them all a little off guard, Grian didn’t swear unprovoked like that unless things were really bad. 

Mumbo didn’t really know his whole purpose in this argument, he hadn’t known the boy particularly well, so he felt like more of an outsider here than anything. Well, if his friend wanted him here then he would suffer through the confusion and out of place feeling. 

He didn’t think the kid wanted to go back, he was sure he had heard him say that he never wanted to go back to that server again, but Mumbo didn’t really know what went on in that boy’s head. Maybe he’d gotten a message from a friend, or maybe he did it impulsively.

He zoned back in when Grian’s wings fluffed out enough to catch his arm.

“You don’t know anything about Tommy! You haven’t seen the effects his past server has had on him, you haven’t seen the way he’s confused by simple kindness.” Grian shouted, and it finally began to set in how much he really cared about this kid. 

Scar interrupted their agueing, “Guys, I really think we should send a team to the server hub before Tommy finds his old server in there. We might have a chance at intercepting him before he makes it there.” 

“Good point, actually,” Xisuma nodded, regarding Scar with an air of thankfulness, “Who should we send?” He glanced at Grian.

“I know I’ll go, and Grian isn’t even a question.” Mumbo answered, finding a foothold in the conversation and taking full advantage of it.

Scar glanced around, “I think I’ll go.” He looked up at Xisuma, “We should have someone who’s good at fighting as well, just in case.”

Bristling, Grian switched right back to lighthearted humour, “Are you insulting my awesome PVP skills?” 

Ignoring him, Scar continued, “Either False or Doc, probably Doc since he’s met him, and Doc definitely wins in the intimidation factor.”

“I don’t know, False can be pretty terrifying.” Mumbo mused.

Grian suddenly broke the joking tone that had been so easy to just settle back into, “Xisuma, message Doc, send us all first, then get him to the hub as soon as you can. We’ll look around for a bit for him.” He stalked to the nearby Enderchest, there were hundreds in the shopping district, “Let’s get geared up, we’ll probably want chestplates and battle gear.”

“I’ve got spares.” Xisuma offered, though Grian gave him a scowl. There hadn’t been a disagreement like this on the server in a very long time, and for a moment Mumbo was starting to wish they had never found this ‘Tommy’ kid. 

He couldn’t abandon him now, though. There was no way Mumbo would let himself live with that, and plus, the kid had started to grow on him. He’d spent a few hours trying to install a hidden staircase to the kid’s attic, though Tommy seemed totally incapable with redstone. It was funny, though, Mumbo had to admit, and it wasn’t that helpful having Grian stand and laugh at his shortcomings whilst also calling redstone ‘nerdy’. He put it up to Grian’s own uselessness at the intricate wiring. 

That was how he found himself in this rather complicated situation. Xisuma had sent the three of them to the server hub, a place Mumbo didn’t ever visit, and hadn’t actually seen since the last season. They had to briefly leave the server as it was being reset, but other than that Mumbo had never really been to the hub.

It was rather overwhelming, to put it lightly. It was bustling with players, some looking purposeful and others looking totally lost. Most of the players were human, though that wasn’t to say that there weren’t any hybrids. There was actually an impressive amount of hybrids, the majority being passive type mobs, like Grian or Rendog, but Mumbo had already seen a skeleton hybrid within a minute of being in the hub.

“I hate this place.” Grian murmured, pressing close to his friends’ sides. He was between Scar and Mumbo, none of them really enjoying the outing, especially considering the context.

Scar scoured the busy plaza they had emerged in, “We should ask around, maybe find some kind of guard or worker?” 

Grian shook his head, “There aren’t any guards. We’d be much better of to ask one of the people running the stalls, they might look a bit shady but they know this place scarily well.” He gestured to the market stalls that ran down a long street to their left.

“I didn’t know that existed.” Mumbo gasped, peering down the long street at the various stalls. They sold food, weapons, clothes, materials, ingredients and other bits and bobs. If he wasn’t on a search for a vulnerable boy, then he would have totally spent hours wandering down the server hub market and looking at all the tiny, state of the art redstone creations. 

Grian huffed a laugh, and dragged them to the nearest stall, “Hey, excuse me?” He asked the person manning the stall. It was full of handmade clothes, all very high quality and well made.

The man turned to face them, “Got your eye on something?” He asked, peering at them through his thin, metal framed glasses. 

“No, no, it’s all very nice though.” He smiled kindly at the man, and Mumbo was suddenly very glad they had left the interacting to Grian. God only knows how terribly it would have gone if Scar or Mumbo were in charge.

“We’re looking for an avian boy, around sixteen, about as tall as him.” He pointed a thumb at Scar, “He’s blonde, skinny and has white wings. Oh, and he’s in full armour and carrying battle supplies.”

Mumbo hadn’t known that. Well, now he was at least the tiniest bit less worried about Tommy, knowing that he had some gear to protect himself with, but he suspected that the threat he was facing was a trifle more than just a quick battle, and most likely more than just physical. 

“Might have seen him, but that was a while ago. Good luck if you’re trying to find him, because if I remember right he headed North in a rather large hurry.” The man sighed, taking a long glance at the street opposite them, the street that Mumbo assumed must be the northern one. 

Grian took a breath and held it, pressing his lips into a thin line, “Thank you, sir.” He said stiffly, walking in the direction of the northern street. 

“What’s so bad about northern street?” Scar asked timidly, voicing what Mumbo was thinking.

Sighing, Grian led the group through the main plaza, “It’s notorious for the more… well, problematic of servers, let’s say. All in all, not the kind of place he should be going.” He searched the plaza, for either Doc or Tommy, “It makes sense, though, as much as I wish it didn’t.”

Mumbo nodded and hummed, keeping an eye out for their body guard as well. He would feel a lot safer if Doc were with them upon entering this new, strange server. 

Just as they were about to turn into the main northern street, a flustered looking Doc approached them, decked out in armour and weapons.

“Hey dudes, sorry if I kept you waiting.” He greeted breathlessly, his expression darkening when he noticed that they were headed north.

Grian nodded, “Yup, this is where we’re going.” 

Doc gained a stoic look, and Mumbo suddenly felt very out of place. All his friends were incredibly serious, and he was too, of course, but he was no good at acting like it. It was in his nature to try and keep the tone lighthearted and cheery, though there was no room for joking in this situation, so he just stay dead silent and followed Doc and Grian as they traversed deeper into the northern side of the server hub.

After a little while of walking and keeping their eyes wide open, Mumbo got handed another flyer advocating a server. It should have been no different than the hundreds of others they had received - people were very insistent when advertising their servers - but something compelled Mumbo to read it.

It was for a server that proclaimed itself ‘The Dream SMP’, which while it sounded cheesy and downright childish, the chilling blank smiley face on the front of the leaflet sent shivers down Mumbo’s spine.

“Guys, can we just stop a moment?” He patted Grian on the shoulder, “I’ve found a flyer that gives me a bad feeling, I want to read it.” 

Grian scoffed, turning to give him an earful about them needing to keep searching, but when he saw the masked figure printed on the inside of the flying, all the colour drained from his face. 

“The Dream SMP, huh?” Scar mumbled, skimming over the little article that Mumbo had opened it to. It was bragging about dramatic storylines and emotion driven roleplay. So, it was some strange roleplay server.

On the back was an application form, they were looking for a singular new member to join their ‘story’, as the leaflet had described. 

“I can’t find anything wrong with it.” Doc mused as he considered the strange advertisement. There were a few photos as well, one of three players who looked to be good friends, a mix of one human and two hybrids, another picture of a heated looking battle scene with two clearly defined sides - there were a group in blue uniform, and a group in casual looking clothes - and a final picture of a festival being seemingly gatecrashed by some guy with a firework launcher.

Mumbo felt terribly unnerved by all of this, the leaflet assured that it was all acting, but the fireworks looked real, as did the swords in the battle scene. Something about it made his stomach churn.

“Wait.” Scar said, sounding disturbed, “Wait, wait. Isn’t Tommy like, deathly afraid of fireworks?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, a silence as everyone slowly turned the information over in their minds. Mumbo didn’t want to believe it, though when he looked closer into the battle scene photo, he saw that one of the people in blue uniform looked strikingly like their Tommy. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and thin, though he looked more, well, alive in that photo. 

Dread curled in Mumbo’s stomach as he slowly started to realise that Tommy had been a child soldier of all things. He felt sick.

Grian was gripping the leaflet hard enough to damage it, “We need to go there.” The fury in his voice suggested he too had seen the photo Tommy was in, “We need to go, we need to go now. Where is it, I don’t care how we find it, we need to get to this goddamned server.” There was a terrifying darkness in his voice.

“Calm, Grian. We need to be calm for the kid.” Doc reassured, “Let’s go ask someone if they know where to find this SMP.” He scoured the leaflet, “It says to drop off the application form at portal number four hundred and thirty one?”

“We’re next to portal four hundred and eight right now.” Mumbo supplied, glancing at the plain looking portal they were next to. 

Grian started half running, “We’re close, then! Oh, gods, finally.” He pushed past the crowd, and Mumbo tried his best to keep up with his friend. 

He counted the portal numbers in his head, checking the little plates with engraved figures on them every time they passed a portal. The numbers climbed up, until finally they reached their destination.

“Portal four hundred and thirty one, Dream SMP.” Scar announced breathlessly.

Doc rested his hand on what looked like a post box, “This is definitely right, this looks like where the application forms go.”

“Wait, we can’t get in, can we?” Mumbo suddenly realised. If this was a private server, there was no way that they were going to be allowed on without a whitelist. 

Grian was frozen staring at the portal, “Oh, no. Oh, this is not good.” He ran his hands over what seemed to be some engraved runes in the portal’s obsidian surface, “This isn’t safe for you three. There’s something bigger than just a corrupted admin wrong with this server. You shouldn't get involved. I’ll go on my own.” He stopped tracing the engravings on the portal frame, and stepped to face the main body of it. It swirled a rich purple colour, one that Mumbo swore was slightly off from all the other portals. 

“Grian-” Mumbo started, but he was cut off.

“I do need to do this on my own. I’ll be fine, I’ve needed to confront my past for years now, might as well do it now.” He reached his fingers into the void of the portal.

“Grian.” Mumbo grabbed his wrist, “We’re in this together. How many times have I, Scar, Iskall, any of the Hermits, told you that you don’t need to struggle on your own?”

Shaking his head sadly, Grian yanked his wrist out of Mumbo’s hold, “I swore to protect that boy, no matter what. And if this is what it takes, you can’t stop me.”

Doc tried to interject, but as he moved to, Grian stopped him.

“Try and follow me.” Grian stepped into the portal.

 

He half expected the portal to refuse and spit him right back out again, but to Grian’s surprise, he made it through. Maybe not to the world spawn, but then again, he didn’t expect that either. He knew exactly what was waiting for him on the other side when he stepped through that portal, the runes on the frame told him all he needed to know. 

This server was one that had piqued the curiosity of the likes of them . 

Standing before him was an angelic, yet deformed and terrifying in the meanwhile, being, one that was completely draped in purple and white, its several pairs of wings a cold lavender. It wore a mask over its face and eyes, one that had the letters ‘X’ and ‘D’ carved onto it. 

A Watcher.

Of course Tommy’s server had a Watcher attached to it, because when was Grian’s life ever easy? He’d had a feeling from the moment that Tommy started mentioning gods that there might be Watchers caught up in this, but he pushed that theory to the back of his mind and denied it until it was written out in runes in front of him.

He’d only ever seen those runes once before, and that was where those two Watchers from Evolution interfered. It was the mark of the elusive beings, and seeing them on the portal was enough to solidify Grian’s past fears.

“You have come for the boy, I presume?” The Watcher, XD, asked, looking at home in their End-like void. Why the Watchers loved the End so much was beyond Grian, but they seemed to resonate with everything attached to the End dimension. 

“Yes, I want to bring him back to our server, where he’s safe.” Grian announced adamantly, not wanting to mess about. He knew where messing about got you with Watchers. 

The being seemed to consider this, then it hummed to itself, “That would not be very fun, though. You of all people should know that all we Watchers wish for is a good show.” It seemed to smile, though it wasn’t exactly humanoid, so Grian couldn’t really tell.

“If you know that, then you should know that I can put on a good show.” Grian countered, hoping that this Watcher had some kind of connection with the Evolution Watchers, and that they had somehow relayed to them how fun Grian was. 

“You and Tommy seem to be rather alike to each other.” The Watcher commented, “You both cause so much trouble, wherever you go. People like that are entertaining to watch, and even more entertaining to break.”

Grian tried to keep the fresh rage bubbling up inside him at bay, but it leaked into his voice and posture, “Have you hurt him?”

The Watcher laughed, condescending and fake, “No, I would never get involved with mortal players’ silly little games. I have a follower, a patron if you will, who does it all for me.”

“Send me down there. I don’t care what it takes, I need to prove to that boy that he’s not alone.” Grian growled.

The Watcher tipped its head, “Really? Is that the real reason? We all know that you’re terribly selfish, now. So what’s the real reason behind all this, I’m sure you know that it’s not something as noble as wanting to help somebody.” 

Grian cringed, but didn’t give into the taunting. He was past that, and he would sit through it for hours if it meant he could get into the main server and save Tommy.

“Send me to Tommy. It’ll be entertaining, I promise.” Grian faced the Watcher, defying its difficult words. 

“Well, I suppose if you want to save him that badly…” The Watcher sighed condescendingly, “You might regret it though.”

Grian was reckless, and he might have been vengeful and hatred driven once, and he had done some unforgivable things in his lifetime, but he would take any punishment the universe, the Gods, or simply the players would send his way if it meant saving his friends. Grian was never selfish, not truly, just immature once. And, well, that impulsiveness never really died, he thought to himself, as the End void faded into blackstone brick and obsidian.

When Grian opened his eyes, he was in a prison. 

Notes:

I can't promise that the next chapter will be soon, but I will try and make sure that I get it out as soon as I possibly can. I am really enjoying writing this, and want to keep doing so :DD
Love y'all!! <33

Chapter 13: Prison

Notes:

Sorry about the wait! I've been sitting a lot of mock exams and prioritising my time to studying for them, but I have managed to produce a chapter I am fairly proud of. I hope you enjoy it, and that it makes up for the wait. This markes the end of this angsty arc, and the recovery arc part two.
Thank you so much for 30k hits! The love this work is recieving is incredible, thank you so much <33

Not really any content warnings, just emotions. :DD

The harsh clack of shoes on blackstone punctuated the suffocating silence of the prison. Grian walked with a tense, upright posture and purposefulness, his wings held rigidly behind him as he stalked through the high security prison.

There was the tell tale sluggishness of mining fatigue in the air, Grian felt it like a low drone of exhaustion in the background. To the sides of him were lines of identical cells, never once used. There was only one occupied cell in this prison. 

He hadn’t seen a single guard this entire time. Usually prisons would be swarming with guards, but this one seemed to rely solely on the technology that had clearly been installed into every door, corridor and bridge. Grian had been to plenty of high security sites in his time working for the king in the Kingdom of Valor, but never had he seen a prison this desolate. It was eerie. Something was wrong.

He soon came to the maximum security cell, the pull of his instincts guiding him through the maze of obsidian. 

Grian did what he did best; pressing every button and pulling every lever in sight. He expected some sort of alarm to start blaring, but nothing happened until the wall of lava slowly started to drain, revealing a small cell in the middle of a huge lava pit. 

As soon as he could see it clearly, he knew Tommy was in there. Tommy and some other person, who simply looking at gave Grian the chills. They were in a traditional bright orange prison jumpsuit with a yellow bib over the top with ‘Escape Risk’ printed on the front in bold, black letters. 

Grian hated prisons. He hated cells and bars, being locked up and kept without food, water, sanitation or sunlight for hours on end. He hated the condescending guards and the torture that he always seemed to be on the receiving end of, as apposed to his cellmates. 

He’d spend his fair share of time being locked up, so he hoped to be in and out of this maximum security hellhole as quickly as possible. 

A flying machine started firing, acting as a bridge over to the cell, and upon seeing it pumping across the lava pit, Grian sprinted forward and managed to catch it just in time. It was only then that he realised there wouldn’t be a button on the other side to call the machine back over, because of course they wouldn’t leave a bridge in the reach of a supposed escape risk. 

As he came closer, Grian forgot all foresight and worry and focused on the here and now. He needed to help Tommy, and he needed to do it now. There was no time for dithering around with flying machines. 

Tommy was crumpled against one of the obsidian walls, looking about as lively as a brick, an out of place white streak in his blonde hair. The other person - Grian could see them more clearly now - seemed to be a fairly normal looking player. They had hair a few shades darker than blonde, a medium build and were smiling lopsidedly at him. Their smile brightened as the flying machine clunked to a stop at the cell, and the coldest type of dread settled in Grian’s stomach. 

Tommy woke up suddenly, “Wait, what’s going on?” He noticed Grian, and shot up, “Holy shit! How did you- You can’t- Grian! Why did you- I don’t-” 

The other player cut him off, “Be quiet Tommy.” He turned to Grian, “You’re not meant to be here.” 

His tone may have been lighthearted, but the way he instantly silenced Tommy and simply something about the way he spoke oozed a sense of power. This was the server admin, Grian knew it. This was the man responsible for the worst of Tommy’s suffering, and they had been locked up in here together for however long. 

“I have some outside connections.” Grian answered cryptically, hoping to find some kind of power in this exchange of passive aggression. 

The prisoner extended a scarred hand over the netherite border, “I’m Dream, this server’s admin.” He smiled courteously at him, but it was laced with malice.

“I gathered that.” Grian didn’t take his hand, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a young man by the name of Tommy to rescue.” 

He hoped that the border would have come down by now, but it was still standing between him and Tommy. 

“Tommy?” A new voice from behind him shouted. Grian spun around to see a guard, all in netherite and with a mask covering their face, but still the tell-tale green of a creeper hybrid managed to slip through.

Tommy quickly noticed this guard person, and locked eyes with him, “Sam. Sam.” He switched from relieved to furious in moments, “You let me die, Sam. I fucking died because of you.”

Grian felt ill. Had Tommy actually died here? It would make sense, how else would he have made his way onto Hermitcraft? Maybe it was the Watcher. Maybe this was their plan in the end.

The guard looked distressed, “Tommy, I- I didn’t want to- I didn’t mean for you to- Everyone thinks you’re dead, Tommy! You’re dead!” The man, Sam, took a step back and pulled a lever to bring down the bars separating Grian and his Tommy.

“Step out of the cell, Tommy, and I’ll get you and this stranger out of here.” The guard said, but not only Tommy stepped forward, Dream did too.

Dream glared at Sam, “This stranger is not from our server, nor is he welcome here. He wishes to kidnap Tommy and take him back to his own server.” He snarled, “Not that I give a shit about Tommy’s wellbeing, and it seems like you couldn’t care less about him either, seeing as you let him die.”

Grian felt anger, borne of protectiveness, rise up inside him, “You can come off of it, I’m sure you can all agree that this server is no place for a kid like Tommy, and I can assure that our server has been much better for him the week or so that he’s been there.” The idea that Tommy had tried to escape still stung, but it was nothing compared to Grian’s need to keep this boy away from the horrors of this server.

Sam shifted, clearly uncomfortable, “I’m trying my best, okay? And if I can keep the prisoner locked up, then I know that the server will be a much safer place-”

Tommy interrupted, “Well it’s clearly fucking not! I know what people think of me out there, I know they don’t give a shit if I die, and I know people want me dead!” He glanced at Grian, the most painful expression on his young face, “I just wanna chill out, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about prisons, or wars, or countries, or fucking any of this shit! I just want to chill out.” Tears dropped onto the obsidian, and Tommy wrapped his arms around himself as he silently cried with a solemn expression, none of that ugly sobbing.

Dream seemed to find all this rather amusing, but neither Grian nor Sam felt the same way.

Gingerly, Grian took a couple of steps towards Tommy, “We’ll go back, okay? Doc and Scar and Mumbo are all waiting in the lobby, we can find them and we can go home.”

Slowly, cautiously, Tommy took a single step to close the gap, and warily brought himself into a tense hug. Grian wrapped his arms tightly around the boy, feeling his body shake as he sobbed into Grian’s shoulder. Tommy hugged back, finally deciding that he trusted Grian enough to initiate contact with him.

“Thank you…” Tommy choked, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He gripped tighter, sobbing with every breath, and Grian held onto him like he could slip away at any moment.

He heard the barriers go up - Dream must’ve retreated into his cell - then the fire of the flying machine crossing over to collect them.

After one final squeeze, Grian let go of Tommy, slipping his own hand into the boy’s, and leading him out of the maximum security cell. Finally the urges he had had to wrap Tommy up, to protect his fledgling, to shelter him, were satiated. Grian had done something right!

Sam eyed them with an unreadable expression, “I don’t think you’re going to kidnap anyone, you know.”

Grian laughed, fed up of all the seriousness, “No, no. I came to get Tommy back after he bolted.” He turned to Tommy on the last word, the boy withering a bit under Grian’s glare.

“I’m sorry.” He bit his bottom lip, conflicted, “I knew Tubbo and that Ranboo bitch were still here, and Dream was still here, so I wanted to beat the green bitch up. He’s only on one life, after all, thanks to me and Tubbo.” 

Sam led them through the prison, “You shouldn’t have to do that.” He hesitated, “Everyone thinks you’re dead by the way. You did die.”

Turning to look at Tommy, Grian started speaking, “You know, I am only hearing about this now, about you dying.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, considering how to approach this clearly sensitive topic, “Is dying something more… important on this server?”

Tommy stayed silent, walking rigidly with his arms and wings pulled in tight.

“You get three lives, and Tommy had his last taken by Dream in that prison.” Sam explained rather bluntly, “Because of me.” He added, quieter this time. 

That made sense, the Hermits had been wondering whether Tommy had come from a hardcore server maybe, but this seemed somewhat crueler. Death was both a permanent thing and something someone could repeatedly experience, meaning Tommy had already died three times. The idea made Grian feel angry, mostly, at the world, at the server, at the admin and at the Watchers. 

The thought of the Watchers reminded Grian that he needed a way to get home. His little show may have entertained them for a couple of minutes, but Watchers like to toy with their players for more than just minutes, they preferred months, even years of torture.

They played with their toys until they broke. Grian gritted his teeth as Sam led them out of the blackstone prison, determined to keep his composure, for Tommy more than his own pride this time. 

He wouldn’t have to deal with the Watchers until they met up with Tommy’s friends. The idea of having not one, not two but three young boys to try and look after on the Hermitcraft server was both exciting and daunting. Mostly daunting, as having Tommy was already a handful for the more than twenty Hermits that had been keeping an eye out for him. 

At least the three knew each other, and at least Tommy could explain to his friends that the Hermits were a force for good, and not like the rest of the Dream SMP. 

“I’m going to try and find Tubbo first, okay?” Tommy looked at Sam, who was standing at the entrance to the prison. Being out in the fresh air was something that Grian appreciated greatly, but he also got a view of a server unlike no other he had been a part of. 

It was chaotic, uncared for and somehow loved at the same time. Buildings that looked ancient collided with brand new structures, like the prison, and the leftover scars of battles and hatred were out in the open, as if no one had the heart to clear it up. 

He followed Tommy through the main part of the server, the boy pointing out landmarks with varying degrees of cheer and also disgust. Everything had a meaning, a story, some kind of old memory attached to it. Some had more, like the wooden path that ran through the heart of the server, or the massive crater that took Grian’s breath away when he first saw it. Sure, he had seen his fair share of destruction, but never had he seen anything quite like this. 

Slowly, Tommy led them to the edge of the crater, then sat down, looking up at Grian expectantly. Grian joined him, carefully sitting next to the boy and looking out over the battleground - or what he assumed had been one - and wondering what might have been there before.

“This was my home.” Tommy rasped, in a voice oh so quiet and unlike him, a kind of adoration in his tone, but also a hundred different complicated emotions. The anguish was tangible, and grief hung heavy in the air. 

Carefully, Grian picked out his next words, “I lost my home as well.” He thought about the Evolution server, about his train line, his wonderful ocean base, Netty’s treehouse and the shenanigans that happened at spawn with silly shops. 

“It wasn’t as violent as this, but I didn’t get a chance to mourn it, or any of the people there.” The image of Taurtis came to mind, and he felt a million different emotions well up inside of him. Was Taurtis his friend? Was he kind to him? Why couldn’t he decide? Taurtis hadn’t been the best of friends when they were working in the Kingdom of Valor, but was he Grian’s friend in Evolution? 

He didn’t realise he was crying until a tear dropped into his lap. 

“I wish things could be simple.” Tommy whispered, the sound of crying thick in his voice. 

Grian lost his composure that had been wearing so thin the last few weeks, and he started sobbing. He was a wreck, breaking down in front of the one person he should be protecting. He couldn’t even be strong for one person.

It wasn’t just him sobbing, Tommy was as well, but his was silent and his eyes were vacant. Tentatively, Grian reached his hand towards Tommy’s, biting his lip to keep the pathetic sobbing at bay, and gripping the familiar hand tightly. 

They stayed like that for a while, just letting the world turn around them, letting the thoughts in their heads slowly settle into some kind of order. The sun started to set, casting a beautiful yellowy orange over the crater, and a sort of peace washed over the war-torn server. Sunsets had the strange ability to do that. 

At some point, Tommy got up and gestured for Grian to follow him, leading them over to a bench next to the small hut that Tommy had said was his house, and sitting down on the bench. It looked out over the sunset, and provided a wonderful view from atop the little hill it was perched.

Grian could feel the importance of the bench without Tommy having to explain it to him, it hung in the air like a fog. The sun slowly dipping below the tree line created a sense of finality, like a chapter of their lives was ending and a new one was beginning. 

“Hey.” A young voice called from behind them.

Tommy spun around first, flinching, “Fuckin’ hell- Tubbo! Tubbo, I’m back, you’re back, holy shit!” He leapt off the bench and stood to face the other boy, Tubbo, but not moving to come closer to him. 

“You’re not real.” Tubbo stated blankly, then he looked at Grian, “I don’t even know you. You’re not real.” He backed away.

Grian stood up, watching as Tommy followed the other.

“Please, listen to me, I know I died, but I’m alive! I was revived, I swear, please Tubbo-” Tommy begged, chasing after the boy as he walked away.

Tubbo glared at him, grief clear on his face, “Please, just leave me alone. I know you’re dead. I know you’re not real. Everyone knows you’re dead.”

The emptiness in his voice made Grian shiver as he walked away from the sunset and followed the two boys, “Wait, please, listen to him. It’s true, he came to our server and now I’ve come to rescue you guys-”

Tubbo spun around again, more violently this time, “Fuck off! Alright? I don’t want some fucking hallucinations trying to rescue me.” He sounded desperate as he shouted again, “Just leave me alone.”

“Wait, touch my hand, you’ll know I’m real!” Tommy called back, holding out his hand to Tubbo, “Please, please, just trust me. He revived me, just like he said he could. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Painfully slowly, Tubbo raised a hand to hold Tommy’s, slipping his hand into Tommy’s hand with an almost blank expression. 

“How the fuck…” Tubbo whispered, then his stoic facade began to crumple, as tears started falling from his eyes.

Their grip became tighter, until finally the two boys brought themselves together into a tight, emotion-filled embrace.

Notes:

Hope you liked that! Tommy finally got his hug, and Tubbo shows up! Ranboo is next, but I think the next chapter will be from one of the other Hermits' POV, just to switch it up a little, and to keep the pace up.
Love you all, thank you so much for the support and kind comments! I do geniunely cry at some of the lovely comments, and I dare you to try and make me sob. Go on. It isn't that difficult.
<33

Chapter 14: Little Gods

Notes:

Hey, Hi, how are you? Sorry this took a month, but I say that everytime because I am bad at updating. I really want to finish all my fics by the new year though so I'm speedrunning everything and I'm even finding time in between to revise for my literal exam week in January! It is confirmed, I am God.
Speaking of Gods, this chapter has a lot of that stuff. And Tubbo, and Ranboo, as well. The gang gets reunited and is dragged around a little bit before they can even talk to each other.
As far as content goes, this one is pretty tame, there's a little bit of a battle scene and argueing, but that's all.
Enjoy!! <33

“He’s an idiot.” Mumbo repeated for about the fifth time in the last minute, “Absolute, complete, certified idiot.” 

The words on their own were joking and lighthearted, but Scar could sense the deep concern and guilt in the tone of his friend. They had been waiting outside the portal Grian had rushed into for what felt like days, despite the fact it had barely been half an hour. Doc had contacted Xisuma, who had been trying to contact Grian, but couldn’t reach him. Xisuma was now leaving Hermitcraft to come to the portal, worried that both a member of their server and a possible member would get hurt in the potentially dangerous server. 

Scar couldn’t stop thinking about the flyer, the fireworks, the battle scene and the obvious clues that Tommy was a part of that. Every time someone took flight with elytra, he flinched at the fire of rockets, and tensed at the sight of weapons. It hurt to know, but it was the truth. 

He was sat in front of the portal that would lead to Tommy, and Grian hopefully, but all he could do was stare into the rich purple swirl and trace the runes with his eyes. The runes that Grian apparently recognised. 

Scar didn’t know everything in Grian’s past before Hermitcraft, but he did know more than others. He knew that Grian had messed with Gods before, and how much that had hurt him. 

Xisuma arrived at the portal, greeting Doc and Mumbo, then nodding at Scar to acknowledge him. 

“I’ve been trying to get a message through to him, but despite the fact that this inter-server communication should be working, it’s not. I can’t find anything wrong.” Xisuma explained, setting his portable redstone computer onto his lap and bringing up an error message to show them. 

Mumbo ran a desperate hand through his hair, “He must be alright, though?”

“I thought we decided that Tommy’s server could be a hardcore…” Doc trailed off, all four of them silencing at the implications. 

“Has someone tried going through the portal yet?” Xisuma asked, pressing a hand to the delicate runes on the frame of the portal. 

Stepping towards the purple, Mumbo shook his head, “No, but I might as well try at this point.” 

Scar choked, “Wait! You don’t know what’s on the other side, you might-”

He was cut off by Mumbo, “We don’t know what’s on the other side unless we try, or if we can even get in.” He slipped a hand into the purple mist, “If I don’t come back in two hours, then we’re stuck there.”

Xisuma and Doc watched stunned as Mumbo was engulfed by the portal, and there were a few seconds of utter silence where they either hoped for him to be spat right out again, or just simply processed what had just happened. 

“He blames himself.” Scar whispered, “He thought it was his fault that Grian got away. I don’t think he realised what he was doing.”

Xisuma sighed deeply, sinking his head into his hands. The usually grounded and stable man was starting to lose his grip from all the stress, Scar thought. 

“What are we supposed to do now?” Doc asked, still staring in shock at the portal, “This- Our problem just got much bigger.” 

Xisuma pulled his head from his hands and started aggressively typing at his laptop, silent and with a grim expression. Everything was looking rather grim. 

Scar didn’t think he could cope with losing three friends, two of which he had known for years, people he had shared his deepest fears and worries with, shared his most joyful moments with, people he had listened to for hours as they released all the secrets wound up inside them, like a spring ready to finally explode. 

And, of course, a boy. A boy who deserved so, so much better than what he had gotten, a boy who shouldn’t have to deal with any of this stuff, a boy who never really got a chance to be one until he came to Hermitcraft. 

Scar would have cried, but nothing really felt real. It all felt like it was a dream, and that he’d wake up soon to Mumbo and Grian bantering with each other, and Tommy being amazed by simple things like fruit, semi-automatic farms and large buildings. 

He just wished everything could be simple. 

 

---

 

“Hello.” Mumbo said, rather eloquently, after he noticed a strange, almost humanoid being that had approached him after he had stepped into the portal. All the rushing emotion had plunged into a deep, cold fear, and now that Mumbo was definitely not in the same place as Grian - he could see for miles in this strange, end-like expanse - his bravery was all but a mirage. 

He wanted to save his friend, but now he’d probably just gone and hurt all his other friends, by confidently stepping into the gates of death.

“Hey.” The strange being greeted him, sounding young, younger than Tommy even, and female, “Follow, and stay quiet.” It ordered, dragging out the words as if it expected Mumbo wouldn’t be able to understand the words. 

He nodded, following it, and taking in its strange appearance. It had a mask over the majority of its face, cutting off just below what would have been its nose. There was a strange symbol over the mask, but some of it was obscured by its long, silvery hair that was partly braided, and partly left down to cascade wildly. There was an ethereal quality to every single movement it made, but also a kind of juvenile rebelliousness, an air of mischief followed it, instead of a judging, powerful sense of arrogance that Mumbo would expect a God to have. 

Mumbo followed the being, and as he did the world started to shift from desolate endstone to a temperate spruce forest. The ground was torn up, an obvious indication that players had been here before, but nothing good had happened. There were splinters and scorch marks in some of the straight, thin trunks of the spruce. 

“Whew. The idiot won’t find us here for a while. We should be safe enough.” The being announced, floating up to a fallen trunk held in the branches of another tree and lounging across the surface.

Mumbo did not feel safe. He felt the opposite of safe, actually. He felt in major peril. Incredibly uncomfortable. Mildly- Wait, no- Rather panicked. 

“I’m Drista.” They said, sounding oddly bored, “You?”

“Well, I’m- Um- Mumbo?” He spluttered, taking in the state of the forest around him. Something had clearly torn through here, and whatever it was, it was not a happy thing. 

“Cool. I’m a type of God.” They said casually, as if it was a totally normal, socially acceptable thing to say, “Your friend needs a hand, yeah?” 

Mumbo nodded, “Yes! Well, um, he came here to try and rescue-”

“Rescue Tommy, yes, I know that part.” Drista seemed to roll their eyes, though Mumbo couldn’t quite tell through the mask, “What are you doing?”

“Helping him?” Mumbo offered, hoping for a genuine response and not just a blast of snarky, condescending sarcasm.

Drista rolled off of the branch and stared at him, “You’re doing a great job so far.” Ah, of course, how could he even think that they wouldn’t respond with something like that?

They placed a hand on his back and guided him, “You’ve probably noticed the absolute state of the forest we’re in. We’re hiding in a spruce forest not too far from the main server, and we’re actually pretty close to the world spawn.” 

Slowly, the landscape began to shift again, from a well worn and temperate spruce forest, to a thick, unexplored and snowy one. 

“Now we’re in the Snowchester forest. Still pretty close to the main server, but tucked away in a small gathering.” Drista explained, “I’ll help you find your friend, he should be in Snowchester now, then I’ll get you two, and whatever else you wanna drag along with you to the Hub.”

Mumbo just gawked at them, “You can do that?” He hugged his arms around his waist to try and chase away the new cold.

“I’m a God, dumbass.” They deadpanned, “I’m gonna leave you to it, but be quick, or my idiot older brother will find out and go batshit crazy.”

Scared by the prospect of an older - possibly more powerful - version of this chaotic God, Mumbo scurried out of the forest and into a small clearing where the snow had been partly cleared to make a crude path, probably for wood collecting. Mumbo followed it, and as it started to widen, he saw a collection of buildings on the horizon.

He was not at all dressed for the climate, there was freezing water melted in his shoes and his trousers had probably been covered in snow and frozen solid, but he had to carry out what the God had advised him to do. This was, as far as he could tell having been thrown suddenly into this situation, their only chance. He had a feeling that Drista’s older brother would be a lot less… chilled out. 

Finally, three figures came into view, and Mumbo was almost out of the forest as they approached the nearest building, so he shouted.

“Grian! Is that you?” 

The figures stared at him - two of them had wings, that was a good sign - then one of them started to run towards him. The other two simply watched as Grian approached Mumbo.

“Holy crud. How the- How the heck are you here?” Grian spluttered, his wings ruffling and shaking a little dusting of frost from their feathers. 

Mumbo shook his head, dislodging a shimmer of powder snow as well, “Long story, no time. If you get Tommy, then I have a one-way ticket out of here, but we’ve gotta be quick-sharpish.” 

Grian stared at him, “Okay. Okay, okay. Crap.” He heaved a sigh, “Man, being a rescuer is stressful.” He turned on his heel after quickly flitting his eyes over the surroundings, movements nervous and panicked. It only took a few seconds of fly-running for Grian to reach the two other figures, but it seemed to take an impossibly long time. Every moment, they seemed to edge closer to the looming possibility of Drista’s older brother dooming them to eternal torture. 

Mumbo followed him to the quaint little settlement, one that he would have appreciated more if he had the time and mind to, but now all he could think about was getting Grian and Tommy out of this strange server and back to the other Hermits. He only had two hours for them, and possibly less until Drista’s older brother finds them. 

They met in the porch of a nice little wooden house, snow decorating the uneven roof tiles and highlighting the windowsills in bright white. Grian was there, waiting for Tommy to get out of the house.

“What are we doing here?” Mumbo asked breathlessly, peering into the homely looking cottage. It was mainly wooden furniture with plenty of general clutter, the smell of warming soup and some kind of scones or something resonating from the small kitchen. 

Clearly restless, Grian bounced from foot to foot, and answered, “Tommy and Tubbo are just getting Ranboo, then we’re getting out of here. They won’t be long. I hope.” He spilled out the words at lightning speed, punctuating them with the occasional crack of his knuckles as he anxiously wrung his hands.

A kind of fog had been hanging in Mumbo’s head since everything started going crazy. He hadn’t been able to even consider what any of this meant in the bigger picture, all he could think about was the next thing, how to get out, how to survive. It was probably the adrenaline, pure instincts giving him tunnel vision but also his rational mind sharpening to try and think a way out of this bizarre situation. 

Thundering footsteps, several pairs of feet, came echoing from the steep wooden stairs of the house, and Tommy appeared first. He looked like he was feeling even more stressed than Grian, his armour gone, though it would probably appear once they got out of the server. Another young boy followed him, around Grian’s height with goat-like horns and ears and tired eyes, along with some painful looking physical scars that spidered over his face in light brown webs, like the skin had been melted in some kind of explosion. The fireworks came to Mumbo’s mind, and he felt sick. 

Finally, a third boy appeared behind them, taller than even Mumbo, with distinct Enderman-like features, though he was mixed with something unidentifiable. 

“Why are there three. Grian.” Mumbo watched as his friend led the three boys out of the house, “Oh my god. Did you really collect two more sad children?” 

“Don’t we need to go? Like, quickly?” The enderman hybrid asked him, “What’s even going on?”

Grian gestured for them to hurry up, “We’ll explain once we’re safe. There’s a God on the hunt for me, and I can’t imagine they’ll be too happy when they find out that we’re on the move.”

They started jogging into the woods, by now Mumbo’s feet were soaking and absolutely freezing, “I talked with this God called Drista.” He began explaining, before Tommy interrupted him.

“Oh, yeah, I know her! We’ve chatted a few times before, she seems pretty chill.” 

The goat hybrid scoffed, “What do you lot mean; talking with Gods an’ all?” 

The clearing began to come into view, “Drista said their older brother was going to be after us.” Mumbo explained, “But they’re going to try and get us out of here before he notices.”

Grian stumbled to a stop upon noticing the humanoid being lounging in the canopy, their many cloaks, drapes and scarves perfectly aligning and fading into nothing as they fell down their sides. Drista righted themselves, their robes following their own gravity instead of the one that all the mortal beings and objects obeyed and floating in the air with them.

“This is a horrible idea.” Grian stated, his wings puffing up behind him in agitation. 

Drista floated lazily down to them, not touching the floor though, “Got a better one, bird-boy?” She grinned when Grian puffed up a little more. 

The rest of the group exchanged nervous looks, Grian eventually sighing and relaxing his wings, “Fine, fine, we’ll do whatever crazy thing you suggest.” 

The God surveyed the little group - Mumbo hadn’t known Grian would bring two other kids with him - then seemed to roll her eyes again and reluctantly set herself down onto the snow, turning away from them all and starting to walk.

“Follow me, losers.” Drista said after a moment, the group startling into motion and stumbling after her. Just as it had before, the landscape started to fade and instead turned into a familiar, End-like expanse. 

Grian grew tense, Mumbo could see the way his face twisted and his wings pulled in, but the three boys just seemed confused. 

“This place is fucking dull. Drista, you have brought us to a shithole-” Tommy started complaining, only for Drista to shush him frantically. 

She glanced around, then said, “He’ll hear you.” 

Tommy went tense as a wire, playful frown steeling into something that looked completely alien on a boy’s young face. The atmosphere went with it, all six of them going dead silent and Drista leading them across the landscape until a portal frame came into view.

“I’ll light it, you guys keep an eye out. He’s searching, I can feel it.” Drista said eerily, her snarky and juvenile attitude gone and replaced for something more leader-like. Mumbo watched for a moment as some kind of magic started growing in her palms as she conjured the portal, but he quickly lifted his focus to the expansive horizon to keep an eye for any angry older brother Gods.

There was a whooshing sound, and a purple glow lit up the dusty yellow endstone. The portal was lit, they would be going home. Mumbo smiled at Grian, but his friend looked frozen in fear. What was wrong?

A presence seemed to fade in, and uncertainty seeped into his blood as he followed Grian’s gaze to come face to face with a terrifying, angelic and monstrous looking being, similar to Drista with lavender robes, white wings and silver hair, a mask with peculiar markings, but much grander in scale and intricacy. 

“Drista.” They commanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mumbo turned to the portal, but it had been snuffed out, snowflakes of spent magic floating down from where it was and disappearing into nothing.

They weren’t going home. Mumbo felt a cold doom crawl into the air, emotionless images of his friends waiting for him, never finding him, replacing his euphoria. 

“These are my toys.” They snarled, unfurling a pair of stunning wings, “I told you to stay away from my game. You’re still a child, you’re not old enough to play yet.” 

Drista seemed to switch from terrified to angry in a split second, “You can piss right off with all that fancy talk! Just because you’re some powerful God doesn’t mean you have to have your head up your ass! I’m finally doing something good, because these guys deserve something good, and all you have to do is get in my fucking way!” She screamed, summoning a magical weapon and starting to attack her brother.

Mumbo watched stunned as the two Gods engaged in a powerful battle.

“You’re a Watcher, Drista. When you’re older, you’ll understand why we do this.” The older God bellowed, but Drista was having none of it.

“Yeah, you mean I’ll get older and lose all ability to feel and love and everything, and I’ll become a mean, vengeful bitch like you!” She shouted, keeping up skillfully with her brother.

The older God pinned her, “I’m doing this because this is what we were made for.”

“You’re only doing this because you’re pissed off that you can’t feel anything anymore!” Drista cried, breaking free and landing a hit.

The voice of the goat hybrid boy broke Mumbo’s focus, “The portal’s lit.” He whispered, tapping Mumbo on the shoulder. 

“I’ll go last. Mumbo, go first.” Grian instructed, and what was Mumbo going to do other than follow him?

He stepped into the purple mist, nearly missing the cry of pain as the older God struck Drista down, but knowing what it meant. He really, really hoped that Grian had made it. 

When Mumbo opened his eyes, he was in the Server Hub, right in the middle, the same place he had started all this malarkey from. He really hoped the others were on their way.

Notes:

Hope that was okay! I promise the emotional aftermath will be coming, I know this chapter was a little fast paced, but it was meant to be like that, and we'll get some of the usual 'talking about your feelings' next chapter.
Love y'all, and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 40K!!!! I don't deserve it to be honest lol!
<333

Chapter 15: The Past is our Future

Grian didn’t think about it when he volunteered to go last. He didn’t even hesitate, not for even a fraction of a second. Saving his friends mattered more than saving himself. Somehow, there was still this niggling belief that he was selfish, and that that was just his nature, and that he would never escape that trait. Was he doing all this saviour stuff just to make himself feel better? Was he actually selfish? 

Grian watched Mumbo, Tommy, Tubbo and the other boy jump through the portal, but as he tried to follow them he ended up on the dusty endstone at the other side of the portal frame. XD had shut off the portal. The adrenaline rushing through his veins seemed to suddenly freeze, and he turned to the two Watchers, the youngest looking hurt, possibly dead if these beings could die, and XD standing over their broken body, posture rigid and volatile. 

“You are a parasite.” XD snarled, to no one in particular. It could have been to the rogue God, or to the mortal that ruined all the plans of any God he came into contact with. 

Grian couldn’t move, he was paralysed with a sense of doom, though he didn’t quite accept the fact that he was stuck here. Distantly, Grian knew he had the means to escape. Whether or not he could bring himself to face his past, and finally use his magic again, was a whole other question.

“You’re stuck here forever, player.” XD said, “I’m going to sort out the chaos you’ve caused, then I’ll punish you for it through the means of my follower. He’ll be more than happy to inflict suffering upon you. I’ll let him out of prison somehow.” They paced around the derelict landscape, tone on the edge of manic. Grian hadn’t seen this kind of emotion in a Watcher before, he’d never expected them to have arguments or fights, but then again, the young Watcher seemed completely different to any other he’d ever met.

“My sister, for that matter, has already served part of her punishment.” XD muttered, “She’s mortal, she’s no longer a God, no longer my sister. She’s completely mortal, just like you, player.” 

Grian stared at the body of the ex-God, feeling sympathy well up inside of him. She had been rejected, of course, it made total sense. This God hadn’t acted like one, so her Godhood had been stolen. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? He was stuck here, his only route out that he was willing to take was gone, crumpled on the floor, half dead. There was only one way out. Only one thing he could do.

In an impossible situation, Grian knew the only thing you could do was to keep making decisions. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for death to arrive, or eternal torture at the hands of the prisoner he had briefly met and never wanted to meet again. Grian had to make a choice. 

Either he stayed in this end-like dimension, surrendered to his fate, let the rogue ex-Watcher die and submit his friends to mourning his death, or he faced his past. Maybe he could finally use the magic that killed so many innocent people for good. Maybe he could finally start trying to correct his karma, to save people instead of slaughtering them. He was way past his days of being violent and murderous, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t weighing on his conscience. 

Grian had to make a choice, and soon.

The magic he had now was also courtesy of the Watchers he had interacted with a few years ago, back when Evo had just been obliterated and Grian was taken in by the two Watchers that destroyed his friends and his home. They tried their best to make him into a Watcher as well, but eventually they gave up - Grian was too much of a pain to convert to a Watcher - and he was almost sentenced to the same thing that the girl crumpled a few metres in front of him had experienced. Instead, he used the blasted magic for what he promised would be the last time to escape to another server - Hermitcraft.

With XD distracted, Grian crept over to the girl and picked her up, pressing his lips together when he saw the silver blood running down her robes and crusted on her face. Slowly, as to not attract attention, he returned to the portal frame, resting the girl on the floor and bracing himself. He had to be quick, XD would see what he was doing as soon as he started, this was his only chance.

Adrenaline sharpened his senses and tightened his focus. Grian reached inside himself, and felt something stronger than adrenaline rush through him, creating a beautiful buzz that he hadn’t felt in so long. He spent a moment basking in it, then focused the magic. It was muscle memory, no matter how old, and it felt like meeting an old friend. He didn’t feel any memories surface like he expected them to, instead all he could think about was surviving and getting out, for his friends, for the two new boys, for this young girl, for Tommy. 

A spell, old and familiar but in an alien way, conjured in Grian’s hands. It felt like home, like an escape. This was the same spell he had conjured before he escaped to Hermitcraft. 

The portal lit with a beautiful, red-ish purple colour, a mix between Grian’s own magic and the magic gifted to him by the Watchers, and he picked up the girl and got ready to jump through as quickly as he could.

“Hey! How the-” XD shouted, but it was cut off as Grian fell through the portal with the girl in his arms, ready to land in the server hub, or Hermitcraft, or wherever, just somewhere away from the desolate end-like abyss that Watchers existed in.

 

---

 

Scar ran with Doc to the server hub spawn, leaving Xisuma to continue trying to contact Grian and Mumbo at the Dream SMP portal. They bolted down the Northern corridor, slowly coming out of the hallway of troubled servers, and finding the bright and noisy assault on the senses that was the hub centre. 

“I see them!” Doc called as they entered the plaza. Scar scanned the hundreds of players for his friends, and followed Doc’s gaze to where Mumbo was standing with Tommy and two other boys, looking all equally shell shocked. They were glancing around desperately, looking for someone, even after Mumbo noticed Scar.

Grian was missing.

Pushing away the dread that started to swell, Scar focused on making sure that Mumbo and Tommy were alright, pulling his friend into a quick hug once he reached him. Tommy greeted him as well, but it seemed as if the dread had already started to pool in everyone else: Grian wasn’t here. 

“Who are the two others?” Doc asked, glancing at the two boys, both of them looking incredibly overwhelmed in the server hub.

Mumbo shook his head, “We need to get these three back to Hermitcraft and out of the hub as quickly as possible. In fact, we all need to get back to Hermitcraft, where it’s safe.” 

Scar shared a concerned look with Doc, but Tommy was nodding vehemently.

“We pissed off a God.” Tommy blurted.

Doc furrowed his brow, but seemed to decide that questions would come later, and to follow what Mumbo had suggested. 

“I’ll stay behind.” Scar suggested, “Mumbo, you and Doc should take these guys back to Hermitcraft. I’ll contact Xisuma and tell him that most of us are back.” 

Mumbo pressed his lips together, “I don’t know why he didn’t come with us. He said he’d go last and make sure that everyone got through the portal, but no one made sure that he got through.” 

“Grian will find a way.” Scar said firmly, as if he was manifesting Grian’s survival into existence, “He’s as stubborn as a stain. If he wants to get out, he will.” 

Mumbo glanced back at the three boys, “I hope Drista will help him. I hope she’s okay, actually.” 

“Drista’s cool.” Tommy added, “But can we go back now?”

Doc nodded, “Yeah, let’s go, the Hermitcraft portal is just down the Southern corridor, it’s number twenty three.” 

Scar watched as they rushed off, Mumbo staying for a short moment.

“Please, please find him? I don’t think I’d be able to ever live knowing that I could have helped him.” Mumbo begged, voice quiet but filled with desperation. There was a tinge of grief buried in there as well, something that made Scar terrified.

Scar hadn’t lived on a multiplayer server before Hermitcraft. He lived on his own, building beautiful things. He enjoyed it, those few years living in his own world were some of the most peaceful years of his life. Despite how much he loved it, Scar needed to talk to someone. He needed neighbours, friends. He hadn’t had a friend, not properly, until he found his way onto Hermitcraft. 

Although Grian was by no means his first friend - he wasn’t even there when Scar joined Hermitcraft - he had been one of the only people he could truly be open with, mostly due to the fact that Grian was also very open with him. There was a layer of trust so deep that now it was being threatened, the crippling loneliness from his years of isolation was resurfacing, a kind of cruel deja vu. 

“I will do anything to bring him back.” Scar said firmly, staring at Mumbo’s hurt expression. For a short moment, nothing happened, it was just the two friends locked in a moment of pure emotion, but the world passed around them with bustling players and market stalls.

Mumbo dipped his head slightly, “Thank you.” He took a short step forward and wrapped Scar in a tight embrace, “Now, I need to be there for these three.” He caught up with Doc and the three Dream SMP boys. 

Scar was left alone in the server hub, not sure whether he should be waiting or searching. He wandered with what might have looked like purposelessness, but it was actually confusion. After a quick scan of the hub, Scar brought out his communicator and messaged Xisuma to inform him of the arrival of Mumbo and the boys, and to ask him to keep an eye out for Grian. 

For now, he would just keep pacing the spawn, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in his gut, the paranoia that he might never see his friend again. 

 

Grian opened his eyes from where they had been screwed tightly shut, holding the young ex-Goddess in his arms, and was met with the ocean. He glanced around, feeling a wave of near nauseous relief, it was that intense, when he recognised the familiar skyline of the Hermitcraft shopping district. This was home. He had made it. 

With a long, shaky sigh, Grian dropped to his knees, laying the girl to rest on the sand of the spawn island. Silver blood had dried on her face, leaving little metallic trails, and that blasted mask had slipped off of her face, no longer held there by the strong magic. Grian wondered if she had any Watcher magic left, or if XD had removed all of it. 

A tear landed on the sand, he was crying. Grian didn’t even know why, there were too many emotions for him to even pick one to blame for the tears. Relief, pain, regret, guilt, hope - old, long lost emotions, ones dredged up with his magic. He hoped Tommy and his friends were okay, and he really hoped he hadn’t worried the other Hermits too badly with his crazy, martyr-like impulsive decisions. 

Finally, finally, he was safe. The last few hours had been some of the craziest of late, but Grian had survived, and he’d saved everyone in the meanwhile. He let that sink in, let his mind process the fact that he hadn’t been selfish, that he wasn’t a chaotic, egotistical idiot. For a good minute, he just basked in the peace, laying down on the spawn island, wings spread out on the warm ground. 

From his pocket, Grian felt his communticator buzz, and then he realised he needed to message his friends to inform them of his survival. With an almighty effort, Grian sat up and retrieved his communicator, shooting a quick message to the Hermits, telling them that he was on the spawn island with Drista. 

After about five minutes, all of which Grian spent laying on the ground staring at the sky, Mumbo appeared, gliding in from the shopping district. He dived, circling the island once and landing clumsily. 

“Grian!” He ran over, and Grian made an effort to sit up, grinning like a fool.

Mumbo tackled Grian in a sudden hug, “Oh my gosh.” His breath hitched, and he held Grian tighter, “We thought- I thought you were gone. ”

Returning the embrace, Grian buried himself in the familiarity of his closest friend, “Who would prank you to the brink of insanity?” He huffed an empty laugh, then sighed the rest of his breath out, “I’m sorry.”

Grian felt Mumbo’s frame tremor with the tell-tale hitch of a sob, the raw emotions from his friend stirring up a tsunami of Grian’s own. The water works started on both ends.

“I just want everyone to be happy.” Grian whispered after a while, “But it’s so hard. ” His voice broke, and an ugly sob cut him off.

Mumbo gently pulled them apart, meeting Grian with tired and puffy eyes, “We’ll get there. Tommy will get better, you proved to everyone all those years ago that people can get better.” He reached a kind hand out and wiped a few stray tears from Grian’s cheeks, “You’re here. That’s all that matters right now.”

They clasped together into another embrace, but this time Grian pulled Mumbo in and wrapped him in his wings. It was like Grian couldn’t help hurting his friends, even in the best case scenarios. He was always destined to end up causing suffering to the ones he loved. 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

Both of them turned to see Drista, propped up on her elbows and looking worse for wear, but still full of the usual snarkiness. 

She rolled her eyes as both Hermits fumbled with their words, “Should I just go back to being half-dead?”

Grian let a startled laugh, “No- I mean, you can- Just, look, let’s wait until Xisuma and-”

“The less hopeless guys? The more intelligent guys? With more than two braincells?” She struggled to a sitting position.

“Basically.” Mumbo affirmed, then huffed out a laugh, meeting Grian with a tired smile and crinkled eyes full of hope.

There was a brief silence, emotions settling like sediment in a river, then Mumbo pointed out that there were two boats coming over from the shopping district - Doc and the SMP boys, apparently. 

“Thanks for not leaving me to eternal torture back there, Grian, by the way.” Drista muttered, the sincerity of her message buried under a joking tone, but there nonetheless, “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m glad I’m wherever the heck this is. Not there.”

Grian smiled, “This is Hermitcraft, we’re a bunch of friends that play together. It’s a very safe server.” He met her eyes, they were a painfully familiar lilac colour, one that Grian had learned to associate with fear. He’d never seen a Watcher’s face beneath the mask, or an ex-Watcher, he supposed. She just looked like a normal player, mostly.

“I got you out using some old magic. It’s nothing to worry about.” He said dismissively, watching as the two boats grew larger on the ocean as they approached. He could make out Tommy’s white wings, and his heart lurched with worry and avian instincts. 

“Hey Grian, man! You scared the crap out of us!” Doc moored up on the spawn island, the taller of the SMP boys in the back of his boat, looking nothing short of petrified. Tommy and his other friend were in another boat a couple of metres behind.

Wading through the shallows, Tommy ran up to Grian, “Holy shit! I thought you fuckin’ died or some shit- You brought Drista back as well!” 

Grian was tackled into a hug for the second time that day, this time far more violently. He held the boy tightly, as if something could take him away, could hurt him, at any moment. Slowly, he wrapped his wings around Tommy, shielding him with a feathery blanket, instincts finally settled. He could keep his fledgling safe now. 

“Let them do their bird stuff.” Mumbo sighed, “Grian gets all funny when he can’t protect people.” 

“I heard that.” Grian remarked, though he was too happy right now to feel offended. 

He pulled Tommy a little closer, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He whispered.

“Me too.” Tommy replied, “I’d be so pissed if you went and died.”

Chapter 16

Notes:

Guess who's back on their bullshit!! Me, it's me. Hi.
This is just a short announcement chapter with the rest of chap. 15 - I'll pop both halves into one chapter once the people find this. I'm only re-starting this work right now, but I might post a few oneshots as well. I love you guys too much to leave you for more than a few months lmao. Also I'm super sorry if I didn't reply to your comments - I have 125 unread comments in my inbox 0-0
Enjoy :DD

This is just here so I don't delete you guys' comments lmao, I felt bad

Notes:

Drista is such a girlboss. I don't even know what that word means, it just sounds like it should suit her. She is both a girl and the boss.
Please comment which of the SMP kids you would like to see a chapter about next - I'm writing a bit about all four of them and how they're settling into Hermitcraft, so I'd like to know who you'd like to see next :DD
Love y'all, see ya soon!!
<33

Chapter 17: New Beginning Again

Notes:

Hello people! This one took a little while longer than I intended, but I've been all over the place, so it's a miracle I even managed to write anything.
Hope you enjoy - there's three POVs in this one, but I think it works alright.

Xisuma watched the young boy out of the corner of his eye. The Hermits had a quick emergency meeting to decide who would be keeping an eye on each of the kids, and somehow Xisuma had ended up volunteering himself for babysitting. 

Obviously Grian was looking after Tommy with the help of Mumbo and Scar, but they couldn’t just leave all four children to Grian, as much as the avian insisted he could manage it. 

False agreed to look after the youngest of the four, Drista, with help from Zedaph, Impulse and Tango, as all three lived nearby. As for the young goat hybrid boy, Doc had taken a liking to him, as both of them shared an interest in destructive redstone machines. Apparently Doc was going to be teaching Tubbo in dangerous redstone, which didn’t sound like looking after - not to Xisuma at least - but who knew with Doc.

That left the enderman hybrid. He had hardly spoken for the whole time he’d been on the server, and hadn’t moved far from Tubbo’s side, but now he was sat with his knees hugged into his chest on the back of Xisuma’s boat. 

“You’re Ranboo, right? I’m Xisumavoid.” He was met with stubborn silence. Keralis’ base came into view, which was where they’d have to get off of the boat. It was incredibly impressive from the tiny boat, skyscrapers reaching into the sky and building sites frozen in time, a tribute to the complicated and beautiful cities of mainstream servers. 

He moored on the small untouched stretch of beach between Keralis and Vintage Beef’s bases, waiting for Ranboo to step out. There was a brief moment where Xisuma worried he’d have to drag the poor kid out, but then a slim, black dress shoe landed on the sand. The trousers were faded at the bottom, slightly torn in places, and the suit jacket was crumpled and ill-fitting over a creased shirt. He looked like a mess. Xisuma felt his heart twinge with something that might have been sympathy. 

He led the boy through the docks and onto the road, smiling as Ranboo looked around in awe. At least he wasn’t completely out of it. 

“Where are we?” He murmured, as if he was somehow afraid of his own voice. 

Latching onto the question, Xisuma explained the premise behind Hermitcraft, how everyone was here for a reason, and how it was possibly the safest place to be right now. 

Ranboo nodded along, showing he was listening, then tentatively asked, “Could I please have a book and quill?” He wrung his hands together, a nervous habit.

Perplexed, Xisuma nodded, “Of course, why not.”

“Thank you.” A bit of tension seemed to slip from the boy.

They passed into the desert, the jungle just in view, and Xisuma started explaining his base to the kid.

“I’ve got lots of towers, they’re meant to be accessed with elytra.” He pointed to the gliding kit on his back, “But there’s paths through the jungle that I made just in case someone who didn’t have elytra wanted to visit me, or if I died and lost my wings maybe.” 

“Okay.” Ranboo murmured, following him closely, “Um, can I ask you a question?”

Xisuma led them into the thicket of the jungle, “Sure, go ahead.” He knew these paths would come in useful someday.

“Will I see my friends again?” He asked, genuine fear making his voice tremble ever so slightly.

“Of course, you can see them anytime you like.” Xisuma replied, trying his very best to stay calm, “We just want you guys to be safe, you can go anywhere you like on the server. I thought it would be best if you got settled a little.” It hurt to think about - that this kid assumed he would be taken completely from his friends and never be able to see them again. He didn’t want to dwell on it. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s- That helps. Thank you.” He stumbled over his words. 

They travelled in silence for a short while, until Ranboo spoke again, “Are you a, uh, strider hybrid? I’ve never actually seen- yeah.” 

“I’m a shapeshifter.” Xisuma corrected, “But yes, right now, I am a strider hybrid.” He watched as the kid seemed totally amazed, his thin little tail swaying with awe. 

A small smile came to rest on his face, he had a feeling that he was going to do a Grian move in this situation. That is, suddenly develop emotions and attachment to some strange, feral little child. Ranboo wasn’t exactly feral in the way that Tommy was, though. He was more like a nervous animal that had to slowly build up trust in Xisuma before he could consider trying to comfort him. 

“A shapeshifter… wow. I don’t think I’ve ever met a- Well, now I have, but. Yeah.” He looked down at him, his Enderman heritage giving him a good few inches on Xisuma, “I couldn’t tell. Through the, y’know.” He tugged on his mask. 

Xisuma tapped on his own mask, “That’s what it’s for.” 

“Me too.” Ranboo murmured, the meaning buried deep in the words, but the understanding ran between both of them. A hybrid like Ranboo was a one of a kind, a strange mix of different mobs with player code, so Xisuma couldn’t imagine that the world had been kind to him. Especially not the Dream SMP. 

“Come on, I’ll take you to the storage tower, you can have a meal and I’ll find somewhere for you to sleep.” 

 

After giving Ranboo a bowl of warming mushroom soup and a small cupcake (courtesy of Keralis), Xisuma showed the boy to Etho’s base. He decided that the charming collection of oddly decorated rooms would be slightly more welcoming than his perfectly white, concrete towers. Etho had agreed to let Xisuma spend a while in his place as well, and had made a couple of rooms ready for them. 

Xisuma got a spot in the room decorated with beehives, maybe a tribute to his time spent as a bee - he’d only recently shifted to a strider. Ranboo got a darker, cosier room with all the pillows and blankets he could ask for, not that Xisuma thought he would ask. Despite barely knowing the boy, Xisuma suspected he was the kind to do something like sleep on the cold, hard floor out of not wanting to bother anyone by asking. 

Etho also brought him a book and quill, one with a beautifully engraved leather cover, when Xisuma mentioned that Ranboo had asked for a book. In response, Ranboo had spent a good minute gently admiring the cover, running his hands over the leather and thanking Etho. 

He started writing, and they both left him alone. This was going to be a long few weeks, Xisuma knew.

 

---

 

Tubbo stared at the wooden ceiling. The weird zombie hybrid had taken him to this mansion, except it had been split perfectly in half, like one would slice a cake in half. He didn’t even bother trying to comprehend it, he just wanted to get some decent sleep and have a meal, then he would theorise on how to leave this place. The zombie guy left him alone in a small bedroom, telling him that he wouldn’t lock the door, but wanted Tubbo to stay in the room because the outside could be dangerous. That was stupid, and Tubbo told him so, and the man laughed. 

He tried his best to appear calm and in control, despite the fact that really, Tubbo was overwhelmed and full of strange emotions, misplaced grief for Tommy’s death and fear leftover from the dramatic exit they made from the Dream SMP. The voice of XD, the god that had put them all through so much pain and torture, was piercing and haunted Tubbo’s thoughts when he closed his eyes. 

However much Tommy and these other people believe they were safe from all harm on this apparently perfect server, Tubbo didn’t quite buy it. These Gods didn’t seem to him like the kind of beings to just forget about things the moment they came up against some sort of barrier. 

Whatever protection they had on this server, Tubbo sure hoped it was enough to keep out XD, or their kind, for long enough for him and Tommy to find a way out.

That was what they were going to do - find a way out of this weird, suspiciously happy, too good to be true server and make their own world, somewhere safe and theirs. Tubbo would bring Ranboo, no matter how much Tommy didn’t like him, Ranboo had been his rock for the while that Tommy had been dead. Without Ranboo, Tubbo would have drifted away. 

It took a lot for him to get rid of his paranoid thoughts, but eventually exhaustion won out, and Tubbo drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

 

The next time he woke up, it was to the zombie guy coming into the room, a bowl of something hot in his hands, along with a few slices of bread and a flask. 

“I brought stew, bread and some water for you.” He explained, leaving the meal by the side of the bed, “Thought you might be hungry.” 

It was then that Tubbo, after a little bit of scrutinising the man, noticed the robotic eye and arm. He gave it a good stare, trying to work out how the arm might work. Was it connected to the guy’s nervous system? Did zombies have nerves? Where did it get energy from - maybe he had to take it off and fix it up to a redstone generator to charge it? What about the eye? Did it work, or was it just for aesthetics?

“You’re staring.” The guy chuckled, “It’s fully functioning.” He said, reading Tubbo’s mind and closing his good eye to prove the point. 

He grinned at Tubbo awestruck expression. How did one even consider making a redstone eye prosthetic? 

“I made it on an old server, after an accident. It’s where my love of complicated redstone started.” He explained, “I can show you some of my other creations later, if you like.”

Despite the promise of cool machines, Tubbo was still wary. He nodded, picking up the flask and sniffing inside it - only water - then taking a few greedy gulps. It was cold and crisp, just what he needed. The stew and the bread was good, he could taste the quality of the bread, it was far from Tommy’s flat, dense and overall horrible effort at making bread. The SMP wasn’t a place for growing crops. 

It only took five or so minutes for him to inhale the stew, wiping the bowl clean with a crust of bread, savouring every last drop and crumb. The zombie guy hadn’t returned, so Tubbo decided he would do some exploring. 

Turns out, he was in a room in the mansion’s basement, but after a bit of climbing, he found the ground floor. All of the rooms were open where it had been split in half, and for some reason there was a pool in between them. He wandered around, leaving the mansion behind when he spotted a building in the distance surrounded by fields of berry bushes. It was very beautiful, perched on a small hill overlooking the sea. 

Weaving his way through the thorny bushes, Tubbo made his way to the pretty building, peering through the windows at the strange architecture. He didn’t notice the other person nearby.

“Oh, hey there.” A man said. Tubbo spun around, met with the sight of a fairly non-threatening man, dressed simply with a few pieces of iron armour that looked less than well cared for. 

He stumbled back, though, startled, “Holy crap!” 

“Sorry for scarin’ you, I didn’t know you’d be over this way.” The guy rambles on, his accent somehow friendly, just like his slightly ragtag appearance, “I’m Joe Hills, and you?” He held out his hand.

“Tubbo.” He replied, shaking Joe’s hand.

Joe smiled, “Howdy, Tubbo, and welcome to Hermitcraft! I take it Doc knows you’re here?”

“Nope.” Tubbo replied, grinning, guessing Doc was the zombie guy, “I got bored and went on a walk.”

“Fair enough, did he start boring you with redstone jargon talk? ‘Cause I know I’ve got no clue what he’s talking about when he tries to explain something, but I know that’s how most people feel.” He lead Tubbo down the path, in the direction of the sea, “You’re not one of those redstone folk who like tinkering, are you?”

Tubbo hummed, “I like making weapons. I made a massive bomb on my old server.”

“Okay!” Joe laughed, “I won’t be messin’ with you in any prank wars, then, you bet. Or anyone on your team. Though I think I might still accidentally do something, I’m pretty good at that.”

“Prank war?” Tubbo echoed, a slight fear creeping up at the mention of a war.

Joe sat down at the bottom of the path, seeming at home with the berry bushes, “Yeah, prank wars are usually started by someone, probably Grian, messing with someone and playing a little joke on them. That other person gets them back, they get the other person back, and it goes on until people are playing elaborate pranks on the other team.”

He sighed out a deep breath, joining Joe on the steps of the path, “This server is really strange, you know?” He pushed some dirt and gravel around on the floor.

“What was your old server like?” Joe asked, voice a slight bit softer, kinder, than before. 

“Cold. Tired. Hungry. Hateful.” He murmured, “It was a lot more complicated than this place. Talking to people was risking your life, more often than not.” 

Joe furrowed his brow, “Why do you think that was?”

“People are dickheads?”

“Not exactly.” Joe huffed a half-laugh, “What do you think separates this server and your old server?”

“There’s a lot…” 

“But what’s the main, root cause that everything can be traced back to?”

Tubbo thought. He thought about Tommy, Wilbur, even Techno. They all had reasons to fight, to be angry. But who’s fault was it?

Green hoodie, a white mask, permanent cocky smirk. It was all Dream. And Dream was a disciple of XD which meant-

“Holy shit! It’s all because of that damn Watcher!” He shouted, catching Joe off guard, “They’re the one that started this off, that cornered everyone into making such bad decisions.”

Joe nodded, “Everyone is guilty, but only one is to blame. It’s all just a part of the Watchers’ game.” He smiled, the rhyming couplet coming out of nowhere, but somehow feeling completely natural at the same time.

“Y’all are safe here.” Joe affirmed, “We’ll make sure of it.”

Somehow, Tubbo had an inkling of trust in the words. 

“Now, go find Doc. He’s probably worried out of his mind, I bet.” He stood up, “And if you ever need someone to talk to, somewhere quiet to sit or simply somewhere to hide from Doc’s redstone rambles, my doors are open.”

Tubbo stood up as well, dusting off his thick Snowchester uniform - it wasn’t too hot right now, but Tubbo knew he’d need some new, more appropriate clothes sooner rather than later - and waving goodbye to Joe as he made his way back to the split mansion. 

 

Turns out, Joe Hills was right. Doc - the zombie hybrid - liked to ramble. However, it wasn’t like he described, no, it was cool. Doc told him about traps and crazy defence systems, mob farms beyond his comprehension, mining machines and a theory for wireless redstone. It was literally the coolest thing Tubbo had ever heard, all the ideas were so… different. 

Then Tubbo started telling Doc about his creations, and the things on the SMP. Sleepless nights, no regards to safety, threats of conflict and betrayal. Famines made it hard to work, paranoia made it hard to do anything. 

He didn’t seem exactly happy with everything, but he sure was impressed by Tubbo’s endurance through difficult situations. 

Tomorrow, they were going to go to the shopping district to meet with Ranboo and the two guys that he was staying with - Xisuma and Etho - which Tubbo couldn’t wait for. He hadn’t seen any of his friends for a day or so, and even though that wasn’t long, he still missed Ranboo, and he didn’t know Tommy was even alive until a few days ago, so of course he wanted to see Tommy. 

 

---

 

Grian took Tommy back to his base, and they went and sat in the hobbit hole, not wanting to confront Tommy’s house and the secret bunker or the deafening emptiness of the mansion. As per Tommy’s request, they had a mug of hot chocolate and sat together on the sofa.

Tommy, sat a safe foot away from Grian, sipped his hot chocolate and said, “What do you think is going to happen now?” 

The quick meeting they all had decided where the SMP kids would go, but the future beyond a few days was a mystery. 

“Well, give your friends a few days to settle in, then we’ll probably meet up in the shopping district or something.” He smiled at Tommy, “Maybe you guys could build a mega-base to live in together.”

In response, Tommy scoffed, “I am not living in the same house as Ranboob. Or Drista. Tubbo’s alright sometimes.”

“You say that.” Grian chuckled, “I know you love those guys.” 

Tommy stared into his hot chocolate, “It’s just complicated sometimes. Shit’s like that.” He paused, considering whether or not to continue, “Tubbo… exiled me. I was in exile for months. Dream guarded me.”

Grian felt sick, but kept his thoughts to himself. This was something Tommy hadn’t told him about before, and he didn’t want to ruin any of the fragile trust he had in him. It could shatter with one wrong move, so Grian kept quiet.

“Dream kinda hates people… people like us.” He shuffled his wings behind him to punctuate the point, “He didn’t take too kindly to me flying. Obviously, I was in exile, he didn’t want me to escape.” Tommy took a long, shaky breath, “He bound them. All day, all night. For weeks at a time.” 

Grian felt rage resurface, the cold green eyes of the prisoner from the SMP fading into his mind’s eye. Taking a deep breath, he tried to stay calm, channelling his rage into protectiveness. 

“I think it fucked all my muscles. That’s why I can’t fly.” He tried to extend his wings, but flinched, “I can’t move them. It’s fucking stupid. I just stopped trying.” That oh so familiar frustration appeared, and Tommy bunched up his fists, hands shaking. 

Grian knew exactly what this was - Tommy’s flight muscles had gone so long unused, so long tied up in bindings, that the muscles had been metabolised by his starving body, and now hold little more than a shadow of the strength a normal, flying avian would have. Muscular atrophy could be fixed, though whether Tommy would ever fly again was a question Grian couldn’t answer.

“Dream almost cut them off. He hated them. I hated them.” Tommy rasped, through gritted teeth and tears, “I just want to fly, like you.”

Grian stared at his fledgling, eyes brimming with tears, “You will, I promise.” He reached a gentle hand out, cupping Tommy’s face. At first, he flinched, but then he leaned ever so slightly into the contact, a trill so quiet Grian almost missed it slipping out at the touch.

“I’ll protect you, and I’ll help you no matter what.” Grian muttered, abandoning his hot chocolate and shuffling a little closer to Tommy.

A sob wracked through the boy, and he curled into Grian’s chest. Pulling him into a hug, Grian wrapped his wings around Tommy.

“You will fly.” He murmured, “You will fly, I promise, I will go to hell and back if it means you will fly.”

Notes:

We will get Drista next chapter, please don't attack me. They will also meet up.
This is a little off topic, but can you imagine Doc, Tubbo and Etho on a team in a prank war? They'd be an unstoppable force of chaos.
Love you lot!! See ya soon <333

Chapter 18: Catalyst (For Love)

Notes:

Tea man is back at it again! This chapter has everything you could ever ask for: Drista content, Tommy and Tubbo argueing and BeeDuo being dorks. Hope you enjoy!
Just to clear some things up:
1) Michael does not exist. He simply isn't in this AU. Please no kill the author. It is just because I hate children, though if the people can convince me I may bring him back as a plush toy.
2) They will get showered and given clean clothes I PROMISE I am just looking for a way to make it not forced or awkward
Love y'all!!! Enjoy!!!

Drista glanced down, registering the long drop down if she somehow fell. She had wings though, so even if she slipped she could float down and break her fall. Why was she on the outside wall of False’s base? Simply, she was bored. Being a player was boring.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone on this weird server yet, but she couldn’t get her brother out of her head. Everything that she did with these people, she heard the voice of XD, mocking her, telling her that she was truly living up to his expectations. She was a useless god. She wasn’t even a god anymore.

Though all of her Watcher magic hadn’t left her, it was only a fraction of the power she had. She couldn’t even go into spectator anymore - that was the main part of being a Watcher as it meant you could actually watch people.

Still, she found ways to spy on people. In some ways, it made it more fun that now she had the risk of someone discovering her. Maybe it was creepy to watch the players here, but it was in her nature to live vicariously through the joy of other people - she was a Watcher by blood, but not truly. She didn’t let her own emotions fade to only replace them with the suffering of players. 

The Watchers were a strange, complicated race. Being a Watcher was lonely, as is being any kind of God. They were faded, desperate, apathetic and eventually, cruel. Drista didn’t really understand - she never thought she would - but she could begin to imagine where the unrelenting hate that festered in the being she once knew as her older brother might have come from. 

She came up to a ledge, twisting so she could sit on it and swing her legs over the edge and look out over the Northern Hermit sea, the pyramid of Impulse’s base looming in the distance, Toon Towers leaning in their usual wacky manner. It had only been a few days since she arrived in this server; she had gone with False once to the main town area, but other than that she hadn’t done much. 

Overall, she just felt empty. There was a void where her volatile Watcher powers had been, the fear of her brother and the adrenaline of messing about without him knowing. She didn’t know if she could adjust to retiring to a life of meaningless builds, shops and friendly conversations. 

There was a red figure flying up to False’s base, they had elytra so it couldn’t be Grian. As they came into view, Drista recognised the striking blonde hair as Tango, owner of Toon Towers. He landed less than gracefully on the ledge, greeting her enthusiastically. 

“Hi.” Drista replied, with a fraction of the vigour. 

Tango shuffled so that he too was sat with his legs handing over the edge. His clothes look a little tatty, a few scorch marks and the trademark crimson stain of redstone adorning their surface. It seemed like he was constantly playing with redstone, gunpowder and both at the same time. His hands were a dull red.

“What’s up?” He asked, vibrant red eyes searching for something he could fix. These people were kind to a fault. 

Drista huffed, “I’m bored.”

“Aha! I thought you might say that.” He smiled, “Now, I was having a little chat with Impulse and Xisuma, and I told them it might be a cool idea if you came and helped me with Decked Out! We didn’t think it would be a great idea for you to play it, since you’re still healing up, but you can totally help me!”

Oh, yeah, Drista was injured. She had forgotten completely, but now it had come to her attention, her body was aching considerably, despite that Scar guy’s magic crystal bullshit. She didn’t think it worked at first, but as she had climbed up False’s obelisk without even being reminded of the wound in her side, something must’ve worked.

“What’s ‘Decked out’?” She asked, immediately regretting it when she realised it was probably some complicated redstone thing, and now Tango was going to confuse her for half an hour. 

Grinning, Tango said, “I think I’ll just show you.”

 

---

 

This was the second time they’d brought the two boys to the shopping district together, and Grian still couldn’t relax. Tommy seemed so much happier with his friend, Tubbo, but Grian was still anxious. He knew how quickly things could go from zero to ten with Tommy, how quickly his mood switched. 

Still, he was so much better than before. Grian remembered those first few days, Tommy being too afraid to even tell them his name, his wings always held tightly into his body. Now, he smiled more. He trusted Grian, and Grian trusted him. He had a house, and was growing crops now as well. As for his wings, Grian had been doing stretching exercises with him, and as much as Tommy insisted they were ‘dumb and wanky’, Grian could tell that he was improving his mobility in his wings, if only by a tiny bit. 

“Hey, when do we get to see Ranboo?” Tubbo asked, “It’s been a few days…” He trailed off, looking to Tommy.

“I don’t want to see him. You can go visit him on your own.” Tommy told Tubbo, rummaging through one of the chests in the barge, “I’ll meet with Drista, though.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “You’ll go and see the God we barely know but not our friend? Ranboo’s been nothing but nice to you.”

Grian looked at Doc for some kind of help, but the other Hermit looked just as clueless, possibly even more than him. Sighing, Grian knew he’d just have to deal with this himself.

“Drista’s been doing well, from what False and Tango have been saying, but Ranboo’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.” Grian explained, stopping the boys from bickering, “I think it would be good if you went and talked to him, I’ll send Xisuma a message and see if we can sort that out.”

Tubbo scowled at Tommy, “See? Ranboo’s probably scared shitless and you’re being a little bitch. All because when you died I didn’t just, y’know, fucking wait for you to come back?” Tubbo’s anger started to dissolve into deep grief, “You died. You died, and I was left alone. I had to move on, and that meant living with Ranboo, because half the time he was the only thing that made me consider getting out of bed in the morning!”

There was a painful silence. Tommy stared down at the floor, expression tense, frozen in shock.

“It was always just us two. Us against the world.” Tommy spoke in the tiniest voice possible, one that contradicted his brash and loud front. 

With a shake of his head, Tubbo huffed, “It’s not that simple anymore, though. I’ve hurt you, you’ve hurt me.” He pressed his lips together in an effort to keep his composure, “It’s just- Whenever I’ve hurt you, like exile for example, I know I hurt you. It weighs on me, every time I see your wings or the scars but- but when you hurt me, it’s like- You just don’t see it. All you see is what happens in your little bubble.” The pitiful attempts at keeping his composure crumbled, and tears started to track down Tubbo’s cheek. 

Grian knew things were bad, but good lord. This was going to take more than just a little chat over some hot chocolate to sort out. He wanted to help, to bundle both boys up in hugs and blankets, but he knew that he had to let them sort things out amongst themselves. This was no place for Grian to intervene.

“Ranboo- Ranboo’s just so nice. It’s so fucking dumb, but he’s literally like a ray of sun on that wretched server.” Tubbo slowly stepped close to Tommy, gently holding his hands, waiting for a tiny moment for Tommy to lean into the contact, a silent consent, “But I missed you. I missed you so fucking much, Tommy. All of you, all of your stupid jokes and ridiculousness, even your stubbornness and your massive ego.”

Tommy sobbed once, quiet and broken. Both boys looked each other in the eyes.

“Sorry, Tubs.” 

“It’s okay.”

Grian looked at Doc, gently smiling as the two boys hugged once more, as if to say ‘I told you we’d be alright’. In all honesty, Grian was fumbling his way through this whole ‘healing’ thing, but he seemed to be fumbling in the right direction, at least. 

A few minutes later, they started walking out of the barge and into the Eastern side of the shopping island, and up the steps into the concrete store. 

“So, do you two want me to arrange some meetings?” Grian asked, pulling out his communicator.

Tommy nodded, “Yeah, it would be cool if we could meet up with Drista, and I guess I don’t mind meeting with Ranboob.” He grumbled for the last bit, but Grian knew he meant well. 

“You, me and Drista should all hang out.” Tubbo suggested, “And maybe we meet Ranboo on our own if he’s freaked out. I’d be happy to chat with him later today.” He seemed antsy to see Ranboo - Grian guessed he was worried for his friend. 

“I’ll message Xisuma.” He assured them, continuing to wander the extensive concrete store. 

 

---

 

Ranboo hadn’t left the room. He didn’t want to. It was safe in here, probably. Safer. 

He had a book - it was very pretty, he really wished he could have thanked the bandana man more - and had scrawled anything he remembered in there. 

Xisuma - the shapeshifter - came in a few times to talk with him, but he hardly heard any of the words he was saying. Ranboo felt a little like he was drifting. Xisuma was really nice to him, to the point that Ranboo had decided that this was all some weird dream that he had gotten lost in. There weren’t people like that in real life - besides his friends, of course. 

Strangers didn’t treat you well unless they wanted something from you, and Ranboo was just waiting until the dream ended or Xisuma asked him for payback. 

Then Tubbo came into the room. He looked like he did every single day in Snowchester, that thick coat covered in scorches, redstone and dirt, his hair was slightly tangled, and he still had the same horns, ears, scars and eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a dream. 

“Hey, bossman. You doin’ alright?” Tubbo plonked himself down next to him, making himself comfortable with a pillow and some snuggly blankets.

Ranboo stared into a corner, “This is a dream, isn’t it? Please stop teasing me.”

“It’s real.” Tubbo assured, simply, smiling like he always did, “We’re all a bit worried about you.” 

“Who?” 

Tubbo leaned back in his newly acclaimed pillow-nest, “Me. Tommy. Drista even seemed mildly concerned. The other guys on this server seem to be losing all their hair over you, especially the Xisuma guy.” He smiled softly, “I think… this isn’t too bad a place. Tommy’s so much more chilled with his friend Grian, and I think he’s gonna be learning to fly again. His wings are still a state though.” Tubbo sighed sadly. Ranboo remembered how nice Tommy’s wings were before exile, and how ragged they were after. 

“I think he sees a little bit of Wilbur in Grian. He’s grieving the kind, caring older brother he never really had.” Tubbo thought out loud, and Ranboo agreed. He may not have met Wilbur, but his legacy spoke loud enough for him to feel like he might as well have done. 

“Can I braid your hair?” Tubbo asked out of nowhere.

Slowly, Ranboo nodded. It would be nice. He didn’t really know what else to say. He still felt far away.

Tubbo shuffled out of his seat and behind him, and after a moment or two Ranboo felt gentle hands begin to card through his hair. 

A shiver ran up his spine, the contact bringing him tantalisingly closer to real life. He hadn’t had touch in a good few days, so it tingled slightly.

He sighed softly, leaning back into the touch, hearing a loving laugh from Tubbo. There was careful pull where Tubbo started to braid his hair - it wasn’t really very long, but long enough for a little braid.

He was done fairly quickly, but instead of leaving, Tubbo slung his arms around Ranboo’s neck, giving him a slightly awkward, but lovely all the same, hug. He leaned back, giving into the contact, but managing to slide down so that he knocked them both over, and his head was in Tubbo’s lap.

“Dork.” Tubbo giggled, wriggling out from under Ranboo and flopping backwards on top of him. 

“Ow… My organs… Tubbo, please.” Ranboo wheezed, trying to escape but knowing that he would never win against Tubbo. He may have height on his side, but Tubbo had weirdly exaggerated strength on his side. 

Tubbo jabbed his elbow into Ranboo’s guts, “I have won. You must now come outside and socialise, or live in pain forever.” He rolled off, “Come on, Boo. Out of the depression pit.”

Slowly, the drifting feeling disappeared, chased away by the, albeit violent, show of affection. Ranboo knew this wasn’t a dream anymore. That didn’t make it any easier to process, but it did make it easier to exist. He could trust Tubbo, much more than he trusted his own thoughts. 

Ranboo groaned, making sure Tubbo was aware of his distaste of the idea of leaving his comfy blanket pile. Also, the elbow in the guts hurt. 

“I’m getting up.” Ranboo murmured, not moving an inch.

Tubbo sprung up from where he was crushing Ranboo, causing him to make an unattractive wheezing sound where he was used as a springboard.

“Come on! Xisuma might finally get some sleep if he knows you’re starting to settle in.” Tubbo held out a hand, and Ranboo grabbed onto it. 

He was promptly yanked up to verticality, a rush of dizziness coming and going in a second of swaying, and once he blinked the vertigo away, Tubbo was dragging him to the door. 

Somehow, he had missed this. 

Somehow, he loved this crazy, unpredictable and slightly violent whirlwind of a person. Why did he pick the strangest people for friends?

Whatever, he loved both Tubbo and Tommy, despite their weirdness, and he was going to try as hard as he could to make both of them happy.

Notes:

Hope that was all cool. I am very happy with Tubbo and Ranboo at the end. They are so silly and I love them. Not totally happy with the arguement though, it seemed a bit fast??? idk I couldn't really find a way to fix it.
I love you lot, and I appreciate all the comments and read them all even if I didn't reply. I will be trying to reply to all comments from now on - I've finally cleared out my inbox.
Love you, byee <33

Chapter 19: Settling

Notes:

Hello people! I am sorry for the wait, and the future wait - I have final exams in a month, and they last until the end of June, so there probably won't be regular - or any - updates until the summer. Have this joy of a chapter instead :DD

Discaimer - The characters portrayed in this work, especially referring to Taurtis in this chapter, are characters within this Alternate Universe. They are not an accurate portrayal of the content creators they are based off of, and there is no intent to portray Taurtis is a bad light. It is simply for the story's sake, and all the characters are meant to have major flaws.

CW: Mention of Suicide, Mentions of Manipulation

Grian slowly glided over the jungle, circling in the thermals, letting the heat gently lift him up. He had been on his way to see Tommy, who had been planning a treehouse village near Mumbo's base with Drista, when he got distracted by the ideal flying conditions. 

The other two were hanging about in Keralis’ base, apparently, as Tubbo had managed to get Ranboo to finally leave his room, and now he was talking with Xisuma and Keralis. The Hermits seemed very relieved to know that Ranboo was okay, and hopefully Xisuma would start taking care of himself properly now that things were starting to calm down a bit. 

Finally, after far too much messing about in the sky, Grian landed by the pile of resources that Tommy and Drista had obviously collected for the treehouses they were planning to build. Both of them were fans of the height, and though it did nothing for the Hermits’ peace of mind, if they were happier in the canopy than safe on the ground, then so be it. 

He glanced around, looking for the two chaotic kids, soon finding Tommy halfway up a tree, trying to pass a shulker box of planks up to Drista.

“Oh, hey Grian!” Tommy greeted as soon as he noticed him, shuffling down the tree once he had made sure Drista had a hold on the planks.

He smiled, “Hey Tommy, you having fun?”

“No.” Tommy pouted, glaring up at Drista, “She’s being a little bitch.”

Grian looked up at Drista, who had dumped the box of wood on the support structures that Scar had helped them make, just to be sure that the treehouses didn’t completely crumble as soon as they started making them. 

“We are not building anything out of cobblestone.” Drista affirmed, “Stop being stupid.”

“Well, do you want to take a break? Stress is making cookies, they should be done soon, though Iskall was helping so I’d be wary as to how edible they might be.” Grian offered, ignoring the fact that Tommy wanted to build a treehouse out of cobblestone of all things. He was just like that sometimes, Grian had learnt, and you got used to Tommy’s… Tommy-ness after a while of being around him. 

“Cookies?” Drista called from up the tree, immediately dropping off and almost giving Grian a heart attack, until she opened her magnificent wings and gracefully floated down. Tommy was watching with a pinched expression, his own wings twitching, opening slightly thanks to the stretching Grian had gotten him to do.

Grian still flinched slightly at the shade of purple, he was getting used to having an ex-Watcher on the server, but it still freaked him out a little. Not to mention the nightmares - it had been ten times worse since the confrontation with XD, and though on the outside it seemed Grian was coping with it, that a front he was barely keeping together for Tommy and the others’ sakes. He should probably drop by Mumbo’s tonight, or someone he could burden with his issues.

“Let’s go get some cookies!” Tommy yelled, propelling himself out of the jealousy of flying, “I am going to eat all of the cookies, you will get none, Drista, you- you traitor. You’re a traitor to the- the- the greatness of cobble.” He rambled, talking so fast that he stumbled over his words a little, which was rather endearing in Grian’s opinion. He didn’t think he could get more attached to the avian, but here he was, doing exactly that. 

“Cobble is actually okay if you use it like, let’s say, Bdubs.” Grian reasoned, knowing that Bdubs could make even diorite look nice, “Have you met him yet? He’s a really nice guy and an incredible builder. He helped me and Scar with the town hall.”

“Scar’s mentioned him, yeah.” Tommy replied. They were following one of the new jungle paths that they had made collaboratively (read: Scar made most of them) so that Tommy could navigate the jungle without flying. 

Grian nodded, “Cool, maybe you could meet him when you go to visit Doc and Tubbo, he lives just next to Doc.”

They came up to Stress’ beautiful base, and once they were within a few metres of the flower skull, Grian noticed a distinctive smell of baking and the laughing of Iskall and Stress. 

“I smell cookies!” Tommy announced as he walked straight into Stress’ base, Drista following close behind. The laughter stopped for a second, then started again, stronger than before. Grian cracked a smile, their laughter was so incredibly contagious, despite the fact that he wasn’t having the best of days so far today. 

 

---

 

Xisuma smiled as they wandered through the docks of Keralis’ huge base, the imitation of a city built by one very dedicated man. Tubbo and Ranboo, the two SMP boys, were laughing and pointing out towering buildings and clever details, caught up in the beauty of it all. He was so glad that Ranboo had finally left the room at Etho’s base, he had been so worried about the boy, but Tubbo had assured him that Ranboo just needed a bit of encouragement and a nice walk outside. At the time, Xisuma didn’t quite believe the optimistic take on the situation, but Tubbo reassured him with a maturity beyond what any boy his age should know. 

Despite Tubbo appearing the least affected out of all the kids, Xisuma had a sneaking suspicion that he may be bottling up a lot of hurt and grief. The scars on his face and hands spoke for themselves - this kid had seen a world collapse, twist in on itself and crumble anyone stuck inside it. 

Joe had said he’d had a chat with the boy, had told him how Hermitcraft was a place of safety, but he mentioned how closed off Tubbo was, and how it might take a long time until he started to trust people fully. 

For now, though, he seemed happy with the endlessly kind Ranboo, making jokes and poking fun at his friend. 

“You feel at home with the skyscrapers, don’t you?” Tubbo shoved into Ranboo, giggling like a kid, “You’re one with the skyscrapers. Can you communicate with them, bossman? What are they saying?”

Ranboo pressed an exasperated hand to his face, “I’m not like- Ugh.” He laughed, “They say- They say ‘Tubbo sucks and is very short. Tiny boy.’”

Still giggling, Tubbo acted offended, “Tell them they have no meaning and will die alone without anyone to mourn them.” He responded, tone lighthearted. 

“That’s a bit harsh!” Keralis interjected, “I love my skyscrapers, don’t wish death on them.”

Things might be alright. They seemed to be heading in the right direction, at least. If Grian could get Tommy to trust him, then these boys would learn to trust as well. 

 

---

 

After cookies and shenanigans, Stress and Iskall decided that they should all go up to the Omega Tree and cause Grian to age several decades from the stress of watching his fledgling jump from branch to branch when they were 200 or so blocks from the ground. He wasn’t too worried about Drista, she had functioning wings, and the Hermits had elytra, and Grian didn’t fall off of things. 

Tommy, however, had atrophied flight muscles, limited mobility in his rather badly maintained wings, and found some kind of sick joy in taking risks and scaring Grian. He was already on the edge thanks to all the Watcher stuff, and Drista still dressed in that dreaded lilac purple. Not that it was her fault, Grian was just being a bitch. 

“Here I go!” Tommy launched himself off of the branch, landing barely on the next one, almost losing his footing, but laughing when he righted himself. Grian’s heart almost stopped beating, but he smiled encouragingly, throwing out a ‘be careful’ as well, though Tommy seemed to not even register it as he threw himself onto another branch. 

“I think we should head back now.” Grian announced, looking at Tommy, who was wobbling on a branch, holding on tightly to another. 

He deflated with a whine, but it was for show, he probably wanted to have some food and chill out after a day of treehouse building. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later, G-man!” Iskall glided over to them on his elyra, grinning at Tommy and Grian, “Stress, do you wanna take Drista back to False’s base?”

“Will do!” Stress said, “Come on, love, let’s fly back.” She fired a rocket, Drista jumping off of the tree and soaring up with her purple wings. Both him and Tommy tensed slightly, for different reasons. 

They walked down, frustration clear in Tommy’s posture after watching everyone else glide away, but Grian walked with him all the same, despite flying being miles more efficient. 

“I think we need to give you a shower, you know.” Grian thought out loud, “Get you some clean clothes and everything.”

Tommy blinked at him for a moment, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually that sounds nice.” 

“Okay, we’ll do that! To avoid getting your wings soaked, you’re going to have to do a bucket and cloth type deal, though I don’t really have running water for a shower at home anyways.” 

 

Whilst Tommy was cleaning himself, Grian had a rummage around for some clean clothes. He’d put Tommy’s old stuff in the wash, and was now drying them by the fire, though he didn’t intend on letting Tommy wear the raggedy stuff again. It was just in case there was any sentimental value to the clothing. 

He found a soft sweater and some of Mumbo’s soft pyjama bottoms that had somehow ended up in his hands (lag, probably, how strange) along with a pair of fluffy woollen socks. The sweater, being one of his, had wing holes in the back, though it was way too big for Grian, so it should probably fit Tommy. 

Leaving the clothes by the bathroom door next to a towel, Grian started on making some dinner. He’d probably make something warm and simple, like a soup or a stew. 

As the soup - tomato and lentil - bubbled gently over the fire, Tommy wandered into the main room, decked out in soft, comfy clothes and looking finally at home in the hobbit hole. He’d even made an attempt to clean his wings, though it hadn’t worked very well. 

“Soup?” Grian asked, fetching two bowls and soup spoons, “It’s tomato and lentil.”

Tommy nodded, flopping onto the sofa and sinking in, “God, today was fucking stressful.” He sighed deeply.

“Tell me about it.” Grian murmured, scooping soup into a bowl, “Here, drown your sorrows in this.” 

“What made your day stressful, huh?” Tommy asked, phrasing it as a taunt, but Grian could see the genuine care deep down below the front.

Huffing out a breath, Grian sat next to Tommy, “I haven’t been sleeping well since the whole… thing with XD.” He glared into his soup, “Drista keeps reminding me of… old server things. It’s silly, and it’s not her fault, but- ugh.” He sipped a mouthful of soup, it was very good. 

Tommy hummed, “Yeah, I totally didn’t think about that. Shit, that totally slipped my mind, of course having Drista around would be weird for you.” He glared at his soup in thought, “What was it like on your old server?” He asked quietly, the words tense and dangerous, but also curious and well-meaning.

“It was… complicated.” Grian began, because it really was, “Some of the people there were really good people. Nice people, the kind of people that you hardly met. Some of them were… yeah, complicated.” He thought about Taurtis, both a friend and a figure in his nightmares. Someone who helped him through tough times, but also turned his back when things got too hard. Taurtis cared for him, but he was also a manipulator who put himself before others without even knowing it. 

He remembered dungeons, and cursing into the darkness, wondering why he was always the one to endure the worst of the torture instead of Sam or Taurtis, despite him knowing deep down that he would rather take the hurt than watch the people he cared about be broken like that. Even though they might not care about him back. 

“There was this one guy… I knew him from back in the kingdom, and I considered him one of my greatest friends.” Grian explained, the weight on his chest slowly lifting, “He wasn’t in the server originally, but I prayed to the Gods for him to be brought there. It worked, and I was so happy. He was the kind of guy that drained you, and when he left I missed his presence; I felt tired and used up after interacting with him though. I still felt like I had to be there for him, he had seen some things and struggled a lot.”

Tommy swallowed a mouthful of soup, “I get what you mean, y’know. Not knowing if someone is a friend or… yeah.” He trailed off.

“The Watchers - there were two of them - were kind of set on me. I think being a little shit catches the attention of Watchers, I was just like you, not listening to a single thing they said. I stole the materials they used to build their obelisks because I needed it for my base!” He laughed at the memory, “I just couldn’t help myself sticking it to the man. It came back to bite, though, and I soon realised that it wasn’t worth it. They didn’t stop, though.

“When we found the End portal, they took me.” His voice started to shake, “They tried to turn me into one of them, and when I kept on resisting, they forced me to watch as they killed the entire server, destroying anyone in it.”

He sighed out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding, and let the story sit in the air for a moment. It felt good to finally tell someone else about Evolution. 

Tommy was silent, setting his now empty bowl aside, “Fuck, man.” He glanced at Grian with a look that might have had some sympathy buried in it, “That- That sounds shit. Well and proper shit.”

There was a few minutes where they just sat, basking in each other’s presence and letting the universe slowly adjust to the new information Grian had just dumped onto Tommy in a fit of stressed ranting. After everything, Evolution had been in the forefront of his mind more than he had been comfortable with. 

Tommy turned to face away from Grian, wings shakily and slowly opening, “I- It’s my turn. Yeah.” He huffed out a breath, “I’m- I’ll tell you about, um, Wilbur. You can clean my-” He took a deep breath, “You can clean my wings. For a distraction.”

Grian tried his best not to react, but his instincts suddenly burst to life at the request, he could finally, finally preen his little fledgling, everything would be complete, he wouldn’t have to cringe every time he saw his fledgling’s badly maintained wings.

He had to be careful, though, he had to treat this brittle permission with the utter respect that he had to. Tommy was downright terrified of people touching his wings, for good reason, but Grian’s instincts were roaring with the need to suddenly jump straight into preening. 

Suppressing them, Grian readied himself for whatever story Tommy had to tell. “Okay, I’m going to touch your wings.” Grian said gently, warning Tommy just in case. 

He laid a single hand on Tommy’s back, barely touching his wings, slowly ghosting over the feathers of his right wing, then he started petting them, carding through the feathers and brushing any large bits of debris from them. The boy shivered a little, clenching his fists tightly. 

“Wilbur was my brother.” Tommy began, “He cared a lot about me. We started a revolution against Dream and his friends together. There was a war, the first of many, and I died for the first time.”

Grian hummed to show he was listening, starting to align the most bent of feathers, letting a few really straggly ones drop onto the sofa.

“Wilbur… he did this- I think he wanted to prove the power he had over the people.” Tommy sighed, curling in on himself, “Fucking idiot.” 

Gently sorting through months of abuse on the boy’s pale white wings, Grian muttered a few meaningless assurances, pretending not to notice the way that Tommy leaned into the contact.

“He did a vote. He ran for president and he lost. To Schlatt. And we both got exiled from our own fucking country.

“Over exile, Wilbur changed. He started going on about TNT and blowing up shit, or about how he’d put it under the stand and was going to blow up Schlatt at this festival thing.”

Grian listened carefully, brushing the individual feathers free of the tiny specks of dust, his instincts raging with a drive to keep going.

“It worked, eventually. He blew the whole place sky high.” Tommy spoke quietly, “Then he- Phil, our dad, he showed up out of nowhere. He just. Asked Phil to kill him.” He shook his head, “He was too much of a dramatic fucker to just go out by suicide, so he got someone else to kill him. With his own sword. It was basically suicide.”

Grian kept a tight leash on his hybrid instincts, they were a storm of protective rage and love that wouldn’t do much but scare poor Tommy. Still, he let a little reassuring trill slip past his lips in an attempt to console the boy without worrying about human words.

Tommy gave a few needy chirps in response, and Grian’s grasp on his instincts almost slipped.

“You’re very strong for living through that.” Grian assured, “You might not feel like you are, but trust me.”

Without saying a word, Tommy turned back around to face Grian, and for a moment he was scared that he had gone and royally fucked up, but then the boy shuffled towards him and came crashing into his chest with a tight hug, only as soon as Grian opened his arms to welcome him.

He held Tommy impossibly close, instincts pretty much in full control as he made inhuman vocalisations, ones that told Tommy that Grian would protect him from now on, that he would never let anything like that happen again. Never. 

Grian ran a hand through Tommy’s wings, wrapping his own around them like a huge curtain, feeling the boy shake with the intensity of his emotions. All his thoughts were chanting ‘flock’ and ‘protect’, and even ‘fledgling’, all things that Grian never really considered himself feeling, but Tommy was an incredible kid who did incredible things.

If you had told Grian five or so years ago, ‘hey, you’re gonna adopt this wonderful avian kid’, he would have laughed at you, called you crazy. Grian wasn’t the kind of person to look after people - he had killed people, hurt people, snapped at people, burnt things down, blown things up, stolen things… the list goes on.

It was funny how things changed, and how the calm and loving server of Hermitcraft changed someone. Grian wished he could stay here forever, freeze this moment and live in it for the rest of his time, but things had to keep changing.

Notes:

Ayo Tommy got a shower 0-0 what is Teaman doing???
Also, here is your preening scene, finally. I fully intend to finish off the preening session in Tommy's POV next chapter because I would like to give you some nice stuff before the second plot comes into play. Wait, did I say second plot? Shhh, ignore that, I said nothing. It's all going to be fine, happy recovery fluffy nice-ness...
<333

Chapter 20: Peripeteia

Notes:

:DD
I have a GCSE French Speaking Exam tomorrow. I should be studying. But I chose *+Fanfic*+.
Not gonna lie kinda losing my shit right now so apologies if this is utter shite, it was powered by caffiene, mediochre sleep and my r/shittyrestrictionfood ass meals.
There is a bit of POV switching in this one, thought all the characters could do with some love before, hmm, *glances at title* don't worry about it :DDD

CW:
Panic Attacks (Third Person POV)
Dissociation (Third Person POV)
Passing out (not Tommy this time :00)

“See?” Doc carefully explained, “If you control the fission with control rods, then you can keep the reaction at a steady rate instead of having a huge, sudden release of energy as you would with a bomb.” 

Tubbo nodded along, staring in awe at the nuclear reactor that provided all the redstone contraptions with energy that they needed. The simple fact that Doc had built something so complicated and dangerous, and it was to do with nuclear energy, one of the only things that made Tubbo smile nowadays, had struck him speechless. 

“So, it’s like a bomb, but in slow motion?” He stared at the huge, iron control rods through the surveillance camera - it wasn’t working, of course, but it still felt dangerous to be here. The heavy suits they were wearing were a comfortable weight on Tubbo’s shoulders, one that reassured him slightly. 

Doc laughed, breathy and free, then replied, “Well, maybe. Instead of the neutrons fired from the split nucleus hitting another uranium nucleus every single time, it only happens once for every nucleus split. The energy release stays at a plateau.”

“Ahh, yeah, I know what you mean now.” Tubbo grinned, still staring at the crazy looking reaction chamber. It was in times like this where he finally felt clever, and not like some dumb, naive kid. Not someone to be looked after, a useless president without a backbone, not a person to be controlled. He grinned wider, basking in the feeling of finally being adequate. 

Doc started to head to the exit, “Right, that’s enough radiation exposure for you, let’s head out. We’ve got Scar’s community dinner to attend.” 

Fresh anxiety washed over him, the idea of meeting all those new, unpredictable, unknown people making him wish he’d never agreed to join Tommy and Drista with attending the stupid community dinner. 

The chaotic pair were building a treehouse for all of them, and Tubbo had come over to check it out, and it was better than he had expected, though he suspected that Grian and Scar might have intervened. He didn’t know how good they were at building, but judging on the skill that the server had shown so far, he guessed they were good. 

“That is, if you’re still up for it.” Doc added as they left the secure control room, and made their way to the decontamination room where they would remove the protective suits. 

Sighing, Tubbo replied with the affirmative. He couldn’t leave Ranboo like that, especially when he knew how bad his friend’s anxiety got. Plus, he wanted to see Tommy, and even Drista, despite hardly knowing her. 

 

---

 

“Com-u-nity dinner is a dumb name.” Tommy announced, from where he was draped over Grian’s sofa, wings idly stretching behind him. They finally looked better than before, after the initial preening session Grian had been doing upkeep on the avian’s healing wings, and in turn Tommy had even attempted to preen Grian.

It had been a little difficult at first - Tommy wasn’t really the best at being gentle - but he was entirely capable. The sessions had strengthened their bond, and things were ever so slowly healing and settling into a familiar routine. 

“It’s not.” Grian shot back, “You have to get moving now, fledgling.” His instincts beamed at the new nicknames, as well, since Tommy seemed much more comfortable now he was coming to terms with his avian side. He’d even started making vocalisations. 

Slipping his shoes on, Grian glared at Tommy, who rolled clumsily off of the couch and onto the floor. 

“Ouch. I have gravely injured myself!” Tommy wailed, “I am in so much pain, Grian, I am practically dying. You must leave me here.” 

“You like Scar’s cooking, drama queen.” He nudged the boy with his foot, “Get off the floor, man. You’ll be glad once you get there.”

Grumbling, Tommy made a show of getting up, but he managed to get himself over to the Shopping District. 

 

---

 

Tango grinned as he snuck a Decked Out key inside the mouth of the Chest Monster, then he spun around to scour the horizon for any Hermits or Drista. It was around fifteen minutes prior to the community dinner, and Tango was cutting it a little fine with the key hiding, but Drista had volunteered to help him with it as she wasn’t playing, at least not yet. 

A blot of purple swooped down from the HEP building, and Tango waved to Drista, watching as she glided down to the front of the huge shulker shop. 

He jumped off, his elytra catching the air and breaking his fall. 

“Hey, kiddo, how’d it go?” He asked, seeing a couple silhouettes gliding into the Shopping District. Finished without a second to spare, he thought. 

Drista nodded, “I think it’ll be interesting to see who finds them. If they do.” Her purple feathers puffed up in less-than-subtle pride.

Tango snorted, “Right, right.” He barked a laugh at Drista’s expression, “We should head to the hall, then.”

 

---

 

With infinite patience, Xisuma sorted the bottles from the honey farm, combining them to make honey blocks to sell and refilling the bee farm with the empty bottles, all the while Ranboo watched and attempted to help, childlike curiosity and awe creeping onto his scarred face as he observed the bees going about their day. 

He was glad that the boy was content in the silent company, it was one of the things that few people appreciated. Sometimes, words were just not needed. 

“It’s about time for the community dinner, are you still up to go?” Xisuma interrupted the quiet, noticing the time. He finished placing the empty bottles into the farm, slotting the last one in and turning to Ranboo.

The boy blankly stared, screwing up his face slightly and humming. 

Xisuma waited, watching the bees that Ranboo may or may not have been staring at, though judging on the empty look in his eyes he was staring past the bees. 

“It’s totally fine if you want to just pick up the dinner and eat it back here, that’s what Tommy did on his first community dinner.” Xisuma explained kindly, hoping the boy would understand.

Ranboo sighed, eyes focusing once more, “No, no, I- Tubbo and Tommy, they- And Drista- They would be disappointed if I didn’t go.” He stood up from where he was squatted down by the hives, not quite reaching his full staggering height thanks to the permanent slouch he seemed to have conditioned himself into. 

Xisuma smiled under his mask, “Right, let’s get going before we can worry about it even more, yeah?” He clamped down the lid on the chest that held the empty bottles, leading Ranboo out of the tower that the farm was contained in. 

Ranboo seemed to smile back under his own mask, and they headed out to the Nether portal. 

 

---

 

Scar smiled at the group of Hermits and a couple of the SMP kids as they mustered around the table for the community dinner. For tonight, he’d made a couple of huge pies, paired with roast potatoes and boiled vegetables, with thick gravy for those who wanted it. It smelt divine, and it was almost ready to be served. Scar loved cooking - it was probably his favourite way to show his love to people, that and gift giving. 

Slipping on his suitable floral oven gloves, he picked up the large chicken pie that had been resting on the counter for a minute or so, and brought it through to the table. He smiled as the Hermits eyed the food, knowing just how delicious it would likely be.

“I’ll just bring through the veggies, and the other pies, I’ll be a minute!” He called, ferrying all the food through with the help of Cubfan and False. Soon, the entire table was stocked with steaming hot food.

Everyone having now sat down, the Hermits thanked Scar, and then the meal began. 

“This is literally the fucking best.” Tommy said, from where he was sat next to Grian. Scar chuckled when the older avian elbowed him for language. 

Tubbo, one of the other SMP boys, agreed with Tommy, diving into a mildly concerning conversation about their old server, Grian sharing looks with Scar and Doc, who was sat next to Tubbo. On the other side of Tubbo was Ranboo, who seemed terribly nervous, but warmed up to the idea of food with company when Tubbo started joking and teasing him. 

The only kid from the SMP that Scar hadn’t seen yet was Drista, the youngest of the four, and an ex-almost-God, though Scar hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the idea of Gods.

Well, Grian had told him some things about Gods, and seeing the devastation that they caused in a person was enough to force Scar to believe that such cruel things existed. 

Scar leaned over to his good friend, “Hey, G-man, do you know where Drista is?”

Unease settled onto Grian’s face once he had swept the area in search of the purple wings and silvery, half-braided hair that had become semi-familiar, “No… I can’t see Tango either.”

Anxiety and dread started to pool in Scar’s stomach, the bite of creamy chicken pie suddenly tasted sour in his mouth.

A chorus of pings and buzzes silenced the table as every Hermit’s communicator went off at the same time.

 

<Tango> guys might need a hand @ decked out asap

 

The amiable conversation puttered out. Grian stumbled up from his chair, cursing to himself, breathing a little too quickly and took off in the direction of the game. Xisuma and False chased after him with their elytra, both tense but not as panicked.

Scar tried to stay in reality, but it was hard, until he noticed Tommy hyperventilating with his nails in his scalp. 

“Hey, hey, Tommy, you’re safe,” He tried to catch Tommy’s attention, “It’s me, Scar, you’re on the Hermitcraft server.”

Tubbo, apparently no longer in a state of dissociation, pulled off his heavy coat and flung it over Tommy, taking Scar’s place in grounding the boy. 

Scar glanced over to the third kid he needed to comfort, Ranboo, who he didn’t even know that well, finding him in total dissociation. He was out of his depth, but less so than any of the other Hermits, and since Xisuma and Grian were both gone, it was on him to try and bring the kids back down from the scare.

It was probably just Drista having a slight panic attack, or maybe she got a bit hurt. Nothing major. Nothing too bad. Scar forced himself to stay calm, he was the adult here, he needed to be strong. 

“Ranboo? Ranboo, it’s me, Scar, you’re safe on the Hermitcraft server.”

He was cut off by Tubbo, “Leave him alone, you fucking idiot! You’ll freak him out-”

And as if Tubbo manifested it, Ranboo took one glance directly into Scars eyes and screamed. It was half human, sudden and downright petrified.

Frantically, Ranboo backed away from Scar, tripped over and fell backwards in his chair. He rolled on the marble floor of the town hall, still screaming - words of some kind, mostly indecipherable - backing himself into a corner. 

“Fucking hell.” Tubbo sighed, “You stay with Tommy, he’s coming down, I’ll go help Ranboo. You lot are so useless.” His face was straining to stay neutral, a deep repressed agony lurking just beneath the surface, only coming out in defensive anger. It reminded him of Tommy, only different. 

Tubbo stormed over to Ranboo, body language instantly converting to kind and non-threatening when he approached him, leaving Scar with Tommy. 

Under the heavy coat, he was softly sobbing. Scar came up to him, wary and scared after the accident with Ranboo. 

“Tommy, it’s Scar again.” He said softly, “Do you want to hold onto my hand instead of your hair? It might hurt less.”

Tommy offered his slightly shaky hand, and Scar gently took it, squeezing it. He wondered how many times Grian had been in this situation, and how that man did it. 

“Is Ranboo okay now?” Tommy asked quietly after a minute or two. 

Scar nodded, glancing over to where Tubbo was coaxing the boy out of a corner, “Yeah, Tubbo’s with him. It was kind of my fault, I scared him-”

“Shut up, dork.” Tommy muttered, “What about Drista?”

 

---

 

Grian glided down the stairs of Decked Out, something he had done many times before, but not with such franticness as this time. He could hear some other Hermits behind him, he had seen Xisuma but didn’t know who else had joined him. 

With an edge of mania, he glanced around the dark lobby for Tango and Drista, finding them by the shop area, Drista slumped on the floor and Tango on his knees.

“Grian!” Tango stood up, beckoning him, “Oh, Xisuma, False, thank you for coming so quickly.” 

Jogging down the hall, Grian asked Tango to explain, which he did.

“We were just going to put the last leftover key in the shop, but Drista said she had a bad headache coming on as we were coming down the stairs,” He kneeled back down by the girl, “She was obviously in a lot of pain by the time we got down here. After a moment or two, she full-on screamed out loud and kinda fell over, like her migraine was so bad she couldn’t take it. After a few seconds of her breathing and clutching at her head, she just passed out.” He gestured to Drista, silvery hair falling in a curtain over her pale face. Her lilac wings were limp on the blackstone floor. 

Something was wrong. This didn’t just happen to people, there had to be a cause. And Grian had a niggling feeling that he might know what that cause was. 

“Let me check the server, just in case something has managed to pass into it…” Xisuma said, pulling out his communicator and double checking the whitelist for any irregularities. 

Grian furrowed his brow, “So, she just passed out?” 

Nodding, Tango carefully moved Drista into a position that would allow her to breath easily whilst unconscious. 

“Let me tell the others that she’s okay.” False suggested, pulling out her own communicator, “Stop them panicking.”

There was a murmur of agreement, then a couple of pings and buzzes as the message went out in the main chat.

Grian was panicking, though. He was sure he had felt something off, something ominous looming over him as he and Tommy preened each other. Something that crept into every content smile, into every carefree joke with Mumbo and Scar.

Drista tensed, wings lifting up off of the hard floor. Tango and Grian shuffled back a step, sharing a fearful look. 

She jolted awake, stumbling back in shock, backing against the wall of the shop, eyes wide and bright purple.

“What’s wrong?” False asked gently, anxiety lurking in her tone at Drista’s panicked state. There was a moment of silence, one where Grian was blissfully unaware of the dire situation, a moment of before. 

The world inhaled, and braced. 

“Watchers.” Drista breathed, “XD and two others.”

Notes:

Sorry not sorry. Gotta go cryyy now but in French wish me luck. God it's funny that people will read this in one go and slowly watch my sanity disintergrate lmaoo hope it's at least funny.
Anyway I love you little angst gremlins, sorry if I haven't gotten around to replying to comments, I am generally bad at doing that :///
Teaman out <333

Chapter 21: I've Got Plans For You

Summary:

As the pinwheels started to dance,
She said;
I've got plans for you.

(Horse Party - Receiver)

Notes:

I LIVED BITCHES!! Sorry for dissapearing once again, it's half term (or the end of it) right now so I have had like a tiny bit of time to write. I am literally juggling final exams every day, all three thousand of my unhealthy coping mechanisms, anorexia, not dropping dead and self medicating with lots of funky stuff. I am truly an ao3 author.
My stuff besides, here is a complete shitstorm of a chapter. Literally someone dies (not permanant pls no kill author)

CW:
Passing Out (first person)
Watchers being Creeps
Panic Attack (first person) Including:
- Self Depriciation and Spiraling
- Hallucinations/Reality being Funky
Temporary Death

(if you're easily triggered by derealisation and hallucination stuff, skip the panic attack)
Stop: "Grian was met with a crowd of piercing eyes." Begin: "Mumbo didn’t deal well with stress" - Summary in End notes

“We’ll just drop this key off, then.” Tango explained, “If you don’t feel well enough to attend the community dinner, we can just take a couple portions back to mine or False’s base.”

Drista walked down the last of the long staircase, head pounding. She had been suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and headache as they were just about to go to the community dinner. It was probably just from the tight circling around the shopping district in search of good hiding spots, nothing bad. 

Well, that’s what she assumed, until the pain grew to an almost unbearable level. She felt dizzy, the red and black colours of the Decked Out lobby swirling and curdling in her vision. Knees weak, Drista crumpled onto the floor, crying out in pain which caught the attention of Tango. 

He rushed over, obviously wanting to help, but confused as to how. The blonde hair and red eyes slowly faded into black and purple spots as she clutched at her head, drunk with pain, lost in dizziness and vertigo. 

The world finally faded, an incomprehensible shout of concern being the last reminder of the Hermitcraft world before Drista found herself somewhere cold.

It was really cold. She was used to this kind of cold, though having lived in Hermitcraft for a week almost, she craved the warmth of the new server. 

This was not Hermitcraft. This was not a dream. 

Reluctantly, Drista opened her eyes and was met with void. How did she guess it? Honestly, she was so smart. 

Standing up on pale yellow, dusty endstone, Drista surveyed the void. Yup, sure was a void. She sighed. Why the hell was she in the Watcher realm? 

Suddenly, XD materialised in front of her, taking his most humanoid form but still hovering about the endstone as if he was too high and mighty to even walk the same ground as the ex-Watcher.

“Hi, dickface.” Drista greeted, trying her best to emulate Tommy’s false bravado, though she was scared beyond belief behind the smirk.

XD seemed to emit a disappointed feeling, “You know better.” They sighed, glaring down a whole three feet of height difference at Drista. 

“Why did you bring me here?” She spat, “I was looking forward to the community dinner, you know.” 

XD appeared to consider the question, though they both knew they were only building the tension, “To warn you.” They answered simply in a light, musical tone. 

Fear started to creep up from her stomach and into her throat, catching the brash retort that was brewing. 

“You can’t just escape without consequences.” XD said darkly, “Those players should know that by now.” 

A further two Watchers materialised behind XD, one with a mask that resembled a crown, and one with a thick, silvery braid that reached their waist. Both were humanoid with familiar lilac coloured wings, draped in beautiful robes that Drista felt sick just looking at. 

“This is Crown,” XD gestured to the two Watchers, “-and Braid.” 

Crown stared haughtily through their mask, holding their long, thin arms in front of them, whilst Braid squared their broad shoulders and glared menacingly down, radiating a graceful power.

“Grian should know who we are.” Crown snarled.

Braid smiled, “See you later.”

The three beings faded from existence, and Drista was left silent and stunned in the void. 

Dread seemed to consume her vision, and soon the cold faded away, and it felt far too hot. The warmth, despite it supposed to be comforting and welcoming, was overwhelming and painful. 

She tensed, not quite ready to open her eyes, though when she did, she was grateful to see the worried faces of Grian, Tango and False.

 

---

 

The jovial atmosphere had long since dissipated, Hermits and SMP refugees alike were tense with either the dread of not knowing, or the dread of knowing. Grian had the joy of knowing. He knew exactly what Drista had said, part of what she had seen, and whilst he may have looked calm on the outside, Grian’s brain was crumbling with panic and catastrophizing. 

Tommy had caught onto that, and despite having come down from whatever freak-out he had when they left, he was getting anxious again. Scar, the only level headed one apparently, was grounding Tommy with a firm grip on his hand. 

The other SMP boys were in a corner, Xisuma trying to help Ranboo out of whatever state he was in. Grian clenched his fists and breathed. He would get through this, for Tommy. 

“Tango’s left with Drista because she’s not feeling well.” He started, his voice feeling weak and vaguely alien, “I don’t think we’re safe anymore.”

The Watchers should not be able to interfere with this server. Grian made sure of it, years ago, draining the last of his remaining magic and hoping it never recovered. How they had passed the barrier he’d created, he didn’t know.

Biting his cheek, Grian assessed his options. He’d been doing upkeep on the barrier, emptying all his magic into it so it didn’t screw with his everyday life. What could have created a rift… 

Drista. That’s it. When he made a portal into Hermitcraft and dragged the Ex-Watcher through, he’d probably opened the slightest of gaps in the barrier, not much, but apparently enough for those damned Watchers to get their foot in the door and pry it open. 

Fuck, he knew something had been off. He felt it now - the heavy gaze of Them - how did he not realise sooner? 

“What do you mean by that?” False asked, “What exactly do you know that we don’t?”

Grian was met with a crowd of piercing eyes. They wanted to know what he knew. 

Real panic slithered into his chest, and suddenly he was all too aware of the feeling of being Watched. He felt the push from Them for conflict, for him to be stubborn and cruel and selfish and just like always, a horrible, mean, selfish selfish person. There were too many eyes, too many people watching, pushing for conflict, entertainment. He was nothing but their little toy. 

Grian never had a free will. He was always simply a pawn in other, more powerful, people’s plans. Just to be tossed aside. To be Watched, and when They eventually broke him, he would just be left to waste away, disintegrate, whilst They find a new toy. That was why he had to stay whole. He couldn’t let someone else suffer his fate. 

He couldn’t let Tommy become Their new plaything. 

But how easy it would be to just give in, shut down, break down. Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

There were only eyes, and the world was dipped in purple and the images were melting like a candle. Dripping and crumbling under their own weight. He was losing it, for fuck’s sake, he had to keep a handle on reality, he had to-

Wings, wings, he saw wings, and lavender, beautiful robes, delicate masks, graceful power, silver blood crusted on a young girl’s face. A rift.

He needed to get out. Get away from Tommy. Somewhere far away.

He saw three hearts. He saw death. The void. Eyes. 

Grian didn’t even know if he was breathing. Who even cared. Someone was shouting, probably at him for being so fucking useless and weak-minded and selfish, selfish, selfish- 

The image of the two Watchers appeared in his shifting vision, clear when the rest of the town hall and shopping district was warping before his very eyes. 

“It’s been a while.” Crown snarled.

“We’ve got a new game for you.” Braid grinned.

“Do you want to play?”

“It’s going to be so fun.”

With that, Grian left the scream that threatened to tear out of his throat locked in there and took off, flying up into the air with clumsy beats of his wings. He got a few hundred blocks until panic clouded his vision with hallucinations, and his muscles started to seize, and he tumbled out of the sky, met with a far too real pain. 

 

---

 

Mumbo didn’t deal well with stress - well, he didn’t deal well with most things, he was rather rubbish at all things emotion-wise. Except maybe when it came to Grian. He could listen to his friend’s ramblings and comfort him when he used to get worked up a lot, back in the sixth Hermitcraft world when they worked on Sahara together. But this was literally worse than anything he’s ever seen in the time he’s known Grian.

To Mumbo’s knowledge, Grian’s old server had these Godlike beings that ruled over it to put it simply, and he had a small feeling that this trouble with Drista had something to do with these Watchers, given that Drista used to be one. Which, well, couldn’t be good. As Grian’s reaction confirmed.

He was definitely having a panic attack, but he was completely unresponsive, not even looking at Mumbo when he tried to catch Grian’s attention. It was almost like he wasn’t actually there, just a projection, seeing a whole different reality to the one that Mumbo and the others were in. Hmm. 

When Grian started staring up into the ceiling of the town hall, hyperventilating but deadly focused, Mumbo knew this was no normal panic attack. And that was about when his brain decided that was far too stressful, and that it was about time to shut down and become about as useful as a chocolate teapot. 

Damn human coping mechanisms. 

Grian had flown off, and Mumbo forced himself out of the dissociation so that he could help out Tommy and Scar. Screw all this emotional support stuff. 

“Can we go see if Grian is alright?” Tommy asked, after a couple of minutes of grounding from both Mumbo and Scar. 

Scar nodded, “Yes, yes, of course. That’s a good idea. We’ll go for a little walk and see if we can find him.”

Mumbo simply followed as Scar led them on a short tour of the shopping district, mind foggy and lost in ruminations. He couldn’t get his mind off the encounter with XD, and how he should have been checking in with Grian more often as a result of that. He should have guessed that Grian wouldn’t be feeling too great off the back of an encounter with a deity that was awfully similar to the two that took away his old server and friends. 

Shops and conversations passed him, and Scar soon led them to the little mesa island that False’s terracotta shop was in, where Grian was visibly crumpled over the artificial clay cliffside. He said he’d seen Grian fly towards Ren’s blimp, and sure enough, he had. 

Mumbo didn’t really feel the panic he ought to have felt, but what he did feel was the crushing guilt of his own inadequacy. He couldn’t even keep one friend happy, he’d let Grian sink into his own resurfacing memories. 

“Fuck! Shit! Is he okay? Is he gonna-” Tommy started sputtering, “Shit, shit, he looks real bad, I-” He attempted to glide over the gap to the mesa island, wings still too weak to hold him properly, and ended up tumbling into the bank and falling into the sea.

Scar and Mumbo both jumped down, Scar wrenching the boy out of the water and Mumbo bee-lining it to his friend. He wanted Grian to know that he was safe, he wanted to try and make it up to him. He carefully surveyed the state that Grian was in, assessing his crumpled form, deciding that the awkward angles at which his bones were jutting meant that he was more likely to respawn than survive. 

Bile rose up his throat - Grian hated respawning, and judging by the violent panic attack and the agonising death, this wasn’t going to a particularly fun one either. 

He ran back down to Scar, “We need to go to his base, he’s going to respawn.” His voice sounded calmer than it should have been. He certainly didn’t feel calm. He felt like a total mess. The world felt like opening your blind in the morning, too bright, too harsh, too soon. 

Grian’s body slowly disintegrated as the respawn magic started to work. 

 

---

 

Tommy stared at the man on the bed. Grian was still asleep, apparently that was how respawns worked here, you got a rest before you were thrust back into consciousness. In the SMP, respawns were instantaneous and painful as all hell. Tommy knew that well, he’d died three times and come back twice. If respawn was anywhere near as painful as on the SMP, then Tommy felt severely sorry for all these guys and their infinite respawns and constant deaths. Seriously, Scar had died like fifty times in the time that Tommy had been here. There was no hope for him if he was thrown into a server with limited respawns.

But hey, that wasn’t going to happen, so Scar could fly into as many trees as he wanted. 

He glanced back down to Grian, and wondered what else the man had seen. Tommy was only young, and had seen some fairly awful things, but Grian was probably just under twice his age and had endured the horrors of the world for a good decade or so. If Tommy had gotten this fucked up in just two or three years, what had ten or so done to Grian? Had he just learned to cope, or was he still struggling?

The thought that Grian was trying to help him through his own personal struggles hadn’t even occurred to Tommy until now, and he felt guilty that he’d been so wrapped up in his own shit that he hadn’t considered Grian’s shit. 

He found that he kind of wanted to help. To give back to the man that had promised him the start to a new, meaningful life. 

There were deep bags carved below Grian’s eyes, purple as a bruise, and his expression was still concerned in his sleep. He looked… well, sick. Like crap. Tommy knew what it felt like to look at yourself in the mirror and see a projection of your own mental illness. 

He wondered how many old scars Grian had, ones that had faded into almost indiscernible little white lines, and then about his own scars that were still crimson and faded purple. 

Gently carding through one of Grian’s colourful wings, Tommy decided that he no longer just wanted to be helped. He wanted to give back, he wanted to help build up this new peace. He wanted to settle with something.

For the first time, Tommy felt a bright, warm, yet hesitant, hope bloom in his chest. It was no longer tinted with the fear of war, it no longer tasted like ill-fitting uniforms and cold, damp nights with nothing but stale bread and milk being passed around the L’Manburgians. 

Tommy knew that things were changing for the better. Hopefully.

Whatever was going on with Drista, the Hermits could fix it. Nothing could get past Grian. 

Notes:

Haha how unsettled did that leave you? Hmm?
Next chapter in like a week or maybe six months, or never if I kick the bucket. lol. I have to write the second plot first, I'll try.

Summary: Grian slips into a bad panic attack, in which his thoughts become paranoid and scattered, mostly in relation to the Watchers, Drista and Tommy. He then sees an image of the Evo Watchers (Crown and Braid) who ask him if he wants to play their new game.

You are real, the Watchers are a fictional being that do not exist, and Grian is a Minecraft Youtuber, and You are real <333
Love y'all BYE

Chapter 22: Promises I Can't Keep

Summary:

Do you feel that sense of dread in the air? This is gonna be fun~

Notes:

Sorry for dying I was busy with my usual Ao3 author duties of being absolutely fucking tortured by the universe <33 It is like 43 celsius (110F) and I have just got back from my holiday. I passed out on the plane because I forgot how to breathe because I am a silly man who does not follow any binding rules whatsoever. Who cares, rules were made to be broken (and so are my ribs apparently-)
Anywhozzle, here is a chapter of certified Griangst and Mumbo being a Dork.
Sorry if the quality is less than great, I have had seven minutes of REM sleep according to my fitbit.

CW:
Mentions of Temporary Character Death
Themes of Nightmares/Night Terrors
Self Depreciation (BOTH Grian and Mumbo. Utter dorks.)

Grian hated dreaming under the Watcher’s influence. He hadn’t had nightmares like this since Evo. 

Bits of his past and paranoid conjurings mixed together to create senseless, warped visions, ones that caused him to have panic attacks as he woke up, half conscious and mouth dry and chalky from hyperventilation. But of course, respawning meant a lot of sleeping, even if that sleeping didn’t feel restful or calm. His body had to recover for at least a full day before he could consider getting out of bed, and Grian hadn’t slept more than about 5 hours in a night for the last week or so. 

He’d seen Tommy sat by the side of his bed a few times, distracted by his own thoughts, in the few times he’d had enough conscious time to open his eyes. Grian still had yet to feel anything sensation-wise apart from the tingles in the ends of his fingers. The familiar pain of respawn should have edged into his limbs by now. 

The Watchers had something planned, and they were looking forward to dragging it out and building anticipation. Grian could feel it, the thickness in the air and the paranoia of being Watched. 

Opening his eyes, Grian was surprised to find that there wasn’t a bright sunlight, but instead silvery rays of moonlight. With momentous effort, he clenched his fists, his muscles feeling dead and stiff, like his skin should be cold to the touch. 

Shifting onto his side, he found the source of the moonlight opposite his bed. He wasn’t in his own bedroom, but he knew this place. 

Ghostly light cast harsh shadows on the familiar handiwork and a cluttered mess of items that had to belong to Mumbo. Of course he was in Mumbo’s starter base. He felt the slight sting of redstone in his throat from where the man disregarded all safety and left the harsh powder dumped in random chests. Sometimes Grian liked to joke about Mumbo’s lungs being stained red from his careless nature. 

There was a tiredness that hung over him with the Watcher’s surveillance, but Grian didn’t want to close his eyes. He would only see more weird dreams. Dreams that, instead of being bathed in purple, were red. They were red as a beating heart, and Grian desperately wanted to know why and what it had to do with the Watcher’s stupid plans. Still, he didn’t want to close his eyes.

The old servermates from Evo. Red eyes and red sky. Red blood and red fire. 

Tears wanted to spill, but Grian had none. All he could think about was Tommy, and how he should be there for him, and how he thought that the future meant he wouldn’t be able to. 

 

---

 

Mumbo was stress building a rather large bamboo farm in his industrial district. The repetitive movements helped to sooth him from the state that everything was in right now. Grian had been in a respawn coma for the best part of two days, which while it usually takes a while, was just excessive. If he didn’t wake up this morning then it would start to become concerning.

Oh, and the stress building may or may not be happening at four in the morning. It was a full moon, and the sun was lightening the sky where it threatened to rise and bring the day, so it wasn’t too dark, but Mumbo had been out here since about midnight and he was getting tired. 

Something was niggling at him to go check on Grian. Finishing up the row he’d been on, Mumbo packed up his resources and flew back to the jungle. 

Upon entering his bedroom, where Grian had been moved to after they found him on a random bed in the open surrounding his mansion, Mumbo noticed that Grian had shifted to lay on his side to face the window. His eyes were shut, but his face looked twisted in painful emotion. Dumping the shulker box of resources and cringing as a puff of fine red dust kicked up, Mumbo went over to his friend and gently shook his shoulders to wake him. By some small miracle, Grian started to stir, eyes opening. 

Obviously, because the universe was never kind, Grian didn’t wake up peacefully. He actually jumped and smacked into the wall behind him, falling down the small gap between the wall and the bedframe, limbs flailing and a few stray feathers flying through the air to drift back down again.

“Ah.” Mumbo said intelligently, “Good morning, Grian.”

Grian wiggled around a bit, pinned between the mattress and the wall, “A bit of help?” He squeaked.

Mumbo crawled onto the bed, hooking his hands under Grian’s arms and pulling him up, giggling as his friend’s giant wings beat a few times in an effort to escape. After landing Grian on the top of the bed, Mumbo sat back down onto the chair beside the bed, feeling tiredness wash over his limbs like a cold breeze. 

“I’m glad you’re awake.” Mumbo sighed, softly smiling at his friend as the tension slowly drained from Grian’s body, “You had us all worried.”

Grian nodded, looking far off. He glanced at the window, the sky now a beautiful mix of blues as the sun made its way above the treeline. 

“Tommy’s asleep in Scar’s base. He’s been-” Mumbo explained, but was cut off.

“Watching over me, I know, I noticed him a few times.” Grian murmured, still staring out of the window, his wings shuffling behind him. Absent-mindedly, Grian ran a hand through the inside of his wings, making a halfhearted attempt at preening them. A single feather was dislodged and floated down from the bed and onto the floor, looking almost at home with all the chaos and mess. 

“You’re not doing well.” Mumbo stated, not looking at Grian, instead staring at the lost feather. He’d noticed that his friend had been struggling since the rescue mission from the SMP, and though Grian was a master at hiding his own issues to focus on helping others, Mumbo had been his friend long enough to pick apart the carefully constructed fronts that Grian often put up. 

Scar had mentioned it too, though after that panic attack at the community dinner it didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together and come to the conclusion that Grian wasn’t as fine as he constantly insisted he was. 

Grian stopped preening himself, tiredness visible in the way he slumped, wings spread over the bed with little regard to the way Mumbo knew the feathers were disturbed. 

Offering a hand for Grian to hold onto, Mumbo continued, “It’s okay if you’re struggling. It’s okay to need a break.”

“You were out 4am stress building. You can’t scold me.” Grian mumbled, a half baked attempt at humour dying in his tone. He sighed and set his jaw. “I have responsibilities. I need to be there for Tommy and his friends, and I-” 

Mumbo interrupted, “You don’t need to run yourself into the ground, or try to isolate yourself.” He let a fond smile settle on his face, “But yes, I may have been doing some… therapeutic redstone.”

With a huff of a laugh, Grian shook his head, “That’s an oxymoron.”

A slight shuffle, and Grian had clasped his fingers around Mumbo’s offered hand. His skin was cold and clammy, and Mumbo gripped his hand tight, feeling a wave of protective anger. All he wished was for the universe to finally be kind to Grian. 

But they’d have to make do with each other’s kindness for now. 

“They found me.” Grian whispered, tension replacing his fatigue, “They’ve got something planned, They’re here and I- I brought Them here.” A shaky breath. “It’s all my fault. Everyone is going to suffer because of me.”

Mumbo felt acid burn in his throat. Was Grian talking about the Watchers? The deities from his old server? The same as the being they encountered in the SMP?

“They want Tommy, but above all else They want me.”

Mumbo furrowed his brow, “But why?”

“I’m always the target for torture.” Grian muttered, then added even quieter, “Karma, I guess.” His wings pulled in slightly. 

Mumbo frowned, but didn’t comment on the strange mutterings of his friend. Grian’s past was something that most of the Hermits knew little to nothing about, and though Mumbo knew about the Evolution server, as he called it, there was obviously more to the story than just that. Something that meant when Grian was dropped into the HEP prison during the Turf War, he had an almighty panic attack and flashback episode that left both sides shaken and concerned. Something that meant Grian would freeze every time he saw a white rabbit, hopping innocently through a quiet meadow. Something that drove him to do regrettable things. 

They sat in a stale silence, both tense and exhausted in mind and body, the only sounds being the chirruping of the jungle insects as the sun warmed the canopies and the rattling breaths of Grian. 

“Should I message Scar?” Mumbo knew that Grian and Scar talked more about the difficult things, but Grian seemed to sigh, and shook his head.

Sliding off of the bed, Grian resumed his staring out of the window, “We should go for a walk.” He stood up, rocking for a moment, but once he blinked the stars from his vision Grian smiled and slowly walked to the door. 

The jungle was heating up quickly, but it was comfortable on the edges of the treeline, and the paths were not yet radiating the heat of the sun like they did when the sun peaked. 

“I’m a murderer.” Grian stated, “And an arsonist. I’m a criminal.” The jungle continued to busily wake up, unphased by the information. Mumbo tried to seem just as unaffected, but his mind was already whirring with catastrophizing and what-if’s. 

“And I’m just like what he said. I’m a pity-fest, a beggar, a tortured soul - literally - and I should be fucking used to it by now.” Grian snarled, anger twisting and biting at himself, “But one glimpse of Them and I’m- I’m a fucking mess. I need- I have to be strong. And I will be.” He inhaled deeply, sighing it out. “I’m so tired though. I just want to crumple up and give in.”

Mumbo could feel the years of bottled up emotions wracking through his friend, the way that Grian had never really healed from his past, but rather found a hole within himself deep enough to bury it in, which was all well and good until someone like Tommy pulls it out of the ground like Jumanji. 

“If I can’t function in peace, then how the hell am I meant to survive whatever They have planned?” Despair laced Grian’s voice, a million different emotions swirling in his rigid posture and highly strung tone. 

“Grian.” Mumbo finally found some gosh darn words, “Have I told you about what I thought about you when you first arrived here, on the sixth Hermitcraft server?”

Confused out of his spiral, Grian shook his head.

“Well, I had a bit of trouble with my, um, self esteem. I felt like there was no way I was creating the contraptions that the Hermits complimented. I felt like I was somehow tricking them into thinking I was better than I was. I though I was, well, just a complete spoon. Basically, stupid.” He tried to add a bit of humour, but it was tepid and out of place, “Well. Um, when I first met you, I thought you were amazing. I found it incredible how you were such a breathtaking builder, how you were proud of your creations and not ashamed like me. Your confidence literally blew me away. I wanted to know how you did it.” 

The mansion started to come into view as they turned a corner, as if on cue.

Mumbo continued, “You seemed so… happy. You brought joy and mischief and togetherness to the server. Everything you did just seemed so perfect and effortless. I really wanted to just… do that. Not be awkward.” He looked at Grian, smiling, “When I started to properly get to know you, I figured the universe hadn’t been kind to you. Despite that, you never let it get to you. You’d take the pain for someone a million times before you left the pain for them.”

Grian had stopped walking. He was a few metres behind Mumbo, staring into the ground with his fists clenched and his wings held tightly behind him. He looked both furious and utterly destroyed. Doubt began to curdle in Mumbo’s stomach.

Through gritted teeth, Grian seethed, “I’m not worth that.” A single teardrop splattered onto the path, “I’m not- I’m not- I’m a deceiving little- I’ve lied to you, I’ve tricked you-” He was interrupted by a harsh sob, “I’m a horrible, horrible person.” Grian’s voice broke with pure emotion, no longer angry, he just sounded defeated. Mumbo was sure he was ripping himself up inside.

“You’ve never been anything but wonderful to me.” Mumbo assured softly, stepping towards the avian, opening his arms in a welcome for a hug.

Grian seemed to weigh the options up, and ended up giving in, slumping into the embrace. His fingers curled tightly into the already wrinkled and unwashed material of Mumbo’s waistcoat, and he pressed his face into Mumbo’s chest and sobbed. The tears soaked through the thin shirt quickly, and Mumbo could feel the tears on his chest as he held Grian close, protecting him from the rest of the world, the past, and the future. 

In a few minutes, maybe fifteen, they’d be fine. The only thing left will be the stains of tears on Mumbo’s shirt and both of their faces. Mumbo will shower, eat and try to do some chores on his little sleep. Grian will say hi to Tommy, get crushed in another hug, and continue being strong and optimistic, if not to spite the universe in some cruel way. 

Things will be fine. They just needed to stand here for a little longer. 

Things will be fine. 

And when Mumbo finally closes his eyes that night, and dreams of red eyes and red hearts and red blood, he will think nothing of it and continue on like things will be fine.

Notes:

Things are happening... the shadow is fore...-ing....
I need to go to sleep ://
Love y'all, and thank you for EIGHTY THOUSAND???? Bro I am literally a mess of a human being why is this nearing 100k how do I nearly have two whole fics with over 100k guys this is not funny anymore okay?

Chapter 23: New Feathers

Notes:

Things have happened - Sorry about that. I finished high school with straight As and spent like three weeks in sixth form then dropped out. Life's been really strange, but over the last few days I finally brought myself to write something for this! It might not be the best, and I apologise if things are a bit strange cause I've had some dissociative amnesia over the last few months.
Rant over! Enjoy the chapter, there are more to come. This is just filler, but the next couple are more action >:DD

CW: Dreams/Nightmares, Mentions of Death

Tommy had started his moult, and the whole server knew within a day of Scar pointing out a stub of a blood feather growing beneath his outermost primaries. Grian, when he’d made his way over to Scar’s base after Mumbo had roused him from his coma, despite looking like he was still dead, seemed incredibly enthusiastic about the news. 

“New feathers for a new man.” Tommy proclaimed, spreading his wings so that Tubbo and Ranboo could see the blood feather growing in. The SMP boys were spending a day in the shopping district under the supervision of Scar and Grian. Scar was slightly worried about whether his friend would be up to the job, but Grian said he was fine, and he knew better than to try and argue with Grian when he was like this. If Grian said he was fine, he probably wasn’t, but he’d stubbornly refuse all help like it inconvenienced his friends to practise basic human decency. 

Ranboo marvelled at the feathers, as if he’d never seen something so beautiful. It was a journey, getting to know all of the kids Grian had dragged out of the SMP, but they were all so sweet and kind natured, albeit in slightly strange ways. Scar had gained a fondness for Drista’s sarcastic remarks, Tubbo’s strangely creative insults and Ranboo’s shy wonder at anything that didn’t try to immediately harm him. Scar recalled how Ranboo had been amazed at the vibrant colour of the grass in the shopping district. When he’d explained the reason - the biome of mooshroom island was incredibly fertile and mineral rich - he’d listened intently.

They were wandering around the large concrete store right now, the SMP boys glancing around at Keralis and Xisuma’s sleek architecture that suited the shop so well. Tommy was hanging off of some railings, wings flared to balance himself, and Scar could see the years being shaved off of Grian’s lifespan every time Tommy wobbled a little. 

“Can we go to the honey shop?” Tubbo asked, rifling through the chests of stock, “Xisuma gave Ranboo a load of stuff to restock with and I want to try some honey.” 

Grian, who was collecting some concrete powder for his mansion, finished packing the shulker box and said, “Yes, let’s go somewhere with no balconies for Thomas to balance on.” He sent Tommy a stern look.

“Mememe, my names Grain and I’m boring and do not do anything interesting, like a little-” 

“I’m not called Grain!” 

Scar giggled, sharing an amused look with Tubbo and Ranboo. 

Eventually, they made it out of the concrete store and towards the Honeypot, where Ranboo pulled out a shulker box full to the brim with honey bottles, honeycomb and bee boxes. 

“Scar…” Grian whined, now that Tommy was distracted by the honey and spending all the diamonds that Grian had given the boys.

With a smirk, Scar patted the avian on the shoulder, “There there, it’s okay. Fatherhood is a very tiring and draining-”

Grian elbowed him, “You.” He glared up at him, and Scar tried his very best not to laugh, he truly did.

“You’re the worst.” Grian grumbled, leaning back against the wall. 

Uncontrollable giggles overtook him, and he doubled over, having trouble catching his breath. Scar couldn’t help it - Grian looked like Jellie when he was more than five minutes late to feeding her. 

“Scar!” Grian raised his voice, humour evident in his tone.

Tommy turned around from where he was sticking his finger in a bottle of honey, “What’s so funny?” He licked his finger, “Fuck! That’s really sweet, holy shit!” 

Tubbo seemed more interested in the shulker box that Ranboo had transported the stock in, “Hey, guys? How does this even work? I really want one, where do I get my shulker box?” 

Scar, now just about recovered from his laughing fit, replied, “I sell them in the Chestmonster shop. One free chest with every purchase, plus it’s an interactive shopping experience that you won’t get anywhere else-”

“We can take you guys End busting.” Grian offered, “One at a time though. I can’t handle all four of you” 

“End busting?” Ranboo asked, the other two looking equally confused.

Scar nodded, “Yup, End busting! It’s what going to End Cities and killing shulkers is called, it’s how you get shulkers shells, elytra and other goodies like diamond armour.” 

Tommy hummed, “Sounds better than building a stupid treehouse with fucking Drista of all people.” His wings stretched and beat a couple of times, a habit of his Scar had noticed him doing more often. It seemed to be something like a self-regulation for avians, he’d noticed Grian’s wings flitting when he was particularly irritated or excited. It seemed that Tommy’s flight muscles were also slowly building up, along with his acceptance of all the avian instincts he’d been battling before. 

“Right, well I’ll see if we can schedule a day of end-busting.” Grian nodded, “I’ll have to talk to Tango to see whether or not Drista wants to.”

The boys seemed more than happy at the prospect of going on an adventure, and spent the rest of the shopping trip in fairly good spirits. They visited Beef’s music shop, picking up a few discs for them to listen to whilst building, but still not finding the specific song that Tommy kept going on about. 

Scar left Tubbo and Ranboo in the capable hands of Doc, the two of them obviously needing some time, and went with Grian and Tommy back to the jungle. 

“Where do you want to stay tonight, Thomas?” Grian asked as they made their way into the jungle via the paths that Scar had mostly constructed. 

Tommy hummed, considering the question, then said, “I’m gonna sleep up in Scar’s trees like usual.”

Scar almost laughed - Tommy had created a very comfortable looking roost up in the canopy of the magical village, and Grian did not like the idea of Tommy being asleep that high up. It was mostly safe and Tommy hadn’t fallen off yet, so Scar didn’t see the problem.

“Fine. Fine, okay, if that’s what you want to do.” Grian sighed, “Go on, climb up, I’ll be over with some coffee and breakfast in the morning, see you then.” 

Tommy pumped his fist and hissed a celebratory ‘yes’, before scrambling over to the ladder and shooting up like some feral animal. 

With that, Scar looked over to Grian, “How does some hot herbal tea and pillow-fort time sound?” 

“If we can navigate to the upstairs of your snail house, then I think we deserve it.” Grian teased, in reference to Scar’s… less than organised storage. 

Scar smiled, waving at Tommy who’d just scaled the tree and was now crossing a rope bridge to the little treehouse containing his mass of blankets, pillows and stolen clothing items (it’s probably an avian thing, Scar figures, though he’s never seen Grian do something similar). Grian, upon noticing what he was looking at, also waved. 

From the top of the canopy, Tommy was highlighted in the last of the golden evening light, his smile glowing. He finally looked less like a feral stray cat that they’d scraped off of the streets and more like a Hermit. 

“Right, come on in then mister, it’s time for forced self care!” Scar announced, leading Grian into his snail house, “Just excuse all the shulkers and chest monsters-”

Grian huffed a little, unimpressed laugh, and tucked his wings in close to try and squeeze through the small space, eventually reaching the ladder that took them up to the living area of the house. 

“At least the upstairs is reasonably tidy.” Grian remarked, immediately making himself at home by sprawling out on Scar’s couch, “Man, I could fall asleep here if you let me…” Grian sighed, already relaxing into the softness.

“Well, don’t fall asleep yet.” Scar laughed, “I’ve still got to make you tea, then we’ve got to at least acknowledge what the heck has been going on in that head of yours.” 

“I’m having tea and then I’m going to sleep.” Grian argued.

Filling up the kettle with water, Scar shook his head, “Come on, G-man. At least tell me what the panic attack a couple of days ago was about.”

“Fine…” Grian whined, “Long story short, the Watchers are coming to murder us or something.” 

 

---

 

Drista was pacing. The dungeonmaster of Decked Out, Tango, was currently scooted under some redstone contraption, attempting to fix it, and Drista was trying to help despite knowing little to nothing about redstone machinery. It was deep into the evening, about the time that most people would consider sleeping, but Tango had ingested a near-lethal amount of caffeine and Drista was not far behind. 

She’d been having dreams. Not just the average dreams, with ambiguous imagery and emotions and nonsense storylines, no. These dreams were sharp and lucid, no doubt from the Watchers interfering with the world. She probably ought to talk to Grian about it, but for now, she was content with learning from Tango about the insane machinery that worked the dungeon game. 

“Oh… My bones…” Tango groaned as he shuffled out from under the wiring, “Man, how long was I curled up under there? Drista, what’s the time?”

Drista stopped pacing, “Half ten, quarter to eleven, ish.” She pulled out her communicator, “Ten to eleven. Huh.” 

Tango made a face at the redstone as if it had anything to do with the unstoppable march of time. With a sigh, he then picked up his supplies and started loading them into a shulker.

“Well, I guess we really should be heading off.” Tango said, “I have to be responsible and take you back to my base at least, otherwise I’d just work all night and sleep in the redstone bits.” 

Drista snorted, “Being responsible is a good thing. Not to say I make responsible decisions.” She sighed, feeling the weight of fatigue shudder over her like a wash of adrenaline, “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

Tango leaned against a shulker, “Yeah, neither. But if we don’t, then Zed will probably find out and force sleep upon us.” He laughed humourlessly, “Is it nightmares?”

Drista hesitated, almost surprised at how fast Tango had guessed, then nodded as a reply.

“Thought as much…” He muttered, “I’ve been having real weird dreams as well, it has left me kinda shaken a number of times. I was talkin’ to Bdubs and Impulse when we were meeting for the whole ‘Boomer’s Demolition’ business, and both of them said they were having strange dreams.”

Drista felt her blood run cold. Were They targeting other players as well, not just Grian and maybe Tommy? Was the whole of the server in trouble due to her childish behaviour?

“Impulse kept saying something about always feeling paranoid and stuff in his dreams, he seemed real freaked out. I don’t know if it’s connected at all.” Tango continued to ramble. 

“The dreams I have are always about death.” Drista stated, itching to start pacing again, “I usually watch someone else die, I can never make out who they are, but I feel how much they had meant to me. Sometimes I die.”

Tango pressed a hand to his temple, “Freaky. We really need to have a chat with Grian about all this - he seems to know what’s going on.” He pulled himself up from where he was leaning, and started navigating out of the wiring of Decked Out. 

Drista followed him, feeling far away and lost in fictional scenarios of what might happen if the Watchers made their way to Hermitcraft.

Notes:

Hope that was okay, and see you all in a couple of days/a week. I promise this time :)
ALSO!!!! tHANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT HOLY SHIIIIITTT!!!!! <3<3<3<3333

Chapter 24: Into the End

Summary:

In that moment you realise
That something you thought would always be there Will Die
Like everything else
These thoughts I must not think of
Dreams I can't make sense of
I need you to tell me it's okay

(Editors - When Anger Shows)
https://open.spotify.com/track/1E6ENlbtZJnkrX1DotoSGy?si=9e9a578b8d644b94

Notes:

Chapter Jumpscare.
You thought I was dead, and whilst the AO3 author curse tried its best, I prevail. Enjoy this mess of a chapter. Things will only get worse ect. more ominous stuff

CW:
Dizziness
Throwing Up
Delusions/Seeing Things
Mild Blood Mention

Enjoy <33

Through the Nether hub and a particular tunnel, two Hermits and one of their new arrivals travelled, eventually making their way to a converted and decorated stronghold, the ancient End portal contrasted by brand new player additions. Scar led the way, who despite his many humorous deaths, was a master at collecting Shulker shells. He was tailed by Tubbo, the young goat hybrid who was up to his neck in enchanted netherite armour provided kindly by the last of their convoy - Doc.

“I’ve never been in the End, not even once.” Tubbo repeated, something like nervousness hidden in his tone. Scar knew that Tubbo was the best at appearing secure and stable out of the four kids, but he didn’t sell it quite well enough to convince Scar. It felt as if Tubbo had never let go of that need to be the strong one his friends could rely on, had never had the chance to bring down his guard. He wanted to show Tubbo that they were safe here, that there was no threat on Hermitcraft - but that would take time. Scar knew it would take time, he’d been a witness to Grian’s slow process of trusting the server’s defences after whatever had happened to him.

This was just one of the first steps.

“Well,” Doc began, “It’s cold, which is why we told you to wear your coat. And there are a lot of Enderman around, but other than that, no mobs spawn. Oh, and the air can feel a little strange at first - it gets better the higher up you are since you’re further away from the void.”

Scar frowned, “Wait, is that why chorus plants are so weirdly shaped?”

“And also why End Cities are so tall, yes.” Doc answered with a gentle smile, “Which is the thing we're looking for today, actually, since they have a type of rare mob that can be killed for its shells."

Scar, stood precariously on the edge of the end portal, smiled and explained, "The shulkers are pretty annoying to fight, but they usually don't kill you by themselves." He hoped that was somewhat reassuring, but based on Tubbo’s mildly confused, mildly terrified face, it wasn't quite how he imagined it to sound in his head.

"How do they kill you then?" Tubbo asked, glancing at Doc with what was most likely hope for a more straightforward answer.

Doc hummed, stepping up to the end portal frame, "Their bullets cause levitation. You can block them or hit them off with a sword, but you'll most likely get hit and fall."

With an uneasy smile, Tubbo joined them on the portal frame, apprehension in his movements, "Right, sounds fun." He muttered with a hint of sarcasm. 

Eager to get going, Scar nodded, "It is!" With that, he fell backwards into the void of the inner portal, watching Doc and Tubbo disappear as he was transported across dimensions. 

The feeling of going through an end portal was somewhat comparable to a nether portal, except it wasn't so much hot as it was freezing. The void was cold, and that was perfect if you were an Enderman or maybe a polar bear, but most players found the bracing temperature hard to withstand. Enderman needed the cold to survive - it was in their very physiology, with long thin limbs giving them a large surface area from which excess heat could leave. 

Scar didn't like it. It burnt his nose when he breathed in too deep.

After a few seconds of disorientation, Scar found himself safe and sound on an obsidian podium. Doc and Tubbo appeared behind him, and he stood next to Tubbo, expecting him to pass out or throw up, but he did neither.

Getting over the worst of the nausea, Tubbo blinked a couple times, then met Scar’s eye contact. 

"Didn't fall over," Tubbo smirked, a hint of snarky humour in his tone, "You thought I was gonna hit the ground."

Doc rolled his eyes, but he was smiling fondly, with a hint of pride.

“Nicely done, tell us if you start to feel dizzy though.” Scar said, leading the way, “Now we need to find one of the outer portal-thingies that’ll take us to the, uh, island stuff.”

Doc huffed a laugh at the wording, “Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Right.” Tubbo muttered, “Are you going to be taking Tommy, Ranboo and Drista in here sometime?”

“Oh! Yeah, as soon as they feel ready.” Scar replied. He didn’t quite know the answer - he knew Grian was hesitant to let Tommy in the end, along with Drista, for some odd reason. He’d expressed mild concern at the thought of Ranboo going as well, but the Enderman mix had been both anxious and excited at the prospect. 

Scar thought that maybe taking Tubbo and Ranboo End-busting next would work the best. He trusted Grian’s intuition, mostly at least, and didn’t want to be giving the man more to worry about. 

 

---

 

Upon entering the End portal, Tubbo immediately felt that eerie creeping feeling, like staring into thick darkness, like dead black eyes and emotionless smiles. There was something eyeing him up, something breathing down his neck, something imperceivable. 

He brushed it off for now, distracting himself by marvelling at the landscape. The obsidian towers blended into the dark of the void, and Tubbo had to crane his neck to see them. Still, the dusty off-white endstone reminded him too much of his brief encounter with a deity, the void seemed too dark.

Keeping his head down, Tubbo followed Scar to a small bedrock portal. There were too many enderman here. Somewhere, there was a parallel to be drawn between the enderman’s distaste of being watched and this invasive feeling, but the headache that had started up was now too thick for him to try and find the words. 

Thoughts sluggish, Tubbo crawled between the bedrock and into the starry black portal after Scar, Doc giving him a reassuring thumbs up from behind. 

It was similar to the previous portal, but now Tubbo was finding it difficult to breathe in the cold air. He should be used to it - he’s lived in the wintry snow for months on end, but this cold was different. Even the night air of Snowchester seemed like a welcoming warm compared to the end.

Scar was shouting, and a moment later so was Doc. But Tubbo was on his knees, mind spinning, headache pulsating with his heartbeat, air burning his throat and lungs. He gagged, then dry heaved. The endstone was painful and freezing beneath his palms.

Eyes screwed tight, Tubbo saw visions of blood, red as the burning sunsets on the SMP, he saw an axe - Technoblade came to his mind - but the axe was bright blue, not the deadly dark grey of netherite. The person holding it wasn’t Techno. They were someone he’d never seen before.

Tubbo tried to scream, but nothing happened. He saw death. Dead bodies. Dead eyes. 

A headstone and a single flower, nameless yet still painful.

He saw the void. And the void saw him. 

 

---

 

Grian had been showing Tommy how to haggle with villagers. It was a great distraction, until his communicator buzzed from where it was hung off of his belt. Ignoring the jolt of fear, he pulled up his messages, catching Tommy’s attention. The boy watched with a small expression, stopping loading bricks into a shulker to watch. 

It was from Scar, and it was not giving him any kind of hope. 

“Shit.” Grian said out loud, shoving his com’ back on his belt and closing the shulker he’d been loading, “Tommy, go find Mumbo, I’m gonna message him. I’ll say as soon as I know when Tubbo is safe.”

Tommy stared at him, horror painting his face, “I’m- what’s wrong? What happened?”

Grian shook his head, “The end is a weird environment,” He explained breathlessly, walking towards the exit of his mansion, “Some people get overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Obviously, that was greatly downplaying it. The thing that Scar had hastily explained in the message sounded a lot like what had happened to Drista not too long ago, meaning most likely this was the doing of Them.

“Please just go find Mumbo.” Grian said, trying his best to hold it together, “I promise you Tubbo will be okay.”

There he goes, making promises he can’t keep. He didn’t even know what was going on, what the Watchers had planned, and he couldn’t keep his panic hidden now. Everyone knew something was wrong, there was no more pretending that everything was fine, no matter how much he tried to distract everyone. 

Tommy gave him a look, “I’m coming with you.” He stated, leaving no room for arguing.

Gritting his teeth, Grian fought down a flare of anger, then turned on his heel and started towards the nether portal, “Fine, fine, alright. Fuck. Just-” He sucked in a breath, stepping into the purple haze, “Keep up.”

A few agonising minutes of sprinting through nether tunnels later, Grian arrived at the end portal, steeling himself for a single moment, before jumping in. He was tailed by a silent, terrified Tommy. 

Grian hated the end - he’d spent so long in similar places, albeit closer to the void and far away from here - so he tended to avoid travelling here unless it was absolutely vital. From what he could see, it was. 

Doc came running over, glancing at Tommy for a split second, but seeming to ignore in favour of leading them over to the island portal that Scar was carrying Tubbo down from. 

“What even- is he okay? Holy shit- Fuck-” Tommy muttered, frantic tone one that Grian hadn’t heard in a good while. 

“He’s physically okay from what I can tell.” Doc assured them, tone even and calm, “We should get him to the overworld as soon as possible, though.”

Grian nodded, words lost to him. Scar met him with a look so full of fear and distrust it almost made him crumble. All these promises of things being fine, okay, fixable, nothing that could reach Hermitcraft, nothing he couldn’t fight off. 

Things were falling apart. People were seeing things in their dreams. They had something planned. The veneer was rotting away to reveal the truth, and Grian was once again the one to blame. 

He wanted to scream. To tell Them that They could take him, do whatever They wanted with him, just to not touch his friends, servermates or those he swore to protect. But it was selfish to think that all They wanted was him, he was nothing to Them. 

After stepping through the home portal, Grian swallowed his fear, this was his least favourite part about the end, he ended up in his bedroom in the hobbit hole. He flew over to the treehouse, knowing that was where Tubbo and Tommy would have ended up. 

Keeping a tight grip on his panic, Grian flew in, hearing Tommy’s voice through the wooden walls. 

“Grian!” Tommy shouted, “Tubbo’s waking up!”

He shot into the bedroom, following Tommy’s voice, finding him leaning over a bed on which Tubbo was stirring.

Tubbo suddenly sat up ramrod straight, eyes blank and staring off into nothing.

“Red Winter.” He muttered, “Is coming.”

Notes:

be back next year /j
Comment if you want an update before I run away to sail the seven seas in order to escape England.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed that! If you did, feel free to drop a comment. Comments translate directly to my code and cause me to write faster, they don't even have to mean anything, a smiley face or a keyboard smash will make my day!
- Joe <33

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Series this work belongs to:

• Part 18 of MCYT