#hermitcraft fic prompt
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Fic prompt for a Grian centric fic
Okay so you know how YHS was Grian's high school?
What if he and/or Taurtis made a little scrapbook of the 'good' times.
And Grian kept it for whatever reason, maybe to reminiss.
What if one day Mumbo or Scar find it, and look through it.
They find out the 'good' times aren't really good.
Lmk if you write this, because I would love to read it!
#blue-procrastinating#blue-can-speak#grian#hermitcraft#hermitcraft grian#mumbo jumbo#blue-cannot-write#gtws#trauma#yhs#hermitcraft mumbo#gtws hermitcraft#writblr#fic prompt#hermitcraft fic prompt
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zombie joe?
Cleo buries her head in her hands and screams.
"There there," Joe says, incredibly awkwardly. "While I, personally, have never failed to shuffle off this mortal coil like this before, I've seen a lot of movies, and I'm lead to believe this is the kind of thing zombies do on accident all the time. It's like, the thing zombies are known for!"
"They're going to kick me out," Cleo says, half-miserable and half-furious. "I just got here and they're going to kick me out."
"They're not going to kick you out," Joe says, looking even more awkward. "Er, I mean. Not that I'd know how you got here in such a way that I know the other hermits won't kick you out or nothing, you'll find I have no way of knowing, since we're supposed to be doing things by consensus, but I also do know, because they aren't going to kick you out."
"I panicked and bit you!" Cleo says. "I got crowded, panicked, and bit you."
"Um," Joe says. "Yes, well, that did happen."
"And I turned you into a zombie."
"And it's really quite bracing!" Joe says. The awkward tone to his voice has gotten higher-pitched. There's a certain level of forced cheer to it. Cleo doesn't know if she appreciates it or if it makes her want to scream even more. "I mean, typically I have a heartrate, but I don't, right now! And even though my heart would normally be racing when I panic, it isn't! Also, I bet I could cut off my finger with next-to-no consequences, which makes it suddenly really tempting to--"
"Joe!" Cleo says.
"Cleo!" Joe says back.
Cleo sighs. She looks over Joe. She's not sure whether it's very in-character or out-of-character that he barely looks any different, but if it weren't for a certain grey pallor to his skin, the very visible bite mark on his arm, and the fact he is somehow already missing an eye, she might be able to pass him off as not-a-zombie. Unfortunately...
She runs a hand through her hair.
"It's fine. It's fine!" she says. "To tell the truth, I don't know if I'm meant for--"
"I should practice my moaning!" Joe says brightly.
"What," Cleo says flatly.
"You know like. Auuurgh. Grrrrr. Rawr."
"Did you just--rawr?"
"Is that one best?"
"No!"
"How about... rawr~<3!" Joe says, and then immediately starts coughing. "No, no, that was bad, even I know that was bad--"
Cleo can't help it. She starts laughing. Joe appears startled, staring at her like she's a large bear that has suddenly started doing a dance. His expression somehow looks even more wild-eyed with the missing eyeball and the dried blood on his arm from the bite.
"Did that... work?" Joe says.
"I am going to be kicked off of your safe haven server for being a threat to the integrity of the place because I'm infectious and you're rawring at me," Cleo says.
"...I will take that as a win," Joe says. "The laughing! The laughing! Not the getting kicked off, you aren't getting kicked off, I told you what I did to Biffa when I was first invited right--why are you laughing more I'm not even trying to be funny anymore--"
Cleo doesn't have a heart to slow or speed, but just then, she feels like she has a heart to warm. Yeah, sure. She might be in massive trouble, but at least this thing she's built with Joe--that's alright.
#answered#ask game#prompt ficlets#a bee fic#zombiecleo#joe hills#hermitcraft#i had a VISION with this prompt thanks#anyway this is the FIRST time this happens#by like the sixth everyone's used to it
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avian-ificated scar? or watcher joe. for the fanon swap!
Scar woke up with a jolt, an echo of catastrophic damage still ringing in his ears.
Respawning back on Hermitcraft after a final death on the Life Series was always disorienting, so he didn't bother to rouse himself right away, instead staring up at the intertwining branches above his head and letting himself readjust slowly.
Well, at least the last one hadn't been his fault! And for all Grian's fretting, too. So far as Scar was concerned, that made them even. He drew in a long breath, released it.
There was Jellie's warm weight next to his leg. There was the sound of the leaves, rustling faintly in the wind. There were a few aches and pains in his knees and ankles when he moved, which was pretty standard, and some soreness in his back, which was less so. He yawned, stretched his arms over his head. His back popped satisfyingly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of black and white feathers, and blinked.
"Grian?" he said, out loud, even though that didn't make any sense, because he was very much alone in the room, and Grian's feathers were very much red anyways, but-
Huh.
Scar sat, and watched the wing unfold. It was largely a black that gleamed blue in the sunlight, interrupted by a broad swath of white down the middle.
Jellie, roused by the movement, cracked an eye open irritably, raised a sleepy paw to bat at the long feathers trailing from the wingtip. Scar, on some instinct he didn't entirely understand, flinched, and the wing flinched too, twitching away from her claws.
Scar blinked.
GoodTimeWithScar -> Grian: uMMMM
GoodTimeWithScar -> Grian: SORRY FOR CAPS
GoodTimeWithScar -> Grian: I HAVE A PROBLEM
#yes ive basically already written this fic before. dont worry about it#hes a magpie OBVIOUSLY. OBVIOUSLY#chatty clever guys who love shiny things#goodtimeswithscar#hermitcraft season 9#fanon switcheroo prompts#my writing#asks
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timesickness (15199 words) by birrdie
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: John Booko | BdoubleO100/EthosLab, John Booko | BdoubleO100 & EthosLab
Additional Tags: Time Travel, Immortality, Historical Fantasy, First Meetings, Time Skips, John Booko | BdoubleO100-centric, EthosLab-centric (Video Blogging RPF), POV Alternating, EthosLab Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Ambiguous John Booko | BdoubleO100 and EthosLab Relationship, Mentioned ZombieCleo (Video Blogging RPF), The Watchers are Morally Grey (Evolution SMP), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Immortal EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF), Time Traveler BdoubleO100
Summary:
Staring at him feels personal, like peering in on a memory he doesn’t know he had. He should know this moment, this feeling, this man. He should recognize that deep, bone-aching pull inside himself that leaves him cemented in that stool, that nags at him that maybe, after all this time, he’s finally ended up in a specific place for a specific reason. There’s plenty of things he’s been waiting for— a sign, a reason, a why— but this?
Bdubs licks his lips. “Do I know you?”
A private smile. Even through the mask, Bdubs can see it. “Not yet.”
“But I will?"
Or; Bdubs jumps through time. Etho outlasts it.
#birdie writes#ethubs#ethubs fic#etho#bdubs#hermitcraft fic#this was a commission and I had such a fun time writing it#ant if you see this thank you for the awesome prompt#I wrote this a while ago I figured it was about time I posted it
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For the scribble corner:
mumbo and scar rescue an abused grian from [insert bbeg here] (smth like an evil king or smugglers or slavers idk)
dnd au (in game or irl as them rping this)
Tldr: mumscarian bird heist
The Mumscarian bird heist!!! I’ll pop it on the list, but just in case you didn’t know, one of my series, Traveling Thieves AU, basically already carries out half this plot, with Scar and Mumbo stumbling over an abused avian Grian at a hybrid slave market. But I am more than happy to try and put another spin on this idea! So onto the prompt list it goes!
Thank you thank you!
#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#hermitcraft#traffic smp#traveling thieves au#hermitshipping#trafficshipping#mumscarian#mumbo jumbo#grian#goodtimeswithscar#fic prompt
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(if you don't know what divine travel is, a) this won't make much sense, but b) you should because it's cool as hell and i've been conceptually obsessed with it for years now)
cw for animal death
“We’re never getting out of here.”
“Shut up, Scar.
“We’re going to be stuck here forever.”
“Scar. Shut up.”
“We’re going to die, all alone–” He sing-songs it, drags out the o into an oooo. “–on this horrible world, full of creepers and zombies and things, in the moon–”
“Scar!” Grian, bloody up to his wrists, bent over desecrated corpses of three white rabbits, looks up at the man pacing circles around him. There’s a loop of viscera around two fingers of his left hand. His right thumb’s tucked just barely under a small, still heart. There’s a deep crease between his brows, dark bags under his eyes.
Scar, politely, stops pacing. Grian’s gaze is a physical weight. “What?” he says, shrugs. “It’s the truth. This is the third one of these we’ve been on, and we died in all the rest of them–”
“Yes, because someone couldn’t–
“–and it was really unpleasant, especially that last one with the piglin–”
“And who’s fault was–!”
“And then those things, in the moon–” He sings that, too, a little wobbly up-and-down like you’d do to make a child laugh. The fear behind it is tangible. “And they keep laughing at me, every time, and I can feel them watching when I–”
“Scar! Will you shut up and listen to me! Please.” Grian pulls his hands free, swipes lank and sweaty hair out of his eyes, off his forehead. “Listen to me. Scar. We’re not dying here. Not today.”
“Well, you might not be, but, as you so kindly keep pointing out, I–” Scar’s pouting, lower lip stuck out, hands in the pockets of his obscenely short shorts. He kicks a rock; it bounces, rolls, comes to a stop next to the glassy, bulging eye of one of the dead rabbits.
“We’re not bloody dying here today,” says Grian, triumphantly, “because I know where the End portal is.” He looks up, around, turns to meet the horizon with his gaze. The world stretches out in front of him, endless, wild, impossible. Foreign. But not entirely unknown – not any more.
“What? How?!” Scar’s staring at him, wide-eyed, something like hope in the set of his brow and mouth for the first time in weeks.
“Divine travel,” says Grian, baring his teeth in a grin. He holds up his hands, bloody, the crimson drying to brown in the cracks of his knuckles. The rabbits are stretched out on the grass, neat anatomical specimens, disembowelled, a fortune read in the warm trail of their removed organs. A map. “I know where we need to go.” He pauses, his eyes alight with all the fire of the sun rising in a halo behind his head. “Scar. Scar. We’re not dying here. Not today. We’re getting out.”
#hermitcraft#hermitfic#desert duo#scarian#i guess or whatever#fic#hermits crafting#also hi guys! not dead. just very busy and barely in fandom any more#but here have some prompt games#prompt was 'divine'#yes yes i stretched how divine travel works a bit shhh
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Snowed in :]
for the 1-3 word scarian prompt game
woe, scarian fluff be upon ye >:]
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
When Grian speaks, his voice is low– a genuflection to the pale luminescence peeking through the gap in his curtains. "Oh," he says, and a note of awe rounds out the syllable. "Scar, I think Christmas might've just come early."
A soft rustle to his left. "Wuzzat?" Scar mumbles through the faint susurrus of sheets, sleep-drenched and unintelligible. When Grian glances down at him, his eyes are narrowed slits, gleaming beneath dappled moonglow. Nestled in their bed like this, he's the epitome of comfort; hair soft and mussed against his pillow, eyes blinking cat-like slow in the semi-darkness. When he shifts, the faint imprint of wrinkled fabric sticks to his cheek.
Grian smothers his snicker with one hand pressed against his teeth. "Sit up," he says, reaching out to nudge Scar awake with an elbow. "And look outside."
"It's cold, Grian," Scar groans, but squirms until he can brace himself upright, blankets falling to pool at his waist. Instead of peering outside the window, however, Scar scoots back, shuffling to the side until, with an unceremonious grunt, he drapes his entire body over Grian's back and wings.
Grian lets out an involuntary oof. "That's not looking," he protests, but the exasperation is fond, wreathing its way around his voice. Despite the unexpected weight, Grian doesn't shake Scar off just yet– the warmth is nice, solid, and Scar sweetens the deal by burying his nose into the hollow between Grian's neck and shoulder, pressing syrupy kisses into any exposed sliver of skin he can reach.
"I'm looking, I'm looking," comes the eventual, muzzy reply. A beat, then: "My eyes just aren't available for comment yet, that's all."
Grian sighs, wings twitching against the ache that's beginning to crawl through them. "Open your eyes, Scar. And look out the window."
Another dreamy moment passes; Scar kisses his shoulder one more time before pulling his head back from the crook of Grian's neck, shifting, and– there. Scar's entire body jolts as if electrocuted; Grian can't stifle the laugh that barks from his throat.
"Oh my gosh," Scar yelps. "It's snowing!"
"Sure is," Grian tells him. He lifts one arm to nudge the curtains open another inch, cozying further into Scar's embrace as some of the darkness peels back. Outside, entire mountains of white powder have piled up against his starter base. "Y'know, I don't think we're gonna be able to work in that," he adds. "I know it's a bit of a challenge, but how do you feel about sleeping in?"
Scar's voice holds an indignant cast. "How am I supposed to sleep in when there's snow, Grian?"
"Well if you laid back down–"
"You got me up in the first place!" Scar curls around him, chest vibrating with the rumble of his voice. When Grian twists to face him, Scar's eyes are shining. "Come on, we gotta make– snowmen! And– and snow angels, and hot chocolate–"
"Tea," Grian says firmly. "Tea first. Hot chocolate later."
"Tea first," Scar concedes, nodding along with solemn motions. "Can't mess up your routine."
"No, we cannot." Grian says, prim. "Right, we'll think about snowmen later, but right now I'm calling it a rest day and going back to bed."
Scar's arms coil over his chest, pulling him even closer; another lingering kiss is folded into Grian's shoulder, pressed with care and accompanied by warm breath fanning over his skin. "Sounds good," Scar murmurs, muffled. "Love you."
On the window is a spiral of frost, delicate and miniscule, a creeping pattern that arrests Grian's eyes. He traces over its path, meandering until it disappears behind the curtain– fingers tightening in the sheets, pulse a gentle stumble. Inside his heart is a low, simmering fire, winding thick between his ribs and crawling up his throat, burning him from the inside out. Without looking, he fumbles for Scar's hand, and leaves a kiss of his own against scarred knuckles.
"Love you too," Grian breathes, and the warmth floods through him, inside and out.
#scarian#hermitcraft#hermitshipping#mcyt#mcyt fic#fluff#ngl this came out INCREDIBLY soft#prompt game#asks#shouting speaks#my fics#txt#goodtimeswithscar#grian
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aheem heem… hello dearest mutual… uhm… renthubs + 14 mayhaps? :3c
14. bruised / kissed (x) (1285 words. help. you guys made me terrible)
It’s late, and the basement of the monolith is already starting to seep through with cold. Etho runs a hand up the back of his neck, trying to work out the tension from sleeping funny the night before. He’s been in this position for a good part of an hour, tracing out the lines of blueprints half understood. He sighs.
"Knock, knock."
Etho straightens, startling. He turns in his chair to notice the outline of Ren in the doorway of his workspace.
"Oh, hey, Ren,” he says, relaxing his shoulders. Ren smiles at him, his ears perking up.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. He’s carrying a cup in his hands.
“No, no,” Etho waves his roommate in, patting the desk, as if to say join me here, the space is yours, too. Which. A few months ago, may not have been the case. As Ren pulls from the doorway, Etho squints into the rest of his living space. "Is Bdubs..."
Ren shakes his head.
"No, he's asleep."
Etho nods.
"Ah,” he says, leaning back against the desk. He tucks his leg up against the back, tilting his head. “What're you still doing up?"
Ren sits at the edge of the desk. He glances behind him for a moment, making sure that, when he inevitably wags his tail, it won’t knock anything over. Etho smiles, something warm weaseling up next to his heart.
“Oh. I couldn’t sleep. I figured I might,” Ren taps his fingers against the cup he’s holding and Etho watches him glance between it and his face. “Uh, see if you wanted company until you went up.”
Etho smiles and his eyes crinkle. “Thanks.”
Ren nods. After a second, he holds out the mug he was holding to Etho. Etho reflexively holds his hands out, before Ren even speaks. He shifts in the chair to meet him better.
“Here,” Ren says. Etho holds the warm cup in the cradle of his hands. It smells sweet, almost like cinnamon, or nutmeg, some dark spice he can’t place.
“Oh. It’s...” He furrows his eyebrows. Coffee.
“You don’t have to drink it now,” Ren blurts. His ears pin back. Something in his voice asks I don’t know if you like it. How does he say I’ll drink it for you? Ren continues: “You can wait until I leave.”
“I appreciate it.” Etho laughs, setting the cup down. That alone seems to make Ren’s shoulder’s relax. Etho sees his ears twitch. He settles back again, draping his arm over his knee. Ren tilts his head, just a bit, waiting on the inevitable question he must sense in Etho’s posture. "What did I miss today?"
Ren grins. The way it lights up his face. Etho wants to bottle whatever that is. "Oh man. Plans. All across the floor,” he spreads his hands, glancing over at him. “We spent twenty minutes trying to lay them out but my god when we did. Etho have you seen—"
Etho leans forward. "The color on them?"
Ren swings out, bats at his arm. He bats him back.
"And the design!” Ren says, rocking back, gesturing wildly with his hands. “They don't even look like someone could build them. They're inhuman!"
Etho nods, watching Ren try so very hard not to wag his tail. Etho says, pressing his hands together:
"He's been developing this new way of shading things so that the gradients create the texture for him, he's redefining—"
"Negative space," they say together.
"Exactly,” Ren sighs. “Wow."
Etho hums. Ren settles back against the desk, both hands behind him.
"It's nice having someone else to look after him, y'know,” Etho says. Ren inclines his head, ears perking up.
"Bdubs?"
Etho smiles.
"Mhm."
Ren huffs out a laugh, pressing a hand to his chest. He dips his head, as if it’ll prevent Etho from seeing the flush on his face.
"It's. An honor that you trust me to do it."
Etho traces the lip of the cup. He shrugs.
"Sure. You're an easy guy to trust."
Ren shakes his head, smiling, voice carrying a sheepish laugh.
"Please."
"I mean it."
“I know, I know,” Ren says, still laughing a little. There’s a lull, just for a moment, the two of them sitting quietly. Ren looks into his hands before he speaks again, quiet and still smiling.
"I care about you too, y'know."
"Yeah?" Etho snorts. But Ren sounds too sincere when he says it. Etho replays scenes in his head. Little things. Moments. Ren makes him breakfast. Ren tells him to be safe. Ren says to go to bed. Ren brings him tea. His favorite tea. Ren listens. Ren leans back in when Etho leans against him, too tired to walk back alone from another redstone project. Ren trusts him to critique his building, something he’s only ever been asked to do by Bdubs. Bdubs leaves them together. He tells Bdubs late one night that he likes Ren. It isn’t the stronger word. But Bdubs lights up nonetheless. He’s reading his mind. And Ren says:
"Yeah,” in a soft voice.
Etho feels something in his chest seize. He pushes the mug forward on the desk to put his hand down, pulling himself out of the chair and to a stand.
“Ren,” he says, his hand half outstretched between them. Ren glances over.
“Hm?”
“I, uh,” he swallows. For some reason, the words don’t sound right in his mouth. Not like he can’t say them, but that they’re suddenly not good enough. There is something much too bright and great in his chest to be encapsulated by words alone. He holds his hand out, palm up, and Ren, after a beat of hesitation, sets his hand on his. Etho turns his hand over. He reads over the fine lines of his hand. He wonders if he were to run his thumbs over his palm if it would be softer than his own. Maybe. Maybe.
Etho sighs to settle his nerves. He feels his hands start to twitch, just a little, so he squeezes Ren’s hand and watches his fingers curl reflexively. Etho reaches up and tucks his fingers under one of the loops of his mask.
“I figured this was right,” Etho says. “Given the circumstances.”
Ren’s eyes are wide.
“What circumstances are those?” He says like the breath is caught in his chest.
Etho unhooks the mask from one ear, then the other. It’s. His hands are shaking. He swallows hard. He hears Ren take in a breath that sounds too sharp to be good.
“I uh, I think,” Etho manages. He sets the mask on the table. He lets go of Ren’s hand. “I just figured out what loving a new person feels like.”
Ren holds his hand in the space between them. When Etho meets his eye, Ren’s gaze flicks over his face. He’s smiling. He’s smiling.
“How long you been figuring it out?” he asks.
Etho smiles, too. “A while, I think.”
Ren’s tail is wagging. Etho is smiling. Ren’s hand is coming up, not to trace his scar or his mouth of too sharp teeth or the split of his lip. He holds the right side of his face in his hand and he’s smiling. He traces the rise of his cheek and Etho leans into it. He feels something bubble up in his chest that might burst and take him with it.
“Yeah,” Ren says. "Me too.”
And he pulls Etho to him. (And Etho goes, kisses him. All his confessions have been with a kiss. All of them are just as sweet. And when Etho sleeps tonight, he is bracketed by two people who love him.)
#renthubs#hermitshipping#renthedog#rendog#ethoslab#bdoubleo100#hermitcraft#rentho#hermitcraft fic#mcyt#mcyt fic#text#fics#oh the fuckery..evrybody want to be my enemy..#i accidentally sent this to you ghost you shouldn't've read this#i'm just mentally switching y'all's prompts in my head#thank you for the proper vetting bdubsgirls i love you sm#go.. be insane in the tags and in my askbox..#the first of many renthubs to come#asks#peskyybird#behold...dogboy
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Fic Concept: Tango and Jimmy had a pretty bombastic reunion, right? They were ecstatic to see each other again! And then for the first little while Tango was pretty damn active on Empires. He worked on redstone for Fwhip, he got dragged into Hermit-recruitment shenanigans, he even went to visit Jimmy again when Jimmy built the ranch in Tumble Town. Tango made promises to stay there, all while finishing up what he’s promised Fwhip…and then he became less active.
IRL, we know it was partially because cc!Tango got busy with his new Create series, but on top of that, he ended up missing out on some of the latter crossover stuff because he got sick.
Which gave me this idea: What if c!Tango got sick too?
What if, because he - a blaze hybrid - kept pushing himself to work in the freezing cold environment of Decked Out for days at a time, he ended up getting sick because of it…but it was mild enough when he showed up on Empires that he just brushed it off and ignored it? But then he threw himself into the redstone project for Fwhip, spending hours on end working in the damp chill of the caves of Gobland, and he ended up pushing himself too far?
Fic writers, here’s your prompt if you’re looking for ideas. Give me a sick fic where Tango comes back to the ranch from Gobland looking like hell, so Jimmy forces him to take a break and let himself heal in Tumble Town, where the environment is so much warmer and so much healthier for a netherborn like him. (Bonus points if that’s the reason Tango didn’t go back through the rift right away with everyone else)
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doInsomnia = true;
He was standing on a giant bed.
Hundreds of blocks wide and standard in sheets, Grian could only tell what it was by the spring that affected his every step.
The ground was too-soft, forcing him to his knees as he tried to walk on it. A little divet forming in the mattress for him to get stuck in.
What the—-
——————————
The moon is crashing into earth and Grian hasn't slept for a while, reality being an unstable thing when the mind is pushed too far. (@hermithorrorweek day 1. Season 8 / Game Mechanics)
#hermithorrorweek2023#grian#gtws#hermitcraft#hermitcraft season 8#oneshot#i have a little oneshot for each day :]]]] its been a very fun prompt list to work with!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kudos admins#my fic
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Im not sure if ur still taking request but 7 solidaritek for the ask game?
7. handwritten / promised (x)
(234 words)
Physical inter-server mail is a relic of the past, from before the communicators of today, before the giant, sprawling servers that existed just to be massive playgrounds, before quick and easy inter-server travel. But Jimmy is sentimental and fond of traditions, and Tango knows and adores this about him.
The paper in his hands isn’t really the same as the one Jimmy wrote on, in the Sheriff’s building in Tumble Town. Tango knows too much about world-code to truly try and fool himself. But despite this awareness, he feels connected to Jimmy through the words on the paper, the slant of Jimmy’s letters, the way he loops his ‘g’s. It connects him to Jimmy in a way their idle, never-ending private chat can’t. The words themselves aren’t important—just a rambling page and a half about Jimmy’s ridiculously inefficient gunpowder farm and the way the story magic rampant on the Empires server was affecting the creepers’ behavior—but it’s the care from Jimmy that Tango can feel through the letter. It’s in the smudge of a pawprint from Norman, the doodle of a baby creeper that takes up the last half of the second page, the “my rancher, my soulmate” at the start, the heart Jimmy drew over the ‘i’ in his signature.
Tango smiles to himself and folds the letter back up to slip into his enderchest. He’ll see Jimmy again soon enough.
#i wrote this instead of unpacking lol#team rancher#solidaritek#trafficshipping#hermitcraft#empires smp#double life smp#double life#solidarity gaming#tango tek#my fic#listen it's just smt sweet for the kids#anyway im still accepting prompts i just also moved in so im taking my own sweet time with this
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Fic Prompt for an angsty Grian centric fic.
Okay so you know how Grian is a parrot hybrid most commonly?
Well, what if when he gets stressed out a lot, he loses his ability to speak freely, only able to repeat words he's heard others say recently.
And, what would happen when the other hermits found out?
#blue-procrastinating#blue-can-speak#grian#hermitcraft#hermitcraft grian#blue-cannot-write#limited life#last life#last life grian#3rd life grian#double life#writers#ao3 writer#writeblr#writing#prompt#fic prompt#hermitcraft fic prompt#parrot grian
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fae zedaph, avian tango, and/or butterfly impulse?
Tango pinches the bridge of his nose. He breathes in. He breathes out. He looks at Zedaph.
"Okay. Why do you have a baby," Tango says.
"Well, it was an accident!" Zedaph says.
"How! How do you accidentally end up with a baby!" Tango says. He pauses. He considers what he has just said. He revises: "How do you or I accidentally end up with a baby! I am a robot and you are an immortal fairy creature. You can't babyificate. I know. You've checked."
"You don't have to sound so haunted," Zedaph says, vaguely hurt.
"I am very haunted by most of what you do, that's not the point. How did you end up with a baby! I can't take care of a baby, Zedaph! You definitely can't take care of a baby! What are we going to do with a baby?"
Zedaph shuffles his feet. When they'd first met, Tango had been reluctantly impressed with how human Zedaph's mannerisms were for a guy who, at that time, still hadn't been entirely certain you weren't supposed to eat people who were rude to you. He's come a long way since Tango had discovered he was just alive enough to be able to accidentally slip into the feywild, and Zedaph discovered he was actually much happier experimenting in the human world most of the time than dealing with other fair folk and their 'predictable rules' and 'annoying laws of hospitality'.
If Tango wasn't mostly made of steel and cold iron, he probably wouldn't have survived the early encounters with Zedaph. Nowadays, though, it's easy to mistake Zedaph for just an exceptionally weird human. Sure, he still looks at everyone a little bit like they're more of an experiment or strange animal than a person, but that's just Zedaph. Even if he were human, Tango's pretty sure he'd follow his own idiosyncratic laws.
None of this explains why he has a baby.
"Okay, look, it's not my fault this time, I swear," Zedaph says. "It's--look, I was in-town, and there was this guy, and he made a bargain with me! It was a very little bargain! I didn't think he'd break it. Honest! He just wanted gold--"
"Oh no," mutters Tango.
"--and I just told him that I wanted him to take care of a sheep for me without looking at it! I wanted to see what would happen if a sheep grew up without anyone looking at it. Would it want to look at other people more or less? You know my problems with sheep and looking at me."
"I hate that I know where this is going," Tango says.
"And he was all like, oh that's easy, I won't break that bargain. And I remembered what you said about how most people don't like having their babies swapped out with fey, which still doesn't really make sense honestly because I think a baby me is WAY more exciting than a baby human to take care of and also then I can experiment with the baby human but that's not the point. The point is that you said most people would avoid that! So I said, okay, if you break our bargain and look at the sheep, I'll come take your first baby. It's a traditional fey thing! I thought he wouldn't do it! I don't want a baby, I want a traumatized sheep!"
"Sometimes I wonder if my inventor knew my life would end up like this," Tango says.
"So imagine my shock when one day I just--poof--I have a baby!"
"I don't know how to take care of a baby," Tango says. "You absolutely shouldn't be trusted with a baby. What do we do with a baby."
The two of them look at the child.
"I mean, I cast a spell on it so it would sleep?" Zedaph says tentatively. "But to be totally honest with you, I don't actually know how long those last. You know how it is with my magic."
"I have decided this is Impulse's problem," Tango responds after a moment. "We give the baby to Impulse. He's a human. Humans know what to do with babies, right?"
Zedaph gives Tango an extremely skeptical look. "I got this one from a human."
"Impulse will suffer with us," Tango says.
"Sold," Zedaph says. "Let's go give Impulse a surprise baby."
"Please don't phrase it like that," Tango says, and they both start heading in the direction of where Tango thinks Impulse is currently living. Surely, he has the solution to this problem. Surely.
#answered#ask game#prompt ficlet#a bee fic#hermitcraft#zedaph#tangotek#and also a baby i guess#anyway i feel like fae zedaph would get into a bunch fo weird hijinks#so my brain invented. this entire au for that.
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has anyone asked for watcher mumbo yet
"Grian," Pearl said, after a moment, "are you contagious?"
Grian made a sour expression as he shoved Mumbo past her into her base; she stepped aside, eyebrows raised. "I haven't got a virus, Pearl."
"Just asking," she said, pushing the door shut behind him. "Cause, you know, I'm pretty sure the last time I saw Mumbo, he had two eyes."
"What's important is that it's not my fault," Grian said, bundling Mumbo onto a sofa. Mumbo was staring at nothing, in about fifty different directions. Well, that was worrying.
Pearl looked at Grian doubtfully.
"It's not! It's actually not!" Grian said, defensive. "I didn't do anything! He stole my soul!"
Pearl went to flick Mumbo in the forehead, smoothly averted the gesture when she couldn't spot a clear patch of skin to target. "Well, what on earth did you go and do that for?" she asked him, not really anticipating a response.
"Mind, I'm not sure if he actually is a Watcher now or if he just looks like one," Grian said thoughtfully. "I guess that's his thing this season, is looking like what he eats, did you know?"
"Huh," Pearl said back, and squinted. "What would be the difference?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Grian admitted after a moment. "Maybe when he's coherent again we can ask him if he feels like his soul's been fundamentally reshaped or not."
"And when do you think that's going to be?" Pearl asked dubiously. She snapped her fingers in front of Mumbo's face a few times to emphasize the point. A trio of eyes blinked at her.
Grian shrugged. "Few hours? This is easier when it happens in the void. There's a lot less to look at."
"Alright. Well, I'm not getting any work done until then, I guess. Wanna watch a movie?"
#anyways read how to be a human being by doctorletmebebrave if u wanna read a whole fic about this premise#mumbo jumbo#grian#pearlescentmoon#sorry for writing abt the soul theft again but its such a good jumping off point#boatem#hermitcraft season 8#the watchers#fanon switcheroo prompts#asks#my writing
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Just curious, is anyone planning on writing any pride drabbles for hermitcraft/empires? Specifically for characters like Gem (bi irl) Cleo (bi and she/they pronouns) Lizzie (bi) Shelby (ace) or Scott (Gay) I simply ask because a lot of the time I do see queer ships but between two straight men and I think it would be fun to see the actual queer characters in the spot light. Katherine and Jimmy also get a special mention for participating in canon queer couples in a few series ( flower husbands and Nature wives)
#zombiecleo#geminitay#shubble#empires smp#Lizzie#scott smajor#ldshadowlady#pride month#hermitcraft pride#empires pride#fic ideas#fic prompt#drabble ideas#please tag me if you write it
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So, fic prompt (TTSBC),
You mentioned during the Doc and Etho backstory(I think?) fic that Cleo babysat the avian trio. Can we get some more insight into how that went?
(Also I'm not much of a fanfic reader but yours lives in my mind rent free recently so thanks for that :))
Auntie Cleo babysitting the pesky birds to give Doc and Etho a night off, yes! That did happen! I'd love to write a cute little story about how that goes, I'll add it to the prompt list for next Scribbling Corner!
I'm so glad my fanfic have been the ones to take over your head! ☺️
#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#hermitcraft#through the sky blue cracks#hermitshipping#doctho#docm77#ethoslab#zombiecleo#grian#jimmy solidarity#pearlescentmoon#fic prompt
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