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therizino-ao3 · 3 months

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mcyt valentines 2024: The Big Eyes Bug

gift for @raccoontho @mcyt-valentines

contains: body horror, zombie apocalypse, bugs, worms, eye injury, mind control, parasites, minor character death, imprisonment, character being handcuffed/chained, misgendering (not in a trans way, in a not believing a zombie is a person way and using it/its)

word count: 5430

summary: Zedaph loves worms. Now, if only they loved him back.

Zedaph would like to say that he was right all along to everyone who had ever doubted him. His mother, his father, his entire small village, his college roommate, all his extended family, and that one guy that made fun of him that one time. Unfortunately, he can’t say that, because in the ensuing apocalypse which PROVED he was right to study helminthology, they all died. But, he can think about it in his head, and imagine the annoyed faces they would make instead of imagining their disfigured bodies, and it makes him feel better.

He is somewhat worried about his food supply. So far, hiding in a high school cafeteria has been pretty lucrative, but after spending a week moping about in one, you begin to run out of crisp packets and mini brownies and satsumas. It’s a pretty safe area, every door thick and lockable, not to mention that the entire site is empty – what kid could be bothered to go to school in these conditions? It’s a far cry from supermarkets, he’ll say. Every single supermarket Zedaph has seen so far has not only been thoroughly looted of anything useful but also littered with bodies and guts. There’s no doubt everything in there is contaminated with eggs. Overall, even though it is a bit weird for a random adult man to be hiding in a school, it’s working out.

He hears footsteps. Maybe it isn’t working out, then.

He tries not to panic. This isn’t the first time a zombie has come by here. Well, calling them zombies feels a bit weird, since they’re still alive, but thinking about the fact they’re still conscious as something controls their brain and mutilates their body is worse - plus “zombie” sounds cooler than “fluke host”. So, zombie it is. Anyways, sometimes some stray zombies wander past the school, but none have attempted to break in and chances are they’re all sacrificial hosts. He just needs to stay quiet, so they don’t alert the shepherds. It’ll be fine.

The footsteps aren’t the regular, lumbering kind though. They vary in pace and have an air of confidence to them, so the person they belong to definitely has fine motor control. That’s bad. That means either a shepherd or a survivor. He isn’t sure which is better. Logically, the survivor would be, but in zombie apocalypse movies, aren’t the other survivors usually evil? He hasn’t even watched any movies like that, so he’s just guessing from what he’s heard, but they might try to eat him or steal his supplies or… something. At least a shepherd is predictable, a survivor could do anything.

Something crashes outside, Zedaph wonders if they’re trying the doors. He gulps. Well, if they come in here, whoever they are, he’ll fight him! He’s got big scary horns for a reason! And he isn’t afraid to use them!

He hears some doors being swung loudly on their hinges, sounding far too close for comfort. The fight instantly leaves him and he starts to think about escape. Part of the reason he chose the cafeteria was due to the exit options. One door leading to some classrooms, one door leading to a courtyard area, and one door in the kitchen leading to the outside. The last one is his only real choice, considering the noise is coming from the classrooms and he’ll get caught easily in the courtyard. He hates the idea of going outside, exposed to the sky, but it’s not like he can do anything else.

And just as he’s finished making up his mind, he realises that the person has already forced his way into the room, past Zedaph’s rudimentary barrier of plastic chairs. He’s a guardian, short with a fluffy beard, kitted out with a heavy rucksack and a belt adorned with tools. A respiratory mask hangs around his neck.

“Uh,” says the guy. He doesn’t have any visible broodsacs, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s uninfected.

“Uhhhh,” says Zedaph, standing like a deer in headlights.

“Are you-”

“Please don’t kill me!” he interrupts, voice going high with hysteria.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” the man says, looking a bit amused. He takes a few steps forward. “From that reaction, I am guessing you’re uninfected?”

“Yep, totally free of parasites, me,” Zedaph says, giggling nervously.

“Righhht. I am so sorry, by the way, I didn’t know there was anyone here. You’re doing a really good job at hiding, I totally thought this place was abandoned,” the man holds out his hand, “I’m xB.”

Zedaph shakes xB’s hand – he thinks he’s supposed to shake his hand? He hopes xB didn’t want to hold hands instead because that would be awkward. xB looks at him, as if waiting for something. Oh right, he’s waiting for an introduction, “I’m Zedaph, nice to meet you!”

“Well, mister Zedaph,” xB pulls his hand back, “it is nice to meet you too! I haven’t met many others. I’m alright to chat for a little bit, but this has kinda been a bit of a stop in my plans. Do you mind if I grab some food while I’m here?”

Zedaph turns to where xB is looking – the kitchen – before turning back, “Um, yeah, grab as much as you want. Sorry for interrupting your… plans.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault for being here, it just means I’m gonna have to find somewhere else to base for the next few nights,” xB wanders over, rooting through Zedaph’s food supplies as they talk. Zedaph follows. Maybe it was a bad idea letting xB take some of his precious food, but he wasn’t just going to tell xB to starve.

“You can stay here, I won’t mind,” Zedaph says whilst xB stuffs one of his six trouser pockets with raisin packets.

“No, no, it’s… there’s gonna be a lot less food here than I imagined and, to be honest, I prefer being alone,” Zedaph isn’t sure what to say to that (or what to say to anything in general, actually. He hasn’t talked to people in months). xB starts again, “So! What was your job before all this? I was a security guard.”

“Security guard! Like at a museum?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I was, and I like to think still am, a parasitologist.”

xB giggles, “A what?”

“Parasitologist! Helminthologist, specifically. I study parasitic worms. Truthfully, I’ve been obsessed with worms ever since I was little. Just couldn’t get enough of them. Worm man, the kids used to call me.”

xB is alert now, straightening up, “Wait. Parasitic worms, like, the ones out there?”

“Well, a lot more than just the big zombie ones, but yes.”

“So, for the ‘big zombie ones’, you could tell me all about how they work and how to stop them?”

“Basically!” Zedaph says, spurred on by someone finally being interested in his research, “It’s somewhat hard because this isn’t a species we ever knew about before – I imagine they went extinct in the wild sometime in the last Ice Age, but some eggs were frozen and, well, off-topic, anyway! The point is, even though this is a species new to science, they share a lot of similarities to other helminths, such as ones in the Leucochloridium genus. I have also been doing a lot of observing and taking notes - and though it would help to be able to properly dissect and analyse specimens - I have some theories on their life cycles and mechanisms.”

“Right,” says xB with bright eyes, “Y’know, I might have just had a change of plans.”

“You’re staying?”

“For the night. Anyways, can you continue on? I want you to explain why some of the infected are smart zombies and some are normal zombies, please,” xB has forgotten about the food, pulling up a stool to sit on.

“Of course, of course,” Zedaph grins, “So, the worm at this stage has one goal: get eaten by a dragon. This is because the dragon’s belly is where the worm reproduces and the microscopic eggs get spread by the dragon poop and pee and tears and breath and all the other gross stuff. When the parasite gets into your system, it makes these… tendrils. They connect to your nervous system and brain and send their own impulses, controlling your body. You also have the broodsacs which is the whole, y’know, eye situation. Anyway! Most infected want to get eaten by the dragons to spread the eggs, yada yada. But! People are smart. We’d soon figure out what the parasite’s plan is and develop something to kill eggs and capture all the wild dragons and what not. So, the parasite needs to be smart too and there is a smart brain right there waiting to be used. Every now and again, an infected becomes what I like to call a shepherd, helping to guide the other zombies and stop the uninfected from causing trouble, often by manually infecting people. It’s extra interesting because the sacrificial hosts – that’s what I call the other zombies, because their purpose is to get eaten – seem to be able to communicate with shepherds, maybe by pheromones?”

“That is interesting,” xB says, eyes focused on Zedaph. It’s almost unnerving how much he’s staring, really.

“One question for you, actually,” Zedaph says, because it’s been on his mind since he saw xB, “What is a seafolk doing out here? Bit far from the ocean, aren’t we?”

xB bites his lip, “Yeah. I would have stayed there, but the infection was waterbourne. Underwater cities were where the first major outbreaks happened. Coastal areas were mobbed with infected. The best decision was to leave as fast as possible. Besides, I have a friend inland, so it’s not like I’ve never been this far out before. Plus, for a guardian, land travel is manageable with lots of water, and I have a purifier, so…”

“Makes sense,” says Zedaph, who hopes that’s a sensible and compassionate answer, because currently all his mind can focus on is how the parasite is able to spread so well in water. Do the eggs hatch into a microscopic worms well-adapted to an aquatic environment that are able to enter people through the gills? Is this the same form they take in the body or one unique to ocean environments? Is this hatching activated by proximity to water? Or a certain temperature? Or a certain salt concentration?

xB doesn’t seem to mind Zedaph’s failings at social interaction, because he asks for Zedaph to explain more things.

Zedaph loves explaining. Issue is, the parasite is very complicated, and though Zedaph loves complicated, it is a bit inconvenient when you have to try and explain the ins and outs of a trematode lifecycle to someone who knows only basic biology. Nonetheless, xB is a good listener and asks questions and all the awkwardness Zedaph initially felt at having to talk to someone when he hasn’t in so long has melted away. Eventually, they’re both tired from laughing too much (even in the face of morbid topics, xB makes some good jokes) and Zedaph leads xB to the feeble pile of abandoned jackets and dish cloths he calls his bed. In response, xB retrieves a sleeping bag from his rucksack, and Zedaph may or may not have pleaded really, really hard to share it because he doesn’t want to spend another night shivering, so he instead goes to bed cramped next to a man he has known for a few hours. It’s the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

xB just has to go and ruin it all by pointing a gun at his head.

“HYUUHHH? YAHHH?” Zedaph yowls. He’s never really been a morning person, so you can’t expect him to formulate a good response at 6 AM.

“You. Are coming with me. And you are going to do everything I say so you don’t get killed. M’kay?” xB is standing over him, all prepared and everything. It isn’t fair. Zedaph bets he’s a morning person.

“Whatever you say,” he manages, in a small voice.

xB stops pointing the gun at him but keeps it in his hand. He chucks Zedaph a Naruto-themed backpack. He must have found it in the dining area, left by some teenager ages ago. There’s a large patch of mould growing over Kakashi’s face. Zedaph scrambles to pick it up, peaking inside to see it’s been stocked with food and water bottles. So, he’s making Zedaph his mule, making him carry around things for him, ridiculous! xB then puts on his respiratory mask, before motioning for them to exit.

Zedaph blinks as he steps out, already feeling anxious. The sun is beginning to rise, tinting the sky pink.

“Okay, so where would we need to go to get the treatment for the parasite?” xB asks, his voice muffled by the mask.

Zedaph splutters, “I thought you were the one leading me around!”

“I am, but, where I’m leading you to depends on where the cure is. Like, do you need a laboratory, or can you find stuff in a pharmacy, I’m waiting for you, man.”

He pauses before answering, “Probably a vet. They tend to have a lot more antihelminthics on hand. Typically, you tend to see worms more in dogs than humans.”

“Alright, now you follow me,” xB says, raising the gun as reminder, before tucking it into a gun holster and trotting away.

Zedaph swallows and does as commanded.

At least xB seems to know what he’s doing. They stick to alleyways and gardens and hedgerows and other very hidden routes, where they’re unlikely to be found by shepherds and aren’t too open to the sky. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a time of day where the infected go all sleepy, but at least travelling during the day they can see where they’re going.

It occurs to him that xB must know this area pretty well, given he’s taking weird shortcuts with no map and yet is no less confident. Maybe this is where his “inland friend” is. Zedaph doesn’t really know where anything is, unfortunately. Ever since this whole thing kicked off he’s just been running randomly until he finds somewhere decent to stay.

Their trip is uneventful, save the occasional roar of a distant dragon, until about 2 hours later. The path they are following bends to the right, and poking their heads around the bend, they see a sacrificial host.

It stands, swaying, in the centre of the pathway. Clothes still cling to its body, though torn and stained with all manner of fluid. The mouth is slack open, the skin is tinted green and Zedaph can see odd rashes covering parts of the body. Its eyes bulge, an ungodly amount, to the length of an arm, the cornea stretched to the verge of breaking. Taking occupation in each eye is a broodsac, a thick pulsating mass like a caterpillar, banded green and red and white, writhing. They each move independently, one twisting up to the sky, feeling for light. The other slumps. The thing that once was a person – and still might be, deep inside, Zedaph reminds himself – stumbles towards a spot not covered by the shadows of the surrounding trees. One of the legs looks twice the size of the other – there must be a third broodsac in there. The creature comes to rest once at its destination and both eyes reach up as far as they can before rhythmically bobbing to try and catch the attention of a dragon.

It's been a while since Zedaph has seen one in person. The parasite is amazing. He feels a bit guilty for thinking that. He wants to keep staring but wants nothing more than to run away at the same time. xB tugs his arm and breaks him from his thoughts. They carefully walk past, making sure to keep a decent distance and not make too much sound. The sacrificials will only notice you if you’re obvious. They leave it behind them with no issue.

After an hour they arrive at “Pro Vetz: We Cure Animals For Less Money Than Other Vets”. The sign is missing 5 letters, but there is a crusty outline where the letters were, so you can still read it fine. He can see why xB chose it, it’s hidden between clumps of warehouses and nowhere near any housing estates. That being said, whilst it is the apocalypse, it’s only been the apocalypse for a little while, and it is perhaps the most derelict veterinary establishment he has seen in his life.

Zedaph glances at xB, “I’m not comforted by the sign.”

“If it works it works, if not, we have enough food to bunker down here for a little bit and we’ll try somewhere else,” xB says, opening the door, “After you.”

He creeps inside, looking around the dark waiting room. There’s a dark puddle of something in the centre and some of the chairs have been pushed around. xB takes off his mask; there’s little point in wearing them inside, the eggs will just be settled on surfaces. Zedaph is also not sure if they are that necessary outside, given the only way an egg could be breathed in is if a dragon is literally exhaling on top of you, but he doesn’t have the courage to tell xB that.

“I don’t think we’re the first ones here,” he whispers.

xB hums, staring at the surroundings before heading over to the door at the back, “We’ll just wash our hands after we leave in case of eggs, we should be fine.”

Zedaph watches xB pull his gun out before tugging open the door and charging through. Zedaph follows, unsure what else to do.

The door leads to a corridor, with some doors either side leading to operating theatres, one to a collection of cages to keep sick animals in, and one final door leading to all the stock. The place is silent and xB lets him through to look at their de-worming medicine.

“So, is there a particular reason for your forcing-me-to-come-with-you-and-get-anti-worm-medicine thing?” Zedaph asks as he shuffles through boxes. He’s looking for praziquantel, or even metrifonate or triclabendazole or something.

“Let’s just say I have a motive.”

“That? Answers nothing?”

“I know,” xB giggles, “Okay, fine, I want someone I know to get treated of the infection. And I want some supply of drugs in case something happens to me. And I want to keep you around because it’s useful to have someone who understands how the infection works. There, that’s the truth.”

Zedaph isn’t sure how to feel about being called useful - his parents always said he was useless. At the same time, he’s not sure if it’s that much of a compliment when xB says it. He’s also starting to realise xB might have just been enthusiastically listening to him infodump about parasitic worms for the purposes of learning how to defeat them, rather than genuine interest in said worms. And it’s not like Zedaph judges him for that, it is the apocalypse and xB wants to survive, that’s understandable. He just kinda thought that, well, he finally found someone who truly wanted to hear what he had to say. Overall, he feels weird.

He responds with what he knows: worms, “Right. Just be aware I’ve never tried this medication for this specific species and with the way the parasite affects the body, best case scenario, they will probably lose their eyesight and some mobility. Worst case scenario, they die.”

“I kind of expected that. I consider myself lucky enough to have simply found someone who is able to cure him, like, I totally thought it was a fruitless mission. I wouldn’t have given up but, I am grateful.”

“I would be grateful if you didn’t threaten to shoot me,” Zedaph says, because okay yeah he is really annoyed about that actually. Annoyed might be the wrong word, someone who you trusted pulling a gun on you is more of a “betrayed” really.

“I wasn’t actually going to shoot you,” says xB, like it’s obvious, “The sound would alert all the zombies to where we are and it would be a waste of bullets.”

“You could have just asked me to come with you, I would have said yes.”

“I- Yeah. I probably should have done that, sorry.”

Zedaph is kind of tempted to keep going, insult xB a little, but whilst he probably deserves it, Zedaph isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to survive without him. And he did get an apology, so maybe xB will learn to be a little less… threatening-y and more… caring-y.

“Anyways, found it!” he exclaims, pulling out praziquantel.

xB cautiously pokes his head out of the store, and confirming there’s no zombies outside, gestures for Zedaph to follow him out.

“Okay, we need to go to a base I’ve set up a few hours away. We’ll try and see if there’s somewhere we can stop for lunch and so I can get rehydrated, all right with that?”

Zedaph nods.

They weave between warehouses, before finding their way to an alleyway. There’s a lot of turns and Zedaph is reminded uncomfortably by a maze. He is then reminded uncomfortably of a horror movie when something grabs him from behind.

Held, he tries to let out a yelp but a hand dashes in front of his mouth. xB is a few metres ahead of him and doesn’t seem to notice Zedaph’s struggle. His attacker keeps him still, allowing him to watch the only person who could help him walk away, until he deems it safe slam Zedaph to the ground.

He groans, asphalt denting his face. Zedaph swivels to try and face his attacker and sees a face he recognises. Tango, his former friend, with bulging red eyes and rashes all over his face. His eyes aren’t nearly as large as an ordinary zombie, and with the wicked grin on his face, Zedaph has no doubt he’s a shepherd.

Tango was… something in Zedaph’s life. The first friend he ever had, at age 7, Tango was willing to put up with Zedaph showing him all the weird bugs he found, and in return, Zedaph listened to Tango talk about spaceships and dinosaurs and cars and anything else. They grew even closer together and were inseparable, until in their late teens where they fell out and never spoke to each other again. Y’know, just normal friends stuff.

“Hey Zeddy.”

And out of everything today, that’s what breaks him. Because it isn’t even Tango saying that, it’s a worm inside of him, using data in Tango’s brain to say what it thinks will get Zedaph to stay still long enough for him stuff eggs down his throat. And it works. Because Zedaph loves worms so much, and he loves this worm (still, despite everything), but why does it have to do that to Tango, why does it hurt him? Because Zedaph misses Tango so much (he hates that he does), but why does Tango have to hurt him? Does he still think Zedaph is worthless? Is there still a Tango in there, or is Tango’s brain just a database of old memories and actions for the worm to pick and use? If Tango was still here (but he is here) would he apologise?

A gunshot jerks Zedaph out of his mind and the body of the thing that was Tango rolls off of him.

xB stands far away, panting, holding the gun.

Zedaph looks at the body. A hole is in its head. Its hand is clutched, no doubt holding eggs. He forces himself to his feet and comes to stand by xB.

“Did you know him?” xB asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” xB says and hugs him. Zedaph wasn’t expecting that, but it’s not like he dislikes the hug. Actually, he really needed it, probably. Thoughts are hard. xB pulls away eventually though.

“I hate to rush you, but like, every zombie in the area heard that and we should really be running now.”

Zedaph nods and runs.

They’re silent until they reach an old garage. xB lifts the door and they both usher inside. It’s been over an hour and xB must assume they’re safe now.

They haul off their bags and xB motions to them, “Eat something, please.”

Zedaph does that, after spraying some sanitiser on his hands, going straight for the chocolate because he’s feeling rough right now. Meanwhile, xB takes off both his mask and his shirt, something that greatly confuses him until he realises xB is probably checking up on his gills. He is. xB undoes the tape cover on them and lets water run over them.

“I lied,” xB says.

“Huh?”

“About being a security guard, I was actually a hitman.”

“Huh,” Zedaph says, that probably makes sense, given how accurately xB was able to shoot from such a distance, “Did you kill anyone?”

xB looks at him weirdly and giggles, “I mean, yeah, duh, that was my job.”

“I- Yeah, I really should have thought that through,” Zedaph begins to laugh too, a little hysterically, maybe, but who can blame him.

After xB eats, they continue on. They come across a few sacrificial hosts which are easily avoided, and that’s it.

The place where xB is storing his infected friend looks inconspicuous – a decent sized house, a bit run down, behind a public park. Before they go in, xB spends a while surveying the doors, windows, and surroundings, telling Zedaph he has memorised the default condition of the house and needs to check if anything has changed, which would be a sign of an intruder. After 10 minutes xB extracts a key to use on the kitchen window and leads Zedaph in.

“Why don’t we use the front door?” he asks while xB is relocking the window.

“I have it trapped. Most, but not all, people will try the door first to get in. I – and the people I trust – will know it’s unsafe, so only malicious people will get harmed.”

It takes Zedaph a second to realise, “You trust me?”

xB looks back at him, as they wander through the dark hallway, “Of course. You are far too cowardly to try and do anything.”

That’s fair.

They head into the basement and Zedaph is greeted with the sight of a homemade prison cell, barbed wire and chicken netting combined into a grisly metal mesh, held in place by bars of wood, nailed to the floor and ceiling. There’s a tiny flap at the base, probably for sliding food in or something. Inside is a zombie, with some of the largest broodsacs in its eyes Zedaph has ever seen. It has braided hair alongside hooves, showing it was once a satyr like Zedaph. It is also handcuffed and chained to the wall in 4 different places, in case the barricade and locked basement door weren’t enough to keep it down here.

“Princess? Is that you? Did you bring a friend?”

“Hello Keralis,” says xB, “And yes, I did. This is Zedaph.”

“Well, hello there mister Zedaph,” the zombie says with a sweet voice, “Can you please tell xB here to let me out? This isn’t very nice.”

“It’s a shepherd?” Zedaph asks xB.

“Yes. He is a shepherd, smart, talking zombie thing. And no, we’re not letting you out, because every time I do, you try to kill me.”

“Kill my princess? I would never do that.”

“You have though! You try every time.”

He frowns, “I’m left-handed, xB. You can’t blame me.”

xB giggles, “I think you’re a bit more than left-handed, Keralis. I think you’ve got Big Eyes.”

Zedaph is thinking about Tango. He should probably stop doing that, “Right, like I said, I can’t guarantee he’ll survive, or that this will even work, just keep that in mind.”

“I know,” says xB, “Set up the you-know-what-because-I-don’t-want-to-say-it-in-front-of-him upstairs.”

“What are we talking about?” asks Keralis, or once-was Keralis, as Zedaph runs upstairs.

Part of him hopes the medicine doesn’t work, because if it does, well, Tango. He feels mad at xB for killing him. He feels mad at himself for letting xB kill him. He feels mad at himself for getting mad at xB for saving his life. He feels mad at himself for hoping the medicine won’t work. He feels mad at himself- for a lot of reasons, you get the gist.

He focuses on the praziquantel. What dose would be appropriate? He took all the boxes they had, so it’s not like he’s running out any time soon. Typically, he’d default to 75mg/kg/day over 3 doses for non-identified trematodes, but in this case, the infection is quite extreme. He decides to go with 100 mg/kg in three doses for today, and then work from there, like neurocysticercosis. Both parasites affect the brain so he hopes the dosages work similarly. Since the pills are intended for animals they can be crushed, which makes it easy to give to Keralis since it can be hidden in food.

xB comes up and Zedaph explains the situation.

“That’s perfect. When I’m here I try to give him three meals a day, so we can work that in. I have a whole room dedicated to storing food, so I should be able to support all three of us for 6 months at least.”

“Oh, it will take far less than 6 months. Don’t worry. Probably like a month, max.”

xB smiles. They prepare Keralis a lovely meal of crisps and granola bars and dust the whole thing with 30mg/kg of praziquantel and return to the basement.

“Here you go, dude,” xB slides the plate under the mesh flap.

“Hmmph,” Keralis says, awkwardly dragging the plate over in his tied up condition. He has to eat by sticking his whole face into the food, since his hands are handcuffed and attached to the wall. Zedaph almost feels bad.

Keralis lifts his head up to talk halfway through, “This guy… I haven’t been fed in a week and now all the food you give me tastes bitter!”

“I left you a week’s worth of food in here before I left. And beggars can’t be choosers,” xB responds.

Keralis huffs and finishes off a granola bar. Zedaph is counting himself lucky that the awful taste of the medicine didn’t give their plan away when he hears a thump from upstairs. Everyone looks up – including Keralis, whose massive eyes manually tilt up.

“Wow, your roommate sure is noisy,” Zedaph says.

xB clenches his fists, “Only Keralis and I live here.”

“I really hoped you weren’t going to say that.”

xB glares at Keralis, “Was this your doing?”

“No, no! For real this time! This is,” Keralis pauses for a moment, “Ohh, I see. Now you’re both in trouble. Someone’s coming.”

xB swears and pulls out his gun. Zedaph is caught between fear and wanting to ask Keralis the details of how long-distance worm communication works.

The basement door creaks as its opened.

“Hello hello everybody, I’m Etho!” the shepherd announces. It has one ordinary eye, dark and brown and wet, and one livid red twitching eye. The entire right side of its face is bumpy and rashes bloom on the skin. It points its gun at Zedaph, “And there’s some things going on here that I don’t quite like.”

Zedaph remembers something he said to xB yesterday. Something about shepherds stopping the uninfected from causing trouble. He thinks about the praziquantel to kill the worms. He thinks about how the sacrificials can summon a shepherd. He thinks about how Etho has one unmarred eye and how you need good vision to aim a gun. He thinks about how infinitesimally small a chance it is that Tango would be a shepherd and happen to run into Zedaph. He thinks about how he hears so many more dragons going outside now, and about the old enchantments that kept them from urban areas, which would need to be undone. He thinks about how the shepherd/sacrificial determination can’t be chance. He thinks about queen bees and hiveminds and pheromones.

He thinks about all the worms and parasites he’s studied over the years. He thinks about how simple and familiar worms are, how nobody seems to get it but him, how if there were ever to be a worm-led apocalypse, of course he’d be the only one who could stop it.

And as xB aims his gun at Etho in return, Zedaph thinks that the worms chose the wrong enemy.

---

woooo! happy (belated) valentines day! I hope you enjoyed! i thought it would be fun to leave you on a semi-cliffhanger

this ended up being quite heavy on the body horror and apocalypse, though I know you've written body horror in the past so I wasn't too worried.

originally there was a lot more about the worldbuilding and species stuff beyond the little hints here, but I ended up not really fitting with the way the story was shaping up. essentially, this is an urban fantasy world, similar technology to our world but with added magic, with a lot of mythological creatures. you have the fieldfolk (satyrs, minotaurs, fairies, anything woodsland-like) and the seafolk (mermaids, guardians, sirens, selkies), alongside wild fantasy animals (such as dragons).

and: WORMS!!! as soon as I saw xb on your characters requested list, I was thinking about an apocalypse fic (I've been loving the mlp infection AUs and mawofthemagnetar did a lovely zombie apocalypse fic involving xb which inspired me). I am a biologist so whenever I think about zombie apocalypses I want to try to subvert them and introduce (somewhat) realistic facets of biology. viruses have been done to hell and fungi have gotten popular but I've never seen anyone do parasitic worms before, which I think is a shame! this is the species the fic is based on (warning for worms/snail + eye injury + animal in pain), which not only looks unique but does "mind control" its hosts (infected snails move towards light), and as soon as I realised I was doing worm zombies, a certain zedaph on your requested characters was a perfect fit.

in the original draft of the plot, wels and bdubs showed up, and etho had so many different roles I considered during brainstorming - a fellow survivor who tried to attack them, a mediator between the worms and survivors, etc etc. here it isn't too explained what he is due to the dramatic ending, but you can kind of see what I'm getting at. Zedaph initially assumes the worms are just worms, and the shepherd/sacrificial distinction just randomly occurs and is a simple adaptation to help the species survive. at the end, he realises that there's some kind of higher force within the worms choosing which hosts become shepherds, e.g. to best target Zedaph, and letting the worms communicate long-range. Etho I imagine is a specialised agent - with his normal eye - used for assassinations

I'd love to upload this to ao3 if you'd be alright with that, I can set it as a gift for you

#its done wooo! this was so fun to work on. would maybe add onto this concept in the future #therizino writes #mcyt valentines #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #fanfic #cw body horror #cw death #cw bugs #cw worms #cw mind control #zedaph #xbcrafted #keralis #not tagging the others since they barely show up #long post

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therizino-ao3 · 4 months

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self insert fanfiction/stress nightmare of y/n being asked to join hermitcraft season 10 last minute . you dont know how to build. or improv. or record or edit videos. or stream. and right by your side is skizzleman,

#okay now i have ideas. sorta “the good place” plot where you they got you mixed up with someone else with a very similar un #BUT now you’re here and they’ve added you to the logo and they’re all following your twitter and you’ve joined the sever and you’ve got #over 50k subscribers in the course of a day #you confess how you’re not supposed to be here to skizz but he misunderstands it as you having imposter syndrome #so you go on a training montage where he tries to teach you redstone and building #meanwhile the other hermits keep referencing things you’ve never done “haha i loved that game you built when you came onto mindcrack”#”i loved that build you did with the dragon” etc #its a comedy. you have to keep pretending to know these things and have these skills until you eventually can do those things #in the end its revealed most of them realised a few episodes in but didn’t say anything because Friendship and they didn’t want you kicked #but it doesn’t matter because now you are that master skilled minecrafter anyway.

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therizino-ao3 · 4 months

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This is a week long writing-based challenge (artists could hop on but I don't how that will work). This will be one (1) singular piece of writing written throughout the week or less if you choose a time based challenge.

You will choose a difficulty level (1-5) to begin. You are highly recommended to not choose Level 5, it is there to be impossible difficulty. Then you will select either a word-count based or time based challenge.

There are no content restrictions and is open to any MCYT community (not just Hermitcraft). I only ask for you to tag appropriately and use common sense.

AO3 Collection (not open till time of event)

Decked Out 2 Challenge Week - March 3-9

level one: the frozen crypt - 1k in one week

level two: the caves of carnage - 3k for one week or 2k for five days

level three: the black mines - 6k for one week or 3k for four days

level four: the burning dark - 10k for one week or 5k for three days

level five: beat the dungeon - 20k for one week or 10k in one day

#oh this looks fun!#participating!

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therizino-ao3 · 4 months

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Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

💋 First kiss fics. Love em or hate em?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🍦 What's the sweetest fic you've created so far?

🍷 Do you drink and write?

🍆 Do you write the spicy stuffs? If so, what's your most popular nsfw fic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🏆 What's your most popular fic?

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

🎨 How do you feel about fan art of your stories?

📈 How many fics do you have?

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💞 Who's your comfort character?

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

📚 Would you ever want to turn writing into a career?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

💔 Is there a fic of yours that broke your heart?

💥 How do you feel about criticism?

🤭 Do you have a favorite tag to use when posting your works?

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

#i don’t think i have many followers but if anyone wants to ask feel free #ask game

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therizino-ao3 · 5 months

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special announcement!

okay, during the progression of secret life, gem has been receiving some very hurtful and unnecessary hate comments. now, that's just not right. we all need to do better to support our favorite CC's.

so, i was thinking of hosting a geminitay appreciation week, where we, as a community, contribute to daily art pieces of gem for this entire week! gem needs to know that , despite all the hate she's been getting, she still has a lot of supportive and loving viewers who enjoy her and her beautiful content!

please spread this around and anyone is free to join in if they have the time to do so! ❤︎

#would love to do this!

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therizino-ao3 · 5 months

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🏳️‍⚧️MCYT4T WEEK 2024🏳️‍⚧️

previous pinned post

welcome to mcyt4t week, celebrating t4t relationships and trans headcanons in the mcyt community! anyone can join the event, trans or not, but i just ask you are respectful towards all trans identities! any sort of creative outlet is allowed - art, writing, playlists, moodboards etc! all will be reblogged here if you tag me and tag it #mcyt4tweek2024!

asks are open for any questions!

[plain text version under the cut]

day one (16th) - egg cracking (alternative: coming out)

day two (17th) - rarepair

day three (18th) - hrt/surgery (alternative: tucking/binding)

day four (19th) - domestic life (alternative: date night)

day five (20th) - AU

day six (21st) - pride (alternative: gender affirmation)

day seven (22nd) - free day

#yay trans people! pride!#am excited to see all the t4t stuff #participating!

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therizino-ao3 · 5 months

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Imagine, for a second, that you are (cubito) FitMC. You hail from 2b2t— whether born there or by choice, you’ve been there for ten years.

You are a [radio host] or [documentarian] or [YouTuber]. You are intimately familiar with the fact that all things you report on, at one point, will be griefed.

(Well. Not all things. The Spawn aquarium isn’t drained. Anyone would be an asshole if they griefed the Valley of Wheat. Let’s generalize here, though.)

It’s a fact of life. It’s such a fact of life that it’s the point. When people tell you the story of their amazing and impressive build they had a team of twenty for, all working around the clock— they’re not saying it just to brag. They are saying: here. We’re done. Come get it.

Sometimes, people will grief their own builds before anyone else can get to it first.

Sometimes, you are these people. There’s still sulfur under your fingernails, maybe.

You are not liked. The attitude has gotten better, from the Rusher War to now, about creators of your ilk. By nature of you being a public figure, people from all over the globe will see/hear/consume your content, and decide that they want a piece. They want to manifest destiny, they (in their high-and-mighty Towny server) want to rough it in a wasteland for a chance at that freedom.

Imagine, for a second, you’re at war. It’s a fun war, though— you all respawn, duh. Your enemies are kids. Bright-eyed, inspired, scrappy little kids wanting to make it big in the oldest Anarchy server in Minecraft. Imagine you and your buddies are the Veterans, the oldfags, against the Rushers, the newfags. (Technically, you’re a midfag, you joined only three years prior, there are people here older and more grizzled than you. Technically, you’re a…well, you aren’t going to say anything.) (Imagine, for just a second, you find a melon stalk on the side of a highway. You think: shit. They’re learning. That’s inspiring.)

Imagine, for a second, you are tracked down by an immortal blank-white figure who can use flyhacks without elytra and be hacked into by you and never be felled. Imagine, whoever his name is, is telling you that you need to retrieve player data from this upcoming project somewhere, just a bunch of nobodys roughing it out at Point Nemo. He’s offering a lot of money. Enough to leave. More than enough to live.

Imagine you are taking a humble little vacation.

You are given a son and a husband who leaves you and animals you’ve never seen before and stupid catfish lagging your river and friends far more numerous than you can count and roses and coffee and roast chicken.

You have a job to do. (Your son gets taken.) (You’re dropped into Hell itself. No big deal. You’ve done this before.)

You have a job to do. (They’ll hate you for it, you just know it.) (Everyone knows where you’re from. You’re FitMC. Some of them look at you with starry eyes.) (You have to retrieve player data.) (You’re an average janitor. Don’t look too deep.) (You’re on vacation. Don’t look too deep.)

You have a job to do. (If you can’t send this player data to the person that sent you to Quesadilla island in the first place, you’re literally going to be trapped in the anarchy wasteland for the rest of your life.)

Imagine, (2b2t is archaeologically fascinating. It’s the oldest anarchy server, the worst most toxic server in Minecraft, chock-full of slurs and imagery and sentiments that would get you demonetized. You promise it’s pretty. You have to look for it, but it is pretty. Please think it’s pretty.)

Imagine, one wrong slip of information and (your friends hate you)(your son hates you)(your house explodes)(you explode)(you get spawncamped)(your men turn on you)(you die)(you lose)(you have to go back).

Imagine, for a second, you are a gay man falling in love with another man on an island full of people who would do anything for fofoca they can giggle about with their families.

You’re (cubito) FitMC. You’re taking baby steps.

#im not familiar with qsmp at all but i love this.#the worldbuilding and emotions here are great #amazing fic!#others fics

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therizino-ao3 · 5 months

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THERIZINOSAURUS

New reconstruction of this outstanding creature, sneak peak of what will be my next video about. This illistration is now avalable at Redbubble for print and more here

___________

Youtube channel

Instagram

Prints and more paleo merch

#therizinosaurus

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therizino-ao3 · 5 months

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kinda wish people would headcanon more hc or ls members as trans guys other than just grian. like don’t get me wrong i love trans grian (esp when it’s treated right) but like. trans mumbo, trans iskall, trans whoever- they’re all cool and neat and i wish more people would do stuff with that

#i adore writing the hermits as trans lol #ironically trans grian isn’t one I really headcanon myself? at least in a trans masc way. but obviously all trans headcanons are good #my favourites are:#(trans fem) hypno cleo gem pearl stress doc #(trans masc) etho cub zed tango #(complicated genderqueer) iskall joe #trans mumbo isnt one I’ve really thought about but you’ve got me interested anon… hmm.. ideas for when I next have time to write

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therizino-ao3 · 6 months

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MCYT Yuri Week Day 4: Transgender

@mcyt-yuri-week

Pairing: Gem/Pearl (Gempearl)

Summary: Gem struggles with her identity, but as it turns out, her girlfriend was trans all along too.

Contains: kissing/making out, transfem!gem, transfem!pearl, gender dysphoria, internalised transphobia, gender envy (in a negative, I'll never be her kinda way)

Getting dressed in front of a mirror was a bad idea.

She knew that, obviously. But, well, she wanted to look good for tonight. Staring at herself, it was a wonder she ever even thought that was possible to begin with. Her shoulders jutted out far too wide and her face was far too square and jagged and she could see the bump of her adam’s apple. She was a deer-hybrid – and as proud of her hybrid status she was – she hated the thick, dark hair that crawled over her skin. The dress was so cute when she picked it out, but now, she felt so much like a boy playing pretend.

She forced herself to look away. She shouldn’t dwell on the negative thoughts. Tonight was going to be a great night! She was going to be with Pearl, watching movies and eating dinner. Pearl – her amazing girlfriend and also her greatest source of gender envy. She couldn’t help it. Pearl looked so pretty and amazing and even though she was tall for a woman and sometimes wore masculine clothes like suits – was still so undeniably feminine. Pearl – who she had been dating for a few weeks now – and still didn’t know Gem was trans.

Logically, Gem knew it would be fine. She wasn’t the only trans hermit, plenty of others were out and everyone supported them, but the idea of telling Pearl still made her heart twinge with fear. She had come so far and had been stealth for so long, the idea of someone else knowing? It was terrifying. But, it was Pearl. Pearl who was the most understanding and caring person ever. It would be okay. She had to keep telling herself that.

She finished the last details on her hair and make-up, took a deep breath, and sent Pearl a text.

It was several hours later and all her previous worries had floated out of her mind. It was so, so, so easy to forget when Pearl was right there and laughing with her and reminding Gem how beautiful she was. Her nails were painted and they were rewatching Legally Blonde and they were lazing about on the sofa, messy paper plates discarded on some coffee table – and just doing that, she felt so much like a girl her heart could burst. She turned to Pearl and Pearl turned to her, smiling.

“May I request a kiss?” she asked in her sweetest voice, leaning over.

“You may always request a kiss, Gem!” Pearl said, pulling her over the rest of the distance and bringing their lips together.

It was far from the first time they’d kissed, but it still felt surreal. Pearl’s lips were so soft against hers, brushing so gently, like fingers tracing along antique pottery. Gem buried her hands in Pearl’s silky hair and melted into her, opening her mouth and pressing as close as she could. Pearl reciprocated, deepening the kiss. They continued, somewhere along the way Pearl pausing the TV, so the room was filled only with their soft hums and moans and gasps. Gem brought one of her hands to Pearl’s waist, holding her. In return, Pearl rested a hand on Gem’s thigh, stroking up and down.

Gem stiffened and pulled back, “Wait, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Pearl paused, “Do you want me to stop what I’m doing?” It was a genuine question.

“No, it’s fine. It’s lovely, actually! I just… need you to listen.”

Pearl nodded and stared at Gem, waiting.

This was so much more nerve-wracking than she thought it’d be, “I- I’m transgender. As in, a trans girl. And I haven’t like, taken any hormones or had any surgeries or anything. I just… thought you should know.”

Pearl blinked and then smiled, sweetly, “Well, thank you for telling me. Y’know, Gem, I’m a trans girl too! And even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t affect a thing. I love you for you, not for some body parts. And, if something I do ever makes you dysphoric, just ask me to stop, m’kay?”

Gem stared, having so much to take in. She felt like she was tearing up, “You’re trans as well?”

It felt impossible to believe. No matter how much she knew it wasn’t true, sometimes she felt like as a trans girl she’d never be as “real” a girl as a cis girl. But, knowing Pearl – a beautiful, confident woman – was just like her, it… made everything feel so much more possible. She hugged Pearl.

“Aw, Gem! I am indeed, and it’s lovely to know my girlfriend is too,” Gem felt Pearl bury her face into her hair. Gem felt like she was going to explode out of… something. Something positive, for sure.

“Can we just cuddle for a bit?” Gem asked, still desperately, desperately, in love with Pearl, more than ever before, even. But, right now, she didn’t feel like kissing.

“I have no complaints,” Pearl said, squeezing her girlfriend tight.

#please head the warnings! there is a LOT of gender dysphoria and internalised transphobia in this one #love projecting my trans issues onto fictional little guys. and then giving them supportive friends/partners #late because I had no free time during the week :(#mcyt yuri week #mcytyuriweek2023 #hermitshipping #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #therizino writes #fanfic #gempearl #geminitay #cw gender dysphoria #cw internalized transphobia #not maintagging pearl in case she sees... i would die

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therizino-ao3 · 6 months

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WELCOME TO ZEDWEEK 2023!!

Let's get this party started! Everyone will have a whole month to prepare their works for their chosen prompts, the actual event starting on December 2nd!

Fun fact: We chose this date because it's when Zedaph started his channel! And coincidentally, it's an entire week before his birthday!

Tag your works with #zedaphweek2023 and @ this blog so we can see 'em! We want to see everything you create! Write, draw, build, edit, analyze; the only limit is your own imagination!

The event will run from December 2nd - December 8th. There aren't any rules to what you make, really, have fun! Go nuts!

However, please note that we will only reblog SFW works on this blog. If you have any questions, feel free to send an ask here! Perhaps we'll even make a FAQ if we get enough questions.

More descriptions on the prompts will be going up throughout the month! Go forth and have a good time!

#participating!

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therizino-ao3 · 6 months

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2023 Halloween Gift Exchange

My gift for @greenscreen-dress for @mcyt-halloween !

Summary: xB is invited back to his home server for a ceremony. Joe and Cleo come along to make things more bearable.

“Ohh, son of a…”

“What is it, man?” says Cub, sliding over to xB to see what he’s reading on his communicator.

“It’s just a family thing, kind of annoying though,” he scrolls through the message, taking in the details. Cub glances at it, but looks away as soon as he realises this isn’t something he’ll understand.

“What sort of family thing?” Gem asks, from across the Decked Out hallway, where she and Cleo are doing… something. xB doesn’t know what it is, but it involves wooden swords and their decks on the floor and an armour stand that he thinks is supposed to be Tango? They used a blue bath-towel instead of a robe.

“Guardian coming of age ritual, involving one of my cousins,” he sighs, flicking his tail back and forth, “The point is I’ll have to go back to my family’s server and meet everyone and it’s going to be a whole Thing.”

“I mean, xB, if you don’t want to do it, just don’t go? If you don’t like your biological family, you shouldn’t feel obligated to visit them,” Cleo says, messing with the Tango armour stand as they speak.

“I like some of my family. Not all of them are bad. But yeah it’s, mm,” he purses his lips together, thinking of what to say, “I do want to stay in contact, but as long as I do that, they’ll expect me to go to coming of age rituals. And it isn’t that bad on it’s own but some of them are just very… traditional. And judgemental. But, it isn’t the end of the world? It’s just… a Thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. The Vex sometimes can sometimes be, uh, very overbearing,” Cub says, from his spot, crammed into an indent in the wall.

“Hm, yeah,” Cleo pauses, either pondering what she should say or whether she should stab the Tango armour stand, “Maybe, if you want, one of us could come with you? Just to make the whole thing more bearable. I wouldn’t mind. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guardian city in-person before.”

“Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea,” Cleo’s presence is calming - in a no-nonsense, sarcastic way. The only time he’s ever brought someone with him to his home server was Keralis, ages ago on a holiday, which looking back on, was a horrible decision. Cleo, however, he thinks is far more mature than Keralis, and will only steal people’s possessions if necessary, “I mean, will you be free this Saturday afternoon?”

She smiles.

World hopping has developed a lot over the past century, which is nice. xB remembers when a trip across a galaxy would take a few weeks, but now, it’s only a few hours. It’s incredibly convenient since, in true hermit fashion, they always choose very distant planets for their worlds. His ship’s on autopilot and the estimated arrival time is two hours, fifteen minutes. He can chill. He watches the little map on the GUI, the ship zooming past various named star systems. His passengers, behind him, are also chilling. Passengers, plural, because Cleo wanted to drag Joe along too. Which, wasn’t the plan, but xB couldn’t say he was too surprised when Cleo and Joe both showed up to his ship. Like, you can’t get one without the other. They’re sold as a pair. He hears them arguing, something about the difference between a gravestone and a cenotaph. Cleo says they’ll break Joe’s legs. Joe starts talking faster, pleading for his life.

At the very least, xB’s home world is beautiful. As they approach it at last, it turns from a perfect blue circle to a painter’s dream – miles and miles of beaches and sea. There’s no considerable landmass on it greater than a few square miles, and all that’s on those are ship docks and tourism centres, everything else is in the water. He parks, opens the doors, and breathes in the salty sea air. It burns his nose, but in a refreshing and nostalgic way.

“We’re here! In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, but he knows they have, especially since Joe has spent the last twenty minutes trying to take pictures of the planet through the tiny windows.

“Oh wow,” Cleo steps out, “I will say, in terms of places to visit, this certainly isn’t the worst for looks.”

Joe steps out after, running out a bit further to take pictures of the sea. xB giggles, “Now the question is, will your opinion change when you meet the family.”

“Oh gods yeah, that’s gonna be, uh,” she laughs and shakes her head, “Well, we’ll be here for you, xB. And on that note, what is our story going to be?”

“Our story?”

“Yeah, like, why we’re here with you. Are we just saying we’re friends coming along because we wanted to visit?” Cleo pauses, before gasping, “Oh! I could pretend to be your annoying girlfriend! That would be fun.”

“Hey now, if you’re xB’s partner, what would that make me?”

“Oh Joe, you can be with xB too. I’m sure we can share him,” she ruffles Joe’s hair, “I mean, if you’re alright with that, xB.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” he’s laughing, “That does sound interesting.”

Whilst Cleo and Joe are arguing about the details of their very real relationship with xB, he is busy sorting out actually important things, like how Cleo and Joe are going to get to the monument. Every urban area has conduit-powered water, but for such a deep and lengthy swim, they’re still going to need equipment. He’s packed hour-lasting water breathing and resistance potions, to reduce any issues with suffocation and pressure; specialist helmets with goggles for seeing in dark environments, enchanted with aqua-infinity, and with built-in translation software so they can both understand and speak water-tongue; and flip-flops enchanted with depth strider for easy movement. It takes a further ten minutes for xB to get them to properly equip the stuff and acclimatise to breathing in the water. Then, they’re ready to go.

xB leads them down, following the currents to the monument. It’s mainly a smell thing, because the monument is the most populated thing in this area of the ocean, and you can definitely tell, but he also knows the way off by heart.

“Alright, just checking you can hear me alright?” he asks in water-tongue – a deep, chittering language that works solely for water – now they’re a decent bit down it’s worth checking Joe and Cleo actually know what’s going on.

Cleo gives a thumbs up, whilst Joe responds, “Loud and clear!” through the robotic voice from the helmet. It sounds a little crunchy. xB wonders if that’s it struggling to translate Joe’s accent.

They keep swimming down, until the monument leers in front of them. It’s far more impressive than the ones inhabited by regular guardians, with this one being twice the size with twice the colours and covered in flickering neon lights. He feels Joe and Cleo stop, presumably looking on in wonder. He supposes it’s pretty impressive if it’s your first time seeing one, but given he’s spent too many years living there, and has seen some five times more impressive in bigger cities, it’s just a regular building to him. They start swimming again, xB careful to keep the three of them in the “incoming” current. Small settlements and businesses rest on the seafloor below them, branching out around the monument, but most people will be living inside it.

They take the top entrance, xB telling the guards they’re here for tessC Crafted’s ceremony and the three of them are let in without trouble.

“The guards are more for display, than anything,” he says to Joe and Cleo once they’re inside the monument and alone in the winding corridors, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them refuse anyone in, they just deter criminals by being there.”

“Right,” Cleo says, glancing around, “Good to know! I’ll just be staying right by you, so I don’t get lost, because this place is an absolute maze.”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah,” he laughs, “There’s no structure, you just learn where everything is by living here.”

“So where are we going now?” Joe asks.

“The main hall, it’s got like, a big platform in the centre and a bunch of seats,” he takes a sudden left turn, making Joe and Cleo quickly swerve after him, “You just kind of wander around and talk to people, and then everyone sits down, and the ceremony begins.”

“So, it’s like a wedding?” Cleo says, slight uncertainty in her voice.

“Um, I guess?” xB says, about to elaborate further, before the hallway opens up into a massive chamber. Several rows of flat seats wrap in a horseshoe shape around a long walkway, raised several metres above the seats nearest, leading into the back of the wall where there’s a door for the ceremony participants to emerge.

The noise is the most prominent thing, chittering bouncing off the walls and coming back in an incoherent blabble. He imagines Joe and Cleo won’t even be hearing this, it’s so indecipherable the software won’t bother to translate it. It’s no surprise it’s so loud, with hundreds of people in here. Technically, its only mandatory that the family of the person involved come, but everyone living nearby tends to, both as an act of community support and because free food is served throughout. Since xB is family, they’ll be right at the front on the bottom seats. He leads his friends down there, picking out a free-ish spot for them. With less people being at the bottom of the hall, it’s easier to hear things.

“Why, xB, you came,” a voice booms from behind him, belonging to none other than his biological mother. Great.

“Uh, hello. Joe, Cleo, this is my mother, beK Crafted,” he grabs his friends’ arms, making sure they’re here for this conversation, “And, mother,” he pauses for a second, wondering if he really wants to go this route, before remembering he has no fucks to give, “This is my girlfriend Cleo, and her partner Joe.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble, my Angel Pie xB! Joe is your boyfriend too!” for good measure, she even ruffles his hair as they say it, and it takes everything he has in him to not burst out laughing. She turns to his mother, holding out her hand, “Hi! I’m Cleo! I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Right,” his mother tentatively shakes Cleo’s hand, looking down on it like she might catch a disease. This is going far better than xB ever imagined.

“I – on the other hand – have heard nothing about you! xB has never mentioned you to me! This is a wonderful night to meet!” Joe says, grabbing his mother’s other hand to shake at the same time. He’s doing it far too fast, jerking her arm up and down.

His mother wrinkles her nose and steps back, flicking the hands off her, “Right. It’s good that you’re here and that you’ve-” she does nothing to hide the disappointment in her tone, “Brought some other people around. Make sure to introduce yourself to everybody, I’m sure your uncle rK would love to see you.”

His mother quickly swims away, to nearly the other side of the hall.

Cleo turns to him, “Was that a success?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Usually she goes on super long rants to me, or brings up about when I’ll be having grandkids, so it’s nice to have skipped all that.”

“Oh geez, are you sure you want to come to these things?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t take any of it to heart, it’s just annoying,” they both nod, but still look rather unconvinced.

They continue talking to xB’s other family members, in a way that has made this kind of thing far more enjoyable than it has been in a long time, with everyone reacting to Cleo’s ridiculous pet names with either obvious distress or approval, some even finding her charming, somehow. It’s nice to be able to catch up with his more reasonable family members, and anyone annoying Joe scares off with his passionate talks of eighteenth-century poetry. They have a good time.

The lights begin to dim and xB ushers Joe and Cleo to sit. Whilst the rest of the chamber grows dark, the walkway lights up and the door slides open. Stumbling and shambling, xB’s cousin emerges and makes the harrowing walk to the end of the platform. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was sick: desaturated skin, tattered fins, and dead eyes. It’s obvious she’s just about to undergo metamorphosis though, with her juvenile external fins fluttering in the water.

She collapses as soon as she reaches the spot, body completely relaxing until she looks like a ragdoll. Some soft tearing sounds echo through the water.

“What’s going on?” Cleo whispers to him.

“She’s about to grow into her new body,” he says,” Just… watch.”

Cleo turns back to tessC, transfixed. At her back, a new, pale growth emerges from the ripped skin. It grows and grows, until it becomes evident it is, in fact, her back, and her arms and legs come with it too. She’s covered in spines and the tail that forces itself out of the body is far longer than it once was. Eventually, her head frees itself too, and there are no signs of the external fins anymore. She pushes herself onto her feet and makes a noise, somewhat like a growl, triumphant over her old body. Her limbs still look so wobbly and crooked and her tail hasn’t quite filled itself out yet, it’ll take a few hours for her new self to settle into shape.

“Oh wow,” Joe murmurs, “I didn’t know guardians did that.”

“Yeah, metamorphosis into adult form,” xB says, looking around for the elders, “I remember mine. It really hurt. They’ll just need to choose the sacrifice and then we should be done.”

“Hold on, sacrifice?” Cleo whips her head around.

“Yeah? After someone sheds their skin, another person is chosen for them to test their claws on. Like, they don’t die, most of the time, but it is pretty brutal.”

“That, feels like something you should have mentioned before coming here? Some guy just gets ripped to shreds every time this happens?”

“I- Oh yeah. It completely slipped my mind. Um, if it makes you feel better, you won’t get picked? They won’t have your name down, it’ll just be me. And in all my years, I’ve never been picked, it’s really unlikely.”

The elders, on a balcony looking over everything, read out from a piece of paper, “This year’s sacrifice shall be… xB Crafted!”

Joe hums, “Wow, way to jinx things!”

Cleo grabs his arm, “Yeah, no way am I letting you get hurt because of these idiots, come on!” she tugs him upward, kicking as much as she can.

xB doesn’t falter, the survivalist in him knowing he has to escape now if he wants a chance. He snatches Joe’s hand and starts swimming, thrashing his tail as hard as he can. He can feel the water ripple around him, others trying to catch up to them and catch them, you weren’t really supposed to try and escape, and all. He couldn’t bring his usual guns, being under the water and all, but he does have a rather nice harpoon gun, however, he doesn’t really want to attack his family members and former friends unless he has to. Cleo, on the other hand, managed to smuggle in her sword and doesn’t hold back swinging at people in her way. They escape the great hall, diving into the corridors, and xB takes special care to not let go of Joe or Cleo as he takes twisting routes to cover their tail. They zoom out a small, unguarded exit xB discovered himself many years ago, near the bottom of the monument. He doesn’t dare slow their pace, charging through the water, practically carrying a panting Joe and Cleo, until they reach the island they landed on.

“We’re out,” he says, flopping onto the surface, “Don’t bother to take your stuff off now, just hop in and I’ll take off. They’ll give up pursuit once we leave the surface.”

They both nod in response and xB hops inside, fiddling with the controls and inputting the co-ordinates of their Season 8 planet. Thankfully, they take off with no issues.

“xB,” Joe says as soon as he’s got his helmet off, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… fine.”

“Really?” Joe tries to raise an eyebrow, but he can’t, so he just makes a weird face.

“Yeah, well, a little sad,” he admits, “I definitely won’t be able to return now. I mean, I know it’s probably for the best? But, like, there’s still that feeling that I’ve lost something, y’know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Joe isn’t following the correct safety protocols for space travel, instead opting to stand behind xB and rest his hand on his shoulder.

“Just remember that we’ll always be here for you, alright?” Cleo says and the thought does cheer him up, because they’re right. He’ll give himself a little time to grieve, but really, there isn’t anything those stuck-up guardian folk could’ve given him that his friends can’t. He probably had more fun today, because of Joe and Cleo, than he has had in every other family gathering combined. He hears Joe recount some lines from a classic and Cleo groans, and, well, maybe it isn’t beautiful blue planet with gorgeous underwater cities, but it still makes him pretty happy.

#happy halloween!#I went very heavy on the worldbuilding on this one. but I figured you'd like that?#whilst I like the creativity of it personally I don't tend to like settings where they're explicitly in a video game #so its a bit sci-fi (Ren's hermethius planet travelling lore) and a bit fantasy (potions and enchantments and hybrids)#I also put a decent bit of thought into the guardian hybrid naming constructs!#you have the prefix (given name. lowercase) and the suffix (“dominant”/older parent's first initial. uppercase) of the first name #and the last name is the “family name”. Families being decently large groups of all vaguely related people #prefixes tend to range between 1-4 letters #more thoughts would be here but I am TIRED #uh. can I post this to ao3? If you're okay with that ofc! if you have an account there let me know I'll do it as a gift #therizino writes #mcyt halloween #hermitcraft fic #hermitcraft #xbcrafted #zombie cleo #joe hills

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therizino-ao3 · 6 months

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Hermit Horror Week 2023

Day seven: From Beyond

Summary: One night, some people come down from the stars. Everything changes and nothing at all.

Read on ao3

Contains: murder, colonialism, slavery, ecological destruction, hermits as villains, loss of culture, outsider POV.

This one is a very different kind of horror, way more meta and sombre and existential than the other things I've done this week, so heads up for that!

They came from the stars.

That was what the villages near the river claimed, anyway. A great, hulking mass of machinery, as large as a mountain, descending upon the rock. It opened a small orifice, like a door, and about two dozen of the visitors emerged. They weren’t really like villagers at all, but that was the closest thing they could be described to, though some had traits of other animals, like dog tails or fish scales. All anyone knew was that they were something different.

And they were the talk of everyone everywhere for a decent while, the gossip spreading from village to village until it reached the pillagers and the piglins and the enderfolk. The visitors seemed to be content staying in the area around the river, clearing out trees and building houses and collecting animals. Houses was a bit of an exaggeration, some would claim, half of the things they were building were more like shapes or rocks or statues. They were built with precision and rich materials, clearly important, but many were wildly impractical for everyday use, bringing up the question for why someone would go through all that effort for somewhere so poor to live. It must be a religious thing, most guessed, some way of honouring their gods. The whole settlement was clearly a village, if a very foreign one.

Some wandering traders made it their mission to contact the foreigners, talking big about all the goods they’d get and the trade routes they’d set up. None that set out to the settlement came back. One of the larger pillager factions sent out a scouting crew to investigate the lot, who shared the same fate. Some others tried, but eventually everybody got the idea that the strangers weren’t to be messed with.

The uneasy peace the land had settled into didn’t last long. The first warning was the attack of the Mansion of the East. The pillagers that survived talked of foes that, when killed, would leave no corpse, re-entering the Mansion risen from the dead, as healthy as could be. Even in a fight, they were formidable, healing wounds in seconds. They demolished the mansion, with only an un-armoured party of 4, targeting every evoker and looting every room. The magic they had – to heal and respawn – was unlike any that had been seen before, stronger than even totems of undying. That was when the fear began to brew, the realisation that the new arrivals were far, far stronger than any of them had met before.

And then, for the next few days, Marigold Valley Village would be silent, with their usual traders failing to show at the monthly market, nor any representatives coming to the Valley council meeting. Though it wasn’t known at the time, this would be because it was taken over. One of the foreigners had claimed the village as his own, altering the town and keeping its people hostage as workers. It was the first sign of a new era: destruction. Now that the settlers had gotten themselves established, they turned to raiding and kidnapping. It wasn’t that these were new concepts, pillagers had been doing the same for more generations than anyone could remember, but nobody could fight back against opponents of their power. Villagers were stolen from their homes, put to working for these creatures, whilst their villages were destroyed. Pillagers would come next, outposts burned, ravagers taken, and mansions slaughtered. Even the folk from other realms wouldn’t last long, piglins being put to work themselves and bastions ruined even more than they already were, not to say how the once great nether fortresses would be transformed into wicked machines. The odd enderman had escaped the End and fled to the Overworld, and would share with others, sombrely, about their empty end cities and a great machine that could kill thousands at a time.

And then, as soon as it began, it ended. The world returned to stability once more – albeit a very different kind. The villages distant enough to avoid the purge learnt new rules – hide inside when one of the strangers flies over, give up all items that they desire, and don’t attempt to fight back. They would see one of them occasionally, but they would only show up to steal a camel or ransack an old temple, and had no interest in harming the villagers. As generations passed, the gossip and community of the villages that once were was forgotten and the silence was all that was known. You would think, when there are less people, the world would seem much smaller. But as the fringe villages went on with their lives in isolation, it felt so much larger.

As for those under the direct control of the settlers, they developed their own kind of normalcy. Disobedience wasn’t an option – in the early days, they’d execute workers in front of everyone else, but later on, people would simply disappear if they weren’t up to standard. The cosy insides of a wooden house or animal hide tent were replaced with glass and concrete and stone and sometimes, even, the bowels of a ship. Work was hard, gruelling days and gruelling tasks – quarrying stone and copying books and mining obsidian. It wasn’t like anyone had a choice, though, and there was food and shelter. Life, no matter how difficult, just became ordinary life. And, for those born in the catacombs of some dank hole, they knew nothing else.

There was a lot of debate, of course, on what the beings were. Most people saw them as gods, with the uncanny buildings and impossible machinery and immortality. Ancient pantheons were merged with the current figures, forming new names and rituals. Each of the “gods” was identified and had their own domain and supposed sacrifices to gain favour with, but also on a more observable level, had an area they were known to live in and activities they were known to do. Some disagreed strongly on this interpretation however, seeing their captors as strong and undefeatable, yes, but just entities like any other. They were the step-up from pillagers – just as bloodthirsty and greedy, but far more technologically advanced.

None of it mattered, anyway, in the end. They were spotted less and less, coming to check up on their workers nearly never. The braver and luckier ones were able to stage an escape from their confinement, at first apprehensive on what their masters would do if they found they had escaped, but eventually realising their captors were never coming back. They had left as suddenly as they appeared. A month passed without any signs of them. A mixed feeling of relief and fear settled over everyone. So many years had passed since the first arrival, over a hundred, and nobody was left to say what the before times were like. At first there was a lot of power struggle, questioning, revolts, disputes… But as with all things, it became normal again.

Villages sprouted up where they used to be, mansions got re-inhabited, bastions got repaired, and ender cities re-emerged. There was a bit of hesitancy, at first, about living near or in the structures the creatures had left, but it brought so many benefits, that eventually people did. There were some places everyone avoided – the gigantic hole in the world and the starting village, for one. But otherwise, houses and farms sprung up in teapots and caves and rocks and castles and vaults and it all became natural. Hundreds and hundreds of years later, they were left as nothing more than a scary bedtime story and silly old wives’ tale behind the massive structures on the planet.

But still, sometimes, people would turn their heads to the sky and shiver, slightly. Because, if they came from the stars, what else could come down?

#woo! last day!#I love the concept on this one but it was quite rushed. may revisit it again another time #I suppose this counts as horror? very different flavour #hermithorrorweek2023 #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #fanfic #therizino writes #what do I even tag this with LOL #murder #btw. this is taking Ren’s hermethius stuff as canon. hopping in the spaceship going from planet to planet

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