Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The time is: 1:45 PM, Central Persson Station. Please keep away from the tracks. If an item is dropped on the tracks, please alert a station officer. Please limit travel to four passengers per pod. . .

The announcements continued on, chiming across the bustling platform. It wasn’t overly busy, not at this hour when most of the kids were in school or already in some SMP or survival world somewhere, but this station seemed to always be backed up as people hopped from world to world. 

Tommy moved his bag in front of him as he shoved past the queues of people waiting by the tracks for their pods to arrive. The black vinyl was slightly sticky under his sweaty grip; it was hot on the platform. He adjusted his hold on it and ducked between two poles to where one of the station officers was leaning against the wall, sipping from a water bottle and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. 

The officer glanced up with a bored expression as he approached. “Bathroom is up the stairs and to the left, if the drinking fountain doesn’t work give it a good, hard kick, it’ll run after that.”

“Good to know, but I actually specialize with more delicate redstone,” Tommy said warmly. He switched his bag to his left arm and dug his badge out of his pocket. “I’m here to fix the ticket machine?”

The officer took the badge, scrutinizing it with a skeptical eye. The picture was, of course, not actually Tommy; the man on the badge had a wispy mustache and was a slightly darker shade of blond, but it was close enough, and with Tommy’s mask on, it was almost perfect.

“David Holkins, huh?” The officer handed the badge back, shrugging. “Good job someone finally came to fix the damn thing, we’ve been looking at it for days and can’t figure out what the Notch is wrong with it.”

“Well, I’ll take a look and see what we can do to get it up and running again. Which one is it?” Tommy glanced around the platform.

“All the way down at the end, it should have an out-of-order sign stuck on it.”

“Right, thanks.” Tommy gave him a weird half-wave, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and strode off again into the crowd.

So, how ‘bout this weather, huh? A voice buzzed from Tommy’s mask, just below his ear.

“The fuck are you talking about, Ranboo, we’re underground,” Tommy muttered, squeezing past a gaggle of chatting teenagers. 

A disappointment sigh crackled through the radio. Innit, would it kill you to learn the codes for once?

“No time for codes when there’s wives to be had, Tubbo,” Tommy said.

A third voice came through the mask, accompanied by a small electric shock at the back of Tommy’s neck. Use the codenames, you’re still on your mission. 

Tommy winced and ducked his head automatically. “Yes, sir.”

The radio line fell silent and Tommy took a deep breath, focusing again on the ticket machine ahead of him.

Once he had taken the sign off and turned on the screen to reveal a glitching mess of red, green, and blue pixels, Tommy dumped his bag on the ground and began rummaging through it. “Alright, Underscore, how do I hack this sucker?”

Tubbo gave another disappointed sigh through the radio. You didn’t look at the mission description at all, did you.

“I did, I just skipped past all the boring shit.” Tommy pulled out a tiny chip from the bag, wrinkling his nose at it. “‘Kay, the uh. . . bee?”

Wasp, Ranboo corrected absently.

“Wasp,” Tommy said. “The wasp is ready to enter the hive.”

You’re clear, Innit, proceed.

Tommy fiddled with the machine until the maintenance panel swung out, then hesitated, staring at the tangle of flashing lights and lines of redstone. “Uh. . .”

Oh my god, Innit. Don’t say it. Tubbo’s voice was laden with exasperation.

What is it? Ranboo said.

Oh my god. Tubbo groaned, sending a sharp spike of static into Tommy’s ear. Tommy flinched. He’s forgotten where the port is.

“It’s not my fault the diagram was so bloody convoluted, I studied it like five times and it still doesn’t make sense!!”

Well, so much for specializing in delicate redstone, Ranboo teased.

“Oh, shut up, R800, it was a fuckin’ cover-“

We don’t have time for this, the radio crackled. Tommy pressed his lips into a line. Underscore, go help him. 

Yes, sir.

The line went silent again. Tommy bit his lip and looked around the station. Nobody was paying him much more attention than a quick glance in his direction. He exhaled slowly and turned back to his backpack, pretending to look for something.

A minute later, Tubbo appeared in a crouch next to him, hood up and lower face hidden under a mask of his own. “Wasp.”

Tommy handed it wordlessly to him, watching as Tubbo instantly located the port in the center of the machine and slid the chip in. There was a spark of redstone, and then the glitching on the screen cleared.

Tubbo stood and began tapping on the screen, eyes flicking nervously around them as he typed in his security code and their destination. Tommy remained in a squat on the floor, just staring up at Tubbo’s face, watching him work.

Tubbo noticed him staring and hesitated, meeting Tommy’s eyes, then continuing tapping away at the screen with one hand. The other hand came down to his side where Tommy could see it and began to finger-spell. H-I  T-O-M-S.

H-I. Tommy blinked quickly, then stood up next to Tubbo, nudging him gently in the arm and staring down at the screen.

PLAYER TAG: ???

DESTINATION: HERMITCRAFT

TICKETS: 3

Tommy leaned against Tubbo, anxiety digging a pit in the bottom of his stomach. Tubbo took a shaky breath. “The wasp is in the hive. Ready for phase two.”

Proceed. R800, you may leave your post and join them by the tracks. 

Yes, sir.

Tubbo tapped the print button, and three small slips of paper slid out of the machine. He took them, met Tommy’s eyes again, then stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked over to join the line of people waiting for their pods to arrive.

“‘Kay,” Tommy breathed, and took the chip out of the machine. The screen flickered a moment, then reverted to the standard starting screen. 

“Wasp is out.” Tommy replaced the maintenance panel, zipped up his bag, and began shoving his way back towards the station officer, making sure to toss the chip on the tracks as he went. A second later a pod whooshed past, subliming the tiny redstone in an instant. “Wasp destroyed.”

For god’s sake- learn the code! Tubbo hissed in his ear. Tommy rolled his eyes and didn’t bother to answer him. 

The officer raised an eyebrow as he returned. “Done already?”

“Fixed and ready for use. In fact, there’s probably already people using it right now.” Tommy scratched near the base of his neck. “Just had to reconnect the comparators and compressors and contractioners and whatnot.”

The officer hummed. “Well, I’ll never understand redstone, so good on you for figuring that out. Gonna stick around the city for a while?”

“Nah, I’ve got another job over in Hypixel,” Tommy lied. “Just some more low-maintenance stuff, you know how it is.”

“Sure, sure,” the officer said easily. “Have a safe trip, then.”

“Yep, see ya.” Tommy gave him a two-fingered salute and went off to find Tubbo and Ranboo. The two of them were standing in line waiting for the pod, Tubbo in his striped jacket and Ranboo in a simple pink tank top. They perked up as he approached, and waved him over.

“Pod coming?” Tommy asked as he approached.

“Yep, should be here in about two minutes,” Tubbo said. “Ready?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Tommy said, then sighed and stared at the tracks. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

The ride to Hermitcraft was long and tense. Tommy, Ranboo, and Tubbo sat in silence, staring out the windows at the wastelands zooming past, endless dirt fields broken only by the occasional server or world popping up in the distance, but as the pod went on down the track these appeared less and less. 

They had all changed their clothes when they entered the pod, of course. The added precautions taken to disguise themselves were a bit overkill sometimes, but the higher-ups had insisted upon it. Tommy had shed his white t-shirt and hoodie in exchange for a more simple and practical black shirt, and as always the three of them had exchanged clothing items. Tommy was wearing Ranboo’s jacket, Ranboo was wearing Tubbo’s handkerchief, and Tubbo had Tommy’s compass hanging around his neck, right next to his own. It was. . . a comfort, during missions. 

Tubbo and Ranboo had changed as well, donning more durable leather shirts and baggy pants. They were holding hands, fingers white-knuckled from the growing anticipation.

Tommy looked down at his own hands, gloved fingers fiddling with a silky strip of fabric resting on his lap. He rubbed his thumb on it, watching as it glittered darkly in the green light of the pod. 

Heads up, the voice crackled in their earpieces. The three of them sat up at attention immediately. There’s a sensor on the track ahead. If it senses non-whitelisted players in the pod it will alert one of the admins. You have three minutes until you reach it.

“Heard,” Tommy said, standing up. He grabbed his bag and slipped the fabric into his pocket, then turned to Ranboo. “Can you. . .?”

“Saving up my energy for when we arrive,” Ranboo said. “We’ll just have to exit the pod early.”

“Great,” Tommy grumbled, “why do I have to do everything?”

“I could just hack the door open,” Tubbo said.

No time, you’ll be on the sensor in two minutes.

“Shit,” Tommy swore. “Okay, gimme a bit.”

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. His ears began to grow, turning into large, three-part tattered things, velvety to the touch; a thin whip-like tail sprouted behind him like a fast-growing vine; his fingers curled into claws, a warm feeling glowed suddenly in his stomach, and when Tommy opened his eyes again it was to nothing but darkness. 

“Tubbo,” he said, feeling the shift in his mind as it moved from relying on sight to hearing. His ear was suddenly able to catch the humming sounds of the track, normally silenced by the sound-proof walls of the pod. The sound of breathing was suddenly as loud in his ears as a strong wind. “Help me up.”

“Yep,” Tubbo said. There was a rustle of fabric, moving in front of him, crouching down . “Ready.” 

Tommy stepped onto Tubbo’s interlocked hands. Tubbo grunted and boosted him up, and Tommy struck out with his claws, fingers digging into the roof like it was paper, tearing and slashing until a patch of metal fell away, collapsing into the pod. Instantly the wind began streaming through the hole, ruffling Tommy’s hair, and he dug his claws into the roof again as an anchor as he pulled himself through the hole, backpack catching briefly on the torn metal. 

One minute, the voice warned.

Tommy reached a hand back into the hole, waiting until he felt Tubbo’s firm grip before he pulled him out, then reached in again for Ranboo.

Forty seconds.

“Where are we going?” Tommy yelled.

“Left!” Tubbo grabbed his hand and tugged him gently to the correct side of the pod. “Jump and tuck!”

“When, now?!” Tommy said, but his question was answered a moment later when he heard a thump in the dirt below. Tubbo’s hand lifted, and there was another thump . Tommy prepared himself a moment, tail whipping around, then leaped off the pod, tucking his head in and landing on the dirt in a roll.

“Ow, fuck.” Tommy blinked uselessly, then shook his head and stood up. “Tubbo?”

“Over here,” Tubbo said, on his right, dirt crunching, approaching. “You didn’t break anything?”

“Don’t think so,” Tommy said, grabbing his backpack. “I didn’t hear anything crack.”

“Let me check,” Tubbo muttered, grabbing the bag and beginning to rifle through the redstone contraptions inside.

Tommy’s ear flicked in amusement. Another crunch of dirt indicated Ranboo’s approach, and Tommy angled his head in their direction.

“We’re good,” Ranboo said. “Pod went over the detector without setting any alarms off. We’ll want to get moving though, it’ll still be suspicious when the pod arrives empty with the roof ripped off.”

“Right.” Tommy reached up and brushed the dirt off his mask. “Permission to shift back, sir?”

There was a moment of silence, then the crackling response came through like a gunshot to Tommy’s sensitive ears. He flinched. You might have damaged the mask with the jump, let me pull up diagnostics.

“Nothing in the bag is broken, ikleast,” Tubbo said, handing the bag back. “Toss the bag down first next time so you don’t roll all over it, dumbass.”

“Gods, Toby, for once in your life can you pronounce ‘at least’ correctly?” Tommy bantered playfully, flicking his tail around to smack Tubbo on the leg. “I don’t think I’m the dumbass in this situation.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s Ranboo,” Tubbo replied immediately.

“Wha-!” Ranboo protested. “Wha- I have never participated in any sort of dumbass-ery.”

“Your ass is dumb, though,” Tubbo said.

Ranboo made a wounded noise. “I thought you said you liked my ass.”

“Nah, it’s the Rantiddies I’m ham for. The Ranass is mediocre at best.”

There was a beat, then an electric shock sparked at the back of all of their necks. Take this seriously, don’t make us have another meeting about professionalism. 

Tubbo spluttered, flustered. “S-sorry sir! It won’t— I’ll disconnect the line next time, sorry, I forgot—“

Tommy snickered, but was quickly sobered by the voice coming back on the radio. Nothing was damaged, fortunately, except for the soundproofing.

“So. . .”

So don’t get caught. I think we will go ahead with the North Star protocol. It'll be safer to do it now anyways just in case they manage to take you by surprise. We’ll release the protocol after your mission. 

Tommy shoved away his disappointment. “Yes, sir. Ranboo, can you. . .?”

Gentle hands took the bag from him, and there was a clicking noise as Ranboo dug through it. “Here it is. Ready?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” Tommy reached back and pulled his curls away from the glowing disc at the back of his mask. Anxiety battered at his chest, but a second later there was a click as something was attached to his mask, accompanied immediately by a sharp beep and an electric shock, stronger than the earlier warnings. It lasted longer, too, and Tommy gritted his teeth, muscles tensing and shaking slightly until the shock ended and the beeping cut off. An uncomfortable tingling stayed, running chills up and down his spine.

Fuck, Tommy thought, but didn’t dare say it aloud. He tilted his head, cracking his neck, then groped out until Ranboo handed the bag back to him.

“You good?” Ranboo said quietly.

Tommy pulled the strip of fabric out of his pocket, tying it around his eyes as a blindfold. “Yeah, we’re good.”

It should be about a fifteen minute walk to the firewall, the voice on the radio said. Follow the track.

“Yes sir,” the three of them said. There was a crunch of dirt, then Ranboo’s hand took his own and guided it to the fluff on the tip of Ranboo’s tail. Then they began walking, Ranboo’s tail acting as a moving guide for Tommy to follow. 

Tommy took a deep breath. “Ready, boys?”

Neither Tubbo nor Ranboo responded. Tommy snorted. “Yeah, me neither.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo was, first and foremost, a hacker, and a damn good one at that.

His earliest memory was being held by his mother, calloused hands guiding his pudgy fingers to rest against a glowing firewall, letting Tubbo feel the tingling sensation of his magic against the crackling code. Home, his mother had said. It was the only thing he remembered of her, the sadness in her voice. 

According to Schlatt, she had been trapped inside the disintegrating server some time later, admin powers useless against the corrupting virus that ate away at the strings of code that held the server together. Schlatt and Tubbo had gotten out— not that it mattered in the end anyways— but Tubbo’s mother had stayed behind, expending the rest of her magic to try and keep the world from collapsing. Schlatt always stopped telling the story there, shaking his head and cursing. “Dumb bitch. Should’ve known better. Should’ve known.”

As much as Schlatt tried to discourage his son from going down the same path as his mother, the brief connection Tubbo had made with the corrupted firewall left a lasting impression on him. Even years later, when father and son had hopped from city to city, leaving their broken server far behind them, there was a sort of tug, a curious yearning to dip his fingers into code once more, twisting it to his will, shaping it into something more reliable than ‘home’. 

Schlatt left when Tubbo was eight. 

Tubbo’s hacking career began with Hypixel. He’d met Tommy in one of the pod stations; Tubbo had been woken from a nice nap on a bench to Tommy’s gap-toothed grin, a poke at his forehead, and a low whisper— “Wanna play bedwars with me?”

They were too young for any pvp-based servers, but Tubbo poked and prodded at the ticket machine’s redstone while Tommy distracted the station officers, and then eventually when they got caught and kicked out of the station it was him poking at Hypixel’s firewall while Tommy distracted the admins. Luckily for them, the aforementioned admins were too busy to care about a couple of mischievous kids, and grudgingly allowed them to join the server if Tubbo would “for the love of god kid stop changing the sky to RGB we don’t know how you’re doing it but we’ve had to close the server seven times to fix it”. 

Well, the hacking didn’t stop at Hypixel. Tubbo practiced and honed his skills on smaller servers, which usually resulted in an immediate ban, but the point wasn’t to get into the server, it was to get good. Which— he didn’t really achieve until his. . . training, but breaking even the weakest strings of code in a firewall was still an impressive feat for a ten-year-old.

 So yeah, Tubbo was a good hacker. 

But standing in front of the Hermitcraft firewall, staring up at the towering dome of reinforced code, feeling the hostility radiating off it from the server’s magic. . . Tubbo had to admit he was a little out of his depth here. 

Tommy must have sensed his anxiety somehow, because his tail whipped around and smacked Tubbo’s leg. “Hey, don’t stress man, it’s just like Hypixel, right?”

“It’s literally nothing like Hypixel,” Tubbo said. He exhaled and shook his hands, trying to dispel the tension in his muscles. “Please tell me you know the plan from here, bossman?”

“Of course,” Tommy muttered, “this is the part I actually studied.”

Tommy released Ranboo’s tail, taking a step away. His ears stood straight up, on full alert, straining for any sound from any direction. Ranboo, meanwhile, came around to Tubbo’s side, eyes darting around the massive firewall before he glanced back at Tubbo and smiled, eyes crinkling above his mask. 

Tubbo’s earpiece crackled. Proceed, Underscore.

Tubbo took a deep breath and stepped forward. His eyes slid closed as he raised his hands and pressed his palms against the firewall.

Instantly the code began shifting, reacting to the unfamiliar magic seeping from the point of contact. Tubbo fed tendrils of magic into the wall quickly, feeling around the tightly-knit barriers for any weak link he could exploit. A string of magic ( joehills’ , it hissed), snapped at the invading magic, sending a sharp pain through Tubbo’s abdomen. Tubbo grunted and squeezed his eyes tighter, manipulating the code around to block the defending magic. Admin magic couldn’t be destroyed, only pushed around and stopped from interfering with the hacking process. 

Finally, he found a weak spot, a patch where the code hadn’t been properly fused with magic. Tubbo felt around the area for a moment, then pounded on it with his magic, slamming the code again and again, forcing it to bend and break and crack—

A single tendril of magic broke through. 

Tubbo grinned behind his mask. “Let the show begin.”

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma was in the middle of mining in the nether when his inventory disappeared.

“. . .what in the world.” Xisuma blinked and waved his hand, trying to pull his inventory back up, but it was completely empty, tools, armor, and all. “What in the world? ”

Evidently the strange event took place server-wide, because his communicator began buzzing up a storm from similarly confused and distressed hermits.

>FalseSymmetry: WHAT

>EthosLab: um

>Grian: ???

>Grian: what just happened??

>TangoTek: NO MY REDSTONE SHULKERR

>Docm77: Is this a prank?

>PearlescentMoon: umm glitch?

>ImpulseSV: ?????

>TangoTek: NOOOOOOOOO

>ImpulseSV: X?

>Falsesymmetry: I feel you, Tango, I just lost half a stack of ancient debris

<Xisumavoid: Joe, did you accidentally /clear everyone?

>JoeHills: ??no???

>Grian: uh guys???

>GoodTimesWithScar: can we get our stuff back please

Xisuma frowned in confusion. 

<Xisumavoid: Tango?

>TangoTek: my stufffff

<(You whisper to TangoTek): Did you /clear?

>(TangoTek whispers to you): no dude i was just working on decked out and then bam! no more shulker

>Rendog: Is this a bug?

>Docm77: Some kid trying to hack us again?

>[FalseSymmetry tried to swim in lava]

>Grian: please tell me this isnt permanent 

>ImpulseSV: O_o

>Grian: we’re gonna get our stuff back right 

>Grian: right

>Grian: ??????

<Xisumavoid: I’ll go check out the firewall

<Xisumavoid: Hang tight everyone

Xisuma lowered his communicator and shook his head. What a mess. If Doc was right, that this was the result of some kid trying to mess with his server again. . .

That kid was about to have a very bad time.

❖✩✩✩❖

A breeze swept across the dirt wasteland, blowing Tommy’s bangs up away from his face. He made no move to fix his hair, just standing in darkness, listening to his friends’ breaths and the strange pulsing noises of the firewall. 

“How are we doing, Tubbo?” Tommy murmured.

There were a few seconds of silence, then Tubbo grunted out, “Concentrating.”

“Right.” Tommy tapped his hand against his arm anxiously. The radio line in his mask was silent, but the disc at the back of his mask was unpleasantly warm against his neck. 

Presently a deep hum resonated through the dome. Tommy’s ears stood straight up and he tensed. “Get ready.”

He heard Ranboo shift, then the hum turned into a buzz on the side of the firewall, just a few yards away. Tommy turned towards it, leaning forwards slightly, knees bending, tail whipping behind him, ready— his stomach glowed, and the world seemed to appear in staticky blue—

The dirt crunched as someone stepped out of the server and into the empty wasteland. 

Tommy lunged forward at once, colliding with the man, knocking him to the ground— the admin had armor on, because of course he did, but Tommy was strong, and he’d taken the man by surprise— the admin shouted and struggled under Tommy, but Tommy had fought monsters twice his size— 

And quickly, quicker than he expected from an admin — Tommy had him pinned, one hand pressing his helmet into the dirt and the other on his wrist. The admin had one hand free still, but there wasn’t much he could do with it, not lying on his stomach with Tommy on top of him. The admin breathed quickly, and Tommy suspected his eyes were wide under his helmet’s faceplate. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being attacked outside his own firewall. 

“Hi there,” Tommy said, grinning.

There was a moment of tense silence, then the man spoke with a slight tremble in his voice, “Hello.”

Tommy cocked his head. “Underscore, are you sure this is an admin? I expected something a bit more challenging from Hermitcraft.”

“Bloody hell, Innit, shut up ,” Tubbo said. “I’m fuckin’ concentrating. ”

This is Xisuma, the voice on the radio said. He’s the main admin. Well done.

Tommy perked up, tail whipping from side to side eagerly. “Xisuma, is it? The legendary admin himself, and I took him down in three seconds? Damn, it’s a miracle Hermitcraft is still standing if this is the best they’ve got!”

“Don’t judge an admin by his ability to fight,” Xisuma said stiffly. “Who do you work for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pussyboy,” Tommy said in a low voice. “Tell you what, how about an exchange? We’ll give you answers, and you. . . ”

Tommy grinned and leaned close to Xisuma’s faceplate. “Give us Grian.”

Xisuma stopped breathing for a moment, then stuttered out, “G-Grian?”

“You know. . .” Tommy tilted his head. “Red jumper, dark blonde hair, white wings?”

“White—?” Xisuma tried to fight against Tommy, arm jerking, but his attempt was futile and he gave up quickly. “Why do you want Grian?”

“Give him to us and we’ll tell you,” Tommy said. He moved his knee to press on Xisuma’s arm, freeing Tommy’s hand, then subtly felt around until he found Xisuma’s communicator. He then pried it off and dropped it in the dirt in front of the admin’s free hand. “Call him and tell him to come out. For. . . help with admin stuff or whatever. He used to be an admin, right?”

“How did you know—”

“Call him, but act like nothing’s wrong.” 

“Or what?”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Or Underscore will tear your server apart, one string of code at a time.”

It was a lie. Tubbo was a good hacker, but not nearly good enough to achieve that sort of destruction. Only a virus was capable of damaging a server beyond repair, but still, Tubbo could do some damage. 

Apparently, Xisuma saw through his lie, because he said determinedly, “I’m not going to call him out. Do what you want, I can fix whatever you do later.” 

“What if there isn’t a later,” Tommy hissed, dragging his claws across Xisuma’s helmet to make a grating screeching noise. “You won’t survive long in this atmosphere without your helmet, will you?”

A shudder ran through Xisuma’s body, but he still insisted stubbornly, “Do what you want. You’re not getting any of my hermits.”

Tommy growled in frustration, tail lashing back and forth. Suddenly, the radio clicked on. Use the communicator to call Grian. If Xisuma won’t speak, he’ll know something is wrong and will come out anyway.

“What if they all come out?” Tommy murmured.

“What?” Xisuma said.

If they all come, continue with plan A as normal, but be quick. 

“Understood.” Tommy grabbed the communicator again, pressing the button to turn it on, then hesitated. He was still blind. “R800. . .”

“Innit?” Ranboo quickly walked over. 

“Uh— here,” Tommy said, holding out the communicator in the general direction of Ranboo’s voice. Can’t let Xisuma know you’re blind, he’ll exploit it. “I’m. . . no good with technology.”

“No good with a communicator?” Xisuma said in disbelief.

“Shut up,” Tommy said, flushing. “R800, call Grian.”

“I’m not going to tell him to come out!” Xisuma repeated firmly. “You’re wasting your time!”

“We’ll see about that.” Ranboo tapped on the communicator screen a few times, then gave it back to Tommy as the call was answered.

Hello? The voice said over the comm. X?

Xisuma said nothing in reply, nor did Tommy or Ranboo. There was a scuffling noise on the other end, then Grian tried again. X? Hello — hello? Can you hear me?

Silence. Xisuma was breathing quickly.

Blast it, I’m no good with this — I can’t hear you, X-eye-zooma, so I’m going to hang up and try again. 

The line clicked off, and a second later Xisuma’s communicator began ringing. Tommy jammed his finger on the communicator's face, and Grian’s voice came through again. Hello? Can you hear me now? X? Hello hello?

Still Xisuma said nothing. Tommy frowned, annoyed, and dug his claws into a chink in the admin’s armor, making Xisuma yelp in pain.

X! Grian’s voice rose. X, are you alright? What’s going on?!

“Nothing!” Xisuma said quickly. “I— I stung myself with some code, that’s all! I’m fine!”

Are you sure? 

“Quite sure!” Xisuma tried to make his voice sound calm. It didn’t work very well. “Everything is fine, Grian, just— stay put and I’ll sort this out!”

Okay. . . Grian hummed. So. . . what was the problem? Not hackers?

“Not hackers, no, no,” Xisuma lied. “No, not hackers, it’s. . . um. . . just a little bug, I’ll have it fixed in no time.”

. . .okay. . . The suspicion was clear in Grian’s voice. Tommy grinned. Well, do you think you’ll be able to get us our stuff back? I mean, most of us have emergency shulkers and stuff in our bases but like a lot of us were in the middle of grinding and—

“Yes, I’ll work on it, Grian, just stay put!” Xisuma hesitated. “I—“

Tommy hung up.

“Well!” He said pleasantly, grinning at the way Xisuma was trying, again, to buck him off, “That went well! Thank you for your assistance!”

“You’re not taking him!” Xisuma yelled. “You leave Grian alone! He’s been through enough!”

“Haven’t we all,” Tommy muttered darkly. His mask shocked him again, and he barely suppressed a flinch.

“Innit?” Ranboo said quietly.

“Plan A,” Tommy said. Ranboo hummed in acknowledgment, then walked back over to Tubbo, whispering words of encouragement to his husband.

And now, Tommy thought, we wait.

Chapter Text

Only a few minutes had passed before the firewall began humming again. Tommy flicked his tail, signaling Ranboo seconds before the dome buzzed and someone new stepped out. 

There was a vwoop, someone shouted, and then Xisuma yelled, “Tango!”

Tango. Tommy swore. Of course Grian didn’t come out. Still, Xisuma began thrashing around again, until a shout from Ranboo made him freeze.

“Don’t move!” Ranboo evidently had a knife to Tango’s throat. “Either of you try anything and I won’t hesitate to kill them.”

There was a beat, then Xisuma took a shuddering breath and spoke. “Look, we can negotiate. Whatever— I can give you money, safety, whatever you want—“

“We want Grian,” Tommy hissed. “That’s it. ”

“Take me,” Xisuma said quickly. “Take me instead of Grian, whatever you want him for, I can go instead, just take me. . . ”

“Wha— ‘suma!” Tango protested. “What’s even going on, who are you guys —“

“Sorry, voidboy, we have orders, and they were pretty clear, we’re only here for him, no-one else.”

Tommy’s mask shocked him again and the radio line crackled on. Don’t give so much away, Innit.

“You’re not going to be able to get Grian, he’s not coming out and we’re not gonna call him out,” Tango said. “Seriously, what are you guys even doing?”

“Oh my god, shut up, ” Tommy snapped. He took a deep breath and shifted his weight slightly off of Xisuma’s arm, murmuring to him, “move an inch and your friend gets a knife to the throat, understand?”

There was no response, but Tommy took his silence as a yes and carefully moved off Xisuma, ears perked for any sound of movement from the admin. Luckily, Xisuma seemed to get the memo, because he didn’t move even as Tommy stood up and walked over to Ranboo. 

“Do we move to plan C?” Tommy whispered in Ranboo’s ear when he was close enough.

“Skip plan B?” Ranboo said inquisitively.

“Yeah, or kinda mesh C and B into one,” Tommy said. He shrugged. “Plan B kinda relied on Grian coming out, and if that’s not happening. . .”

“Right. Do you— hey!” Apparently Xisuma had moved, because Tango sucked in a breath as Ranboo’s knife bit into his skin. “Move again and I’ll paint the dirt red with his blood!

“Anyways,” Ranboo continued, “do you want to be the entrant or defendant?”

“Will you—“ Tommy groaned in frustration. “I don’t know the fuckin’ codes, man—“

“Those aren’t even codenames, those are just words —“

“You guys are really professionals, huh?” Tango said dryly.

“Okay, here, you take him,” Ranboo said, and then Tango was shoved unceremoniously against Tommy’s chest. Tommy scrabbled a moment for the knife, receiving a sharp jab and a disgruntled shout from Tango before Tommy was able to secure the man back into a hostage position. 

“Are you kidding me?!” Tango cried. “You can’t just pass me from one guy to the other like—“

Tommy, thoroughly done with dealing with people, brought the knife closer until the sharpened metal was resting against Tango’s adam’s apple, effectively shutting him up.

“I’m not as patient as R800 is. So fucking try me and see how it ends ,” Tommy growled.

“I’ll deal with getting Grian, you just handle the admins and make sure they don’t touch you or Underscore.” Ranboo walked over to Xisuma, then crouched down, murmuring a low threat to the admin as he picked up the communicator again.

Tommy wasn’t worried about the admins touching him— the only way to ban someone was to get their code, and the only way to get someone’s code was through direct skin and eye contact, so Tommy was fairly safe with his blindfold— but there was the risk of the admins somehow getting Tubbo’s code, and that would definitely fuck them over.

The only thing Tommy had to worry about, then, was dealing with three admins, blind, while Tubbo tore open a hole in the whitelist and let Ranboo slip in to grab Grian. Although if the third admin had the same level of fighting skills that these first two admins did, Tommy was pretty confident in his ability to handle them.

“—just proving more difficult to handle than expected, nothing serious but we could use another perspective,” Xisuma said, presumably speaking over the communicator to the third admin. “No— it’s fine, Joe, just problems with the firewall, there’s a little bug or something— well tell him to calm down, we’re fine, just— just come out here , but tell everyone else to stay put—“

Tommy sighed, ear flicking impatiently. This was supposed to be a quick mission, not an hour of babysitting admins. 

He didn’t have to wait long, however, because as soon as the communicator clicked off, a third buzz sounded from the dome. Tommy straightened and held the knife close to Tango’s throat. “Get on the ground now!”

There was a beat, then Joe spoke. “Well howdy! What are you fellas doing out here?”

“ On the ground ,” Ranboo said. “Take another step closer and your friend over there dies.”

Joe whistled. “That’s dramatic. Alright, I’m getting down.”

The dirt crunched as he settled down on his knees. Tommy relaxed slightly. Idiot admins.

“Are you going to tie me up or something?” Joe yawned. “I’m awfully close to the firewall, are you sure you want me right here?”

“Joe. . .” Xisuma said, voice strained. 

“Tie you—?” Ranboo hesitated. “Do you want to be tied up? I mean—“

“Prime’s sakes, R800, just do it, it’ll be easier for me anyways,” Tommy snapped, impatience returning. 

“Prime, okay!” Ranboo teleported over to Tubbo, digging through the bag until they found some duct tape. There was another vwoop as they teleported back, then—

A sudden noise of movement, a “SHIT!” from Ranboo, and a scuffle accompanied by a laugh from Joe.

“What’s happened?!” Tommy yelled. “R800! What—?!”

“He got my code!” Ranboo shouted. “He grabbed my arm and made eye contact—“

“FUCK!” Tommy accidentally dug his claws into Tango’s shoulder, making him cry out in pain. “Fucking shit dick goddamn son of a bitch —“

Calm down, you’re overreacting, the voice in his earpiece snapped. Switch roles with R800.

“Ra— 800, ” Tommy called. He withdrew the knife and quickly planted a kick in Tango’s back, sending him forward towards the other admins. 

Xisuma moved as Tommy did, springing forward again— the knife was passed back to Ranboo— and Tommy seized Tango’s shirt, dragging him up even as he blocked a hit from Xisuma— weak, they really were shit fighters—

The scuffle ended with Ranboo circling the three admins with duct tape, effectively binding them to each other despite their useless  protests and futile attempts to break free.

“God, all three admins taken down by two players and some duct tape,” Tommy scoffed. “This’ll be easy as fuck.”

“Don’t waste time,” Ranboo said warningly. “Quick in and out, and then we’re gone.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy activated his sound-sight again, locating Xisuma in the tangled pile of admins, and crouched down in front of him, grinning. “See you in a bit.”

“ Monster ,” Xisuma breathed, furious. 

Tommy skipped over to the firewall, tail swinging behind him. “Ready, Tub— Underscore?”

“Goddammit, Innit,” Tubbo grunted. “Hang on. . .”

He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating, and a moment later a strange sound rolled through the firewall, like glass falling through taught wires. Behind them, Xisuma made a noise like a cross between a growl and a shout, full of rage and fury.

“Go,” Tubbo said. “Go now.”

Tommy grinned and turned around, facing the admins again. He waited only a moment, staring into the darkness and imagining their faces watching him, expressions twisted in anger, then he gave them a mocking two-fingered salute and let himself fall backwards into the dome. His body seemed to dissolve.

>[T𝙹ᒲᒲ||iリリ╎ℸ ̣ joined the game]

Chapter Text

Within the first few seconds of spawning, even more disoriented than usual with his blindness, Tommy felt the warm metal of a netherrite sword against his throat.

Oh, HELL no, Tommy thought, and didn’t give the player a chance to threaten him. He grabbed the blade, ignoring the way it cut into his palms— sharpness II, at least — and used it to flip the player over his shoulder. They grunted as they landed on their back, hard , and Tommy didn’t give them a moment before he struck out with his claws, shredding through the soft flesh of their throat.

>[Rendog was slain by T𝙹ᒲᒲ||iリリ╎ℸ]

Immediately there were shouts around him, the sound of swords and axes being drawn— Fuck, they’d spawn trapped him, maybe six of them, judging from the noise— someone rushed towards him—

Tommy grabbed the sword from the pile of loot left behind by the player he’d killed, swinging it up just in time— metal met metal with a hard CLANG , but Tommy was strong, holding his opponent at bay. . . until they kicked him in the stomach with armoured boots, sending him flying backwards onto the ground. 

Tommy didn’t let himself process the pain, there wasn’t time for that. He was up again in an instant, activating his sound-sight again— his stomach glowed, the world in pulsing blue static— and lunged, sweeping low with his sword— the player danced out of the way, and another came up on Tommy’s right, axe raised, and Tommy had barely any time to duck before it whooshed over his head. 

Tommy turned his attention to the axe-wielder, quickly assessing their gear. Axe, shield, and a lightness to their step: this was a professional pvp’er. Shit. 

That was all he had time to think before a bottle broke at his feet, splashing foul-smelling liquid over him. The effect was instantaneous, making his legs feel tingly and numb— a weakness potion. Double shit.

Tommy dashed as quickly as he could with now-clumsy limbs back to the pile of loot, snatching only a few items, shield, gapples, shovel — enderpearls! before rolling away again, out of the way of two more swords cutting down on him— someone yelled something but Tommy’s ears filtered out the sound, focusing instead on every shff of fabric, every crunch of another footstep—

He dodged under another player’s sword. He's quick, even with the weakness, but he can’t dodge forever— there’s just too many of them. 

“—call X!” someone shouted, and Tommy was reminded that he had limited time here . Ranboo couldn’t keep the admins at bay forever, and if they got back in while he was still in here, he’d be fucked.

“I don’t suppose,” Tommy panted, clashing swords with someone again, “that any of you guys know where Grian is?”

“Grian?” The man in front of him paused for just a second, thrown off guard, and Tommy disarmed him, finishing him off by lodging his sword in his stomach. 

>[Keralis was slain by T𝙹ᒲᒲ||iリリ╎ℸ]

He didn’t get long to celebrate his second kill. The axe-wielder lunged for him again, and this time the weakness did its job. He wasn’t able to dodge the wickedly sharp metal as it ripped straight through his shield, tearing it away before swinging again, hitting its mark in Tommy’s side with a sickening squelch.

S̷̪̾͘h̸̢̹͔͑ȉ̵̭̭t̸͇̼̀̔ . Tommy’s mind filled with static and pain . He barely had time to raise his sword again to block a third axe-strike. His entire left side was burning. 

“Someone should go tell Grian the hacker’s after him!” 

“I can go!” Someone yelled. There was a fwee~ of a rocket being launched, and Tommy’s heart skipped a beat, but instead of fire licking at his skin, there was only the sound of wind whistling as something— someone, was boosted into the sky. 

“No— wait!” The axe-wielder swore. “Don’t you dare. . .”

Tommy grunted and let his sword slip away, sliding out of the way as the axe fell forward, no longer being held back by his blade. While his opponent was unbalanced, he quickly whipped out the pearls, throwing one in a wide arc where he had heard the player fly off. 

“Mother Prime!” The axe-wielder cursed, raising her weapon again. Tommy gave her a salute as she stepped forward, swinging—

Tommy’s enderpearl landed, and it hurt like a bitch. The pain brought static to his mind again— but there wasn’t time for that , and he hurled another pearl, ignoring the blood soaking through Ranboo’s jacket—

The second pearl brought as much pain as the first, and he hissed, pressing a hand to the wound— 

And then an arrow hit him in the shoulder, and it was pain through his entire left side. 

“Fuck!” Tommy gasped. He reached automatically for his shield, before remembering that it had been torn away by the axe-wielder — 

Another arrow shot straight through his ear , and someone whooped above him, and it fucking hurt and there wasn’t time to process the pain, he had to move. 

“ Shoot them down! ” someone yelled, footsteps running towards him, and wasn’t that just dandy. Tommy gritted his teeth and threw another pearl, scanning his inventory for— 

The pearl landed, not far from where he had been shot, and another arrow landed at his feet, immediately followed by another one whizzing by his head, and Tommy had had enough. 

He pulled out the shovel, and swiftly dug down, taking each block he dug and placing it above him, creating a tiny bubble of space in the ground. Once he was three or four blocks beneath the surface, he unlatched his mask and pulled out a gapple, taking a massive bite from the sweet flesh. The juice fizzed as it dribbled down his chin, and his ear and shoulder tingled as the magic set to work stitching the wounds back together. 

The sound of digging above him alerted him that they had arrived at his hiding spot. Tommy quickly snapped his mask back into place and pulled out the shovel again, repeating his dig-move-replace motion, this time horizontally instead of down. It took him a few tense minutes, but eventually the sounds of shovels and yelling was far behind him.

Tommy sighed and leaned against the dirt of his little bubble, taking a moment to catch his breath. His side was still throbbing with pain, so he pulled out another gapple, eating it quickly before pulling off his jacket and tying it around his waist. The blood would seep into the fabric, but a little bit of hydrogen peroxide and detergent and it would come out. Assuming he made it out of here alive. 

“Sir, permission to temporarily disable the North Star protocol?” Tommy whispered. “It’ll be hard to locate Grian blind.”

There was no response. Tommy cursed. Right, doesn’t work when I’m inside a server. 

He’d have to work with what he had. The blindness was inconvenient, but he was faster in this form anyways, and speed was definitely needed in this situation more than sight. Speaking of which, he should probably get moving now that he’d had a moment to rest. 

Tommy devoured another gapple, then perked up his ears, listening for any movement on the surface above him. He heard a dolphin somewhere to his right, probably a speed bridge of some sort— but other than that there was no noise of players or mobs alike. 

Carefully, slowly, Tommy relatched his mask and pulled out the shovel again, digging upwards until he broke the surface. Tommy quickly replaced the block as soon as it was gone, rapidly digging back down and to the side, waiting with baited breath for shouts, for TNT raining down on him— but nothing happened, and after a while he tentatively built back up, poking his ears above surface first to listen for any movement— then enderpearled out of his hole.

He landed in water, and flinched, panicking for a moment before realising it was only one block deep. The dolphin made a clicking noise behind him, and Tommy cocked his head, then took a step forward. His foot glided forward across fine sand that hissed and shifted under his weight. The speed bridge. 

An arrow whistled past Tommy and thunked into the wooden barrier keeping the water on the bridge. A rocket squealed from the sky, and far above him, Tommy heard the axe-wielder yell, “He’s over here!”

Ah fuck, Tommy thought. There was a whoosh of wind, then a body slammed into his side. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Tango was not having a good day. 

First, he realised that he had messed up somewhere in his redstone for Decked Out, and had to spend almost an hour and a half searching the dungeon for whatever tiny mistake he had made— and then when he did finally find it, his stuff disappeared before he could even place his redstone shulker down!

And then Grian had sent a message through to everyone, saying he was concerned about Xisuma, who had apparently called him telling him to stay put and not come out to help with the glitch— which everyone agreed was strange, and since Tango was an admin, naturally he was the one to go out and check on Xisuma (not that Tango was mad about that, he’d check on his friend any day), which meant he didn’t have time to go back to his storage area and grab some backup stuff for fixing the redstone.

And that was all before he got held hostage. 

“I don’t know about you guys,” Joe said, breaking a very awkward silence, “but I could really use a glass of zucchini water right now.”

Their captor ( Ranboo, according to his code Joe had passed around to the three of them) blinked, clearly confused. “W-what? Zucchini?”

“Yeah, like the cucumber water rich people drink.” Joe shrugged as best as he could with the duct tape binding him to Tango and Xisuma. “They’re both vegetables, right?”

Tango glanced at Xisuma, bewildered. It was impossible to tell if this was another trick from Joe to improve their situation, or just Joe being Joe. 

Ranboo stared at him for a moment, then tilted their head. “You’re not. . . you don’t know anyone called Charlie, do you?”

“Sure I do,” Joe said easily. “I know so many Charlie’s. Charlie Chaplin, Charlie and the chocolate factory, Charlie Brown, Charlie bit my finger, Charlie—”

“Okay, okay! Nevermind!” Ranboo rubbed their forehead, then glanced back at the hacker, who was still concentrating on the firewall. “Prime.”

 Tango leaned back as far as he could, knocking heads with Xisuma, then whispered, “Any plans?”

“ Get them out of my server, ” Xisuma breathed.

Tango opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated. Somewhere on the firewall, he felt a familiar presence brush past one of his ribbons of magic, sending minute vibrations across the tightly-knit strings of the server’s code— and then Gem stepped out of the dome.

“Oh!” Her eyes flicked from the hacker, to Ranboo, to the three admins taped to each other on the ground. She smiled and waved. “Hi guys! Why didn’t you invite me to the party?”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s forehead hit the soul sand hard . His ears filled with static and he felt water rush into his mask, slipping up his nose, choking him— The axe-wielder pinned him in place, keeping his head under the shallow water. His lungs burned—

With sudden force Tommy shoved against the ground. The pressure and weight immediately disappeared off his back and Tommy coughed, water streaming out of his mask. Sharp pain sliced across his back. Tommy gritted his teeth and swung his sword backward, metal against metal ringing in his ears. He twisted and feigned a blow, pulling out at the last second— the axe-wielder saw through the move and dodged, taking the opportunity to swing at his legs. 

Shit, shit, shit, Tommy thought, skipping backwards. He’d been trained for this, but damn she was fucking good.

Tommy listened carefully, studying her movements, a quick twist there, glance here. She pulled back her arm. Tommy took the moment to strike, ducking under the axe and slicing at the gap between her chestplate and leggings. Warm droplets of blood splashed over his hand. He breathed in the small victory. 

The axe-wielder returned the attack, swinging for his injured side. Tommy slid away, adjusting to dodge the blow— in an instant she twisted, thrusting her axe in the opposite direction of his dodge— the axe sliced across his forearm, blood splattering across the water. He staggered and cursed— should have heard that coming.

Tommy lunged, aiming directly at her heart. It was her turn this time to jump out of the way— but she was quick to retaliate, planting a kick directly in Tommy’s chest. Something cracked as the wind was knocked out of him, and for a moment his sound-vision went dark, staticky blue returning to blindness—

Another kick sent Tommy flying off the bridge onto the ground below. He gasped and coughed, pain shooting through his injured back— his ear caught the shift of air and he rolled away just in time as the axe sank deep into the ground beside him. 

Fuck this, Tommy thought, throwing a pearl in a random direction. It hurt like Notch when it landed, but he pushed past the pain, unlatching his mask just long enough to cram a gapple into his mouth before relatching it and swinging his sword behind him to block the axe aimed for his head.

He swallowed his mouthful of gapple, then coughed and grinned. “This feels familiar.”

“Stop blocking and I’ll show you a new move,” his opponent grunted, then let herself be shoved back, quickly pulling out a sword in place of her axe. 

“Let me guess, the move is a sword to the gut,” Tommy said dryly. He switched his own sword to his left hand and lunged, falling into a quick-stepped dance with the player. Their swords darted through the air, a parry here, a feint there— her movements were small, built on reactions and reflex, watching carefully for his subtlest of motions— his ears were stood straight up, catching every vibration on the wind, every sound of metal shifting in her leather-gloved grip. 

They were a storm, thunder and lightning alike— metal crashed against metal, sword, shield, armour, never hitting its mark, just colliding with power and anger and speed — a dance, falling back for mere seconds before clashing again, teeth bared, breath hot, blood pumping fiercely with relentless passion— neither of them would give up. 

Finally— finally, their swords crossed, a risky move, and he held them there, sliding sideways and grabbing the player’s blade, shoving it out of the way before sweeping into the opening he had created for himself, driving his sword straight into her armpit. She cried out, and Tommy wasted no time in throwing his last pearl onto the bridge. 

The pearl landed, and Tommy began dashing down the bridge, feet sliding across the sand with unnatural speed. He could hear voices far off in the distance ahead of him. Tommy grinned.

❖✩✩✩❖

Ranboo’s first thought upon seeing the girl was, she’s small and unarmed.

Their second thought was, I really don’t want to kill anyone today.

So, instead of teleporting over and immediately stabbing her, they made the fatal error of attempting a certain level of pacifism.  

“Get on the ground and nobody gets hurt!” Ranboo yelled, pulling out their knife.

Again, a certain level of pacifism. 

She completely ignored them, however, walking over to Tubbo. “Hell- o, you look very fancy, sir, but you’re definitely not supposed to be doing. . . whatever it is you’re doing.”

Ranboo snarled and teleported over, standing between her and Tubbo. “Don’t touch him!”

She stared up at them, then in a flash ducked around their arm and grabbed the hood of Tubbo’s shirt, throwing him off the wall and onto the ground. Tubbo shouted in surprise and pain, and Ranboo lunged forward, shoving the girl away from them before kneeling down next to him. “Underscore!”

“Fuck, I’m fine, Boo,” Tubbo said through gritted teeth, rubbing his throat. “Fuckin’ hell—“

“God, language.” The girl frowned and put her hands on her hips. “You guys are terrible party guests.”

“Gem, can you come get us outta this thing once you’re done playing with them? My butt is going numb,” Joe complained. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and began walking towards the duct-taped admins. 

Ranboo moved to block her way, brandishing their knife, but suddenly there was a hand on their arm, a hand on their shoulder, and she hurled them over her shoulder. They landed flat on their back in the dirt, breath leaving them in one oof — while they lay there, trying to remember how to breathe, she gave them a grin and skipped away, resuming her course towards the admins. 

“What the hell!” Tubbo yelled. “She threw you like a ragdoll! ”

“Yep,” Ranboo wheezed. They pushed themself to their feet and shook their head. Right, that’s enough, no more hesitating. 

Another teleport brought them in front of Gem, and she didn’t have time to dodge this time as Ranboo slammed into her, sending her stumbling backwards a few feet across the dirt. While she was disoriented, they took up a defensive stance between her and the admins, knife ready for her next move.

“Ohh, you mean business now.” The playful note in her voice dripped away into something more sinister, and her teeth flashed in a grin. “This’ll be fun.”

She reached for a bracelet on her wrist, fiddling with a charm hanging from it. A split second later, it shimmered and transformed into a golden sword, carved with enchants and glistening with magic. Gem hefted it a moment, then spun it around in a flourish, eyes shining. “Ready?”

Ranboo’s knife suddenly didn’t seem as useful in this situation, and they tried to ignore the flicker of anxiety in their chest. WHY THE HELL DOES SHE HAVE A GODDAMN SWORD?!

It’s just a golden sword, the voice on the radioline snapped. Stop holding back and take care of her already!

Gem got tired of waiting and stepped forward, swinging her sword in a wide sweep. Ranboo hastily teleported behind her, jabbing desperately at her back with their horribly small knife , but she spun with the momentum of her sword, forcing Ranboo to teleport again— and the vibrations in their chest stuttered, they’d already used so much energy, pretty soon they’d run out of teleports—

Her sword sliced across their chest, tearing a ragged gash through their shirt and skin— it was shallow, not meant to kill, but the pain was enough to make them fall back, shouting as their blood seeped from the wound, burning where it met the surrounding skin— Gem took the opportunity to dash to the admins, sword slicing neatly through the duct tape.

Xisuma wasted no time in running to the firewall, not even stopping to strip the silvery tape off his armor— and in a moment he had phased through the dome, entering his server. The other admins remained outside, untangling themselves and standing up, attention turning to Ranboo and Tubbo. 

Ranboo stared at the three hermits for a few seconds, heart pounding. 

R800, the voice in his mask began, but Ranboo didn’t give him a chance to finish, teleporting over to Tubbo and grabbing his arm, instantly teleporting away again, and again, and again, fleeing across the dirt wasteland.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Tubbo yelled. “What the hell are you doing, Tommy’s still in there!!”

Ranboo’s energy finally ran out, and they stumbled to a stop, unable to teleport even a few more feet. 

“The admin,” they gasped, letting go of Tubbo and leaning over with their hands on their knees. “He—“

The admin entered the server, the voice interrupted. Innit is as good as dead. You’ve failed your mission. Stay there and await rescue.

“He’s—“ Tubbo’s hands flew to his neck, dragging out the compasses from under his shirt. Tommy’s needle was pointing steadily back towards Hermitcraft. “He’s still alive! The mission hasn’t failed yet, he could still come out—“

“ Tubbo. ” Ranboo grabbed his husband’s shoulder, making him look at their eyes. They didn’t say anything, but after a few seconds of eye contact, Tubbo looked away, cursing. 

“It really was a suicide mission,” he muttered.

Await rescue, the voice said dispassionately. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Side, leg, rib, arm, knee, knuckles, back, shoulder.

Each of the wounds burned with every movement, but adrenaline ran hotter in Tommy’s veins, pumping him with one last blast of energy, one final fight.

Just a little longer, Tommy thought, just grab and get out, grab and get out, and then Ranboo can teleport us away.

This was easier said than done, however— there must have been six or seven people around him, all yelling and moving and flying around, and it was disorienting. Tommy’s blue sound-sight was blurred with static from the pain and the interfering noise. 

> [BdoubleO100 was slain by TommyInnit]

> [ImpulseSV was slain by TommyInnit]

Another sword slashed him on the arm. Tommy dropped his sword. He shoved past the player, zeroing in on the sound of wingbeats on the other end of the mossy bridge. 

“He’s low—“

“Get X—“

“Grian!”

“Shoot him down —“

“Oh—!”

Tommy leapt forward. His fingers brushed feathers—

> [Xisumavoid joined the game]

CRACK

Tommy was pinned to the ground in an instant. Armored gloves, cold with the raging magic of an admin, pressed against his shoulders, not the least bit gentle with the wounds there. Tommy gasped and clawed at Xisuma’s arm, but it was no use. 

Hands grabbed at his face, tearing away his blindfold. Tommy screamed something unintelligible, thrashing. 

“Hit him,” Xisuma hissed.

Something slammed into the side of Tommy’s head, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Tommy woke up. 

Granted, it wasn’t a very pleasant waking-up— his body ached and his head was pounding, but seeing as he’d been expecting death, he counted his existence as a victory. 

He moved to sit up, and— fuck, nope, bad idea. Red-hot pain flashed through his body, and Tommy made a strangled whimpering noise, immediately letting himself flop back down to the floor. 

Right, he thought with a wince, head spinning, one thing at a time.

Carefully, he raised his less -injured arm, feeling at his face. His mask was still in place— thank Prime— but the earpiece had been crushed and his blindfold was missing. Shockingly, he still had the shovel tucked away in his inventory, as well as four gapples.

Tommy flicked his ear up, listening for any breathing in the room, but it sounded to be empty. There wasn’t any buzz of hidden cameras, either, so Tommy quickly rolled onto his side, ignoring the stabbing pain, and unlatched his mask, eagerly eating one of the gapples. 

The headache lifted, along with the majority of the pain as the gapple’s magic flowed through his body. It wasn’t a permanent fix, most of his wounds needed serious attention— potions, or a respawn, or something— but the cushion of numbness it provided was much appreciated for now. 

Tommy stayed on his side for a while, breathing and feeling the pulsing, tingling sensation around his injuries. 

Fuck, he thought, huffing a half-laugh. This isn’t ideal. 

Ok, ok. Biggest concerns are the injuries. The gapples should help with that, but if someone comes in I’ll have to put my mask back on, assuming they haven’t already peeked under it while I was knocked out. 

Tommy grimaced and pulled out another gapple, eating it despite the churning in his stomach. 

I have the shovel — that can be used as a weapon if needed, but it’s probably useless to try and go after Grian again — they’ll be expecting me to leave the server as soon as possible, but by now they’ll have called the police and set a guard around the firewall or something. So. . . best course of action is probably to get out of here, wherever ‘here’ is, and hide out somewhere on the server where they can’t find me until they let their guard down and I can get out and ping for retrieval. If I’m lucky, I can bring Grian with me.

Tommy licked his lips, absorbing the rest of the gapple’s magic, then put his mask back on. With the majority of his pain numbed away, Tommy slowly sat up and began feeling around him, trying to figure out where exactly he was. His attempt was in vain, however, as his hands only brushed smooth stone, claws catching on the minuscule nicks and scratches in the cold surface.

This isn’t going to work, Tommy thought. I need my eyes.

He shifted—

White-hot pain flashed down his spine. Tommy’s muscles cramped— he couldn’t do anything but fucking shriek in pain, convulsing, trying desperately not to throw up in his mask—

And then it stopped, leaving Tommy shaking and heaving on the ground.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “fuck, fuck, fuck—“

Somewhere below him, a door opened.

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma sat on the edge of a crumbling island and stared into endless darkness. 

Endermen roamed about him, voices crackling as they communicated with each other — not like humans would, they weren’t intelligent enough for that — but they were smart enough to give the admin a wide berth, glancing over occasionally with wide, curious eyes as he flexed his fingers, letting pale dust from the endstone trickle off into the void.

He watched it disappear, then pitched forward, following it down into the inky black.

There was no wind rushing past his body as he fell, only the sensation of the air getting heavier as he descended, There was no whistle of wind as he fell; only the sensation of the air becoming thicker around him, growing denser until it seemed to catch him, cradling him and lowering him slowly until he was upright— and moving, stepping through the void like wading through shallow water, but as easily as walking on solid ground. 

He continued a few metres forward, getting used to the feeling of walking through the void, then reached up and pressed the buttons on either side of his helmet, releasing it with a soft hiss. 

Xisuma lifted it off his head and breathed. 

He didn’t do this often— probably not as often as he should, at least; his suit automatically took the overworld air and ran it through a series of pumps and filters to convert it into something similar enough to the void that he could breathe it, and he was busy, so he didn’t often come here. . . but sometimes he just needed to get the helmet off and collect his thoughts.

And boy, did he have a lot of those. 

“. . .Right,” he said, barely a whisper at first, as if there was anyone listening— as if there was anyone capable of following him to the bottom of the void. His voice grew in volume as he continued speaking to himself. “The hacker may wake up anytime now, but the cage I built around him should keep him contained for a while at least, and Pearl’s watching just in case he manages to get past the obsidian. . . he might try to leave the server as soon as he’s awake, but Gem and False are patrolling outside, so that shouldn’t be a problem. . . god.”

Xisuma ran his fingers through his hair, a cold tingle going down his spine at the sensation. He took a deep breath, eyes sliding shut. “Everyone’s respawned alright, Grian’s safe at Scar’s, hopefully doing what he’s told for once and staying put. . . silly bird. . . Tango and Joe are checking the firewall for any damage. . . everyone’s stuff is still gone. . .”

Something shifted behind him. Xisuma glanced over his shoulder, but found nothing but void behind him, so he continued walking, passing under the island. 

He needed to figure out the next thing to do— the best thing for his players. It was his responsibility as an admin to make sure his players were safe, and an organised group attacking and invading their home? That was definitely not safe. 

He should turn the hacker over to the police, like he usually did— “and I will,” Xisuma muttered, “eventually,” —but the police would just lock him up and leave him for a year or two before releasing him into the world again. And while that may have been the more responsible thing to do, Xisuma. . .

Well, he wanted answers. And by jove, he was going to get them. 

Xisuma walked for a few more minutes, letting his thoughts tumble around in his brain, then took one last breath and placed his helmet back on his head. He waited for the hissing noise as it sealed, then pulled out a rocket and his elytra and boosted himself out of the void. 

❖✩✩✩❖

It took Xisuma a while to get back to his base; everyone called him over as he flew past, asking if he was alright, and if everything was okay, and whether or not they were going to have a meeting, and if the server was stable, and if they were going to get their stuff back, etc., etc. Xisuma politely and quickly excused himself from each of the conversations, promising to discuss it all later. Right now, he was in a pretty bad state of mind, and he didn’t want to snap at someone (even if they’d forgive him later, which they always did). 

>PearlescentMoon whispers to you: He’s awake

>PearlescentMoon whispers to you: Heard a shout or something from the box

Xisuma entered the room as Pearl sent the last message, communicator pinging as he let the door shut behind him. Pearl gave a small wave at his arrival, slipping her own communicator back in her pocket. 

“How are you doing?” Xisuma said quietly.

Pearl raised an eyebrow. “I’m doing fine, I think I should be asking how you are. How was the void?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine. . .” Xisuma stared at the obsidian box standing in the middle of his base. “Anything happen?”

“Nothing ‘till half a minute ago,” Pearl said. “No blocks broken, no sound of movement. I messaged you as soon as I heard anything.”

“Right. And it was. . . a scream?”

“Sounded like it.” Pearl shrugged. “I reckon he sat up too fast with his injury or something. Or maybe he’s just really pissed at waking up in a box.”

“Makes sense.” Xisuma muttered.

Pearl watched his face for a moment. “Do you want me to stick around while you interrogate him?”

“I— no, it’s— maybe?” Xisuma exhaled. “If you could stay like— just outside the base? So you can see if he escapes? But you’re already tired, so if you want to go home, that’s fine too. . .”

“Nah, that’s fine,” Pearl said warmly. “I’ll go wait outside, message me if there’s any trouble.”

Xisuma smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Pearl.”

She smiled and nodded, then brushed past him. Xisuma waited until he heard the fwee~ of a rocket, then took a deep breath and pulled out his pickaxe.

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy lay as still as he could on his side, breathing shallowly and trying not to panic. Of course they were going to interrogate him, that was only expected— but Tommy’s mind was filled with every possible method they could use to extract information from him, and none of the options running through his mind were very desirable. 

A block broke behind him— obsidian, by the sound of it— and Tommy had the uncomfortable prickling sensation of being watched. 

There was a beat, then Xisuma spoke. “I know you’re awake.”

Shit. Tommy lay still a moment longer, preparing himself, then forced himself to sit up, hissing quietly at the flash of pain from his side. He couldn’t see, but he angled his head towards the sound of breathing anyways, carefully scooting himself away until he bumped into an obsidian wall.

A moment of silent tension. Their breaths hung in the air with anticipation.

“Gonna say anything else, voidboy?” Tommy finally said, forcing false casualness into his voice. “Or are you gonna leave me alone?”

“. . .I have questions,” Xisuma began.

“No shit.”

“You’re going to answer my questions, or—“

“Or what?” Tommy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t see any reason why I should give you anything to use against me.”

“Do not,” Xisuma snapped, “interrupt me.” 

Tommy flinched, then bared his teeth, tail smacking on the hard ground. “What are you going to do? Torture me? Kill me? Threaten me? Trust me, whatever you’re planning, I’ve been through worse.”

“I was unable to get your code earlier because of your blindness. But your nametag is available to me, Tommy Innit, and should you try my patience, I will forcefully pull your code through that. Do you understand what that means?” Xisuma said, voice low and dangerously calm. 

Tommy hesitated. “Ban me if you want, then, turn me over to the police, whatever.”

“I’m not doing that until I get answers.” Xisuma shifted, armour clinking against the obsidian. “I’ll call the police eventually. For now, though, if you don’t answer, I can examine your code for whatever information I need.”

Tommy fell silent again. Surely he’s bluffing. . . he can’t really do that, can he?

. . . Better play it safe. 

“Alright,” Tommy said suddenly, lifting his arms behind his head. “Ask away.”

“. . .What, really?” Xisuma’s armour clicked as he shifted. “You’ll answer my questions just like that?”

“Yeah, bitch, what the fuck do you want me to say, no? You’re not gettin’ my fuckin’ code, so get on with it already.” Tommy tried to subtly grab at the device attached to the back of his mask, but as soon as his fingers made contact with the metal it sent a jolt of electricity down his spine and he flinched, arm jerking away. 

“What was that?” Xisuma asked. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Tommy’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I sneezed.”

“. . .Rrright.” The admin took a deep breath. “Let’s just get started, then. I—“

“Hang on, I have a— a request. Of sorts.” Tommy winced.

“A request?” Xisuma said indignantly. “You’re in no position to be asking for anything, do you not understand the situation here?”

“I understand it fine, I just want to have my own questions answered, that’s all,” Tommy spat. “Or do I not even get that fucking decency?”

“Prime’s sake, fine, but would you please stop with the profanity?”

“The fu— fucking profanity?!” Tommy spluttered. “That’s what you’re fucking worrying about?!”

“God— look, I’m just trying to keep this conversation as civil as possible—“

“It’s a fucking interrogation, not some friendly conversation—“

“Stop swearing—“

“ Bitch dick cum fuck piss co —“

“For HEAVEN’S SAKES!” Xisuma shouted.

Tommy’s ears pinned flat against his skull and he raised his arms to his chest defensively. The world flickered a moment in staticky blue— close walls, a low ceiling— and then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“. . .I didn’t. . . mean to yell.” Xisuma said hesitantly. “I’m. . .”

Tommy remained frozen in his defensive position, heart pounding. His mask gave him a brief shock, and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on his breathing for a moment, then blinked and raised his sightless gaze again towards Xisuma’s voice. “Just get it over with.”

Xisuma faltered a moment. “. . .I— pardon?”

“Just get on with it,” Tommy said. “Do whatever you were planning to do with me.”

“Wha— okay, so you’ll answer my questions?” At Tommy’s nod Xisuma hesitated again, then cleared his throat. “How about— how about you start. You ask the first question.”

“. . .fine.” Tommy crossed his arms, trying to regain some amount of false confidence. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Only as long as we have to,” Xisuma replied, “once you’ve told us all we need to know, we’ll turn you over to the police. They’ll try you according to the law and all that. . .”

“Right,” Tommy muttered. That’s alright, then. Even if they ban me, I can deal with the police, and They can just send someone else after Grian later. They definitely won’t be pleased with me though. . .

“Okay, so first things first, why Grian?” Xisuma shifted again, armour clicking as he leaned his elbows against the obsidian. 

Tommy blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. “Prime, isn’t that the million-dollar question. I wish I knew, voidboy.”

“You don’t—” Xisuma wavered. “You don’t know? Wh— I mean, he must be important for whatever you were planning, for you to have done all this—”

“Yeah, he’s important, we just don’t know why.” Tommy shrugged. “One can work in an office without knowing what he’s programming for, yeah?”

“Oh, so you do work for someone,” Xisuma said triumphantly. 

Fuck. Tommy’s ears pressed against his head again. “My turn to ask a question.”

“Right, go ahead, then.”

“Did anyone look under my mask while I was unconscious?”

“Uh. . . not that I’m aware of, no. I took off your blindfold to try and get your code, but your blindness compromised that, so. . .”

Tommy frowned. “But no-one took off my mask?”

“No?” Xisuma rapped on his helmet. “I have to wear this thing to breathe, and your mask clearly has some purpose other than cosmetics, otherwise it wouldn’t be so. . . complicated. Taking it off could risk you dying, so we let you keep your privacy and possibly also your life.”

“That doesn’t fucking make sense,” Tommy said. “Why the fu— why wouldn’t you just kill me?”

“Um.” Xisuma seemed taken aback. “Well. First of all, I don’t like killing people—“

“There’s like a thousand people that want me dead right now, me included,” Tommy deadpanned. “I don’t understand why you’re not on that list.”

“Right— well—“ Xisuma fumbled for words. “Uh— I want you gone, don’t get me wrong, but without your code, I don’t know your life system, and I want answers before I ban you—“

“What does my life system have to do with anything?”

“Oh dear, would you stop interrupting?!” Xisuma said, voice pitching upwards. “I’m trying to explain, and you’re making it very difficult!”

“That’s what she said,” Tommy murmured.

Xisuma made a strangled noise of frustration. “You’re being childish!”

“I—“ Tommy bit his lip. “. . .fuck you.”

Xisuma took a few seconds to compose himself, taking deep breaths before continuing. “On a private server such as this one, any player that is not whitelisted retains their life system from their previous server. So, if your last server was hardcore-locked, killing you would have the same result as a ban, which, although we could restrain you somehow outside the server, it’s easier to keep you within the firewall for questioning. It also ensures that if you manage to escape and kill anyone else, they’ll be able to respawn.”

“. . .Huh.” Tommy picked at a hole in his sleeve, considering the admin’s words. I guess that makes sense. I wonder. . .

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question now,” Xisuma said, interrupting his thoughts. “Who do you work for?”

Oh. 

Tommy grimaced. “Going for the big one, huh?”

“I mean, I don’t see a reason for delaying any longer,” Xisuma replied. “Are you in a gang? A company? A cult? All of the above? Spill it.”

“Riiiight, now I’d love to tell you, but unfortunately that’s the one question I’m absolutely not answering,” Tommy said apprehensively. “Ask me about my friends or mask or whatever.”

“Ah-hah, I was hoping you’d say that.” Xisuma leaned forward, forearms scraping against the obsidian. “If you’re not willing to talk about who you work for, it means I’ve hit the important question, so we’re not moving on from this topic until you give me an answer.”

“Well that’s just too damn bad, because you aren’t getting any.” Tommy scowled at the admin despite the churning in his stomach. “Ask me something else.”

Xisuma hummed. “. . .Alright, what server are you from?”

Tommy froze. “That. . . is also confidential.”

“Okay, so your server is directly linked to who you work for?” Xisuma guessed. 

Tommy pressed his lips in a thin line. Shut up shut up shut up—

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just pull it from your code,” Xisuma said sternly. “It’ll give me a list of all the servers you’ve been on, as well as when you last played on them. This is your last chance to tell me yourself before I go find it myself.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy snarled. “Mind your own damn business.”

“I am,” Xisuma said. “This became my business when you threatened one of my players. If you’re not willing to cooperate, then. . .”

There was a shifting noise as he moved back and pulled something out of his inventory, then mined out another block of obsidian, stepping into the box with Tommy.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, what the fuck are you doing, what the fuck—“ Tommy pushed himself back into the corner, staticky blue flashing rapidly before him. “Don’t fucking come near me bitch, I’ll fuck you up, don’t fucking touch me—“

“I’m just pulling your code from your gamertag, it’ll only take a second—“

“Don’t come any nearer!” Tommy yelled. He pulled out the shovel, holding it like a sword against the admin. “Don’t fucking touch me bitch!”

“Where did you get that?!” Xisuma said, perplexed. He grabbed the blade of the shovel, easily wrenching it out of Tommy’s grip. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you, I just need answers—“

Tommy’s hands shook, raised to his chest, but he stayed otherwise still even as Xisuma’s fingers accidentally brushed against his ear on their way up to his gamertag. There was a tugging sensation in his stomach, and then Xisuma stepped back, humming in triumph.

Tommy slumped, gasping for breaths he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Don’t fucking— don’t—“

“Sorry,” Xisuma said quietly, and there was genuine guilt in his voice— or he was really good at faking it. “I’ll try not to go deeper than I have to, and then you’ll be off the server forever.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy said. “Don’t fucking look at my shit, that’s personal!”

“I’ll keep it quick!” Xisuma backed further away from Tommy. “If you want to tell me who you work for, feel free at anytime, but I have a responsibility to my players—“

“Fuck you!” Tommy yelled. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll be quick. . .” Xisuma muttered. “Let’s see. . . Tommy Innit, real name Thomas Watson, born in Nottingham. . . where’s the server information?”

“Stop—“

“Related to Phillip Watson, gamertag. . . Philza Minecraft?!”

“Stop—“

“I’m trying to find it, it’s just all— scrambled, and out of order— what is wrong with your code?! ”

“STOP!”

“Height, no, age, seventeen, no—“

Xisuma froze.

“Showfall media!” Tommy gasped. “ Showfall media , just stop—“

“You’re seventeen?” Xisuma whispered.

“Just stop, please, you can’t—“ Tommy’s mask beeped and he flinched, bracing himself for another shock, but—

The metal prongs caging his neck grew suddenly warm, then clamped together, digging into his throat—

He couldn’t breathe—

Chapter Text

Xisuma felt sick.

“Just stop, please, you can’t—“ Tommy’s mask beeped and he flinched— and how had Xisuma not seen it before, the slight awkward scrawniness, the sarcastic tone, the fear—

“You’re seventeen,” Xisuma said again, as if speaking the words aloud would make them untrue— but it really was a teenager in front of him, shaking, eyes sightless and wide—

—

—Something was wrong. 

Tommy’s face was turning red and his hands scrabbled at his neck, claws scratching thin lines of red into his skin. Tommy’s eyes went from wide to bulging, then rolled back in his head and he went limp.

“Tommy?!” Xisuma took a step forward, hesitated, then shook himself and rushed to Tommy’s side, lifting his head gently. “What’s wrong, what’s happening—?”

Tommy’s face continued to flush, blooming from red to purple. Xisuma’s eyes darted down to the boy’s neck. The strange prongs around his neck were clamped together, constricting his throat—

“Crap!” Xisuma grabbed at the metal, prying it away. The clamps came away only a centimeter before he lost his grip on them and they shut again. “Nonononono—“

He tore off his gloves, tossing them aside before grabbing the prongs again, trying to give Tommy some space to breathe. There was a small wheezing sound as his body struggled for air, but Xisuma’s fingers were also pressing into his neck, not as constricting as the clamps but still closing off his airway— it wasn’t enough.

He maneuvered so the clamps were digging into his fist, wincing, using his other hand to scroll through his inventory— grabbing the first thing he could use, the shovel he had taken from Tommy— and wedged the handle where his fist had been. The metal bit into the wood, and Tommy took another wheezing breath.

“Please don’t die,” Xisuma said, pulling up Tommy’s code again. His eyes flashed through the tangled lines of scrambled letters and strange symbols, searching— 

Life system: ᓵa̴̰̾̓̚リ𝙹n̴̦͇̹̓͋̆͋̂̿̋̚͝  ꖎi⍊ê̸͖̥̹̎̊s̷̨̟̤̙̯̪͎̹̓͠:  1/3

H̶͉́͋ᔑ∷d̸͚̫͔̠́̍c̷̢̧͔̤̭̲͎͍̽̉̓̈́͐̆͜͝𝙹r̸̭̻͍̻̣̈́̆̓̌͝ᒷ  ꖎ𝙹c̸̜̐̉͐k̸̫̓͐̂͊̅͋́̕͝ᒷ↸: YES

“H-hardcore locked? Yes?” Xisuma laughed hysterically. “Of course you’re hardcore locked, god, please don’t die—”

If he dies, he’ll be banned, and the mask will just kill him outside the server. 

“God, god, god. . . “ Xisuma reached behind Tommy’s neck, fingers pushing into every crack and dent in his mask— there had to be a release button somewhere—

Something clicked as he pressed on it, and the upper part of the mask flashed, red lights extinguishing. Xisuma’s hands hovered over it only a moment before he pulled it off— and god, he was young, Xisuma was an idiot— but the prongs were still closing in, wood cracking and splintering—

CRUNCH!

Xisuma flinched back, wood chips bouncing harmlessly off his armor— but Tommy’s neck was uncovered; and the prongs seized together again through the broken shovel, digging a thick splinter into the exposed skin—

“No no no no no—” Xisuma grabbed at Tommy’s neck, but his fingers slipped, blood spurting out and making the metal slick—

“Please,” Xisuma gasped—

> [TommyInnit suffocated]

❖✩✩✩❖

Far away, a winged man hesitated, feathers prickling as the void shifted around him. 

“Huh,” he said. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Tango sighed, palms against the firewall. Whoever that hacker was, they were good. Their magic had ripped through entire chunks of code, leaving gaping holes that needed to be patched, yet the strings of magic had been carefully pushed aside without touching the hacker’s tendrils, wrapped in code and tangled about so they couldn’t interfere. One of Tango’s own tendrils was so woven into the code that he was forced to dissolve it entirely, and that process in and of itself took almost half an hour of intense concentration. 

Tango pushed another piece of code halfheartedly back into place, then stepped back from the done, groaning and shaking out his hands. Maybe I should take a break.

The ground crunched as someone left the server, and Tango turned to greet them. “Hey, how’s the—”

The hacker stumbled, eyes wide, fingers at his neck, managing to gasp out a “Please” before he collapsed in the dirt.

“Oh crap—” Tango knelt down next to him, a hundred thoughts flashing through his mind— he’s young, where’s his mask, he got banned, did Xisuma do this, he’s a kid, something’s wrong, he’s choking—

It’s killing him—

“Crap!” Tango shouted, pulling the kid’s hands away from his throat so he could get a better look at the mechanism strangling him. Metal prongs— blood— 

Tango fumbled for the bag at his waist— random redstone and machinery— and pulled out the first thing he got his fingers on, a hunk of obsidian he’d been experimenting with.

“No time for anything delicate, sorry,” Tango said quickly, then rolled the boy onto his back, exposing the boxy metal on the back of his neck. He raised the obsidian, praying to Prime that he wasn’t about to snap the kid’s spine, then brought it down as hard as he could on the mask with a crack.

A jolt of electricity shot through Tango’s arm, and he flinched, dropping the obsidian. A piece of metal had broken off, and sparks flew from a snapped redstone wire. 

He still wasn’t breathing. 

Tango quickly grabbed the obsidian again, slamming it into the exposed wires— once, twice, three times— metal screeching, squealing as it bent under the force— 

“Mother Prime, please,” Tango breathed—

CRACK!

The prongs broke open.

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma’s suit whirred as he tore his way out of the server, chest heaving. His vision blurred, as it always did when leaving the safety of the firewall— and when it had cleared, there was Tango, kneeling in the dirt over Tommy’s body—

“Oh my god,” Xisuma whispered, running over. “No no no, please—”

“Xisuma!” Tango said, looking up. “What happened—?”

“Please tell me he’s okay.” Xisuma fell to his knees, cupping Tommy’s face in his hands. The prongs around his throat were hanging crookedly under his ears, dented and bent out of place— but the chunk of wood was still digging into his skin, glistening with still-flowing blood.

“He’s alive,” Tango said quickly. “I broke the mask— or at least the clamp thing, I don’t know— but he needs a regen potion, he’s losing a lot of blood—”

“Right, right.” Xisuma hooked his hands under Tommy’s armpits, shifting him back towards the firewall. “Give me a hand here, he’s hardcore locked but I think I can override it.”

Tango grabbed Tommy’s ankles, helping Xisuma drag him. “You’ll have to whitelist him—“

“I know.” Xisuma gently set Tommy back on the ground, placing his hands on the firewall. It only took him a few seconds to locate the ban on Tommy’s code and brush it away. The firewall shuddered, trying to push his code out, but Xisuma pulled forward the whitelist, placing his name at the bottom of the list of hermits. 

“Right, come on then,” Xisuma said, bending down again. He carefully picked the young boy up, making sure to support his neck. “I’ll need you to summon a regen potion once we’re in.”

Tango nodded in acknowledgement, eyebrows knit together in worry. “Is it—”

“It’s fine,” Xisuma interrupted, more to himself than Tango. “It’s going to be fine.”

They stepped through the dome and back onto Hermitcraft. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma stared at the teenager sleeping in front of him. 

Tommy’s chest rose and fell with every breath. His neck was wrapped with bandages, hiding the ugly red scab that remained even after the healing and regeneration potions. It would scar, but Tommy had enough of those already. . .

“How old is he?” Tango asked softly, coming up behind the chair Xisuma was slouched on. 

“. . .Seventeen,” Xisuma whispered. 

“That’s. . .” Tango shook his head. “They sent a kid to die.”

Xisuma hummed, eyes not leaving Tommy’s face.

Tango stood for a moment, then pulled up another chair, sitting beside Xisuma and putting his hand on the admin’s knee. “You okay?”

Xisuma said nothing.

“. . .That’s a no.” Tango exhaled slowly. “Is there something I can do to help? I can call someone, or. . .”

“Don’t call anyone,” Xisuma murmured. “I’m not quite ready. . . they’ll ask questions, you know, and I can’t— it’s not— ugh.”

He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. “What am I doing, Tango? How did I. . . how did we get here?”

It was Tango’s turn to sit in silence, worry lines creasing in his forehead. His hand shifted up, rubbing Xisuma’s back despite the chestplate getting in the way of any real contact.

“It’s just— he’s seventeen, and I didn’t— but you saw him, he was threatening us, and he— he hurt you, and killed my hermits, and— but he’s so young, and it’s that company, it’s gotta be— they tried to kill him, they sent him against us—”

“X, breathe,” Tango said. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. You have every right to be upset, you’re worried about our friends, that’s alright.”

“Yeah, but he’s seventeen!” Xisuma’s voice pitched upwards. “He’s just— he’s small, Tango!”

“Yep.” Tango stared at Tommy. “Small and incredibly violent.”

Xisuma let out a distressed whine. 

“Hey, look, it’s a tricky situation, okay?” Tango said, moving Xisuma into a hug. “But whatever happens next, you have our full support, no matter what. We trust you, ‘kay?”

Xisuma took a deep breath, blinking away tears. “T-thanks. I just— it’s just so much. . .”

His communicator pinged suddenly, and Xisuma pulled out of the hug, sniffing and pulling it up. 

>PearlescentMoon: how s the situation with the hacker going

>Grian: yeah any explanation as to why he’s back on the server??

>GeminiTay: time for me to add another head to my collection? :D

>FalseSymmetry: hold up I called dibs!!

>GeminiTay: snooze you lose old lady

>TangoTek: Guys not the best time honestly

>TangoTek: Sorry stuff’s just really serious rn

>TangoTek: X is working on it

>GeminiTay: oop… sorry

>FalseSymmetry: Sorry

>Grian: Everything good?

>Keralis: X you good buddy?

>Keralis: You want me to come over?

<Xisumavoid: nobody come voer its fine Tango’s here

<Xisumavoid: we’re working on the hacker situation but it’s gonna take some time

<Xisumavoid: we’ll have a meeting tomorrow

>Rendog: no problem dude take your time /srs

>Grian: make sure you’re safe…

>PearlescentMoon: call me if you need help?

<Xisumavoid: It’s fine, you guys get some rest

<Xisumavoid: we’ve got it under control for now

>Keralis: You get some rest too

>GeminiTay: Yeah take care of yourself mister

>GoodTimesWithScar: Here here

>GoodTimesWithScar: Also unrelated but does anyone know why Jellie is flashing RGB??

>Grian: ???????

>GoodTimesWithScar: rave cat O_o

>TangoTek: we’ll fix that….eventually

>(PearlescentMoon whispers to you): get some rest, but when you do have time I wanna talk to you. Whenever you’re ready

<(You whisper to PearlescentMoon): k

Xisuma closed his eyes for a few seconds, then stood up, ignoring Tango’s concerned look. “I need to clear my head. I’m going to the void, can you. . .?”

“I’ll watch him,” Tango reassured him. 

“Message me if he wakes up or anything changes.”

“I will.”

Xisuma took one last look at Tommy’s face, guilt curling in his gut, then sucked in a breath and turned away.

Chapter Text

Tommy was really starting to hate waking up in pain.

“Fuck,” he rasped, immediately regretting it. His throat burned like someone had force-fed him a handful of rusty nails. To make matters worse, his mask began beeping, sending a pulse of electric shocks down his neck. Tommy flinched and curled into himself, shaking.

 “Oh no no no, come on,” someone said. Fabric brushed against Tommy’s ear and he twisted his head, teeth snapping at the offending object— but he bit down on air and a moment later hands pressed behind his neck, fiddling with his mask— and then the metal was torn away and thrown to the ground. The shocking stopped.

“There we go, sorry kid.” The man pressed a glass bottle into Tommy’s hand. “Health potion— sorry, I broke your mask, I probably should have taken it off before the redstone freaked out— must have broken a wire or something. . .”

What the fuck, Tommy thought, grimacing. What the fuck what the fuck what the fu—

“. . .You gonna drink that potion?” The man said hesitantly. “It’s just health, I promise— it’ll help your throat. . .”

Tommy started to say fuck you, thought better of it, then flipped the voice off before uncorking the bottle and downing the sickly sweet potion in one go. He wasn’t too worried about poison— he was 90% sure he’d been dying last time he was conscious, so they must have wanted him alive for something. 

“Alright, where the Notch is my mask,” Tommy coughed when the pain in his throat had been washed away. 

“Oh, it’s— um. How— how much do you remember?”

Tommy scowled. “Mind telling me who I’m talking to first?”

“Tango Tek, at your service.” The admin chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, you held a knife to my throat.”

“. . .Right.” Tommy’s claws dug into his arm. “I remember that .”

“Yeah, so—” Tango continued on, tripping over his words a little, “So recap— Xisuma was talking to you, and then according to him, you— I don’t know, he was kind of vague about it— your mask just started strangling you? And then you died, and appeared outside the firewall next to me, so I kinda just. . . picked up a rock and smashed your mask?”

Tommy reeled back. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait— what—”

“It’s not too damaged, it’s just— okay, it is actually pretty busted, but Xisuma took of the face bit before you died, so that’s still intact— and you were actually able to wear it without the prongs until it started shocking you—”

“Time out!” Tommy yelled. “You broke it?!”

“You were dying!” Tango said. “It’s— look, we didn’t know you were seventeen, and we don’t really—”

“What the fuuuuck.” Tommy dug his palms into his eyes, groaning. “I don’t understand this fucking server. Why the fuck— why am I still alive?”

Tango paused. “Excuse me?”

“Like. . .” Tommy gestured meaninglessly around. “Common sense, guys, you don’t— you already got my code, why the fuck would you keep me alive? It wasn’t even something you did, you could have just let the mask take care of me, and suddenly the kid’s dead, no guilt, no— like what the fuck?”

Tango was silent.

“Okay, I’m not complaining,” Tommy said quickly, “like, I’m alive, pog, whatever, but come on, you guys lock me in a box and steal my code but save me from being killed by my own mask? Like, make it make sense, you know?”

“. . .I mean. . . we don’t. . . kill people? Like, outside the server, at least. . .? It’s all hardcore out there, so. . .” 

“Okay, sure, but what do you want from me? You already have my code, why am I still here?”

“Dude, what was I supposed to do, just stand there and watch you die?!”

“No! That’s not what I’m fucking— you saved me, fine, pog, but why am I still on Hermitcraft?!”

Tango paused for another long moment, then sighed. “Okay, easy answer, kid? You’re a teenager, and killing teenagers is geeenerally considered morally wrong. Whatever company you came from sent a seventeen year old up against one of the most secure servers in the world, and then tried to kill him with his own mask. That’s messed up, and we’re not setting you free just for them to kill you again. So yeah, it might not be pleasant, but until we know more of the situation, this is the safest place for you to be.”

“Okay, wait, so you’re just— keeping me here?” Tommy’s scowl deepened. “So you’ve gone from imprisoning me in a box to saving my life to imprisoning me on the entire fucking server? And everyone’s just chill with this?”

“Well, they don’t. . . exactly know yet. . .” Tango scratched the back of his neck. “We’re having a server meeting later today, but chances are you’ll be staying around for a while unless we find somewhere else to send you that will keep you safe from your. . . employers.” 

Tommy leaned back on the pillows, tail flicking against the sheets as he considered what Tango had said. It wasn’t. . . the worst situation he had been in. Once he had gained back some of his strength, he could just leave the server and make a break for it— but he had the feeling they’d keep the guards up around the firewall as long as he was there, and being trapped in a server with a bunch of elite players that hated him wasn’t ideal. 

“Could you. . . not tell them my age? At the meeting?” Tommy grimaced.

“. . .I mean, it won’t help your case,” Tango said. “If they know you’re just a kid, they’ll be a lot more relaxed with having you here—”

“Yeah, but—” Tommy’s ear pinned back slightly. “I don’t— just don’t. Please.”

There was a long stretch of silence, then Tango sighed again. “. . .Okay. If you want to keep that private, we’ll respect that.”

Tommy blinked in surprise. “What, really?”

“Yeah?” Tango said. “I think it would be better if they knew your age, but if you really don’t want me to tell them, I won’t.”

“Huh.” Tommy picked at a scar on his arm. Fucking weird server. 

Tango’s communicator chimed and he hummed. “Xisuma’s on his way here to talk to you, I can tell him about the age thing if you want.”

Tommy’s claw slipped and tore a gash in his skin. He hissed at the same time Tango said “Oh shoot, let me grab you a bandage!” before the admin stood up and shuffled through a drawer on the other side of the room. 

Tommy pressed his palm against the cut, ears pressed flat against his head as he tried to push down the sudden lump of anxiety in his throat. One admin was bad enough, but Xisuma was— Tommy was on his server, he didn’t belong, having to keep him here was more than an inconvenience, it was— he was—

“Hey, are you alright?” Tango asked. Tommy didn’t respond, and Tango awkwardly bumped the bandage against Tommy’s knuckles so he knew it was there. “I can. . . put this on for you if you can’t see the—”

“It’s fine,” Tommy snapped. He peeled the paper off the bandage, then felt around the cut before carefully applying it.

“. . .You don’t have to talk to Xisuma if you don’t want to.”

Tommy’s head shot up. “What?”

“Not yet, at least,” Tango said quickly. “I mean, you’ll have to eventually, but like. . . if you need a while to recover, that’s like. . . more than fine.”

Tommy frowned. “What’s the catch?”

“Oh, Prime above, please help this kid,” Tango breathed. “No catch. You can talk to him after the meeting, okay?”

Tommy fiddled with the bedsheets, then muttered, “Fine, whatever.”

Tango’s communicator chimed again, and he took a step away from the bed. “I gotta go meet Xisuma, is there anything you need before I leave?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Okay,” Tango said. “Just— don’t go anywhere. I’ll keep my chat outside the door, if you need anything just ask one of them and they’ll find me, alright?”

“Fine,” Tommy grumbled again. 

 “Okay.” 

Tommy kept his ears perked, listening as Tango shut the door behind him. Surprisingly, there was no click of a lock, though Tango did say a quick incantation to summon his chat, muttering instructions to them before leaving with a fwee~.

Tommy waited another minute, then took a deep breath and shifted. His ears and tail shrunk, and pinpricks of white appeared in his vision, growing brighter and brighter until the light was too intense and he covered his eyes with a quiet hiss of pain.

He kept his eyes covered for a while, blinking and letting himself adjust to the transition from one sense to another. Then, little by little, he lifted his hands until the entire room was in focus. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t. . . this. Stone walls, plain white sheets, polished andesite floors. . . it looked like they’d hastily carved the room out of the side of a mountain, yet there was still enough decoration around it to make it feel less like a jail cell and more like a really weird apartment. A counter jutted out from the far wall along with a sink, and a glass of water sat on the nightstand next to Tommy’s bed. 

Tommy swung his legs over the bed and stood up, wobbling slightly as his head spun from the sudden movement. He gritted his teeth and waited until the dizziness passed, then slowly walked over to the broken mask Tango had thrown on the ground. 

 “Prime, he really did a number on this thing,” Tommy muttered, nudging the twisted metal with his foot. The metal disc let out a few sparks of redstone, flashing briefly before fading back to display the white Showfall media symbol. 

Tommy hummed in discontent, then walked over to the door, opening it just an inch. A cluster of tiny blue flames, like those that burned on a lit candle, scattered away from the wood, miniscule black eyes rising to look up at him. 

“Aww,” Tommy cooed, grinning despite himself. “Oh, hi, chat. You’re so little.”

The flames swarmed around his feet, bouncing and crackling their greetings. Tommy crouched down and held his hand out, letting a few of them crawl onto his palm. They hovered just above his skin, warm but not burning. 

“Alright, chat, listen up,” Tommy said seriously. “Do not tell Tango I can shift into human form. And that applies to everyone else on the server, not just Tango!” 

The few flames that had started creeping out the door shrunk back guiltily, while the others sparked and snapped in protest. 

“Nope, not happening,” Tommy scolded them. “If you tell anyone, you’re cringe and I will despise you forever. However, I’m a simple man, and I’m willing to compromise. If you guys tell me where the face part of my mask is, I’ll. . . fuck, I don’t know. What do you want in return?”

Tango’s chat flickered excitedly, hundreds of little voices crackling out at once. One flame next to Tommy’s shoe flared suddenly, tripling in size, and yelled, “Hacker child we crave violence and also tiny hats!” before disappearing in a puff of smoke, leaving a golden nugget in its place. 

“Tiny hats? I can make that work,” Tommy mused. He picked up the nugget and slipped it into his pocket. “I’m sure Tango won’t mind if I take his dono, right?”

Tommy set the flames back down and stood up, placing his hands on his hips. “Alright, boys, now where’s my mask?

Chapter Text

Past eternity and beyond the boundaries of time, there was the Universe.

And the Universe spoke, and its voice was that of caverns below mountains, of grains of sand over snow, of lines on a screen. 

And the Universe said it had no one to love but itself. 

And the Universe said there must be a balance in all things.

And the Universe said there must be someone to love, and to be loved. 

So from the Universe came Creation and Destruction, equal and opposite, a perfect battle raging through the Universe’s embrace.

And the Universe said it was good. 

And the Universe said it was only the beginning.

Understand this, child. Understand your place in the Universe’s sight.

I don’t understand yet.

You will.

We have eternity for you to learn. 

❖✩✩✩❖

“—ine with Tango, he can— OH MY GOSH PEARL!”

Pearl grinned, dropping down from where she’d been perched, leaning out above Xisuma’s bed. “Did I scare ya?”

“Gave me a bloomin’ heart attack, more like it!” Xisuma leaned against the bed frame, hand on his chest. “Geez!”

Pearl laughed, patting Xisuma on the shoulder. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. How was the void?”

“It was fine, yeah, it—“ Xisuma shook his head. “Geez, Pearl, don’t do that!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Pearl chuckled. She reached up, untangling a strand of hair that had gotten caught in her antenna. “I wanted to ask you about the hacker. . .?”

Xisuma’s demeanor changed in an instant. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes dimmed slightly behind his faceplate. “Ah. Yes. We’re still figuring the situation out, it’s. . . complicated.”

“I guessed as much, seeing as he’s back on the server,” Pearl said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s—” Xisuma glanced away. “I can’t really tell you much, there’s a lot of— he— gosh. I took his code, and there was. . . information in there that made the situation more complex than we thought, but I don’t think it’s my place to tell you what that was. . .”

“. . .Okay. . .” Pearl raised her eyebrow. “Did you learn anything you can tell me?”

“I got a company name from him, I haven’t looked into it yet, though. Do you recognize the name Showfall Media?”

“Sounds familiar, but I can’t remember where I heard it.” Pearl frowned. “‘Media’ sounds like a production company. Why would they send people after Grian?”

“I don’t know,” Xisuma muttered. “I need to ask Grian about it. There’s definitely something strange going on, though.”

“Oh, definitely.” Pearl’s wings twitched. “Do you think I could talk to the hacker? Just for a bit? I’ve got somethin’ I wanna ask him.”

Xisuma hesitated. “. . .I-I’m honestly not sure that’s a good idea. Tango says he’s just barely woken up, and I think he needs a bit of a break—”

“A break? X, what? He’s— don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on him!” Pearl said incredulously.

“It’s. . . complicated,” Xisuma said. “He nearly died, Pearl, like, perma-died , outside the server. I think he could use a moment to rest. . .”

“He’s a hacker.” Pearl crossed her arms. “He shouldn’t die, but he shouldn’t have been on our server— even near our server in the first place! If he’s a little shaken up that’s just what he gets for trying to kidnap Grian!”

“Pearl, I hear what you’re saying, but it’s simply too difficult of a situation—” Xisuma’s communicator buzzed, cutting him off, and he glanced at his wrist, then sighed. “. . .I’m not going to stop you from talking to him. But. . . be gentle. He’s probably scared out of his mind.”

“I won’t lay a finger on him,” Pearl promised. 

“. . .Okay. I trust you.” Xisuma checked his communicator again, then pulled out a rocket, elytra fanning out behind him. “Meeting’s in twenty minutes, don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the hacker?”

“We put him in a room dug out of the base of my base.” Xisuma’s brow furrowed. “I mean, the base of my mountain. I mean, the mountain that my base is built into?”

“Iron door, base of mountain?” Pearl said, having seen it as she was flying over.

“Yeah.” Xisuma’s communicator buzzed again and he winced. “I gotta go meet Tango in the Shopping District, see you in a bit?”

“Sounds good!”

Pearl watched as he boosted himself, flying out of the room, then she spread her own wings, following him up and out of the massive build. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy was in the middle of dismantling the bedframe when the door opened.

“Fuck—” Tommy said, banging his mask on the nightstand. He winced and turned, re-adjusting the metal, then froze. A woman was staring at him, eyes stony, massive navy moth wings lifted slightly to block the entrance. 

“. . .Hallo?” Tommy realized he had a screw in his hand, and quickly tossed it under the bed, raising his hands with a nervous chuckle. “I was. . . definitely not taking the bed apart.”

“Your hybrid traits are gone,” The woman said bluntly.

Tommy slowly shifted, getting his feet under him, then stood. “. . .I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do.” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You used to have ears and a tail. Pretty sure your eyes weren’t that dark, either. What did you do?”

“Look, ma’am, I don’t really feel like discussing my fucked up biology right now, okay?” Tommy glanced at the tiny flames swarming around his feet. “You guys don’t wanna hear about that, right?”

The fires crackled in disagreement.

“Fucking wankers, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Tommy muttered. He looked back up, squinting at the woman’s gamertag hovering above her head. “So, miss. . . Moon? What’s the deal, Tango just left, aren’t you all supposed to be in a meeting or something?”

“It’s happening in a few minutes,” Pearl said, expression darkening, “which gives us plenty of time to talk.”

“I thought we were done with the interrogation,” Tommy said carefully, taking a step backwards. “Xisuma’s already got my code—”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Pearl’s voice took on a sing-songy tone. “I’ve only got one eensy-weensy question for ya!”

She began walking towards him slowly, wings fully unfolding. Their tips brushed the ceiling, and as she got closer they began to vibrate, making a dry rattling noise against the stone. 

Tommy let her approach him. Every muscle in his body was tense, wanting to back up, but getting pinned against the wall was the last thing he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything she could do to him. She was just a moth, after all. 

She stopped in front of him, eyes boring into his, then pulled a paper from her pocket, slapping it down on the nightstand. “Recognize this?

Chapter Text

Pearl glided into the meeting, wings fluttering as she landed gracefully just outside the circle of hermits. “I’m not late!”

“Hey, Pearl!” Grian said, waving her over. “We’re still waiting for Etho and Bdubs, come take a seat!”

“In a bit, Gri, I gotta talk to Xisuma real fast.” Pearl grabbed the admin’s arm, physically yanking him out of a conversation with Joe. “Come on, X, let’s have a chat.”

“Oh!” Xisuma stumbled after her, looking over his shoulder at Joe. “Be back in a bit, Joe, sorry—”

Pearl and Xisuma walked a little ways away from the group and began talking in hushed tones, heads bent together. 

“How’s the work on the firewall going?” Tango asked Joe, pulling his attention away from the two. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s mostly patched now, just have to do a few more checks on the security.” Joe scratched the back of his head. “I’m thinking if we rearrange the host layer from a Porser layout to a Manneh configuration it’ll work better with the network layer and give better strength to the firewall overall.”

“That might interfere with the admin webbing, though. . .” Tango mused.

“We’re here, we’re here, we’re here!” Everyone looked up as Etho spiralled down into the circle, elytra flaring out a little as he stumbled on the landing. A split second later, a mossy green blur screeched past, smacking into the wall and exploding into a pile of items.

>[BdoubleO100 experienced kinetic energy]

 The circle exploded into chaotic laughter. 

“Okay, well, I’m here,” Etho said, chuckling. He bent down and started gathering up Bdubs’ items, and the other hermits jumped in to help, piling all his belongings into a chest. 

>BdoubleO100: DANG IT

>BdoubleO100: GIMME FIVE MINUTES 

>impulseSV: you good bud?

>ZombieCleo: L

>impulseSV: XD

>Rendog: dude

>Rendog: no way that just happened

>FalseSymmetry: L

>Grian: L

>BdoubleO100: SHUT UP

>EthosLab: L

>BdoubleO100: NOT OU TOO

Etho shook his head fondly as he dumped the last bit of cobblestone into the chest, then turned to Impulse. “Are we ready to start once he arrives?”

“Yeah, probably,” Impulse said. “Should we do a headcount?”

“I think the only person missing now is Bdbus.” Etho glanced around. “But yeah, I can do a headcount if you want.”

“I’m gonna go check on Pearl and Ex-ish-zooma,” Grian piped up. He hopped up from the rock he was perched on, whacking Scar with his wing in the process, and made his way over to where the two were still whispering, deep in conversation. 

“. . .gave you and Grian a chance, Pearl, all I ask is that you do the same,” Xisuma said.

“This is different!” Pearl hissed. 

“Is it?”

“Hey, fellas,” Grian said, walking up to them. “Everything good here?”

Pearl and Xisuma stared at each other a moment more, then Pearl’s shoulders slumped and she turned to Grian, face softening. “We’re fine, Gri. Are you alright? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

Grian laughed. “No, I’m fine, I only lost a few feathers in the scuffle. I should be the one asking if you’re okay, you two were both more involved in the whole thing than I was!”

“True, but the attack was directed towards you.” Xisuma frowned. “You still don’t know why they were coming for you specifically?”

Grian shrugged. “Like I said earlier, I have a theory, but it’s pretty unlikely, so. . .”

“. . .I think—” Pearl began to say, but was interrupted by Bdubs’ arrival. 

“Hey guys, let’s get started!” Impulse called, waving them over. 

“Coming!” Grian yelled back, then took Pearl’s hand, grinning. “Come on, we can sit together and then you can tell me whatever it was you were going to say after the meeting.” 

“I don’t think this can wait until after the meeting,” Pearl muttered, but followed Grian back over to the crowd anyways. 

Once everyone was seated on the ground in a large circle, Impulse clapped his hands, cutting off the dying chatter. “Alright! Welcome to the meeting everyone, let’s jump right in! I’m sure all of you have at least heard of the situation by now, but for Scar’s sake we’ll let Xisuma do a recap.”

“Where’s Pix when you need him?” Ren quipped, earning chuckles from the other hermits. 

Xisuma took a deep breath, then stood. “Well, I’m no Pixelriffs, but I’ll do my best to give a good recap! First, though, I’d like to thank everyone that helped with the situation. None of us were expecting an attack, but thanks to all of you guys, we were able to deal with the threat and get it under control fairly quickly.”

“Any day I get to kick hacker butt is a good day!” Gem piped up. 

“We can always count on you to kick butt,” Xisuma said warmly, then tucked his hands behind his back, suddenly solemn. “The attack did take us by surprise, however, and there were many things that could have gone wrong. Tango, Joe and I are working on a system that will help prevent any further attacks in the future, but if anyone else has ideas for how we can up our security, we’re all ears.”

“‘Further attacks?’” Doc said. “Are you saying this is going to happen again?”

Xisuma sighed. “I hope not. I really, really hope they won’t come back. But from what we know from the hackers, it seems like the attack was deliberate and well-planned. We didn’t receive any alerts for someone approaching the server by pod, which could have meant that they travelled here by foot, but as you all know our SMP was intentionally created hundreds of kilometres from any other server, so the idea of them trekking across the dirt wasteland for days on end doesn’t make a whole lot of sense logically.”

Joe raised his hand. “You know, while I was out workin’ on the firewall, a pod came on down the track, but when I looked inside, it was empty. There was a pretty sizable hole in the ceiling though, so I assumed the station had just accidentally sent a broken pod to us instead of a repair shop, but I guess the hackers could’ve cut the roof off so they could jump out and avoid the player detectors.”

“Yeah, but that means they knew exactly where the detectors were,” Cleo said uneasily, “which means they must have pretty good technology to be able to locate the redstone underneath all the power from the pod rails.” 

“So, definitely planned,” Ren said. 

“Oh yeah, it’s not— there’s a lot more going on here than what we normally encounter with hackers, usually we just get kids daring each other to mess with the server or, in the more malicious cases, plant a bug on the firewall, but this attack definitely felt different.” Xisuma sat down again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “There’s something going on, and I’m not entirely sure what it is yet, but I think we can all agree that it’s a complicated situation.”

“Okay, so let’s take inventory of what we already do know, and what we still need to know,” Impulse said, taking charge of the conversation again. “We know it was organised, probably planned for a while before the attack if they were able to scope out the pod sensors before coming. Xisuma, can you or anyone else tell us more about the hackers outside the firewall?”

“They’re good fighters.” Everyone turned to Gem in surprise. “I was able to take down the tall one pretty easily, but his posture was good and it was pretty clear that he’d been trained.”

“I agree,” False said, nodding. “It’s been a while since I’ve fought like that. The hacker only got past me because he was cheeky. Pushed past the pain pretty well, reacted quickly, used his resources. . . definitely trained well.”

“Organised and trained. . .” Impulse scribbled some notes down in a book. “Good technology, too—”

“Yeah, what was with the hacker’s mask?” Ren interrupted. “It had all this weird cage-y metal stuff in the back.”

Xisuma winced. “Okay. . . so that’s something I should probably bring up. When I was talking to him, he did eventually give up the name of the company he works for, which triggered the prongs on his mask to constrict around his throat and. . . um.”

“It killed him,” Tango said. “That’s what the death message was in chat, and since he was hardcore-locked, it kicked him out of the server and continued to strangle him. I was able to break the mask before he died, but it was a close call.”

Everyone stared at the admins in varying levels of shock, horror, and confusion. Grian’s hand came up and brushed against his neck. “That’s. . .”

“Messed up,” Doc finished. 

“Okay, so wait.” Impulse put the book and quill down, frowning. “X, do you think— they were forced to attack us? Like, a ‘go hack Hermitcraft or you die’ situation?”

“No way,” Pearl said, scowling. “If they were forced to do it, they wouldn’t have been trained, they wouldn’t have fought so hard, I mean, they probably wouldn’t even know who they were working for.”

“I’d have to agree with Pearl.” Joe nodded. “They were enjoying themselves, it didn’t feel like they were being forced into doing anything. Big-ears guy kept mocking us, and the actual hacker didn’t damage the firewall so much as he unravelled it in a way that was just plain annoying to fix. Whatever their goal was, they were doing it willingly.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that having a death machine strapped to their necks is messed up,” Doc said. 

“Well yeah, but they’re still dangerous,” Pearl said, making eye contact with Xisuma. “If they’re posing a threat to our server, we should deal with them accordingly.”

“Woah, woah, woah, okay, let’s slow down,” Impulse said, picking up the book again. “Is there any more information we need before we start discussing how to deal with the situation?”

Xisuma and Tango glanced at each other, then Xisuma shook his head. “No. That’s pretty much all we know so far.”

“Okay, great. Does anyone have any more questions?”

“What kind of hybrid are they?” Cub asked. “I got a glimpse of the hacker after you knocked them out, and they didn’t look like anything I’ve seen before. . .”

“I’m not. . . sure, actually.” Xisuma pulled out Tommy’s code, frowning. “That section of his code is all corrupted so I can’t read it.”

“He can disguise himself as a human,” Pearl said. “I went and asked him some questions and he didn’t have any hybrid traits anymore. Human ears, no tail, grey eyes, the works. So either he’s able to put up illusions to disguise himself, or we’ve got a shapeshifter on our hands.”

“Hang on, shapeshifters only come from extremely powerful magic.” Grian’s feathers ruffled. “Where’d he come from if he’s gotten that strong of a spell put on him?!” 

“Not sure,” Xisuma muttered. “I need to do more research.”

Impulse hummed at his notes. “Okay. . . any more questions?”

Scar raised his hand. “How old is he?”

“He asked us not to say,” Tango said. 

Scar tilted his head curiously, studying Tango’s face. “Huh.”

“Let’s get back on track,” Xisuma said quickly. “We’re holding the hacker at my base at the moment, but my base is not exactly. . . friendly to long-term housing. I do want to keep the hacker on-server, at least until the end of the season or until we find somewhere else that will be safe for him—”

“Long-term housing?” Impulse said in surprise. The other hermits echoed him with similar exclamations of shock and confusion. 

“On-server?”

“We’re keeping him?”

“X—“

“Okay, okay, let me explain!” Xisuma held his hands up, distressed. “Let me explain, I know it’s unprecedented, but I believe letting him stay on-server is the best course of action for the time being—”

“X, he’s a hacker!” Pearl snapped. “He tried to kill Grian!”

“We don’t know that’s what he was trying to do—” Xisuma protested.

“I don’t want a criminal anywhere near the very person he was hunting! He’s not staying!”

“Pearl—“

“Woah, woah, woah, guys!” Impulse yelled. Xisuma and Pearl blinked at him. “Calm down please, we’re getting out of control!”

Xisuma glanced around at the other hermits, who were staring at them with wide eyes, then nodded, gaze dropping to the ground in shame. “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry for raising my voice at you, Pearl.”

“It’s fine, X, I’m just—” Pearl groaned, rubbing her forehead. “I just don’t think it’s wise to keep a hacker here. Hermitcraft has always been a safe place for us, and keeping a criminal within our borders is just— it’s not safe, X.”

“If I thought it wasn’t safe, I would have already kicked him off the server.” Xisuma lifted his eyes again, meeting those of the hermits around the circle. “You guys know I would never, ever do anything to put you all in danger. I would lay down my life to protect this server, and everyone on it. If he does hurt any of you, he will be banned. But if we let him leave now, not only will we lose our best source of information on the situation, but we’ll be sending him back to the people that, in Doc’s words, strapped a death machine to his neck. Until we’re sure there’s somewhere he can go outside the server where he won’t be killed, I vote we let him stay.”

There was a moment of silence, then Pearl sighed. “We trust you, X, but it’s just. . .”

“Not safe,” Xisuma said wearily.

More silence. 

“. . .Well here’s a thought,” Grian said finally. His head tilted to the side, and a few of his feathers ruffled slightly. “What if the hacker stays on the server—”

“Grian!” Pearl hissed.

“—But! But they stay thousands of blocks away from everyone else?” Grian reached out, taking Pearl’s hand. “That way, they get to stay on the server, but they’re far away where they won’t be able to interact with any of us?”

“. . .That could work.” Impulse scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “They’d basically just be doing a single-player world, and if they get too close to one of us, we just send them out somewhere else.”

Xisuma contemplated the idea, then nodded slowly. “I’d settle for that. If they’re just out doing single-player on a multiplayer world, it shouldn’t cause too much trouble. What do you think, Pearl?”

Pearl stared at him a moment, then frowned and looked away. “If Grian’s fine with it, I’m fine with it. I just want him to feel safe.”

Grian patted her hand reassuringly. “Aww, don’t worry, your big brother can take care of himself!”

“I’m pretty sure I’m older than you,” Pearl grumbled.

“Oh my god, this argument again?!” Gem said. “I thought we already agreed that you guys are twins!”

“Bigger wings, bigger sibling,” Pearl and Grian said at the same time.

“And I clearly have the bigger wings,” Grian said, “So—”

“What! That is simply untrue, mister!” Pearl exclaimed, elbowing him in the side. 

“Aaand I’m cutting this off now before it escalates any further.” Impulse shook his head fondly. “Alright, final votes for letting the hacker stay on-server, but far off from anyone else?”

The vote was unanimous. 

Chapter Text

The hacker child was not responding. 

Chat crackled, wandering aimlessly across the stone floor. A couple flames were hovering by the door, anxiously keeping watch for Tango’s return. Three more were chasing each other under and around the bed, playing a mini game of tag. The rest clustered on the bed sheets, trying to get Tommy to interact with them. 

BasilMasil: I’m bored :/

Cyberdrake: Tommyyyy

Nightmare761: anyone know some good jokes?

Dazzlebobber: hacker child wake up

Sarah_Mist: Where’s Tango?

enby_mimkyu: WHERE’S OUR TINY HATS

Cyberdrake: is he afk??

TheHA: @Nightmare761 Your mom

Zypheria: whats happening?

wowacoolname: how long until they come back?

Sarah_Mist: Tommy?

allegedhumanbeing: i’m going to bed bye chat

enby_mimkyu: is smoll hacker child hurt?

Nightmare761: @TheHA >:0

EchoOfABirdsWing: is cereal a soup

Starfox9876: is he ok???

CloverTheFox: Guys I think he’s dissociating

Inkii: @EchoOfABirdsWing: cereal is not cooked

Inkii: @EchoOfABirdsWing: so no

TheHA: >:)

Cyberdrake: oh wait that makes sense

enby_mimkyu: @CloverTheFox Wait you’re right omg

Dazzlebobber: do we get Tango??

Cyberdrake: what do we do????

Zypheria: ?? i just got here what’s going on???

Sarah_Mist: uh oh

Chat flickered, confusion, distress, and boredom piling over each other before settling on concern. 

EchoOrio: Tommy?

ArtyPawsStudio: hacker child??

enby_mimkyu: TOMMY WAKE UP WE NEED HATS

Zypheria: he’s ignoring us

Inkii: Tommy?

CloverTheFox: oh no :(

Nexuko2: TOMMY

That_one_pillow: smoll hacker bean?

One of the flames moved over to Tommy’s hand, trying to nudge it, but their fire just hovered over it without any effect.

Chat flickered more, worry growing. After Pearl had left, Tommy had fixed the bedframe before climbing under the covers and shifting back to his hybrid form, white eyes staring blankly at the wall. 

Theorite: Maybe we should get Tango?

xikyuu: mmmbeanss

VoidsCrow: Tommy u good?

Mylaughinghyena: smoll child dissociate :(

Slimylittlerascal: UM THIS ISNT GOOD lskdfjlaskhf;lk

enby_mimkyu: tommy if you don’t speak imma steal your kneecaps

PrincessZam: tommy?

LesBEAN: o_o

Canbow: We should probably get tango

TheHA: @enby_mimkyu i’ll take left, you take right

Starfox9876: well fuck

BasilMasil: tango’s in a meeting still

Inkii: hotdogs are a taco

The distant sound of rockets alerted chat to someone approaching. The small flames on the bed extinguished themselves and reappeared just outside the door, chattering and hopping in anxious anticipation of the hermit’s arrival. 

Flinterwing: TANGO

RatsStoleMyBones: TANGOO HELP

whatdoievenput: TNAGO

Floor_Banana: EEE

MonkeyTheMooch: ayooo he’s back

wowacoolname: finally!

Mintmammal: TANGO

annimuffin: TANGO

Sinnia: Tangooo help

CloverTheFox: TANGO HELP

There was a woosh of air, sending the flames flickering, and Tango and Xisuma landed on the side of the mountain. 

“Hey, chat!” Tango crouched down, smiling. “Sorry I was gone so long, the meeting took longer than expected. Anything exciting happen with the kid?”

Chat swarmed around his ankles, some extinguishing and appearing again on his knees and shoulders, each tiny flame screaming with hundreds of overlapping voices.

someonenotimportant: TANGO 

Sineao: Tangooo help!

EvelynRose33284: HELP THE BOI

Mintmammal: Tangooo!

Idk_Kyla: smoll child hurt :(

Phoneix5: TANGO THE CHIDL

RiledupHearts: TANGOOO

wowacoolname: Tangoo help!!

Theo: Tango!! 

“Oh, woah, woah, woah, slow down, what’s happening?” Tango glanced over at Xisuma worriedly. “Did something happen? They’re saying they need help. . .”

“Is Tommy hurt?” Xisuma dashed to the door, peeking in through the window. “Oh, thank goodness, he’s still just sitting there in bed. . . he’s got his mask, though, how’d he find that. . .?”

Chat hopped around more frantically, trying to get the admins’ attention again.

biscuit_bread: HELP TOMMY

pearlflavoured: TAngoo hlep

adotdamilton: NooOOOo help himmm

MaryJaneRaven24: He’s dissociating help him

RUN1SS: Tango help!

Flinterwing: help the smoll hacker child!

Billiusthecactus: He’s dissociating!

SentientMango: Xisuma!!

ShadeTheSun: HELP HIM

NotAVegan3: HES DISSOCIATIENG

MercuryCat: alsjakaksna nooo

Espeonfox109: :(

Nightmare761: Tango he’s dissociating! 

“Oh,” Tango said. “Okay. Hey, X, don’t go in the room just yet, they said he’s. . . dissociating? Ah geez, I don’t know how to help with that. . .”

Xisuma stepped away from the door. “I don’t— I think I know how to pull him out of it, but I don’t want to send him into a panic attack. He didn’t want to see me earlier, so me showing up might— I don’t know.”

Tango stood, holding his chat in his hand. “Well, we need to do something. How about we both go in, and you stand back and tell me what to do?”

“. . .Alright,” Xisuma said. 

Tango turned his gaze back to chat. “I’m gonna end the stream now, guys, thanks for keeping an eye on Tommy for us. I don’t have time to go through the donos, but a big thanks to whoever donated or subbed, I really appreciate it. Catch you guys on Monday for a Decked Out stream.”

The flames began extinguishing one by one, some leaving behind final pieces of gold or iron as they said their goodbyes.

Alienzz: Good luck!

RiledupHearts: Byee

biscuit_bread: See ya

MengoMango: bye :)

Midnights_Echo: good luck with Tommy

smolfae: Bye

nyx1ty: good luck tango!

Tegcat: sadklfh;asf BYE

Lilac_Melody90: you got thid!

Non_bunnary: byeee

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy was floating.

His eyes were open, but all he saw was darkness. His stomach was pulsing softly with blue warmth, but all he heard was blurred static. 

The door opened. Through the haze, he registered the sound of two people entering one standing against the wall while the other came around the bed to face him sitting quietly in the chair. 

Tommy didn’t move. He. . . couldn’t move, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.

He floated.

“Try talking to him,” the person by the wall said in a hushed voice. A hushed— he knew— the admin. 

Anxiety pinched distantly at Tommy’s chest, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, letting himself fall deeper into the static, letting the feeling be buried again under the haze.

“Hey, Tommy,” the other person— Tango, said. It was Tango. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Tommy obeyed. It was the only thing he could do right now, and he wanted to be obedient— had to be complacent. They liked it when he was like this, submissive, quiet.

“Good job, kid, you’re doing great. Can you talk to me? How can I help you?”

He drifted. . .

Static.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong? Do you know where you are?” 

Tommy tried to speak, but his lips wouldn’t open, and he gave up. It was easier to be quiet, anyways.

“He’s not responding,” Tango whispered to the admin. “X. . .”

“. . .Let me try something,” the admin replied. Metal against stone, walking across the room, static.

Tommy closed his eyes again, trying to roll away, get away, move, but his mind was floating away, too far to control his limbs. His body was numb. 

Without warning, something touched his hand. Tommy jerked in surprise, then froze, anxiety surging forward again. 

“S-sorry,” the admin apologised quietly. “I probably should’ve asked.”

Tommy tried to retreat into the darkness again, but his mind was tethered to the point of contact on his hand, cool metal gloves gripping his fingers gently. The admin rubbed his thumb against the back of Tommy’s hand.

No, Tommy thought through the static, please—

“Just focus on that,” Xisuma murmured. “Come on, Tommy, you’re okay.”

“. . .Don’t. . .” Tommy breathed, struggling to anchor back to reality. He didn’t want to, he wanted to keep floating, but he had to— he couldn’t—

“Take your time,” Tango said reassuringly. “You’re safe, Toms, you’re doing great.”

Tommy flinched. “Don’t. . . don’t call me that.”

The use of his voice yanked him harshly to reality, cutting off the static, the warmth, the safety in an instant. He sucked in a breath, uncurling himself from the fetal position, scrambling back across the sheets away from the admins. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tommy yelled, baring his teeth. “Get away!”

“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, mate, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Xisuma said quickly. “I’m sorry I touched you, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy hissed. He was shaking, ears pinned back, but he did his best to make it look like aggression rather than weakness. “I don’t need your pity.”

“X, do you think we should maybe. . .” Tango trailed off awkwardly. “Tommy, do you want a second? We can step outside for a minute or two until you’re ready to hear the results of the meeting.”

Tommy would have loved nothing more, his instincts were screaming at him to get them away, make them leave, but the longer he prolonged his punishment, the worse it would be. He licked his lips, claws tearing through the sheets bunched up in his fists. 

For once in your life, Tommy, use your mind, not your heart.

“Just get it over with,” Tommy said. 

“Are you sure?” Xisuma shifted towards the door. “I can leave if you need, I know you’re. . . hesitant to be around me—”

“Just fucking tell me, voidboy,” Tommy snapped. He unclenched his fists and shoved his hands under the shredded covers to hide the trembling. 

Xisuma hesitated, then sighed, sitting at the end of the bed. Tommy quickly tucked his legs away from him. “Okay, so. . . judging from the evidence we have so far with your mask, it seems that your company, uh, probably wants you dead.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “So?”

“So. . .” Xisuma took a deep breath. “Under good conscience, I cannot allow you to leave.”

Tommy had been expecting the answer, but he growled nonetheless, ears pressing even further against his skull. “Oh, fuck off! You can’t fucking keep me here, you have no right—”

“We are admins, kid,” Tango reminded him. “You hacked into our server, we have every right to deal with you however we choose.”

“We just want you to be safe,” Xisuma added.

Tommy sneered. “Right, like I’m gonna believe that. What are you going to do? Lock me in an obsidian box again? Stick me in a prison? Which hermits are you going to assign to come in and torture me, huh?”

“Oh my god, no!” Xisuma said hastily. “No, no, no, we would never— you’re just a kid, we’re not going to treat you like— no!”

Tommy scoffed in disbelief. “Sure, what’s your plan, then? I doubt the other hermits were pleased with the idea of having me here, what did you promise them in return for imprisoning me on your fucking server?”

Xisuma hesitated again, then spoke. “You will remain on the server. However. . . we will be teleporting you thousands of blocks away from the other hermits, far away so you will have no interaction with them.”

Tommy’s heart stopped.

“What?” he whispered.

“Just think of it as a survival player world,” Tango said, but his voice was dissolving into static again— Tommy couldn’t breathe. “Nobody will bother you, you can build, mine, whatever you want, it’ll just be you—”

“Get the fuck out,” Tommy said.

“W-what?”

“Get out.” Tommy curled into himself, feeling his ears and tail begin to shrink. “GET OUT NOW!”

Xisuma and Tango scrambled to obey, quickly crossing the room and closing the door behind them.

“Give him a minute. . . big shock,” Tommy heard Tango mutter outside.

The static was returning— and in his vision, a spot of white, brightness, light. Tommy closed his eyes as he shifted, heart pounding in his chest, a muffled whine clawing its way out of his throat.

Finally, curled up on the sheets, exposed in his most vulnerable form, Tommy covered his eyes and began to cry.

Chapter Text

Alright besties let’s get this lore 👏👏

Since this is a three-part crossover, technically even a six-part crossover if we count the qsmp, evo, and life series references I’ll be getting into much, much further along in the story, I think it’s best if I fill y’all in with at least SOME of the lore/necessary information from each of the fandoms so you aren’t scrabbling to figure out what on earth I’m referencing. 

I will NOT spoil anything from the fandoms, or my own fic (duh), but some knowledge of the plot of each fandom will help make the story more engaging.

You can still enjoy the story without knowing the lore, as I’ll explain a lot of it in-text, but if you want more context as to why exile is so bad for Tommy, what the masks are all about, what’s with the symbol Pear showed Tommy, etc., here’s your chance to get some insight into that. Otherwise, if you just wanna come into it like Xisuma is, exploring the lore with the characters, stop reading now.

GENERATION LOSS

Generation Loss is a comedy-horror show made by Ranboo, and features Ranboo as the main character in a tv show along with charlie slimesicle, sneegsnag, and several other characters. The masks in this fic closely resemble the one Ranboo wears in the show, save for In Hindsight Ranboo (we’ll make the distinction by referring to them as R800), which is identical to the one depicted in the show.

The masks appear to help the tv. show company (Showfall Media) control the actor’s minds/memories and make disturbing things (blood, death, etc.) appear as normal or even silly. 

Dream SMP

Time for the big one baby

There is admittedly a LOT to the DSMP plot, but I’ll try and focus solely on the most important aspects of Tommy’s lore.

At the beginning of DSMP, Tommy, with Tubbo’s help, found two music discs, which became his prized possession, holding great ties to his friendship with Tubbo. In the disc war, Dream tried to steal the discs in punishment for Tommy being small and incredibly gremlin child, but ultimately was tricked by Tubbo and Tommy and lost the war.

Tommy and Tubbo then fought in the L’Manburg revolution, ultimately ending in Tommy giving up his discs to Dream in exchange for L’Manburg’s independence from the Dream SMP.

After failing to win a rigged election, Tommy was banned from L’Manburg, and faced physical and emotional abuse in Pogtopia, the resistance against the new president of L’Manburg, Schlatt, who acted as a dictator. Schlatt died from a heart attack and Pogtopia reclaimed L’Manburg.

Tommy continued to be small and incredibly chaotic, and accidentally burnt down GeorgeNotFound’s house while griefing it with Ranboo. This led to Tubbo (under Dream’s influence) exiling Tommy from L’Manburg.

Dream greatly manipulated and abused Tommy in exile, most notably by blowing up his items every day and completely isolating him from anyone but Dream himself. Tommy reached his breaking point when and almost committed suicide, but ended up running to Techno’s house instead.

Techno wanted Tommy’s help in destroying L’Manburg once and for all, which Tommy reluctantly agreed to. Dream blew up the community house (the most important building on the dsmp) and framed Tommy, making Tommy come out of hiding to defend himself. Angst ensued between him and Tubbo, and Dream regained possession of Tommy’s disc. Dream and Techno, along with Philza, then completely destroyed L’Manburg. Wooo angst

Tommy and Tubbo became friends again, determining that it was Dream’s fault that they had fallen apart. They decided to get Tommy’s discs back to show Dream that he couldn’t control their friendship anymore. In the process, they discovered that Dream had plans to manipulate everyone else on the server with the things they loved, but the other players on the server showed up and Tommy took two of Dream’s canon lives (three life system). He would have taken the last, but Dream had a book that could revive people from the dead, so they put him in prison instead.

Tommy visited Dream in the prison and got beaten to death then revived by him. 

Dream escaped prison, and chased Tommy to Phil’s house. So… angst i guess. P a n i c c

In a series of events I don’t feel like explaining, Dream was tricked into thinking Tommy’s discs were burnt and gone forever, releasing his control over Tommy.

Tommy and Tubbo fought Dream one last time and killed him, but Dream was revived by Punz. Tommy sacrificed himself and talked to Dream to distract him while Tubbo fucking nuked them. Dream of got redemption (buuuut it was kinda rushed/weak in my opinion), but the nuke blew up the entire fucking smp and that was the end of it??? It’s kinda confusing ngl

Things to keep in mind for Hindisight:

•Tommy has ptsd from rockets, tnt, small spaces, Dream, etc.

•Family relationship with Philza, but mostly distant

•Very very close with Tubbo and Ranboo

Hermitcraft

Smart people build things. Big builds, crazy redstone, crazier people. Mostly family-friendly and wholesome content, not a whole lot of lore. Wars are just pranks, everyone is friends, and shenanigans are abundant. 

Evo

Certain characters such as Grian, Pearl, Martyn (Inthelittlewood), and Jimmy were on Evo, a smp that took the players from update to update via nether portals that were created by mysterious entities called the Watchers. The Watchers were initially meant to represent the audience, but martyn later made them into mischievous or sadistic, evil god-like creatures. Grian joined the Watchers in Evo following the fight with the ender dragon, and was no longer a part of the series. Martyn and Jimmy discovered another group of entities called the Listeners, a neutral group that opposes the watchers.

 From the majority of the fandom’s interpretation, the Watchers were abusive towards Grian and fed on the emotions of his friends, especially negative emotions such as pain or suffering since they’re tastier.

The symbol we saw a few chapters back from Pearl is the symbol of the Watchers. So, if you didn’t get the significance back then, basically it’s just showing that there is indeed Watcher lore involved in the story somehow, and Pearl is directly tied to it. We’ll explore more of that in upcoming chapters… :)

Another lore dump may come later in the fic if deemed necessary, but I hope these little tidbits are helpful to those of you who aren’t as familiar with some of the fandoms. Feel free to correct me in the comments if I got something wrong, or add additional lore you think may be important or interesting. :)

Thanks for reading guys, see y’all in the next chapter!

Chapter Text

The rules of Tommy’s exile were simple:

He would stay in the general area he had been teleported to, far from any interaction with anyone else. The hermits had all been instructed to avoid the area, and one of the admins would check in on Tommy periodically to make sure he was doing well and not getting too close to any hermits.

He had access to the nether, although if he found another hermit’s portal, he was to leave it alone and leave the area.

He did not have access to the end.

He would not leave the server. If he did, one of the hermits would immediately follow and bring him back using whatever means necessary.

He could possess a communicator, however it could only message the admins and should only be used in an emergency.

All in all, it wasn’t a horrible situation. They’d put him in a large oak forest, next to a flower field and some spruce mountains, so he had good access to resources. Plus, access to the nether was unexpected, so that was a nice surprise.

The thing Tommy was worried about was the unspoken rules, the punishments that would follow when he inevitably did something wrong. He’d tried asking Xisuma what they’d do if he broke the rules, but the admin had just shrugged and said, “Well, as long as you behave alright, we don’t have to worry about that until we get there. Don’t worry, mate, we aren’t going to hurt you.”

His words weren’t really reassuring, in fact they rather had the opposite effect since it meant they probably had something planned that would be more painful if kept as a surprise, so Tommy was determined to just do as little as possible in hopes of avoiding making any dumb mistakes. 

Which left him here, lying in the grass fifteen minutes after the admins had dropped him off, watching the clouds float by and generally doing his best to just stay still.

It was a nice day; dappled sunshine was coming down through the oak leaves above him, bees were humming pleasantly from their hive a few blocks away, and the forest ground was soft from the long blades of healthy green grass.

Tommy hated it.

If they were going to punish him, they could have at least done it right. He knew how to deal with rain and cold, rocky shores and the stench of rotting meat, hell, he would have even preferred a desert or mesa biome. At least then he’d have a challenge, something to overcome to prove— to show— something . 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy grumbled, glaring at a butterfly that fluttered across his line of sight, “I’m not a child.”

His train of thought was interrupted by a quiet snuffling noise by his leg. Tommy lifted his head. A large wolf was crouched in the grass next to him, curiously sniffing at his jeans.

“Ohhh no,” Tommy groaned, letting his head fall back in the grass. “I’m not fucking doing this today.”

The wolf perked its ears up at his words, staring at him, then took a step closer, nudging his hand with its nose.

“No, go away, I don’t have any bones.” Tommy waved his hand half-heartedly at the animal, but it only gave him an unimpressed look before stretching its head out to sniff his hand again.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Tommy squinted at it. “I don’t have any bones, I don’t have any food, so shoo!” 

The wolf nosed his palm, then lowered its head and tentatively licked his jacket.

“Oh, it’s the blood, innit?” Tommy sat up, watching as the wolf began licking the blood-stained jacket more vigorously, tail wagging slightly. “Fucking disgusting, bruv, that’s been there for like three days.”

The wolf placed a paw on Tommy’s stomach, then carefully grabbed the jacket in its teeth and tugged, toppling Tommy back into the grass.

“Woah, hey!” Tommy flailed as the wolf bit his sleeve, yanking more insistently at the fabric. “OI! I’M NOT A SNACK!”

The wolf growled quietly, bracing its paws as it continued to tug, until—

RRRRIIIP!

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Tommy yelled. The wolf shook its head, then turned tail and ran off into the forest, a strip of red fabric waving like a flag behind it.

“HEY!” Tommy jumped to his feet and sprinted after it. “THAT’S MY FRIEND’S, YOU BITCH!”

The wolf glanced behind it, saw that Tommy was following, and ran faster, dodging between trees and climbing higher and higher towards the spruce mountains.

“Ohh, two can play at this game,” Tommy said, then paused only a moment to shift before taking off again, easily matching the wolf’s speed. 

The chase took them out of the oak forest, ground transitioning quickly from grass to stone to snow. Tommy couldn’t help but grin as he ran, keeping the sound of the wolf’s thundering paws always in range. 

Out of nowhere, the noise stopped, and Tommy flicked his ears up, trying to figure out where the wolf went. He had just caught the sound of panting when he ran full-force into the creature, sending them both tumbling to the snowy ground. 

“Ow, ow, ow, fuck,” Tommy hissed, shifting back to human form. He picked himself up gingerly, wincing at his freshly-skinned knees and palms. “You motherfucker, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

The wolf blinked at him, laying on its back in the snow, then rolled over and shook itself, dropping the strip of fabric on the ground.

“Thanks,” Tommy said flatly, picking it up. “Eugh, it’s all wet now. I don’t know why I even bothered chasing you, I’ll just have to repair it with some sheep’s wool. Fuckin’ great.”

The wolf cocked its head, then jumped up and loped away into the spruce trees.  

Tommy huffed, dropping the soiled fabric back into the snow, then rubbed his arms, looking around. He was nearly at the top of the mountain, and could see patches of powdered snow and ice higher up on the cliffs. 

Wonder if there’s any skulk in the caves, Tommy thought absently. A cold breeze swept past, and he shivered, suddenly very aware of the snow soaking into his clothing. 

A bark distracted him from the discomfort. He turned. The wolf was standing on the edge of the forest, holding a piece of bloodied wool in its jaws. 

“. . .Huh.” Tommy picked his way gingerly down the slope. When he was closer, the wolf dropped the wool at his feet and barked again, head held high. 

Tommy’s lips twitched, and he knelt down, picking up the wool. “Did you get this for me? You’re a pretty smart wolf, huh?”

The wolf huffed, sitting down on its haunches. Its tail beat gently against the ground. 

“You’re a strange one,” Tommy muttered, scratching the wolf behind its ears. “I haven’t even given you any bones and you’re helping me. . . you’re not someone’s chat, are you?”

The wolf gave him another unimpressed look, a surprisingly human expression for an animal.

“Yeah, guess not, if you were chat you’d have a whole pack with you.” Tommy squinted at it. “You know, you keep making that face. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

The wolf stood up and walked a few paces into the forest, then turned back, waiting expectantly. Tommy smiled a little, and got to his feet to follow. 

“I guess I should come up with something to call you. Maybe Goliath ‘cause you’re so huge,” Tommy rambled as they walked.

The wolf continued forward without looking back.

“Or Red, since you were so obsessed with Ranboo’s jacket,” Tommy said, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, I know. Bloodhound.”

The wolf paused, looking back at him over its shoulder.

“You like that? I’ll call you Bloody for short.”

The wolf sneezed and started walking again.

Tommy hummed, tucking the piece of wool in his inventory. Maybe this won’t be so horrible, after all. 

Chapter Text

>(TangoTek whispers to you): Hey Gri, have you seen Pearl?

>(TangoTek whispers to you): chat mentioned she missed a stream today

>(TangoTek whispers to you): and she hasn’t been responding to my dms

<(You whisper to TangoTek): No, I haven’t

<(You whisper to TangoTek): Have you checked her base?

>(TangoTek whispers to you): She’s not online right now

>(TangoTek whispers to you): Did sje mention to you that she was going anywhere??

<(You whisper to TangoTek): No…

<(You whisper to TangoTek): She’s not responding on discord?

>(TangoTek whispers to you): no 

>(TangoTek whispers to you): could just be sleeping or something 

<(You whisper to TangoTek): Pearl doesn’t sleep w

<(You whisper to TangoTek): when stressed*

>(TangoTek whispers to you): lol she just doesn’t sleep in general

>(TangoTek whispers to you): crazy moth lady

>(TangoTek whispers to you): I gotta go back to my stream now but lmk if you hear anything from her

<(You whisper to TangoTek): Sure, I was going to go offline soon anyways

<(You whisper to TangoTek): I’ll ask the pod station guys if they’ve seen her

>(TangoTek whispers to you): Sounds good

>(TangoTek whispers to you): actually you probably shouldn’t go out so soon after the atack

>[Grian left the game]

>TangoTek: …

>GeminiTay: …who’s gonna go get him

>EthosLab: Not it

>Xisumavoid: gosh

>[Xisumavoid left the game]

❖✩✩✩❖

Grian stepped out of the server and was immediately tackled.

Pearl pinned him to the ground, wings vibrating, eyes gleaming— then blinked, recognizing him. “Oh. Grian.”

“Hi, Pearl,” Grian said casually, “found you.”

She carefully climbed off him, helping him back to his feet and dusting off his sweater and wings. “Sorry, I was—”

“Patrolling to make sure the hacker doesn’t escape?” Grian guessed. Pearl nodded, looking away in slight embarrassment. Grian frowned, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “How long have you been out here?”

“Thirty, maybe forty minutes,” she muttered, kicking at the dirt. “No one else is out here, so I’ve just been guarding the firewall.”

“Riiiiight. . .” Grian said, drawing out the word. “You might want to check the time again, you missed your stream.”

Pearl stared at him, then silently lifted her wrist, eyes widening, no doubt seeing the missed messages from Tango. “Oh. I didn’t. . . hm.”

Xisuma suddenly emerged from the server dome, tensely glancing around at the two winged hermits before relaxing when no threat presented itself. “You two alright? Something going on?”

“All good,” Grian said. “Just catching up.“

“Okay. You probably shouldn’t be out here very long, Grian. . .” Xisuma looked at the dark sky nervously as if more hackers were going to drop out of nowhere and attack at any given moment. “Might want to stay online for a while until we’ve got the situation completely under control.”

“I thought the situation was under control?” Grian said, confused. “Now that the hacker’s off in the middle of nowhere?”

“There could be more,” Xisuma and Pearl said at the same time.

“It’s too dangerous for you to be out here.” Pearl spread her wings, guiding Grian back towards the firewall. “We’re not letting you get kidnapped, birdbrain.”

“Wha— hang on!” Grian protested. “What about you?! If I can’t be outside, neither should you!”

“I’m patrolling,” Pearl argued. “I’m protecting you.”

“Pearl, I-I actually agree with Grain on this one, nobody should be offline unless necessary, even you,” Xisuma said timidly.

Pearl frowned. “It is necessary! We need someone out here to alert the others if hackers are approaching again!”

“We’ve already increased security on the firewall,” Xisuma soothed her. “We installed a new system that’ll alert and record if any unidentified person comes too close to the dome, and the station workers are also keeping a closer eye on the pods travelling to and from the server. But—“

“If we have such good security, then why is it a problem for me to be out here?!” Grian interjected, feathers puffing out slightly.

Xisuma mumbled something under his breath about siblings, then turned back to Grian. “Because, Grian, the hackers are elite and could still possibly get past the security measures, especially if you’re in the city or by yourself. Buddy system for everyone else, but they’re specifically targeting you. Thus, you, and Pearl,” he added, giving the woman in question a pointed look, “need to stay on-server for now.”

“Why me?!” Pearl pouted. “I can defend myself fine!”

“So can I!” Grian said.

“Oh for heaven’s—“ Xisuma tried to rub the bridge of his nose, but his fingers bumped into his visor and he lowered his hand. “Look, you two are adults, so I’m not going to force you to stay online, but as your admin and your friend I’m asking that you don’t leave the safety of the firewall. I don’t want either of you getting hurt, is that too much to ask for?”

Grian hesitated, taking in Xisuma’s worn expression, dark circles under his eyes mirroring those on Pearl’s. Both of them looked ready to collapse at any minute. 

“Fine,” Grian grumbled, glancing longingly at the small pod station a little ways away. He hated not being able to leave, but if it was causing his friends thus much distress, he’d stay online for a while longer. “Come on, Pearl, you need a nap.”

“I’m not—”

“Pearl.” Grian let his eyes flash purple briefly, then pressed his wings close against his back, feathers flattening back down. “If you want to mother hen me so badly, then come sibling-sleepover with me. We could both use it, and I finally got a new blanket to replace that ratty one from season six.”

Pearl stared at him, then her eyes flashed purple as well and her antenna drooped. “. . .fine.”

Grian nodded to Xisuma, whose face softened in relief and exhaustion as Grian took Pearl’s arm, tugging her gently through the firewall and back onto Hermitcraft. 

❖✩✩✩❖

Despite Grian’s best efforts, Pearl seemed unable to relax, even after a warm cup of tea and golden carrot biscuits from Grian’s super-secret-Scar-proof snack shulker. Her wings flicked behind her in agitation, and she was constantly fidgeting in her seat, bouncing her knee, then tapping at her cup with her nails, then tugging lightly at her hair— Grian knew her well enough to tell that this went beyond a simple pout or grumpiness, there was something genuinely bothering her. 

After a few minutes of watching her chew on her bottom lip, tea forgotten, he sighed and stood, making her flinch as the movement pulled her out of what was no doubt a doomspiralling train of thought. “Come on, nest time.”

“What?” Pearl blinked. “Oh— Grian, no, I can’t— I need to get back to my chat, they’re probably worried about me missing stream— and you were going to work on your base today—”

“Excellent, now I get to procrastinate that more!” Grian half-pulled, half-herded her to the pile of blankets, pillows, and clothes tucked away in a dark corner of his base. “I wasn’t joking about you needing a nap, and I want my wings preened, so come on already! Nest time.”

“Grian. . .” Pearl sighed, but let him drag her into the nest. As soon as she was settled he got to work, pushing pillows and using his wings to arrange the blankets so they would press perfectly against his side and chest while leaving his back exposed. Then, he lay down on his stomach, whistling in contentment while he stretched his right wing over Pearl’s lap for her to preen. 

Pearl began running her fingers over his wing, dislodging bits of dirt and dandruff and gently pulling out broken feathers. Grian cooed happily, melting into the blankets.

After several minutes of preening, Pearl tentatively spoke. “Grian. . . can we talk?”

“Mmhm,” Grian hummed.

“You remember how I went in to talk to the hacker before the meeting the other day?”

“Mmhm. . .”

“I-I showed him the symbol. The. . . broken Nether portal.”

Grian’s feathers ruffled. He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to look at Pearl under his wing. “You think. . .”

“He recognized it.” Pearl exhaled slowly, running her hand over a blanket. “I know he did. He— he got all pale and started—”

“Pearl,” Grian said urgently, “did you. . .?”

“I shifted.” Pearl buried her face in her hands. “I was just— I was so angry, and I shifted, and he got down and started begging and— and asking for forgiveness—”

“ᓵ⚍∷ᓭᒷᓭ,” Grian swore. He sat up and enveloped Pearl in a hug. “He’s—”

“He’s with them,” Pearl growled. Her wings were vibrating, bleeding from blue to purple, glowing patterns spiralling across the membrane.

“It’s not— he can’t be!” Grian pulled out of the hug, warbling in distress. “He just— recognized it from somewhere else, they can’t be— ̇/╎リ⋮⚍ᒷ!”

Pearl glared across the room, wings spread wide, eyespots watching as a scrawny boy thousands of blocks away fashioned himself a diamond sword. 

“They’re still out there.” 

❖✩✩✩❖

In the corner of a silent library, a voidwalker froze, fingers hovering over a touchscreen. A picture of a young boy grinned up at him, eyes bright blue, face clear of scars.

The admin took a deep breath, heart pounding from anticipation and excitement and fear alike. 

Showfall Media proudly presents: The Dream SMP

Chapter Text

Silent darkness.

The rustle of fabric.

A presence, ink and blood, ebony and bone. Then—

“Wake up, Tommy.”

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by a sharp blue light. He hissed, squeezing them shut again.

“Oh— guys, come on, back up, you’re too bright.”

Tommy blinked and sat up. Tango was sitting awkwardly on his crafting table, surrounded by his chat. The blue flames were bouncing in excitement, sparks flying everywhere as they chittered rapidly over each other.

“What the fuck?” Tommy glared at Tango. “Why are you here? I thought Xisuma was going to check on me in a week.”

“Yeah, well, that was the plan,” Tango said. “But chat wouldn’t stop screaming at me to come visit you, so I was worried that you were in danger or something— but now they’re just talking about hats? Also, uh, nice eyes, the grey is a pretty color.”

Tommy stared at him, then facepalmed. “Oh my god. The tiny hats.”

Chat swarmed around him, bouncing gleefully.

“Okay, look,” Tommy groaned, “I may have promised your chat tiny hats, but I don’t want to spend fifteen hours knitting them all, so can you just summon a bunch of tiny helmets for them or something?”

“Dude, I don’t even know if that’s possible, but I can try.” Tango opened his command panel, then hesitated. “. . .Hang on, I’m getting a weird alert.”

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat. Was someone messing with the firewall? Were they finally coming to get him?

“There’s another player here,” Tango muttered. 

Tommy looked around, anxiety and excitement creeping in his chest as he tried to spot the player. “Where are they?”

“Over there.” Tango stood, facing the forest, and put his hands on his hips. “Hey! Whoever’s there, come on out, you’re not supposed to be in this area!”

There was a beat, and then Bloodhound stepped sullenly out of the undergrowth.

“Oh,” Tommy said, disappointed. “It’s just Bloody.”

“Bloody?”

“Yeah, he’s a wolf that just randomly became my friend. I don’t know, I’m just a disney princess. Except I’m not a princess. Disney man? Disney king? Wolf man.”

Tango shook his head. “No. No, something’s not right. That doesn’t make sense.”

He turned back to his command panel, fiddling with settings. Then—

Bloodhound stretched, fur shrinking, muscles shifting and rearranging—

“What the fuck?!” Tommy gasped when the transformation was done.

“Hello Tommy from Showfall Media!!” Charlie Slimecicle said. “Do you have any bones?”

“What—“ Tango gaped. “Who are you?!”

“I’m Bloody Charlie Slimecicle!” Charlie said in a Southern accent. “Sorry for turning into a wolf, Tommy, I was hoping you’d give me some bones. I’m kind of lacking in those at the moment.”

“Charlie. . .” Tommy shook his head in bewilderment. “How did you escape Showfall media? What—“

“Oh, lookie here!” Charlie crouched down, grinning at chat. “Hello, small flames, do you have any bones?”

“Charlie—“

“Hang on.” Charlie fell face-first on the ground, turning into a pile of green jelly. All of the blue flames were immediately absorbed into him, and when he reformed, his hair was a blazing blue like Tango’s. “Ah, unfortunate. No bones, but now I’m an admin.”

Tango bluescreened. “He— hu— uh— hhh. . .”

“I’ve never been an admin before, how does this work?” Charlie snapped his fingers repeatedly, trying to pull up a command panel.

“It— It doesn’t work like that—“ Tango stammered.

“Oh, here we go!” Inexplicably, Charlie managed to summon a command panel, and began tapping on it with a squelching noise.

“Tommy, what is happening,” Tango squeaked. 

Tommy stared despondently at Charlie. “Slimesicle.”

Charlie input his command, and Joe ascended from the ground. “Well, howdy, there!”

“Joe Hills from Tennessee!” Charlie said, smiling. 

“Charlie Slimesicle!” Joe hugged him, sending globs of slime spattering across the grass. “How you been, brother?”

“Wait, you’re not actually brothers, are you?” Tommy said, scowling at them.

“Yessir,” Joe said. He pulled back, standing next to Charlie. The resemblance was uncanny. “Twins for life.”

Tango stumbled backwards, fumbling with his communicator. “I-I need to call Xisuma— what in the world.”

“Glop,” Charlie said, and proceeded to glop all over the place. 

“Sooo. . . what do we do now?” Tommy lifted his foot, wrinkling his nose as a piece of Charlie slopped off of his shoe. 

Joe shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to know what Tubbo and Ranboo are up to,” Tommy said, staring at the commenters. 

“Okay.”

Tommy and Joe broke out of the server like a pepis hatching and skadoodled over to Showfall Media. They broke into the mall and snuck past the guards, who were busy arguing over if java or bedrock was better. 

Suddenly, a purple light filled the building, and then a Watcher was standing in front of them, frazzled and still in his bathrobe and shower cap.

How in the Universe did you get in, he panted.

“With my legs,” Tommy said.

Oh, okay, go ahead. The Watcher stepped to the side to let them pass. As Joe walked by, he grabbed one of the Watcher’s wings, easily popping it off.

Thank you for shopping, the Watcher said. Enjoy.

Joe turned into a rat and burrowed into the wing, feasting greedily on the barbecued cheese.

Tommy, meanwhile, walked past rows of cells until he reached the one with Tubbo’s name on it. He pushed open the door, which was unlocked because Baghera said so.

But inside the room, Tubbo was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Void stood in the middle of a ballpit, solemnly holding a small bubble wand.

“Oh,” Tommy said nervously. “You’re the author, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Void said. “I’m looking for Charlie. He stole my arteries.”

“Ohhh,” Mimkyu said from somewhere in the ballpit, “so that’s where they went.”

“Charlie’s on Hermitcraft,” Tommy said. “He’s glopping.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Void blew a bubble. “Well, someone should probably stop him.”

Tommy shrugged. “I mean, you’re the author, you do what you want.”

“Damn right I do.” Void looked pointedly at the readers despite not having any eyes.

“So. . .” Tommy rubbed Ranboo’s elbow meaningfully. “What now?”

Void sighed. “I’ll probably leave this up for a few more days. Maybe a few weeks. I don’t know, just until I have the actual chapter written.”

“Can we have some fluff, please?” Runiss asked from the ceiling. 

“I do need to make chat tiny hats,” Tommy grumbled. “It’s going to take so long to gather all that wool.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do a timeskip to where you already have a sheep farm.” Void hummed, contemplating. “Or maybe I’ll do something with Bloodhound. . . he’s not Ren, by the way.”

“WHAT” the commenters screamed. 

Void grinned slyly.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Ranboo said, who was now wearing a pikachu onesie. “I mean, seriously, how long can an april fool’s chapter go on before the audience loses interest?”

“You’d be surprised,” Void said, then ended the chapter and went back to watching ten hours of silence occasionally broken by metal pipe falling.

Chapter Text

Silent darkness.

The rustle of fabric.

A presence, ink and blood, ebony and bone. Then—

“Wake up, Tommy.”

❖✩✩✩❖

He opened his eyes to light.

Tommy grunted, blinking tiredly. Morning light filtered through the trees, making the dew-covered podzol sparkle. Tommy’s side was soaked, cold seeping through his jacket from the damp earth. 

That’s what I get for sleeping out in the open, Tommy thought glumly. He sat up, running a hand through his hair and scanning his surroundings. Bloodhound was lying under the shade of a spruce tree nearby, gnawing on a bone. Rotten flesh and similar carnage was scattered around the clearing, evidence of monsters that had perished during the night.

“Good boy,” Tommy murmured. He stared at the wolf a moment longer, then shook his head and stood, wincing as his joints groaned, stiff and sore. “Screw the admins, I’m going to craft a bed. Surely they wouldn’t get too upset at that, right?”

Bloodhound looked up from his bone, licking his lips. 

“Yeah. Besides, I can just keep it in my inventory when I’m not using it.” Tommy stretched. “I guess I can keep a few things in there. Except. . . they’ll probably kill me again at some point, and then they’ll discover it anyway.”

Tommy frowned, scrunching his nose. “. . .Plus they’re admins, and can see into my inventory. Maybe a hidden chest?”

Bloodhound huffed, then perked his ears and looked abruptly to the side. After a moment of staring at nothing, he growled quietly and stood up, trotting off into the forest.

What the Notch? Tommy squinted at the place Bloodhound had been looking at, and when nothing appeared, he shifted, ears stood straight up.

There. The sound of twigs snapping, and a quiet voice muttering something in annoyance. Someone broke a berry bush, and then there were footsteps approaching the clearing. 

Fuck. Tommy quickly ducked behind a tree, crouching so his nametag wouldn’t be seen. His heart was in his throat, and he flexed his fingers, defenseless except for his claws. Xisuma wasn’t going to check in for another week, and he said the others wouldn’t bother me— did they change their mind? 

Crack. Crack. Whoever it was wasn’t being stealthy about their advancement, sticks breaking continuously and fallen leaves crunching under their armored footsteps. Tommy shifted anxiously from foot to foot, trying to decide if he should run or attack.

“. . .ld be around here somewhere. . . oh! Thanks for the dono, Zeeno Ash. . . where is he?”

Tango? Tommy hesitated, then straightened and stepped out from behind the tree, crossing his arms. “Hello.”

Tango jumped. “Oh! Tommy, you scared me! Where did you come from?”

“What are you doing here?” Tommy said bluntly, scowling. “It’s barely been a day, I don’t even have anything yet.”

“Right, I would have left you alone— I know you need your space and all, I just—” Tango sighed. “Chat was screaming for me to go visit you. They wouldn’t stop spamming ‘tiny hats’ all the way here, I don’t know what they’re on about—”

Tommy flushed. “Fuck. Chat, I didn’t mean immediately! Give me a week at least, I can’t make you all hats that quickly!”

Tango laughed a little in surprise. “You’re making them hats? You know they’re made of fire, right?”

“Yeah, well clearly I was going to use fireproof materials,” Tommy said. He scuffed his shoe on the ground. “It’ll take a while. Whatever. Chat, stop bugging him about it so he can leave.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude, I wasn’t. . .” Tango hummed. “If you want me to go, I’ll go, but I can stay if you need an extra pair of hands to gather materials. Have you thought about where you want to build a base yet?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a builder.”

“Well, sure, but you at least need some kind of shelter. What if it rains?”

“I’m not an enderman,” Tommy deadpanned. “I can survive fine without a base.”

“. . .Well, I’d love to see you build something .”

“I told you, I don’t build,” Tommy said, gritting his teeth. “I don’t want you here, so shove off and leave me the fuck alone.”

Tango took a step backward. “O-okay! That’s fine, I’ll go. I just thought you might want some company.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy growled. 

Tango hesitated, then said a soft goodbye before lighting a rocket on the ground. Tommy scrambled hastily to the side, falling onto soft podzol, but after a few seconds he heard another in the sky a chunk or so away. 

Right, Tommy thought, heart racing. Elytra. 

He lay a moment, listening for any other players in the area, then shifted back to his human form and stood, frowning at his now thoroughly soiled jacket.

“Might as well get some wool to fix it,” Tommy muttered. He glanced at the sky, then shook his head, slipping into the shaded forest. 

He followed Bloodhound’s tracks for a while, until he heard the sound of bleating and peeled off the trail, hopping over a log as the forest transitioned from spruce to oak. He found a small flock of sheep, and shifted to make quick work of them with his claws. He’d shifted too recently, though, so he only got two sheep before getting too tired and reluctantly turning back, resorting to chasing the last sheep and beating it to death with his fists. 

“Sorry,” Tommy said, picking up the dropped piece of mutton. “I’ll make it faster next time.”

Something shifted behind him. Tommy’s head snapped around. Bloodhound gazed at him, a large chunk of wool held in his jaws. 

“More wool, huh?” Tommy took the soft white material, staring at the wolf. Something uneasy curled in his gut. “. . .I only need one more piece, and then I can make a bed and start repairing my clothes.”

Bloodhound huffed and walked into the undergrowth again, disappearing into the woods. 

Tommy watched him leave. A lump was in his throat, and he suddenly felt nauseous. He looked down at the wool in his hand, then tucked it into his inventory, shaking his head. “‘S fine.” 

Still, he hesitated, and after a minute or two he took a deep breath and raised his hands to his head, slipping his mask off and dismissing it into his inventory as well. 

His heart pounded, and he leaned against a tree shakily, swallowing. It’s fine. . . nothing’s happening, nobody’s here, it’s fine. . .

A bush rustled, and Bloodhound reappeared, again carrying a bloodied piece of wool. He set it down at Tommy’s feet, then sat, eyes fixed steadily on Tommy’s unmasked face. 

“. . .I took it off,” Tommy said, now struggling to breathe. “C-come get me if you want. I know you’re not— I know—”

Bloodhound growled quietly in the back of his throat.

“I know you’re not a real wolf,” Tommy gasped. “I know you’re a human.”

The creature showed no reaction to the words. His eyes continued staring into Tommy’s with a dark intensity. 

Tommy’s chest heaved, and he shuddered, closing his eyes. It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real—

Silent Darkness. 

Tommy opened his eyes. He straightened, calmly pulling the mask back out and putting it on. 

“Come on, Bloody,” he said, turning and walking over to a spruce tree. “Let’s get some tools, and then we can work on a little shelter. I guess if Tango suggested it, it’s not against the rules, right?”

Bloodhound lay down, silently watching Tommy begin to punch the tree. 

“I’m thinking we build it underground,” Tommy continued. “Maybe by the mountain, where there’ll be lots of ores. . . first steps are to get a pickaxe, then a sword. . .”

It’s fine. 

Chapter Text

[ANIMATIC- CLICK HERE!!]

(edit: YouTube is blurry for some reason, Deviantart version is clearer??? idk why but here's the link to that one)

[Clear ANIMATIC]

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma was well and truly screwed. 

He had two options here— either leave Tommy alone like he had promised he would, or try to appeal to him in some way and lower the teen’s aggression. Neither choice felt good, and there was a deep feeling of anxiety chewing at his gut.

Tommy seemingly noticed his hesitance, because the boy scoffed and looked away. “I’m fine.”

Xisuma blinked. “I didn’t—“

“You’ve checked on me, now you can leave,” Tommy said. “I haven’t moved, I haven’t built anything, I haven’t tried to leave— I’m fine. If you aren’t going to punish me for something, then you can go back to your hermits.” 

“What would I even punish you for?!” Xisuma exclaimed. He gestured around the empty clearing. “You haven’t even built a base, I-I don’t— not that I would punish you for that, Notch— I mean—!”

He spluttered a little, then caught in his peripheral the chest Tommy had been digging through earlier. “I mean look, you don’t even—“

Tommy tensed as Xisuma turned to the chest and crouched, opening the lid. As expected, it was mostly empty, with useless blocks and items tossed haphazardly inside. “You don’t even have iron , I mean, I never said you couldn’t mine—“

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH MY THINGS!”

Xisuma jumped back a millisecond before the chest slammed shut. Tommy’s claws dug into the lid, cracking the wood as he stood in front of it protectively, teeth bared, tail thrashing, white eyes matching the light seeping through his shirt—

Yet a moment later his expression was cracking from fierceness to fear, and he was stumbling back, pale and shaking. “Fuck— I’m sorry, I didn’t— I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean—“

“Woah, woah, hey, Tommy,” Xisuma held his hands out, voice quieting. “It’s okay, I’m not mad.”

“I’m—“ Tommy tugged at his mask. “Fuck— shit— I didn’t— I’m sorry, please, Dre—“

He froze.

“I’m not mad,” Xisuma repeated. Something’s wrong, this doesn’t feel right . “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble, I’m not going to punish you, you’re safe.”

Tommy was shaking. 

“I’m not Dream,” Xisuma said, uneasiness growing, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tommy turned to the admin with sightless eyes. “H-how—“

I’m screwed, I’m screwed, I’m screwed, oh god— “D-did Dream hurt you?” Xisuma winced but pressed on. “Is that why you. . . y-you’re. . . did he—?“

“How,” Tommy said, “the fuck. Did you— what did you do?!”

“Nothing! I-I’m not—“ Xisuma took a breath. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay? And I’m just trying to help you—“

“Bullshit. What. The fuck . Did you research about Dream?”

“I-I just guessed, since you started saying D—“

“Bullshit!” The anger was back, all claws and teeth and scathing words. Tommy crouched slightly, as if preparing for a fight, and Xisuma stepped backwards instinctively. 

“ Breathe , Tommy— I’m not going to hurt you, I was just looking into Showfall—” Xisuma frowned, gaining some courage back. “It’s not like I was trying to dig into your— your acting career, or whatever you were doing, I just—“

“Doesn’t matter what you were looking for, it’s none of your fucking business!”

“Wha— i-it is my business! You hacked into my server, tried to kidnap one of my players, and still won’t tell me why, so now— now I will do whatever I have to do to figure out why a production company is kidnapping my hermits!!” 

“They’re not—” Tommy growled in frustration. “Just stay out of my past!!”

“Not until I find out what’s going on! Why shouldn’t I watch it if it’s just a show?! This production company is clearly hiding something—”

“IT’S NOT JUST A SHOW!!” 

Tommy lunged for Xisuma, but he was ready this time and quickly dodged, eyes wide. Tommy whirled around.

“IT WAS NEVER JUST A SHOW, AND YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND, SO JUST STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS!!”

His claws lashed out, striking Xisuma’s faceplate again and again, scratching and cracking the glass— Xisuma fumbled for his rockets as Tommy began tearing at the netherite plating around his neck— his claws broke through—

Fwee~

Xisuma clipped a tree as he tried to flee, and crashed into another— a spruce branch pierced the damaged faceplate— alarms clamoured for attention as he tumbled to the ground—

> [Xisumavoid suffocated while fighting TommyInnit]

Chapter Text

The admins stopped checking on him.

Tommy had assumed— or at the very least, hoped— that Xisuma wouldn’t come around after their fight— but a week passed, then another, and Tommy was beginning to wonder if the server had just resolved to forget about him.

It was better this way, anyways. Tommy slowly began to relax, not shifting every five minutes to listen for rockets in the distance or footsteps through the undergrowth. He continued adding junk to his solitary chest in the clearing, and armour and ores to the chest hidden in the walls of his carefully concealed strip mine.

After another week with no visits, Tommy made a Nether portal. If anyone saw the achievement, they didn’t care, because nobody came to tear it down or punish him.

Bloodhound came and went. Most days, he would follow Tommy around the forest, but once the portal was built he would disappear for days on end and return with red dust in his fur and blood around his muzzle. Once, he came walking proudly through the portal with an honest-to-gods wither skull in his mouth. 

Tommy tried not to think about it.

During the days, Tommy sewed, first patching and cleaning Ranboo’s jacket (though it still looked a mess and made him homesick), then making himself a new backpack out of some leather. He’d also made a loom, but it sat untouched in his little base in the mountain.

He gathered colors— blue, yellow, red, white—

and shoved them in his junk chest and tried not to think about it.

And in the night he had dreams— recurring ones, of darkness and floating and a woman’s voice— but when he woke, paralyzed with fear, with too-human eyes staring at him from the other side of the room, he could never remember what she said— 

And when the darkness of dappled leaves began moving towards him as he walked by, reaching out to touch his shadow—

He walked on, and tried not to think about it. 

The admins didn’t come, so he raided a bastion. Bloodhound fought with him, barking whenever a brute was near and attacking the hulking monsters if they got too close. Tommy found a template and soon all his weapons and armour were upgraded to netherite. 

He found a disc— Pigstep, and spent his last diamond crafting a jukebox. He played the song every night, sometimes humming along and muttering nonsensical lyrics, sometimes sitting with his forehead pressed against the speaker, crying. 

He didn’t like thinking about those nights. 

The admins didn’t come, so he built a pen and began breeding sheep, secretly naming each one in his mind and marking their wool with some dye so he wouldn’t forget which one was which. 

The admins didn’t come, so he stopped hiding his mine and expanded his base outwards, even decorating it with smooth stone and cobble. He tried to remember it was temporary.

The admins didn’t come. He talked out loud to himself, even when Bloodhound wasn’t there, even when he had no way of summoning his chat. Sometimes, he hummed or sang as he tended to the sheep. 

The admins didn’t come. He sleepwalked, and woke up chunks from his base. Once he woke in the river, and hyperventilated on shore until he passed out.

He stopped sleeping. Phantoms spawned ceaselessly.

The admins didn’t come, and Tommy dug himself a new room, with nothing but a knife and some handmade bandages in a chest. His arms were a canvas, and he wielded pain as a paintbrush. Bloodhound growled and tried to steal the knife when Tommy emerged from the room with cloth wound up and down his arms, so Tommy blocked it off to keep him out.  

He didn’t think about it. 

Tommy found a village. He spent hours babbling to the mindless humanoids, knowing they couldn’t understand his language. A few days later, he burned it down, shrieking and screaming with rage as the villagers perished under scorching rubble. 

He built a flagpole in its place— blue, yellow, red, white, black. The sun rose over ash and charcoal flesh as he sobbed his way through a long-forgotten anthem. 

The admins didn’t come. Tommy decorated his skin with red and tried to focus on why he was there. 

He built towers out of cobblestone, monuments of shadow and solitude. 

The admins didn’t come.

He began to think that he’d been forgotten. He wondered if it was better this way. 

He began to think nobody would ever come again.

. . .

He was wrong.

❖✩✩✩❖

Grian crouched on the branch of a large spruce, surveying the area below him with a raised eyebrow. Cobblestone pillars rose from the ground, like the remains of some great temple— though the columns appeared to be placed at random, and the purpose was unclear. Scaffolding, perhaps?

He shuffled his wings and carefully hopped to an adjacent tree, leaving the mystery behind. There were more important things to do than gawk at strange structures in the woods. 

A breeze rustled through his hair and feathers as he leaped from tree to tree. It was a beautiful day to be somewhere he shouldn’t be. The morning sun shone warmly over the nearby mountains, a river babbled happily to itself below some oaks, and the air was filled with the lovely smell of damp earth. To say he was eager to disturb the peace would be an understatement.

He slipped on the next branch, wings snapping out to catch his balance— he flapped quickly, and just as he had steadied himself, a dirt block broke below him and Tommy emerged from the ground. 

Grian froze. For a moment, he thought the hacker had seen him— but Tommy was facing away, and walked into the forest without even glancing around. 

Interesting, Grian thought, and followed. 

There was something. . . off about Tommy. Grian couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but as he travelled across the canopy, watching Tommy silently navigate through the shadowed undergrowth, he couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Something in the slowness of his movements, in the way his clothing hung loosely on him. . .

He tried not to think about it. 

They came to a clearing, and Tommy paused. Grian stumbled to a stop, quickly ducking behind a cluster of leaves. 

A beat passed. Tommy shifted, ears bleeding teal and unfolding into tattered points. They stood upright, flicking around— then Tommy turned and stared directly at the tree Grian was perched in. 

. . .Oh Prime. . .

“. . .H-hello?” Tommy’s voice cracked horribly, and Grian winced in sympathy. “Xisuma?”

Right, might as well properly introduce myself since he knows I’m here. Grian dropped from the tree, and Tommy flinched back. 

“ Not Xisuma, actually,” Grian said. “But I do believe you’ve heard of me?”

Tommy frowned, then shifted back, eyes darkening. He blinked at Grian a moment, then his gaze rose to his nametag. He blanched. 

Grian cocked his head and grinned. “Hello!”

Tommy stared and said nothing. 

Grian hesitated, taking in the dark bags under Tommy’s eyes, then decided not to mention it and looked around, humming. “. . .You know, I was going to fill your base with chickens, but you don’t really have a base, do you? I flew all around, and all I saw were those pillars. You planning on building something there?”

“Don’t. . .” Tommy breathed, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, his voice was cold. “What are you doing here?”

“Ok, well, if anyone asks, I wasn’t here, but like I said. . .” Grian pulled an egg from his inventory and tossed it on the ground. “Chicken.”

Tommy scrunched his face in confusion. “N-no. I don’t— I could just grab you and logout— what?”

“Well, you could, but if we’re being honest, mate, you wouldn’t get very far.” Grian shrugged. “Even if you did manage to drag me out with you, which, good luck, you’ll have at least twenty people chasing to bring both of us back. Trust me, I’ve tried leaving three times and they’ve always caught me before I even made it to the pod station. I just wanted to visit my cats!”

More staring.

Grian shifted awkwardly. “So. . .”

“Your wings aren’t white,” Tommy interrupted.

“Huh? Oh.” Grian glanced at the mottled grey and green feathers. “Yeah, no, they change depending on. . . they haven’t been white for a long time.”

Tommy stepped back. “Are you. . . also one of them?”

Grian tilted his head. “A hermit? Yes.”

“No, I-I mean—”

“I’m a hermit,” Grian said, suddenly solemn. “That’s all you need to know.”

Tommy paled further, lowering his gaze. “Yes, sir.”

Grian cringed. “. . . Just call me Grian.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. Tommy seemed equal parts confused, scared, and frustrated, glancing up at Grian’s nametag every now and then as if it was going to fade and reveal some other hermit in disguise. In turn, Grian scrutinised Tommy, letting his mischievous mood slip away. 

There really was something wrong. Tommy looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days, and his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, not to mention the way his gaze kept looking through Grian, only to snap back to attention a second later. 

Grian frowned. “. . . Are you. . . okay?”

Again, Tommy flinched. “What the fu— sorry— w-what did you say?”

“Are you okay?” Grian pressed. “You’re not looking. . . well.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, but his shoulders hunched and he looked away. “I didn’t. . . expect anyone to come, least of all you.” 

“I mean, the admins are still checking on you every week, right? Xisuma’s not mad about you killing him, at least, he’s still planning to come by. . .”

“He’s not—” Tommy scowled, stepping backwards. “Nobody’s come, nobody’s been here in— in months, okay, so if you expect me to believe—”

“Woah, hang on—”

“—anybody’s coming, after leaving a teenager alone in the woods —”

“Tommy, it’s been eight days since you killed X!” Grian’s wings flared out slightly, feathers puffing up. “It’s not been months, it’s barely been a week—”

Grian stopped. “. . .What did you just say?”

Tommy stared at him, face pale again. “. . .What do you mean it’s only been a week?”

“No, hang on.” Grian shifted backwards, heart sinking. “You’re a teenager?”

Tommy stared at him a few agonizing seconds longer, then turned and took off running into the trees. 

“Tommy!” Grian shouted, giving chase. “Wait!”

Fwee~

A shadow passed overhead, then Xisuma landed in front of Grian. “Grian!”

Grian skidded to a stop. Xisuma grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide. “What are you doing here, I explicitly said this area was off-limits, especially to you—”

“How old is he?” Grian demanded. “Xisuma, how old is he?!”

Xisuma paled. “. . .He asked us not to say.”

“I— fine, I’ll just see for myself.” 

Xisuma started to protest, but Grian ignored him and shut his eyes. Nausea tugged at his gut, but he spread his wings anyways and Looked.

Darkness, corrupted code, and a number standing damningly from the rest.

“X, what the fu—”

Chapter Text

There was something on Hermitcraft that didn’t belong.

Paws padded silently through a spruce forest. The air was cold with the arriving twilight, and fog lay heavily over black-whiskered trees, rendering grey fur as practically invisible. 

The pup called him Bloodhound. A fitting name. The creature ran his tongue over pointed fangs with satisfaction. There was a lot he could do in this form without drawing attention to himself— but he did miss having a sword at his side. 

After some time, a voice became audible in the distance, echoing slightly in the damp fog, and Bloodhound picked up his pace, making his way towards it.

“—portal’s fucking gone, like— like— and it’s not even—”

Bloodhound pushed through a large fern, and the voice went silent. 

He took another step forward, and Tommy whipped around, red-rimmed eyes bleeding from white to grey, then back again. 

“. . .And then there’s you.”

Bloodhound tilted his head slightly, taking in Tommy’s appearance. His ears and tail were shrinking and growing at random, darkening and lightening, flicking around before freezing in place— clearly the pup was struggling to keep his shifting under control. 

And the shadows were stretching towards him, pooling below his feet, dark even in the deepening night.

Bloodhound sat and yawned. It was going to be a long night. 

“I know you’re a human— or more than a wolf, at least, and you know that I know that, but you— you still won’t reveal yourself, or— or say anything, or do anything— you know I know, so what’s the point in pretending to be. . . what’s the point in following me around if you aren’t going to do anything?”

Tommy began to pace, and Bloodhound watched. “I know something’s going on, I’m not an idiot. . . it was like— like two or three months that I was alone, I know it was, I built— I built the portal, and the sheep pen, and my house— that doesn’t just happen in a week, not with me— but now the portal’s gone, it’s all gone, except for the pillars and my— my chest. . . it doesn’t make sense, it was more than a week!

“But if they’re gone, then maybe it was just a week, but that would mean that I was— fucking hallucinating or— or dreaming or something, or someone’s messing with me— and I can’t— I can’t— I—”

Tommy grabbed his hair, tugging at it with gasping breaths. “I can’t be hallucinating, I-I can’t, I can’t, ‘cause that would mean— that would mean I’m fucking— I can’t— that would mean someone’s messing with me, or— or I’m just going fuckin’ insane, but I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

He crouched and buried his head in his knees, hyperventilating. Bloodhound growled quietly. Breathe, pup, you are stronger than this.

It took him a minute, but eventually Tommy was able to return his breathing to a semi-normal rate, and he straightened, continuing to pace like nothing happened. 

“I can’t go insane, because a week alone is nothing, I was built to be— to be strong enough to withstand— all kinds of shit, so exile is— it’s nothing, I wouldn’t go insane after— after everything, it’s nothing, this is nothing, so I know it’s not the exile that’s making me— freak out, god. . .”

He exhaled roughly, hands once again raising to his hair— but after a moment, his fingers shifted into claws and he shook his head.

“So if I’m not insane, which I’m not, I swear— I can’t be, I can’t be, then that means that someone’s fucking with me, someone— someone’s making me see shit, or— or messing with my memories, I—”

Again Tommy paused, chest heaving, then his attention returned to Bloodhound, who was still watching calmly from the cold ground. 

“It’s not you, is it?” Tommy’s voice was suddenly very small. “Is that what— what you’ve been doing this whole time? Making me— I don’t— why are you here?”

Bloodhound offered no response.

“What’s the reason?” Tommy continued. “I haven’t. . . I didn’t do anything wrong, it’s— look, I’ve been wearing the mask, I’ve been trying to— I haven’t given up on the mission, I swear. . .

I’m wearing the mask, even though it’s broken. . . I don’t know how to fix it, I’m sorry. . . I promise I’m strong, I promise I can— I can do this, I’m still alive, I can still— I can— shit. I can complete the mission still, I just need to— I need to know— I can’t—”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, then inhaled sharply and grabbed his mask, pulling it off and throwing it to the ground. “I can’t do this anymore, there’s no fucking point, i-if this is real, then they already know I’m a child, they’re all just treating me like one regardless— and I can’t— I can’t do that, I can’t—

And if this is a test, th-then I give up, there’s no point anymore, I can’t— I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I can’t—”

Bloodhound growled, fur standing up.

“I can’t fucking DO THIS ANYMORE!!” Tommy screamed, then disappeared.

> [TommyInnit left the game]

❖✩✩✩❖

All was static, flickering blue and the rush of noise making Tommy’s mind feel cloudy and disconnected. 

Vaguely, he recognized the buzz of the firewall, vaguely he understood that he had left the server— but the only clear thought that came through was that they would come for him. Whether ‘they’ meant Showfall or the hermits, Tommy didn’t care.

He sat in the dirt and waited.

It felt like hours before someone followed him out of the server— although realistically, he knew they would have chased him as soon as they saw that he left. Tommy remained in the dirt, staring silently at the ground.

I can’t do this anymore.

“. . .No, please, let me handle this—” Xisuma’s voice drifted through the static. “I know, just let me. . .”

People were speaking, the firewall was buzzing, the dirt crunched— Tommy put his head between his knees and breathed, waiting for the noise to subside.

“Hey, Tommy.” Xisuma was suddenly beside him. 

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. I can’t do this. 

“I’ve sent everyone back into the server, it’s just you and me, alright? I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Tommy shook his head and said nothing. 

“N-no? I’m not. . .” Xisuma sighed. “I— I had a chat with Grian, and I think. . . we need to talk as well.”

I can’t.

“. . .But I’d rather do that on the server, do you— gosh. Let’s get back on the server, okay, and then we can talk, you’re not in trouble, I promise—“

“Not in fucking trouble?!” Tommy spat, rearing his head suddenly to glare at Xisuma. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re not,” Xisuma reassured him quickly. “We shouldn’t have left you alone—“

“Oh, cut the bullshit! I know you’re punishing me, it only makes sense that you’d exile me after— after what I did, the only thing that’s fucked up is the fact that you keep trying to convince me that you genuinely care about me.”

Xisuma blinked in surprise. “Tommy, I— we are trying to do what’s best for you, I know we haven’t gone about it the best way —“

“Bullshit.” Tommy’s voice cracked and he dropped his head back down. “Just ban me, turn me over to the police, fucking— kill me, please, just stop making me lose my fucking mind.”

Xisuma was silent for a while. Tommy closed his eyes, ignoring the lump in his throat. 

“. . .Wait here,” Xisuma said softly, and entered the server, leaving Tommy alone. 

Tommy could have gotten up and run off— he probably should have— but something made him stay, exhaustion or curiosity or just plain defeat. He lifted his head just enough to wipe his eyes, then shifted to a cross-legged position. 

It wasn’t long before the dirt crunched again. Tommy leaned forward, head bowed. 

Kill me. I can’t do this anymore.

He waited for the sound of a sword being unsheathed— or a gun, or a knife, something— but instead, something small and hard was placed in his hands.

Tommy opened his eyes. Tango was sitting in front of him, mimicking his posture, with his hands hovering over Tommy’s. 

“Hi,” Tango said quietly.

Tommy looked down. A misshapen clay figurine of Tango’s chat rested in his palms. 

“My kid made that for me,” Tango said. “I tend to overthink when I’m by myself for too long. So whenever I’m travelling alone, I put that on the seat across from me in the pods and talk to it. It helps keep me grounded and logicificate it out, y’know?”

Tommy stared at it. “. . .You have a kid?”

“A lot of us do. Doc, Impy, Bdubs. . . I dunno if you noticed, but we’re all kind of old. Maybe that’s why we reacted so poorly to your age, since it seems way younger in comparison.” Tango smiled.

“Don’t. . . don’t treat me like a child,” Tommy said. “I haven’t been a kid in a long time, and I know you guys only tolerate me being on the server because you think that’s what I am.”

“Mm.” Tango hummed. “Maybe. But nobody at the meeting knew how old you were, except us admins, and everyone voted for you to stay.”

Tommy frowned. “Why?”

“Well, for your protection, really. You haven’t really told us anything that makes us believe Showfall Media was treating you well.”

“‘Protection’,” Tommy scoffed. “Then you drop me in the middle of the woods with nothing.”

“We made a mistake.” Tango’s voice was steady yet gentle. “A lot of people enjoy solo worlds, and since you’re related to Philza we figured you’d be used to hardcore. That’s not an excuse though, and I’m sorry we didn’t check on you more.”

“. . .I’m not related to Philza.”

“. . .Your code says you are?”

“I’m. . . not.”

“. . .Huh.”

Tommy rubbed his thumb against the clay figurine. “. . .What are you going to do to me?”

Tango’s eyebrows creased together. “You mean since you left the server?”

Tommy nodded silently. 

“Well, I guess that depends.” Tango leaned back and tilted his head. “What do you want us to do?”

“. . .I dunno.” Tommy said. 

“Okay.” Tango stared at him for a while, then took a deep breath. “Tommy, was being with Showfall better than how we treated you on Hermitcraft?”

“. . .What?” 

“Were you happier with Showfall Media?”

Tommy hesitated. “. . .It. . . I don’t. . .” He shook his head. “It’s better than being alone. . . at Showfall, I still had Tub— uh, my friends. To. . . help.”

Tango nodded slowly. “You don’t do well on your own.”

“No.” Tommy’s voice cracked again and he looked away quickly. “I can’t. . . do that anymore.”

“Okay,” Tango whispered. 

Tommy paused, then laughed a little, eyes watering. “You guys are dicks for leaving a teenager alone, you know? Most admins just turn hackers over to the police, but you guys were just like, ‘nope, we’re keeping him as a pet’ or something, like— Prime.”

“It could have been handled better,” Tango agreed, “but we’re still not handing you off to the police.”

He reached and took the figurine back from Tommy. “How about this: from now on, you’ll stick with someone on the server, and that way if there’s any problems, you can talk it out with someone, okay?”

Tommy frowned. “Who?”

Tango shrugged. “Well. . . probably not Grian, but otherwise you can choose who you want to supervise you. Does that sound alright?”

Tommy thought for a moment, then gave a half-nod. “I. . . guess. Not much of a punishment, though. . .”

“I mean, it seems like you’ve been punished enough, right?” Tango stood and offered a hand out to help Tommy to his feet. “Let’s get back on the server, then you can decide who to hang out with.”

Tommy hesitated, then took the hand. Tango pulled him up easily, then clapped him on the shoulder, smiling. “Thanks for not running off, by the way. Or stabbificating me. Wasn’t really hoping for those outcomes.”

“Yeah, well, there’s still time,” Tommy muttered, and Tango laughed.

“Fair enough. Wait until we can respawn, though.”

They walked over to the firewall, but Tommy stopped just before entering, glancing back behind him at the dirt wasteland. Tango paused as well, giving him a quizzical look.

“. . .Do you think I could stay with you?” Tommy mumbled, turning back. 

Tango blinked, then beamed. “Of course! Oh man, you can keep me company while I work on Decked Out!”

Tommy flushed. “Yeah, sure. But I’m only choosing you ‘cause Joe’s weird, okay?”

Tango chuckled. “If you say so.”

He patted Tommy’s shoulder again, then stepped into the server, and after only a moment of hesitation, Tommy followed.

Chapter Text

“Okay, so you have the hoppers, right? And they’re right next to each other so that when we put an item in, it will go back and forth between them.”

Tommy squinted. “Uh-huh.”

“So that sends out a redstone signal, meaning that we can essentially keep track of the time it takes for the item to pass back and forth, right?”

“. . .Uh.”

“Okay, I lost you already.” Tango rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. . . hoppers transfer items, you got that?”

“Yeah.”

“And since the hoppers are set up like this, they’ll empty all their items before receiving any more. Meaning that if I put thirty oak planks into here, they’ll transfer one at a time into the other one, does that make sense?”

“Okay, so then. . . when it’s gone into the left hopper, will it go back into the right hopper since it’s empty?”

“Exactly!” Tango crouched next to the redstone and gestured at the hoppers. “So when it passes back and forth, it generates a redstone pulse, and the more items we add, the longer it will take for the signal to go off, since the hopper has to empty completely, right? And then with the pulse, we can link this system to the hazard around the dungeon, so as time passes, the signal will pass through the randomizer to make things block off more frequently.”

Tommy stared at the redstone, then frowned. “But what— how do the hoppers know where to go?”

Tango paused. “They’re— they’re pointing at each other.”

“Yeah, but—” Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “Why don’t the items just stay put? Or— constantly go between them? Why do they completely empty before receiving?”

“Okay,” Tango sighed, “Back to the hoppers.”

“Oh my Prime,” Tommy groaned, sliding off of Tango’s redstone shulker. “Why is it so complicated?”

“This is actually one of the simpler systems,” Tango said hesitantly, “but I guess it can get confusing if you don’t know how the individual components work.”

Tommy sprawled out on the ground, waving a hand half-heartedly through the air. “Just tell me what it does instead of how it works, I can’t understand half the shit you’re saying.”

Tango laughed quietly, then stood and brushed some redstone dust off of his cloak. “Okay. . . well you remember earlier I showed you how some of the doors in the dungeon close off?”

“Mm-hm.” Tommy began sifting through his inventory absent-mindedly. 

“So that’s— basically, we have the clank system, right? Clank is how much noise you make as you go through the dungeon, so the more noise you make, the higher your clank, and then evokers start coming out and vex kill you in the face.”

“How the hell does a clock keep track of noise?” Tommy said skeptically.

“No, so that’s— clank’s a different system, but it kind of works with hazard. Hazard is what the clock is for, it tracks how long you’ve been in the dungeon, so the longer you stay in the dungeon, the harder it’ll be, doors will close off, traps will activate, it’ll just be generally more difficult.” Tango shifted. “. . .Does that make sense?”

Tommy stared at him, then huffed and threw his arm over his eyes. “I guess.”

“‘I guess’,” Tango mimicked, amused. “That’s okay, Toms, redstone is confusing for most people. Maybe you’ll get it someday.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tommy grumbled. He rolled onto his side, then shifted, tail flicking against the ground.

Tango walked over and began rummaging through the shulker. “Sorry, I forgot. I have to hook all of these up and pull the orange and purple line off of the main line, do you want anything to fiddle with while I work?”

“You don’t have to entertain me, I’m not a child,” Tommy said.

“Yeah? ‘Cause you seem pretty bored.” Tango closed the shulker and began carefully placing down some redstone. “I can summon chat if you want. You still owe them tiny hats, right?”

“Sure,” Tommy mumbled. “But I don’t have the materials I need to make them fireproof.”

“Not a problem. Whaddya need?”

“Magma cream, water, wool. . .” Tommy’s face scrunched. “And a cauldron. And a campfire, probably.”

“Wow.” The fur on Tango’s coat lining brushed against Tommy’s arm as Tango shuffled past him. “Sounds like you’ve done this before?”

Tommy’s ear twitched. “I dunno. I did a lot of experimenting with potions and shit when I was in— when I was younger.”

“I feel like I should be worried about that,” Tango hummed. “Well, I have water and wool, and I could probably find a campfire somewhere. . . I could maybe make a cauldron? What else did you need?”

“Magma cream.” Tommy shifted back to his human form and sat up. “If it’s too hard to get, normal slime can work too, but it loses its fire-resistant properties pretty quickly unless there’s a whole fucking lot of it.”

“We can get magma cream. I don’t think there’s any shops for it though, so we’ll have to go to the Nether. Just let me finish this redstone,” Tango said. 

Tommy watched him work for a moment, then turned his attention to his sleeve, where a thread was coming loose. He picked at it in silence, then glanced back up at Tango. “What’s worse than an apple with a worm in it?”

Tango faltered, looking up from his carefully drawn line of redstone. “What? Uh— oh! An apple with half a worm in it, right?”

“Nope,” Tommy said. “The Holocaust.”

Tango’s eyes widened. “Uh— y-yeah, yep, you’re— you’re not wrong, I— wow.”

Tommy’s lips twitched, and he turned back to the thread. “You know, I’m half white.”

Tango gave him a somewhat concerned look. “What’s the other half?”

“Also white.” Tommy peered at Tango through his fringe, watching his reaction.

Tango raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Tommy stared at him. “. . .What do you call an orphan taking a selfie?”

“Oh goodness.” Tango rubbed his forehead, leaving streaks of redstone behind. “What?”

“A family photo,” Tommy said.

Tango laughed. “Wow. Where are you getting all of these from?”

Tommy grinned. “It’s a lifestyle.”

Tango chuckled and returned to his redstone. After a while, he hummed thoughtfully. “Do you know anywhere I could buy gloves?”

Tommy blinked. “Gloves?”

“Yeah, like fingerless gloves.” Tango fiddled with a repeater. “I’ve been wanting some for a while now, but last time I ordered some, they mixed up the packaging, and I ended up with two left-handed gloves.”

“Uh. . . yeah, no, I don’t know where to get gloves. You could try a parkour gear store, they might have some. . .”

“Yeah, it’s just a shame about the two left-handed gloves. I tried wearing them anyway, but. . .” Tango made eye contact with Tommy. “It just wasn’t right.”

Tommy stared at him. “. . .Oh my god.”

Tango cackled, then shook his head, grinning. “Alright, let’s go get your stuff.”

“Dude, that’s the most like— dad joke ever,” Tommy said. “I thought you were fucking serious for a second.”

“Well, I do want fingerless gloves.” Tango set down an enderchest. “Do you need an elytra?”

Tommy bit his lip. “Can we. . . just walk?”

“I mean. . . it’ll be faster if we fly. . .” Tango glanced at him. “But yeah, we can walk.”

“Thanks. My last server didn’t allow travel to the End, so I don’t really have a lot of practice with elytra.” Tommy shifted a little. “. . .Can I use your enderchest?”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead.” Tango picked up the redstone shulker and opened the chest. “I’m just gonna put this away real fast. . .”

Tommy peeked inside. It was, predictably, empty— he wasn’t able to see any other player’s enderchest space, and he hadn’t interacted with any since hacking into Hermitcraft. He glanced at Tango, then carefully took off Ranboo’s jacket and what was left of his mask and placed them in the enderchest. 

Tango looked over and froze, eyes fixing on Tommy’s bare arms. Tommy turned away, dread pooling in his stomach at the question that was sure to come—

“Ready?”

What? Tommy blinked. “Uh. . . y-yeah?”

“Great!” Tango led Tommy out of the depths of Decked Out. They both squinted as they emerged into the sunlight, but soon enough they were stepping into swirls of purple and entering the Nether. 

>TommyInnit has made the advancement [We Need to Go Deeper]

Their trip was quick. Tommy only needed a few balls of magma cream, which was easily obtained, then Tango gathered the rest of the ingredients and left Tommy to his devices while Tango worked on his redstone.

Tommy spun the wool carefully into a thick yarn using crafting magic, then immersed it in the concoction of magma cream, water, and dye. The stench was horrible, and Tango glanced up from his redstone lines but said nothing. 

Tommy pulled his knees into his chest, watching the mixture boil. There was something lingering in his mind, memories of fabric-work and stitching and potions and laughter— but he pushed the thoughts away. There was no use remembering the forgotten. 

It was strange— They worked in silence, yet it was not uncomfortable— and although they were each doing their own project, there was a certain constant awareness of the other person’s existence in the spacious area. 

Tommy and Tango worked, and existed, and each began to find that they enjoyed the company.

❖✩✩✩❖

Grian sat amongst starry moss, poking and prodding at Tommy’s code.

⍑||ʖ∷╎↸ ᓭ!¡ᒷᓵ╎ᒷᓭ: ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリ e̸̫̿r̷̪̉ŕ̸̢o̶̘͐r̴̪͘ ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリ ᒷリ↸ᒷ∷ᒲᔑリe̸̫̿r̷̪̉ŕ̸̢o̶̘͐r̴̪͘e̸̫̿r̷̪̉ŕ̸̢o̶̘͐r̴̪͘ ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリ ∴ᔑ∷↸ᒷリ e̸̫̿r̷̪̉ŕ̸̢o̶̘͐r̴̪͘ ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリ ⍑⚍ᒲᔑリ ⚍リ↸ᒷ⎓╎リᒷ↸e̸̫̿r̷̪̉ŕ̸̢o̶̘͐r̴̪͘ ⚍リ↸ᒷ⎓╎リᒷ↸

It was misshapen— a tangled, ugly mess of glitches and encrypted words that would have made it nearly impossible to decipher had Grian not had experience with code that had been tampered with like this. 

He squinted at it, then stretched his wings out and Looked. Seemingly random strings of code revealed themselves to a blazing symbol, but not the one Grian was expecting. He clicked his tongue and folded his wings back behind him, letting purple feathers fade back to soft greys and greens. 

Something doesn’t add up, he thought. There’s something I’m missing here.

He glanced up from the code. The skulk around him pulsed with a blue light, illuminating the three letters etched on the inside of his boulder.

Grian pulled out his communicator.

Chapter Text

From the Universe came Creation and Destruction, equal and opposite, an eternal battle that left no room for the Universe’s love.

Yet the Universe was patient, and breathed on the void and was void and existed and did not exist.

And from Creation came light, and the stars, and the planets, and the power to connect.

And from Destruction came darkness, and space, and fire, and wastelands of dirt and ice, and the power to think.

And they battled, and they fought, and they tore each other apart, ripping gaping holes in the Universe, filling its embrace with beauty and chaos and emptiness and fullness of space and time. 

And the Universe was patient.

Are you listening?

My legs hurt. Can I sit down?

May you sit down.

May I sit down?

No. Stand up straight and pay attention. This is important.

❖✩✩✩❖

Fzzt.

Tango blinked. His redstone line had suddenly lost power. He frowned in confusion and straightened, joints cracking from spending so long hunched over his work.

Kelpy_Creates: Uh oh

riffraf: ??

crisismoth: uhm

Shrimplistic: It’s a sign

RUN1SS: bustline is down 

Chikngriplet: nya

3rror403: oh-

riffraf: tommy???

Nexuko2: ???

Chat began scattering around, poking around the redstone to try to figure out what was wrong. 

Tango stretched and smiled tiredly at them. “Oh boy. Let’s go check the bustline and figure out what happened, yeah?”

Chat gathered around his ankles as he traced his path back along his redstone line. As he got closer, he saw Tommy sitting next to the main bustline, fiddling with some purple wool.

“Um. . .” Tango stared at Tommy, then looked at the bustline. A block of wool was missing. 

potatoechips: Tommy!!!!!!

lily_Kalec: ?

KingPodo: Did he break it??

pearlflavoured: askdjdkflskjl

Bugs_Lee22: guys its ok

MidnightStarlight: hm

Shrimplistic: welp

Bugs_Lee22: he got hungry

LinMelon30: Tommy KEKW

“Hey, buddy!” Tango said awkwardly as he approached. “Whatcha doin’?”

Tommy glanced up, expression dark, then turned back to the wool in his hands. “I needed more wool.”

Tango tilted his head. “Um. . . okay, well I’m perfectly happy to give you some wool, just don’t take it from my redstone lines, yeah?”

Tommy huffed and hunched his shoulders a little. “Didn’t know you were using it.”

“I’m using. . . all of it.” Tango’s eyebrows knit together. “This is the main bustline, remember? So the purple line signals if the game is—”

“Prime, I know already.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “You ramble about it all the fucking time, man, it’s getting really fucking boring.”

Tango’s breath caught in his throat. 

KitzCorbz: O_O

MercuryCat: ok that’s not-

AutumnDreammm: DUDE

Its_Just_me: language

SleepyBearMama: Rude

priismns: hey!!

MercuryCat: Untrue

Tommy squinted at chat. “What’s your problem?”

Tango’s tail curled around his leg. “O-okay. It— I’m sorry you’re bored, but please don’t touch my redstone. I’m trying to work on stuff right now.”

Tommy scowled and tossed the wool and some redstone on the ground. “Whatever.”

Tango pursed his lips and knelt to pick up the wool. He made quick work repairing the bustline, then decided to give Tommy some space and returned to his redstone across the cavern. 

Only a few minutes later, however, the line lost power again, and Tango returned to find Tommy building a penis out of the wool.

Tango flushed. “What are you doing?!”

“Decorating,” Tommy said. “It can’t be ‘Dicked Out’ without massive fucking penises everywhere.”

“Nope!” Tango screeched. He rushed forward and began destroying the tower as chat erupted into a mixture of crackling laughter and mortification. “Okay, nope, we’re not doing this right now, purple wool stays on the line.”

Tommy glared at him, then turned and began destroying the orange line instead.

“Tommy.” Tango grabbed the wool from him. “All wool stays on the line, okay? Please don’t touch my redstone.”

“Or what?” Tommy crossed his arms. 

Tango closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, then opened them again. “I’m working on redstone right now. For me to know if it’s properly working, I need the bustline to stay on. This is a really important project to me, but if you’re bored, we can figure out something else for you to do.”

Tommy scoffed but said nothing.

Tango frowned, irritation morphing into concern. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Tommy said loudly, a hint of blue appearing on the tips of his ears. “Maybe I’ve just been stuck in this shithole for days with nothing to do, no food, barely any sleep— Prime’s sakes, man, do you even know how long you’ve been down here or are you always so busy with your precious fucking redstone that you completely ignore the prisoner you’re supposed to be watching?!”

Bounteaful: he has a point

Cloud_Person: oh

RUN1SS: oof

AutumnDreammm: prisoner?

Yummud143: language

TheastralWolf: That’s tru actually

pearlflavoured: take care of yourself!!

Chikngriplet: it’s been 5 hours

“. . .Oh.” Tango’s flames dimmed a little. Has it really been that long. . .?

Tommy stared at him, then guilt flashed across his face before his expression returned to annoyance. “I don’t mind skipping meals, okay? I just don’t want Xisuma to get mad because you aren’t making sure I’m following the rules.”

“No, you’re right.” Tango knelt and held a hand out to chat. “Let’s end the stream, yeah? I guess I should take a break.”

Chat flickered and began saying their goodbyes, many of them expressing concern for both Tango and Tommy. One flame burst in a flash of blue light, yelling, “Take care of yourself Tango! We care about your health more than entertainment!” before vanishing, leaving a gold nugget behind. 

“That means a lot, thank you.” Tango smiled as the rest of the flames disappeared from existence, then looked up. Tommy was frowning at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. 

Tango pocketed the gold nugget and stood. “Let’s go get some food, and then we can talk about what we can do so you aren’t bored all the time.”

Tommy squinted. “. . .What about your redstone?”

Tango raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“You’re—“ Tommy shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“Okay. Elytra or walking?”

“Walking.”

“Awesome, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Ranboo breathed on the void, and was void, and existed, and did not exist.

It was dark. Their eyes were open, but they saw nothing. They knew there was something there— something within the small room, watching them— but the room was empty, and they did not exist. 

Ranboo breathed and wondered why they could not remember the feeling of human touch. 

❖✩✩✩❖

There was someone in front of them.

Ranboo blinked. It was bright, and they were standing in a large room with a polished floor. The person was looking at them intently.

“Ran?” The person’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh god, did they—”

“Wow, hi.” Ranboo put their hand out. “Uh, nice to meet you, I’m Ranboo, I like your beanie.”

The person’s expression fell. “Oh god. You don’t even remember me. I’m Aimsey, I’m your friend.”

Ranboo continued smiling at them with their hand out. “Nice to meet you, Aimsey. You’ve got an excellent beanie.”

Aimsey ignored the hand and looked over at a wall. “Hey, look dude, we’re not even broadcasting right now, is there any reason you’ve made them like this or are you just fucking with us?”

Ranboo smiled pleasantly. 

“Oh, so sign language is against the rules now?” Aimsey glared at the wall. “They were nonverbal, asshole.”

There was a beeping noise , and Aimsey screamed, hands flying to their neck. Ranboo watched them, still holding their hand out for them to shake. 

After a few seconds, the beeping and screaming stopped. Aimsey was shaking, but they gritted their teeth and grabbed Ranboo’s hand. Their touch sent prickling tingles up Ranboo’s arm. “It’s okay, Ran, they’re just being as— jerks. You’ll remember me later.”

“I really like your beanie,” Ranboo said.

❖✩✩✩❖

They sobbed, and their fingers clawed at rough fabric, gripping and grabbing like they would be torn away— there were tears falling from Ranboo’s eyes, the smell of salt and scorching skin, and pain, and Ranboo shrieked and wailed and screamed unintelligibly— don’t take him away, please, make it stop, make it stop, I don’t want to REMEMBER—

“It’s okay, it’s okay, just breathe,” Tubbo whispered in their ear, holding them against his chest like a child. “It’s okay, you need to breathe, we’re safe.”

They were hyperventilating. They tried to suck in a breath, but it was too much and they choked on the anguish, letting out another sob. “Th-they got him, they got him, they’re gonna— gonna k-kill him—”

“I know, Ran, I know, I know, just breathe, there’s nothing we can do about that right now.” Tubbo’s hand carded through Ranboo’s hair as he planted a kiss against Ranboo’s head. 

“I r-remember,” Ranboo gasped, and the grief and the pain and the regret was agony. “I remember it, I don’t want to— I don’t want him to die, Tubbo, I don’t want— I don’t want to— I don’t want to remember it anymore, I don’t want to DO this anymore—”

Tubbo shuddered, and Ranboo knew he was crying, too. “I know, I know, but we gotta keep going, we’re going to be okay— he’s still alive, there’s nothing we can do about it, we’re going to be fine. . .”

Ranboo clung to him and wept.

❖✩✩✩❖

Ranboo stared at the screen on the wall, and was empty, and wished they could stop existing. 

The room was filled with people. Some spoke to each other and said nothing, others sat alone like Ranboo did, watching the screens with soulless eyes and vacant expressions. 

A man in a blue hoodie walked over to Ranboo and leaned against their couch. “Wow, you look like shit.”

Ranboo stared at the screen and said nothing.

The man glanced at the wall. “Tubbo’s at it again with the world-eater, huh? Do you think that’s part of the script or is it improv?”

“Tubbo. . .” Ranboo said slowly. “I know that name. I think I’ve seen this actor before.”

The man looked at them and gave them a small smile. “You don’t say?”

Ranboo tilted their head, eyes glued to the figure on the screen. The actor— Tubbo— was talking excitedly, gesturing at some huge machine they had constructed.

“I like him,” Ranboo said.

“I should hope so, considering he’s your husband and all,” the hoodie guy said casually.

Ranboo blinked at him. “. . .What?”

“Yeah, you’re married, dude.” The man yawned. “Congrats.”

Ranboo looked down at their hands. “. . .I don’t remember getting married.”

“Wow, that hurts.” The hoodie man placed a hand over his heart. “I can’t believe you forgot, honey.”

Ranboo’s jaw dropped. “I have two husbands?”

“Yeah, dude, and like fifteen children.” The man sniffled. “I bet you don’t even remember—”

“Sneeg, stop telling them you’re married to them,” A tired-looking woman called from the middle of the room. 

“Aw, come on, man! You didn’t even let me do the pregnancy bit!” Sneeg complained. 

Ranboo put a hand on their forehead. “Wait, you— you’re— Sneeg—“

Their mask flashed.

❖✩✩✩❖

“Oh shit— oh, okay. Prime.” Ranboo winced, head pounding. “Hey, Sneeg.”

“Oh, hey!” Sneeg raised an eyebrow at them. “You back with us?”

“Yeah.” Ranboo held out his hand and they fistbumped. 

“Dude, that’s like the fifteenth time this month I’ve gotten you with the marriage thing,” Sneeg said.

Ranboo groaned and adjusted their mask. “You’d think I’d be able to catch it by now.”

“Yeah, man, just be better at remembering, Prime.” Sneeg’s expression softened a little. “Do you know why they keep. . .”

“No.” Ranboo leaned back, eyes drifting back to the screen. “Bored, I guess.”

Sneeg scoffed. “Yeah. Assholes.”

Ranboo’s mask beeped and shocked them, and they flinched. 

Sneeg grimaced. “Oh, dude, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—”

“Forgot?” Ranboo brushed the hair out of their eyes with a shaking hand.

Sneeg sighed. “Yeah. I forgot.”

They lapsed into silence, attention turned again to the broadcast. 

❖✩✩✩❖

“Tommy Innit has been compromised.”

Ranboo bit their lip but kept their body frozen and rigid, staring at the masked man in front of them. “Is he. . .?”

“Yeah, he’s alive. It seems that the admins have decided to keep him imprisoned on the Hermitcraft server.” The man tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “We’re working on a plan to achieve our initial objective, but the hermits are on high alert after the disaster of your mission.”

“Yes, sir,” Ranboo murmured. “Apologies.”

The man leaned back in his chair and pulled a knife out of his pocket. Ranboo eyed it cautiously as he began flipping it around with his fingers. “For now, we have another retrieval mission for you. If you succeed, we may actually have a chance at getting a hold on Grian.”

Ranboo perked up. “Yes, sir. Will it be a solo mission or will I be—”

“Crumb will accompany you,” the man said flippantly. “All the information’s in the folder, as always I will be monitoring you through your earpiece to make sure you don’t fuck up again.”

Ranboo nodded humbly and reached for the manilla folder. 

THUD. Ranboo jerked back as the man stuck the knife in the desk an inch from their hand.

“One last thing,” the man hissed, “if you fail this, there will be consequences. The QSMP is going well right now, and we would hate to lose one of the members. Is that understood?”

Ranboo swallowed thickly, heart pounding. “Yes sir. I— I won’t let you down.”

“Good.” The man leaned back again and waved his hand dismissively. “Now get out of my sight.”

Chapter Text

I’m half white, other half also white 

I can shift between human and hybrid.

North Star destroyed crushed buzzed???

Mask attachment broken beyond repair.

I’m here for a good time, not a long time

I’m fine, but please come get me.

Tommy hesitated, looking up from the book he had been writing in. Tango was pacing around an empty area across the cavern, muttering something under his breath. Tommy closed his eyes and shifted.

“—if I modify the card processor, it should work, but I’ll need the jukebox to reach across multiple levels, so I’ll need multiple machines to run at once without overlapping. . .”

Tommy sighed and shifted back to his human form. The book felt heavy in his lap, covered in scrawled doodles and codes. 

Wasp= chip/usb/thingy

He had a weird feeling of guilt, looking at the codes. He needed to get a message out to Showfall, to update them on the situation and let Tub— let someone know he was still alive and well. At the same time, though, it felt like he was wrong to be hiding the codes from the hermits, even though his mission was none of their business. . .

North Star. . .

Tommy exhaled and shut the book. 

A few moments later, Tango came over, fingers dancing over the fur lining of his coat. “Hey, Tommy, I need to go grab some things from the shopping district, do you want to come or should I call Joe or X to come watch you?”

“Shopping district?” Tommy said skeptically. 

“Yeah, it’s like a huge area in the middle of the server where we keep our shops ‘n stuff. I need to visit Scar’s, Jevin’s, maybe Iskall’s, though that’s technically in Hermit Town, not the shopping district. . .”

Tommy dismissed the book into his inventory and stood. “Eh, sure, why not. I don’t want to interact with anyone, though.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” Tango brushed some redstone off of his hands. “There’s usually not a lot of people there, and if someone’s stocking their shop or something, there’s definitely no obligation for you to talk to them. It’ll be quick.”

Tommy huffed, not entirely believing him, but followed him out of the dungeon anyways. 

They both squinted as they emerged into the sunlight. Tango pulled out a rocket instinctually, then glanced at Tommy. “Do you want to try elytra today? It’ll take a while to walk to the shopping district, even if we use the speed bridge at Grian’s base.” 

“Whatever you want,” Tommy said.

Tango shrugged. “I just want whatever you’re more comfortable with.”

Tommy hesitated. “Well, it’s faster to use elytra. . .”

“Yeah, but do you want to use elytra?” Tango put his rocket away. “I have no problem with walking, really, it’s nice to take it slow and see the details on the bases on the way.”

Tommy shifted, unsure, then nodded. “If you’re fine with it, then, walking is— can we walk?”

Tango smiled and gestured at the nearby woods. “Sure! We can go over to Grian’s base, then take the speedbridge. You need to stick with me, though, no running off towards Grian, yeah?”

“Obviously,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes.

Tango patted him on the shoulder, then started picking his way down the sheer slopes of the mountain. Tommy followed, frowning as the snow seeped into his shoes. 

Eventually, they made it into the forest, and Tango lowered his hood, exhaling. “Whew, I got so used to the dungeon that this feels like the Nether to me.”

Tommy eyed him. “You’re a netherborn, right?”

“Mm-hm.” Tango grinned and ran a hand through his flaming hair, releasing some blue sparks. “But I mixed soul sand into my shampoo so I’d match the dungeon’s color palette better.”

Tommy snorted. “You’re fucking crazy. How do you use shampoo anyways, doesn’t the water hurt you?”

“Normally, yes, but Zedaph developed a special formula for me that lets me tolerate it,” Tango said. “Kind of like the opposite of a fire resistance potion. Most netherborns just take dust baths, but water does a better job at getting the dirt and grime off.”

Tommy’s lips twitched. “My brother used to take dust baths. That, or he’d just roll around in the snow for a while. Made him look really fucking stupid.”

“Oh!” Tango blinked. “Do warden hybrids take dust baths too? Or is it a preference thing?”

“He—” Tommy faltered, then grunted and shook his head. “He wasn’t— he was a piglin hybrid. Not my real brother.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Tango ducked below a low-hanging branch. “Piglin hybrid, huh. . .?”

Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets, lips pursing. 

After a few minutes, a shadow fell over them, and Tango cleared his throat. “Here we are! Let me message Grian real fast so he knows we’re here.”

Tommy’s head shot up. “You said I wouldn’t have to interact with anyone.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry, I’m just letting him know so he doesn’t freak out if he sees you.” Tango tapped at the device on his wrist. “I’ll tell him to leave us alone, too.”

Tommy relaxed a bit. He nodded, then turned to look at the base. “Okay, I— holy shit, what the fuck?!”

Tango looked up. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Massive levitating boulders draped in greenery, soaring pillars holding brilliant cyan towers, a physics-defying bridge carved from moss-covered stones. . . It was beautiful. 

“What the fu— fuck?!” Tommy gestured wildly at the “base”, mouth hanging open. “He built this?!”

“Yeah!” Tango gave him a confused smile. “Didn’t you come here when you first logged onto the server?”

“Yeah, but I was fuckin’ blind!” Tommy made a bewildered noise, gesturing again. “It’s— it’s huge!”

“Dude, you’ve seen Decked Out, why are you so shocked by this?” Tango said, chuckling.

Tommy put a hand on his forehead. “Mate, I thought you were the crazy megabase builder of the server! What do you mean there’s two of you building ma— massive fucking shit like this?!”

Tango stared at him a moment, then his smile widened. “Tommy. Practically everyone builds bases like this.”

Tommy spluttered incomprehensibly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to interact with anyone? I’m sure Grian would love to give you a tour!” Tango said. 

Feathers against his fingertips— dark, empty eyes— a blank face, an angry voice, a threat and a promise and the urgency to complete the mission—

The mission—

Tommy’s fingernails dug into his skin and he swallowed thickly, looking away. “N-nah, he’s probably— he’d probably freak out if he saw me. He’s definitely scared shitless of me, man, like— I’m a big man, he’d probably be afraid I’d attack him or some shit.”

“Is that so?” Tango raised an eyebrow at him, then tapped something on his communicator before slipping his hand back in his pocket. “Well, maybe some other day. Let’s get to the speedbridge, and then I can show you around the shopping district.”

Tommy nodded.

“Oh wait, do you have soul speed on your boots?” Tango muttered as they began walking again. “Shoot, we might have to go along the slow way.”

“Not a problem, bossman. I’m a warden hybrid. I got natural soul speed,” Tommy said.

Tango blinked in surprise. “Wha— really?! Wait, but normal wardens don’t—”

“I’m fast as fuck.” Tommy shifted and began darting around Tango, grinning wildly. “I’m fast as fuck, netherboy.”

“Woah, dude, slow down! You’re zooming!” Tango laughed.

“Fast as fuck,” Tommy said again, then lunged forward and hit Tango gently on the arm. “Tag! Catch me if you can!”

“Oh, you’re on,” Tango said, pulling out his elytra.

Tommy’s grin widened and he dashed away, stomach warming as the world appeared in blue vibrations before him.

A rocket fired behind him, and Tommy ducked, scrambling over some rocks— no fire came, and he kept running, tail whipping behind him in delight.

“Don’t hurt yourself!” Tango yelled from somewhere above him.

Tommy snorted and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, something whizzed through the air, followed by a cry of pain.

“Tango?!” Tommy skidded to a stop, ears flicking up. In the sky above him came the bing from a communicator.

>[TangoTek was shot by GoodTimeWithScar using {h0tguY}]

“HOTGUY!!”

Chapter Text

Tommy stumbled backwards, heart pounding. The staticky blue began to roar in his ears, and he dropped into a low crouch.

Someone landed nearby, but it wasn’t Tango— Tango must have been— killed, because there was the soft popping noises as the man collected his items—

“—midair, too, that was smooth!” The man laughed. “I couldn’t help myself, chat, it was too good an opportunity, that man never leaves his base.”

He killed Tango, Tommy thought numbly. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe—

“Okay, let’s get his stuff before it despawns. Let me. . .” The man fell silent, and through the static Tommy realized with a jolt that he was looking in Tommy’s direction. “Oh! Hello there!”

Tommy bolted.

The moss scrunched underfoot as he tore across it. Instinct, panic, adrenaline, it all drummed through his veins as he dashed across the soft turf. The man yelled something behind him and Tommy nearly collided with a wall of stone that suddenly appeared in front of him— he struck out with his claws, tearing into it, burrowing in before blocking the hole off— he could still hear the man on the other side, shouting and running towards his hiding place. 

Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! Tommy pressed his back against the cold stone, panting heavily. 

The space was too small. It was dark and the static was too bright too strong too loud and it was too small and he couldn’t breathe, he was suffocating. 

I broke the rules. He gasped, struggling to remain standing as his legs trembled beneath him. I broke the rules, they’re going to kill me, they’re going to— I can’t breathe, I’m going to die, they’re going to kill him—

A rocket fired outside. Tommy let out a strangled cry and dug his claws into the wall, scratching deep gouges into the stone as he tried not to collapse. 

It’s too loud, it’s too loud, I can’t breathe, I can’t see, it’s too loud, fuck, fuck, fuck—

“. . .ran away and dug into there, I didn’t know. . .”

“. . .good shot, I just think he’s freaking out. . . life system. . .”

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost. . .”

“Let me. . .”

The voices faded in and out of the static, then there was the sharp sound of digging. Tommy pressed himself further into the corner of his hole.

“Tommy, I—“ 

The stone broke. Tommy lashed out with his claws, tearing through flesh before he replaced the block. A muffled cry came from outside.

“Tango!”

“It’s fine, it’s just a scratch—“

Tommy tucked his arms to his chest and backed up until his back hit the wall again. I broke the rules, I broke the rules, he’s going to kill me, Dream’s going to—

He’s going to—

He—

Tommy’s legs finally gave out and he slid down the wall and collapsed on the floor. His chest heaved.

The block broke again and let in a sudden stream of light, blinding him. Tommy gasped and covered his eyes with his forearms. He hadn’t even realized he had shifted.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s me, it’s me.”

Tommy lowered his shaking arms slightly. A man was standing outside his hole, silhouetted by the afternoon sun. 

“It’s me,” the man said again. “Tango, see? I’m alright, it’s okay.”

Tango. Tommy blinked at him in recognition, then inhaled sharply, which turned into a harsh cough. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Tango broke the other block and knelt, hands hovering over Tommy. “It’s okay, I’m alright, it was just a joke, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy wheezed, tears pricking his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

Tango reached forward as if to hug him, but stopped at the last second. “It’s okay, shh, you did nothing wrong—“

“I broke the rules!” Tommy said. “I wasn’t supposed to— I r-ran off and— and—“

“It’s okay,” Tango said again. “You’re not in trouble, it was just a joke, I’m safe, and you’re safe, and nobody’s mad, okay? You’re safe.”

Tommy stared at him, then buried his head in his hands. “Can I— can I have a moment— please?”

“Of course. I’ll put one of the blocks back, but we’ll just be outside.” Tango stood. “Scar feels really bad by the way, he wouldn’t have shot me if he remembered you were with me.”

“‘S fine,” Tommy said, voice muffled by his hands. “J-just give me a minute—“

“Of course.” Tango glanced at him sympathetically, then left, placing cobblestone over the top half of the hole’s entrance.

❖✩✩✩❖

Scar leaned on his cane as Tango walked over to him. “Is he—“

“He’s fine,” Tango said softly, “just needs a minute to compose himself.”

Scar nodded. “I am really sorry, Tango, I should have gone to the meeting, I totally forgot— I just saw you while I was flying around, and Hotguy mode kicked in, and BAM!”

“It was a good shot,” Tango snickered, then became solemn. “Do you know why he reacted like that? Did you say something, or. . .?”

Scar shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think so, I was talking to my chat, and then as soon as I spotted him he just high-tailed it. I hope I didn’t scare him.”

“I don’t. . . think you scared him,” Tango muttered. “At least, not you specifically. He used to be hardcore-locked, so it could just be that he saw me die and thought you perma-killed me.”

“Ooh, yeah, that’s not great.” Scar winced. “Is there something I can do? Should I go apologize?”

Tango sighed. “No, let’s just give him space for now. He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“Right,” Scar said. 

They stood together for several minutes, chatting about Decked Out and Scarland, TCG, Jellie. . . as time went on, Scar became increasingly worried as there was no sign of Tommy.

Evidently Tango was becoming anxious as well, because he glanced over at the hole. “I think I’m going to go check on him real fast. . .”

“No need.” The block broke and Tommy stepped out. His eyes were red and puffy, but a determined scowl was on his face, and he glared at the ground as he walked over to them.

Scar’s heart sank, but he tucked his hand behind his back and stood up straight. “Mister Innit, I am so, so sorry to have frightened you, I—“

“Tommy,” the boy interrupted, a hint of blue tingeing his ears, “and I wasn’t frightened.”

“Of course, of course! Then I believe introductions are at hand, GoodTimesWithScar, at your service,” he said with a sweeping bow. 

“Scar,” Tommy repeated skeptically, eyeing him. “Well, that checks out.”

“Scar is a good friend of mine,” Tango said. “He’s an incredible builder, seriously, you should see his trees.”

“Oh, you flatter me, Tango. But I do have custom trees, that‘s true, have you seen my newer ones, Tango? Inspired by Eyvind Earle?” Scar winked at Tommy. “You might not have seen them, you’ve been in Decked Out for months.”

Tango hummed. “I think I’ve seen them in passing. . . but Tommy hasn’t seen them, maybe you should give him a tour of your base!”

Tommy’s head whipped towards him. “You said we were going to the shopping village.”

“I can go to the shopping district while you tour Scarland! I’ll just grab my redstone things, and come get you on my way back! You’ll love Scarland, trust me.” Tango gave Scar a knowing look, while Tommy gaped in faint betrayal. 

“Sounds like a marvelous plan!” Scar said breezily. He put an arm around Tommy’s shoulder and began leading him towards the Scarland entrance. “Let me show you a world of magic and wonder!”

“Tango,” Tommy said, looking back helplessly.

“Have fun!” Tango lit a rocket under him and took off, quickly gliding away towards the shopping district.

Scar grinned and began to sing. “I can show you a world, let me take you on an adventure~”

"Help," Tommy said.

Chapter Text

Tommy wasn’t sure what he expected from something called “Scarland”, but it wasn’t this. 

Scar’s cane clicked against the bricks as he led Tommy into a circular area lined with flower beds and carefully pruned trees. “Aaand as we progress into our central plaza area, you’ll see the town hall on the left, where you would go if you needed anything, if you have issues, ticket problems, a button, a tissue, a hug. . . that’s where you go! And on our right, we have the TCG arena, which— which isn’t done yet, but we’re working on it, and if you don’t go inside, you’ll be fine!”

“Arena?” Tommy perked up. Is that where he got the scars? A fighting ring?

“Oh, yes, yes, there’s quite a few of them around the server! Cub built a pyramid, Doc has one, Xisuma has one. . . for mine, I want it to be almost like a theater, so we’ll have lots of red carpet, lots of seating where you can sit back with your snacks and drinks and watch the show.”

“Do you fight in it?”

“Oh, sometimes. I’m usually too busy building, but I have my fair share of cards.”

Tommy hesitated. “Cards?”

“Mm-hm!” Scar glanced at him. “Ah, right! TCG is a deck-building card game Beef made, it’s very popular with a lot of us hermits.”

“Oh.” Tommy frowned. 

Scar tilted his head. “You look disappointed.”

“Nah, it’s just— nevermind.” Tommy crossed his arms. None of this makes any sense.

“Well, continuing on, you’ll notice the tracks set into the road, along with our lovely purple trolley, now there’s not a way to have it actually run around the park, but it’s about the concept of it. . .”

Tommy’s eyebrows crinkled together as Scar continued strolling across the square, chattering brightly about the structures and details of the park. It didn’t. . . make sense. So far, the park was just flowers and colors and popcorn, it was cheerful and way too— too happy to not have anything sinister behind it, and Tommy was tensely waiting for the other shoe to drop. A fighting ring, or a death loop machine, or a political campaign, or a fireworks trap— something lurking beyond the cheeriness.

Scar looked back at him and paused. “Is something wrong?”

Tommy chewed on his lip. “What’s. . . the point?”

“The point. . . of the trolley?” Scar blinked.

“No, just Scarland. What’s the purpose? What do you do?” 

“It’s an amusement park,” Scar said slowly. “What— what do you mean?”

Tommy scowled at him. “Who’s amusement? What’s the point of making all this?”

Scar stared at him for a moment, then something in his expression broke and shifted into what could only be heartbreak. “Oh my Prime. You’ve never been to an amusement park, have you?”

Tommy took a half-step back. “N-no. . .”

“Oh, we’ve been going about this all wrong!” Scar exclaimed. He danced forward and hooked his arm around Tommy’s, dragging him over to a food cart on the side of the road. “You don’t need a tour, you need the experience!!”

“Woah, woah, woah, what—“ Tommy said, panic spiking. 

“Scarland is meant to be enjoyed, it’s an escape, a magical experience where dreams can come to life!” Scar reached into a barrel and pulled out. . . some sort of food. He waved his hand over it, and in a twinkle of green light, it began steaming as though freshly made. “Churro?”

Tommy took the sugared stick speechlessly. There was something building inside him, and he shoved the feeling down, but as he bit into the churro, tension melting as the warmth hit his tongue, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was genuine.

Scar grinned. “It’s good, right?! I love bringing custom treats onto Hermitcraft.”

Tommy swallowed. “It’s— it’s really good. How did— is it a mod?”

“No, it’s actually a retextured golden carrot.” Scar pulled out his own churro and took a large bite. “Mm— tastes just like the real thing, though.”

Tommy brushed a bit of cinnamon off his fingers, watching in wonder as it sparkled with green light before disappearing. “That’s— actually really fucking cool. I wish Niki had this in L’Man—“

He froze halfway through the word, throat tightening. His eyes flicked up to Scar, who was looking at him curiously. 

“. . .in— her bakery—“ Tommy’s breath suddenly felt constricted. “I-I—“

Scar hummed and took another bite of his churro. “Well, retexturing may be fancy, but it can’t always replace handcrafted food. Like they say, it’s about how much love you put into the food more than the actual recipe or method.”

“I—“ Tommy exhaled. “Yeah. And she had— a lot of love for baking, she must’ve put cocaine or something in that bread cause it was good shit.”

“Sounds like I’ll need to meet this ’Niki’, then!” Scar said warmly. “Maybe I can hire her to work in the Scarland café!”

“Yeah, maybe. . .” Tommy said.

Scar smiled, then put away his churro and again put his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “You know, I bet you’d love some of my other concessions, we have popcorn, Jellie ice cream bars. . . Oh! And you have to see the Scarland balloons, I just made them last week, and they are adorable!”

Tommy ducked out of Scar’s hold. “I don’t. . . I don’t have a way to pay for anything, I don’t want to just take your stuff, especially if it’s meant to be sold.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “It’s your first amusement park, it’s on the house.”

“No, I— this is your symphony, I can’t just—”

“It’s fine,” Scar said. “Consider it an apology for scaring you earlier.”

“You didn’t—” Tommy pursed his lips, taking in Scar’s earnest expression. “. . .Okay.” 

“Excellent!” Scar beamed at him. “I’m telling ya, these balloons are just a delight, and they’ve even got a special feature. . .”

Tommy smiled a little and started to follow him, but something brushed against his legs and he stumbled, falling onto the pavement.

“Oh no! Are you okay?!” Scar gasped. 

Mrrow?

Tommy blinked. A grey and white cat stood inches away from his face, gazing at him with soft green eyes.

“Bad kitty!” Scar said, scooping her up. “Ohh, you naughty— you can’t trip our guests! You’re supposed to be the mascot!”

“Jellie?” Tommy guessed. 

“Yes, this is Jellie, and she’s normally very good and nice—“

“‘S not her fault,” Tommy said. He carefully picked himself up and held out the back of his hand for the cat to sniff. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Scar huffed and planted a kiss in her fur, then faced her towards Tommy. “Do you want to hold her?”

Tommy hesitated, then nodded. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Tommy held his breath as Scar placed Jellie in his arms. Carefully, Tommy backed a few paces away, then sat and stroked her fur, lighting up at the way she began to purr. 

Scar watched him for a moment, expression soft, then leaned his forearms against his cane. “Hey Tommy, what did you mean earlier? When you said this is my symphony?”

Tommy exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on Jellie as he scratched behind her ears. “Uh. . . you know, your. . . your passion, or whatever. It’s just something my brother used to say. He had his own. . . thing he was building, put his heart and soul into it. . . for a while, at least. Called it his ‘great unfinished symphony’. I don’t know, he went a bit off his rocker at the end. I just meant you— you really seem to love what you’re doing here.”

Jellie purred and butted her head against his hand.

“‘Unfinished symphony’. . .” Scar said quietly, looking around. “. . .Yeah. Yeah, I guess that fits.”

Tommy continued petting Jellie as memories surfaced in his mind. 

It was never meant to be.

My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!

I heard there was a special place. . .

Tommy glanced up at Scar, who was gazing fondly at the sun dipping behind the magnificent castle in the distance. His skin was littered with scars, yet the hermit looked perfectly content, and the sunset drew out a light in his eyes.

Tommy closed his eyes and curled around the cat in his lap. Jellie shifted a little, but continued purring, as if to comfort him.

Maybe this was meant to be.

Chapter Text

All the padding in his armor could not keep out the wind as Xisuma stepped out of the portal in front of Decked Out. He shivered, cold seeping into the metal plating, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of the Nether.

“Jeez,” Xisuma cringed, walking quickly towards the looming entrance of Tango’s masterpiece. “I’m never gonna get used to that.”

The inside of the structure was not much warmer than the bitterness of the snowy landscape outside— though it did keep out the wind, and soul fires crackled proudly in the entrance hall. Xisuma stopped briefly to admire the blue flames, then caught the echo of voices deep in the build and began striding towards the noise.

“. . .me on, just do it, just do it—!”

“Tommy, I told you it’s not going to work—”

“It’s gonna work, now come on, turn me on, Tango—!”

“Stop phrasing it like that—!”

Xisuma chuckled quietly and pulled out his pickaxe to mine at the glossy floor. A second later, he dropped down into the cavern of redstone machinery, stopping the conversation as his boots hit the stone with a loud THUNK.

“Sorry,” Xisuma said, straightening up. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting. . . anything?”

It became quickly apparent that he was; Tommy was staring at him like a deer in the headlights from a minecart, while Tango stood nearby with a badly constructed redstone machine of undeterminable purpose. 

“Oh! Xisuma!” Tango gave Tommy an amused grin. “We were just, uh. . .”

Tommy flushed and crossed his arms. “We were testing out my super cool redstone for my super cool idea that was going to be amazing—”

“It’s not going to work,” Tango said again, then gestured at the machine. “You forgot to connect the button to the rest of the redstone.”

Tommy swore loudly. 

Xisuma chuckled. “Before you fix that, actually, could I borrow you, Tommy? I want to have a chat.”

Tommy hesitated, looking towards Tango apprehensively. 

“It’s okay, I was going to log off soon anyways.” Tango smiled. “Mrs. T.’s going to have my head if I go another day without visiting home.”

“But—” Tommy bit his lip, then nodded. “Okay.”

Xisuma’s heart pinched a little, but he smiled. “Travel safely. Tommy, do you want to go. . . somewhere?”

“Go somewhere,” Tommy repeated flatly.

“Well, it’s just— cold, and it might take a while, so—”

“Tommy, how about you show him the living room? It’s heated,” Tango said. 

Tommy fixed him with an unenthusiastic look, then rolled his eyes and began walking across the cavern. “This way, voidboy.”

Xisuma stared after him helplessly. Tango sighed, then put his hand on Xisuma’s shoulder. “It’s okay, X, he’s like a shulker— tough on the outside, but soft once he opens up.”

Xisuma huffed a laugh. “Thanks, Tango. Say hi to Mrs. T. for me.”

Tango smiled and gave a two-finger salute, a gesture Xisuma recognized from Tommy, then vanished as he logged off.

Tommy squinted at him as Xisuma jogged to catch up. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him to say hi to his wife,” Xisuma said, confused.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed even further before he spun on his heel and continued leading Xisuma out of the winding lines of redstone.

The living room was indeed warmer than the rest of the build— a heater whirred quietly in the corner, and the floor was covered in blankets and cushions. More cushions were piled on a red-brick couch, along with a tangled pile of knitting, which Tommy quickly grabbed and shoved in a chest against the wall. Xisuma got a glimpse of balls of yarn and fabric before Tommy slammed the lid down and sat on it, cheeks pink. 

Xisuma sat on the couch facing Tommy. For a while they were silent, then Xisuma spoke. “. . .I wanted to apologize.”

“. . .Apologize?” Tommy said disbelievingly.

“Yes.” Xisuma leaned forwards, fingers clasped together. “I’m sorry for not giving you more of a chance to explain how you felt— about being on your own, about touching your stuff, about the Dream SMP, about—”

“Ok, stop, just stop.” Tommy interrupted. “What the fuck, man. Wha— I thought we were over this, I don’t want your fucking pity, I don’t want— I don’t want you to say shit just to make yourself feel better, I just want you to leave me alone.”

“I— I understand, I just—”

“No. No, I’m done. You dug into my past, and I’m not going to suck up to you just because you feel bad. I don’t need your fucking apologies.” Tommy glared at him.

Xisuma stayed quiet for a moment, then lowered his head. “Then I’m sorry I don’t know how to show you that I care. I do feel bad, yes. But you don’t have to accept my apology. I just. . .”

Xisuma trailed off, not sure what to say next, and opted for silence instead. Tommy stared at him, then huffed and fidgeted with the latch on the chest. “. . .Why do you want to apologize so badly? You already know I’m not going to believe what you say.”

“I know,” Xisuma chuckled softly. “But I know I would regret it if I didn’t at least try.”

Tommy squinted at him.

Xisuma looked up at him, then sighed and leaned back against the couch. “. . .What do you know about voidwalkers?”

Tommy frowned in confusion. “Um. . . they die if they’re in oxygen for more than five and a half minutes, they walk. . . in the void. . . um. . . you’re a voidwalker. . .”

“Yes, I am,” Xisuma said, lips twitching. “The first one discovered by humans.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Voidwalkers have only been known to the public for thirteen years,” Xisuma explained. “The first founder of Hermitcraft, Generik, discovered me in the void, and began studying and raising me.”

“You didn’t make Hermitcraft?” 

“No. After two years of teaching me the common language and culture, Generik developed a suit that would filter oxygen into void, allowing me to travel to the mid-atmosphere of the end islands, as well as other dimensions. It didn’t function too well at first, and there were more than one incidents of fainting, but eventually he got it to work, and brought me to the overworld.

I can still remember spawning on the other side of the portal. Being met with hundreds of new sights and sensations— the colors, the sounds, the mobs, all of it was so unfamiliar— and it was beautiful. All I had known before Generik found me was darkness and endless walking, but here was a world of life, and growth, and creation. It was beautiful.

I started exploring immediately, of course. Generik mostly kept to himself, after introducing me to the overworld, as he had other projects to focus on, but that left me free reign to wander and interact with the other players of the world. They taught me the names of plants and animals, showed me how to build and destroy blocks, and within weeks I felt like I belonged. One year later, Generik created Hermitcraft.”

Tommy slid from the chest to the floor, listening intently. The heater blew past him and ruffled his hair.

“The first season was a mess, honestly, but it was fun, and it helped me connect to the outside world, and the other way around— Generik suggested I not draw attention to my species in order to show our viewers that voidwalkers are players, not mobs.”

Xisuma hesitated, then shrugged. “Or at least, half-players.”

“Half-players?” Tommy said.

Xisuma gestured towards himself. “Voidwalkers are only found within the Minecraft realm, like piglin or enderman hybrids. However, like the ender dragon, only one voidwalker can exist at a time in a single world. We spawn like mobs, and wander the void endlessly like mobs, but our minds and code are that of a player.”

Tommy frowned. “So. . . you’re a player that acts like a mob?”

“Essentially, yes.” Xisuma shrugged again. “It’s pretty complicated and hard to study.”

“Okay. . .” Tommy picked at his sleeve. “Why are you telling me this?”

Xisuma took a deep breath. “There was. . . a glitch. At the end of season two. We’d just had a minor update, 1.8.1, and my presence as a voidwalker somehow confused the debug into reacting with my code. Because only one voidwalker is meant to exist in the world at one time, at least naturally, my code glitched and duplicated itself.

I didn’t notice it for a while— I felt fine, and the glitch wasn’t big enough to trigger any errors on the admin panel. But you can imagine my surprise when, one day, I discovered an identical copy of myself walking through the void. 

I mean, everything about him seemed the same— his height, his features, his build— it was all entirely identical to mine. At first, I thought it was just a feature of all voidwalkers, but he even had the same face-scar from when I fell on my shovel in the overworld. I was absolutely blown away, and my shock was very quickly replaced with excitement and giddiness as I realized I could bring him to the overworld, too.

I started working with Generik and Tango to make another suit of armor for the clone, who we dubbed ‘Not-X’. My double didn’t speak much, but I would talk for hours to him about my adventures and experiences in the overworld. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the overworld itself, but I could tell he liked having another voidwalker around. He would draw pictures of my stories in the endstone dust. 

We finished the suit just as the season ended— and I gathered all the hermits at spawn to welcome Not-X to the overworld.”

Xisuma swallowed thickly, gaze dropping to the floor. “I was so excited— I couldn’t wait to show him the life and color of the overworld, I couldn’t wait to have another voidwalker around— but when he entered the end portal and spawned, his reaction was— it was the opposite of what I’d wanted. 

He started screaming and destroying everything— tore up the ground and attacked the hermits who had been waiting for him, nearly killed Keralis, and probably would have gone on ravaging the area if we hadn’t banned him before he could do more damage. 

Luckily, he calmed down outside the server, and we decided to let him onto season three, but not on-camera until we knew he would be able to handle it. And the public— they still didn’t really understand voidwalkers being players, and if they saw Not-X’s violence. . . it wouldn’t have been good.

For the most part, he did alright after that initial freak-out. He tagged along with me, and got to know the other hermits, but he was snappish and ill-mannered, and that along with the disaster of his first spawn gave him the nickname ‘Evil Xisuma’, or Ex for short.

In hindsight, the nickname probably did more harm to him than we realized. We often teased him whenever he got angry or overreacted, and he became more and more reactive and destructive. It was like he was trying to fit the nickname, and it quickly stopped being fun to poke at his temper. 

It got to the point where he would attack and kill us, or set traps in our bases. I pulled him aside and had a chat with him about his habits, which seemed to help a little. He switched from violent attacks to griefing, which, although annoying, was better than the killing, so we tried allowing him on camera. We did a bit— he would pretend to possess me, pull a prank, and then blame it on me— but he always went overboard with the pranks and continued causing more destruction than necessary without taking responsibility for it. 

1. . . reacted badly. I was tired of his griefing and lack of respect and responsibility, and the other hermits were annoyed, and so I. . . said things I shouldn’t have, and he left Hermitcraft.

He just disappeared for a while. I don’t know where he went, as by the time I left the server to look for him he had taken a pod to the city, and I couldn’t track him down. I assumed he was out in the city causing trouble; maybe getting arrested, I don’t know, at that point I couldn’t care less. The season continued as normal until he reappeared out of nowhere and tried to destroy the server. Luckily, I had made a copy of the server for recording purposes, but he completely erased the original in a single day before vanishing again. 

Every season after that, he would do the same— show up, wreak havoc, and disappear. His pranks became less violent as the years went on, but it was frustrating to not have any explanation as to where he went or why he was attacking our server. Eventually, he claimed to have ‘reformed’ and found a new way of life, but refused to elaborate and continued with his pattern of only visiting once every season.

He never appeared in season seven, however. And in the last season, s-season eight. . .”

Xisuma swallowed. There was a lump in his throat and tears pricking at his eyes, and all the strength of his armor could not protect him from the memories that plagued his mind. 

“He hacked the firewall. I don’t know where he learned to do it, but he corrupted the code that tied us together. He— tore at the debug that had made him to be so much like me in the first place, and manipulated it— so we could never exist in a Minecraft world at the same time together. As he was hacking, I panicked and banned him— but it was only later that I realized what he had done.”

Tommy stared at Xisuma. “. . .Did he ever come back?”

Xisuma inhaled and shook his head. “That was the last I ever saw of him.”

They sat in silence for a while. Tommy had a strange expression on his face, and had tucked his knees up to his chin. Xisuma turned his head and took deep breaths, trying to stop his eyes from stinging.

“You remind me so much of him,” Xisuma said eventually with a hollow chuckle. “Small and incredibly violent—”

“I’m not small,” Tommy interrupted.

“Then just violent.” Xisuma’s lips twitched, then his expression fell again and he turned back to Tommy. “I treated Ex so badly— I think I ruined his life. I was so immature, and rash, and— and stupid, and— and I just— I don’t want to hurt anyone else. But I’ve clearly hurt you, and I’m sorry, and I just— I just want to do something right for a change.”

Tommy said nothing for a beat, then shifted. “. . .Well, you must be doing something right, if Tango’s still here.”

Xisuma blinked, then smiled softly. “Tango is a great person. I’m really lucky to have him on the server.”

“Yeah.” Tommy picked at his sleeve some more, then hesitantly spoke. “I’m not your clone. . . or double, or glitch, or whatever the hell you call him— and I don’t want you to think that being nice to me will make up for the shit you did to him— or to me.”

Xisuma nodded. “Of course— I didn’t mean—”

“Stop making excuses,” Tommy said, “And just fuckin’— move on. I don’t need your apologies, I’m not ready to forgive you, I just want you to treat me like I’m a person. Not Evil X, or Not-X, or Innit, or some traumatized teenager you need to fix— you can’t fix me. You can’t change the shit that’s happened to me, so stop apologizing for it.”

Xisuma took in his words, then slowly nodded again. “. . .Okay. What can I do instead to make you feel welcome on the server?”

Tommy paused.

Chapter Text

The day after his conversation with Xisuma, Tommy sat on the ground just outside the borders of Decked Out’s snowy landscape. Dirt covered his hands and clothes, and he picked at blades of grass, frowning thoughtfully. A shallow hole was dug out in front of him, and after a moment of staring at it, he moved to stand, then hesitated and sat back down with a huff.

“Having trouble?”

Tommy jumped and snapped his head around to find Scar standing behind him. “Ga—! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Scar chuckled. “Sorry. What’re you up to?”

Tommy turned back to the hole. “Digging.”

“I can see that.” Scar sauntered up to the edge of the hole and peered in. “Gathering dirt?”

“No. . .” Tommy ripped up a handful of grass. “Xisuma said I could build a house.”

Scar’s eyes lit up immediately. “You’re building a base?! That’s great! This is a good spot, too, you’re right next to Decked Out so you can play it whenever you want once it opens!”

“Yeah, I guess.” Tommy tossed the grass into the hole.

Scar raised an eyebrow, then glanced around. “Hm. Where’s Tango? I thought—”

“I don’t have to be accompanied anymore,” Tommy interrupted. “I’m not allowed to leave the server, but I can be on my own as long as I check in with the admins once a day. Once a week, if I behave.”

“Ohhh.” Scar’s lips twitched knowingly. “Well, I still would have thought Tango would be hanging out with you. You two seem pretty close.”

Tommy snorted. “I sent him away. He kept— placing shit.”

“Placing—?”

“He was trying to build a base for me.” Tommy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little. “He didn’t let me get a word in, just kept placing shulkers and going on about block palettes and structure and textures and shit— so I made him tear down what he had built and go back to working on Decked Out.”

Scar laughed. “Gotcha, he was overly excited, huh? Well, if you do need building advice, there are a few dozen hermits who would be more than willing to help you.”

“I don’t want building advice, I just want to make something for myself. I just can’t figure out how to start,” Tommy said.

“Getting started is the hardest part.” Scar hummed and carefully jumped into the hole. “What ideas do you have so far?”

“Hole.” Tommy scowled.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Scar chuckled. 

Tommy sighed and stood. “I want it to be deep. With like, multiple levels? But it could also have a top part, so it’s not just a random pit in the middle of the forest.”

“Okay, so basement-heavy. That’s a good start! Any ideas for block palettes?” Scar beamed.

“I don’t—” Tommy waved his hands around. “I don’t fuckin’ know, probably oak since it’s in the area, and cobblestone— I don’t know!”

“Well, you don’t have to just use what’s in the area. The shopping district has lots of block varieties to choose from, and if you have something else in mind, Tango or I could go grab it— this area was originally a spruce forest before Tango tore it down and turned it into Decked Out, so earthy tones could look good. Oh, or you could match it to your hybrid form, that would be sick! Maybe stripped crimson wood and skulk? Plus, the cyan would be on-theme with your neighbors, so maybe you could incorporate some warped wood as well—”

“Scar!” Tommy cut him off, exasperated. “I don’t want building advice!”

“Right, right!” Scar threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, you come up with the color palette, and I’ll help you gather it—”

“No! Scar!” Tommy slid into the hole with him and gave him a light shove. “You go work on your build, and I’ll work on mine! I want to do it my way!”

Scar laughed. “Okay, okay! But if you need materials, message me, and I’ll—”

“Scar!”

“Okay!” Scar jumped and lit a rocket, taking off with his elytra. “Just message me if you need help!”

“I can build on my own!” Tommy shouted.

Scar did a flip and flew off towards the shopping district.

Tommy huffed in annoyance, but he was grinning. “Hermits, I swear. . .”

❖✩✩✩❖

Scar wasn’t lying when he said the hermits would be willing to help him build. Just on the first day of digging, Tommy saw at least five separate people fly overhead, most pausing or circling over the area a few times to observe the deepening hole. He hadn’t even built anything yet, it was just a hole.

He had just started placing ladders to get out of said hole when he heard a thump in the grass above him. A moment later, a girl poked her head over the side of the hole, ginger hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Hey!”

Tommy stared up at her warily. “Hey.”

“Whatcha doin’?” the girl said.  

Tommy gestured at the ladder. “Building.”

“Ohh.” The girl rested her elbows on the edge of the hole. “Yeah, it definitely looks like that’s what you’re doing.”

Tommy made a face at her and continued placing ladders.

After a moment, the girl spoke again. “What’s your name?”

“You know it.”

“Yeah, but it’s polite to ask!”

“. . .Tommy.”

“Okay!” the girl said cheerfully. “I’m Gem!”

Tommy gave her a half-hearted wave and turned back to his work.

After a minute or so, he climbed out of the pit. Gem remained lying on her stomach on the grass, but her eyes were trained on him as he walked over to his chest and began rifling through it.

“. . .What are your friend’s names?” she said eventually.

Tommy blinked at her. “What?”

“I assume they were your friends. Or coworkers.” Gem rolled onto her side, deer ears flicking. “The goat man? And teleport-y tall dude. Y’know, the hackers.”

Tommy tensed. “The admins have their code. Ask them.”

“Nah, Joe only got the teleporter’s. And just because we have the nametag doesn’t mean we know their preferred name,” Gem said. 

Tommy hesitated, then turned his attention back to the chest. “I’m not in the mood to be interrogated right now.”

“It’s not interrogation, I’m just trying to make friendly conversation!” Gem sat up and began picking bits of grass and dirt out of her braid. “Why don’t you ask me a question, and then I’ll ask you one, and then—”

“One question,” Tommy sighed. 

Gem brightened. “Great! You go first.”

Tommy chewed on his lip. “. . .Do you know what happened to my friends?”

Gem nodded. “Yeah, I was sent out to help when we realized something was wrong with the admins, and teleporter guy got mad at me for pulling goat boy off the wall and trying to free the admins, so he did some posing with a knife, it was really cute, and then I scared him off and he grabbed goat boy and teleported away!”

Tommy hesitated, processing, then exhaled slowly. “Okay. So they got away. How much did you hurt them?”

“I cut the teleporter's chest,” Gem admitted. Tommy must have reacted, because she quickly waved her hands in renouncement. “I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to get him to leave, and it wasn’t fatal or anything, just a shallow cut. I wouldn’t have killed him.”

“I— okay.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. They’re. . . okay.”

Gem leaned forward. “My turn! This is really important, okay?”

Tommy eyed her apprehensively. “Sure. . .”

“How old are you?” she said.

“Oh my Prime,” Tommy groaned, “What is it with you people and my age?!”

“I just wanna know if you’re older than me!” Gem said earnestly. 

Tommy crossed his arms. “I’m twenty-one.”

Gem punched the air with her fists. “Yes!! I’m not the youngest on the server anymore!”

Tommy gaped at her for a moment, then huffed and looked away. “Okay, well, I’m still the best looking.”

“Ooh, really?” Gem grinned. “I would’ve taken you to be an Etho fan.”

“Etho’s on the server?!” Tommy said, surprised.

“Oh, so you are an Etho girlie!”

“I’m not— my friend liked him!”

“Goat boy or teleporter dude?”

“I have more friends than just those two!”

Gem gave him a look.

“. . .It was Tubbo.” Tommy muttered. “Goat boy.”

“Knew it,” Gem said.

❖✩✩✩❖

Cobblestone pillars circled around the spruce floor covering the pit. Tommy disappeared through a trapdoor in the ground, and a scraping sound soon came from below.

A shadow passed overhead, and then someone landed on one of the cobblestone pillars. They stayed for a moment, observing the building, then took off again, leaving a single grey feather behind.

When Tommy came to the surface again, a red shulker sat on the grass.

❖✩✩✩❖

“The andesite is lighter, see, so if you put it towards the top— yes, exactly! And then because the mossy cobble is darker, it goes—”

“On the bottom.” Tommy mined out a chunk from the bottom of his walls and replaced it with the greenish stone. 

Tango nodded enthusiastically. “You’re getting the hang of it!”

Tommy stepped back, examining his work. “. . .It’s easier than I thought it would be.”

Tango shrugged. “Even basic texturing can elevate a build. It looks good!”

“Okay.” Tommy opened the red shulker and peered inside. “Where do I put the moss?”

Tango leaned over his shoulder. “If I had to guess, whoever left you this shulker meant for you to use it in terraforming. Or, you could use it to make more mossy cobblestone.”

“I can’t terraform,” Tommy said flatly.

“There’s always time to learn!” Tango grabbed out a block of moss, picking it apart between his fingers. “You should ask Gem to help you, she’s a great teacher, and she’s really young too!”

“Gem,” Tommy said, “is a wrong’un.”

Tango raised an eyebrow. “. . .Is it because she’s a woman?”

Tommy froze.

❖✩✩✩❖

“For the record,” Tommy muttered, “I love women, and also, I could have done this on my own.”

“Sure, but it would just look like a cube in the middle of nowhere.” Gem put her hands on her hips. “I’m thinking we could add something to blend it more with Decked Out, maybe a boat on the river carrying a ravager past?”

“We are not putting a ravager next to my house.” Tommy sprinkled bonemeal over another mossblock, then tore out the azalea that sprung up. 

Gem filled in another layer of dirt. “How about skulk? You’re a warden hybrid, right?”

Tommy hesitated. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I wouldn’t mind skulk.” Tommy carefully planted an orange tulip in the soft soil. “But it won’t blend well with the moss and grass.”

“I can make it work.” Gem squinted at the river. “Maybe we just do it in the riverbed, and build up a deepslate shore?”

Tommy straightened and looked over at the area. “That could look good. And then transfer the deepslate into mossy cobblestone so it can blend with the greens.”

“You have an unhealthy obsession with cobblestone.”

“It’s the best block—!”

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy stood with Xisuma on the dirt path leading up to his house, looking over the build. Stone walls held up a sloped cyan roof, broken up by white-tinted windows. Flowers carpeted the surrounding grounds, and custom trees shaded the area with dappled leaves. A cow mooed softly from a fenced-off area nearby.

“It’s beautiful,” Xisuma commented. He turned to Tommy. “What do you think?”

Tommy stared at the house— his house. “. . .I like it.”

Xisuma’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he nodded. “I’m glad.”

Tommy stared a moment longer, then shifted, tail curling around his leg. He could hear the skulk in the river, pulsing to his heartbeat. His shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up underground. His bed was hidden in a small nook in the wall, concealed by a handmade grey curtain to keep out the light of the torches beyond. He stared at the curtain, breathing deeply, then closed his eyes and shifted.

The torches’ soft crackles turned to the sound of a roaring blaze. Every shift of fabric was a tearing, ripping sound, and even his breaths were like thunder in his ears. 

But only his own heartbeat thudded through the house.

He was alone.

He was safe.

Tommy stayed there a moment longer, listening to the noise bounce around the small space, then shifted back and swung his legs out of bed. He toed at the floor carefully, then slowly transferred his weight onto his feet until he was standing. He waited a few seconds, then took a deep breath and pulled back the curtain.

Nothing looked out of place. His chests were stacked haphazardly against the wall, various clothing items were strewn across the floor, and a redstone lamp glowed warmly from the center of the ceiling. 

Tommy glanced around again, then stepped lightly out into the basement area. The floor was cold on his bare feet, and he quickly got to work dressing and getting ready for the day. 

It was the first real sleep he’d had in a while. Usually, one of the hermits slept to skip the night, and being within the server meant that there was no detriment to avoiding sleep, other than phantoms, so he usually stayed awake during the timeskips. Sleeping did help him feel refreshed and energized, though, so he’d decided to put his newly-built bedroom to use. Didn’t hurt to reset his spawn point, either.

The morning passed uneventfully. He didn’t have anybody drop by to visit, so he spent a few hours mining, tending to his garden, and taking care of Chonk, his cow. It was peaceful.

Near noon, his communicator buzzed with a message from Tango inviting him to hang out with him at Decked Out. 

Tommy brought a few jacket potatoes with him. Tango had a bad habit of forgetting to eat when focused on his redstone, and sure enough, Tango’s stomach growled as soon as he caught sight of the meal. 

While he was eating, he walked Tommy through the newly-built third level of the dungeon. Tango challenged Tommy to run through it in his hybrid form, which was too easy with his blue sound-sight.

According to Tango, his sound-sight was called ‘echolocation’, and emanated from special bones vibrating in his torso, which was why his stomach felt warm when he used it. 

It was also apparently cheating, and he made Tommy run through the dungeon again, this time fully blind.

>[TommyInnit hit the ground too hard]

And then it was Tommy arguing that it wasn’t fair , since everyone else would at least have partial sight, even with the wardens’ shrouds of darkness. 

They compromised for Tommy doing an extra test run once Tango actually had the wardens in.

Time passed. Tommy visited Scarland and pampered Jellie with cuddles and treats. Scar showed off his Hotguy gify shop, and Tommy walked away with plenty of “free samples” in merch to hang up around his house. 

He still wouldn’t use an elytra, but Scar still taught him the absolute delight of sneakily shooting Tango with an arrow when he was least expecting it.

He tried shooting Gem once, and quickly learned that she was not to be messed with. 

Time passed. He added another level to his basement, accessible by a hidden piston door, and began stockpiling various valuables and supplies inside. It was a habit more than anything, and he was surprised to find as he was building it, that he didn’t feel that it was necessary. 

Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, so he continued acquiring weapons and armor alike.

Time passed. Tommy added a piano to his base. Gem walked in once while he was playing, and came back the next day to introduce him to Impulse. A week later, they held karaoke night, with Tommy on the keyboard, Impulse on the drums, Xisuma on the guitar, and Gem, Scar, Tango, and Wels taking turns with vocals. Impulse suggested they make it a weekly event in the shopping district, and everyone enthusiastically agreed.

Tommy still wasn’t familiar with most of the hermits; he wasn’t fully comfortable with most of the ones he had met. He still flinched when rockets were set off, or when someone touched him without warning, or when someone spoke a little too loud. He still added to the hidden basement, creating bags of food and supplies in case he needed to take off. He still woke up with his throat sore from screaming and claw marks on his face and neck. 

But time passed, and he was happy, and maybe that was enough.

❖✩✩✩❖

Pesky Bird , 3:14 

>I have a favor to ask 

>Would you be at all able to access a media library

>I need something researched

Potato Man , 8:30 

>Sure mate what’s up

❖✩✩✩❖

Potato Man, 12:23

>idk mate it just feels like acting to me

>Like there’s bloopers and everything

>And it’s feels scripted too

Pesky Bird, 12:24

>Yeah but there’s no moments where it feels real?

>Like the actors take it super seriously

>Or they genuinely react to what’s happening

Potato Man, 12:24

>That’s just good acting Grian

>Like idk what to tell you

>It seems perfectly ordinary to me

Pesky Bird, 12:24

>Just keep an eye out

❖✩✩✩❖

Potato Man, 5:15

> Sent a link: Watch: TommyInnit Is Exiled From The Dream SMP…

>Check this out

Pesky Bird, 6:59

>huh

❖✩✩✩❖

Pesky Bird, 18:06

>Thinking of you

> Image of redstone in a bowl with a spoon sticking out of it

Potato Man, 18:06

>haha

>save some for me ;)

Pesky Bird, 18:06

>Lol

>When are you getting back

Potato Man, 18:06

>my flight got delayed

>So probably not until early morning tuesday

Pesky Bird, 18:07

>damn

>That sucks :(

Potato Man, 18:07

>Yeah

>Hey Gri

Pesky Bird, 18:08

>Ya

Potato Man, 18:08

>I think you were right about the dream smp

>look at this

> Image could not be downloaded

Pesky Bird, 18:08

>It’s not letting me view it

Potato Man, 18:08

>Hang on I’ll resend it

>Somethings weird about this

Pesky Bird, 18:08

>What is it?

>??

Pesky Bird, 18:10

>can you try emailing it?

>Or send me the source you got it from?

Pesky Bird, 18:11

>Mumbo?

>???

>Did your comm die?

Pesky Bird, 23:47

>U there?

Pesky Bird, 5:30

>Mumbo?

Pesky Bird, 9:12

>why can’t I see you?

Pesky Bird, 12:00

>Mumbo

>Where did you go

>Why can’t I see you

>What’s happened

>Mumbo pls answer

Pesky Bird, 12:01

>This isn’t funny

>Where are you

Pesky Bird, 12:02

>What happened

❖✩✩✩❖

Xisuma’s communicator buzzed.

Chapter Text

New video from Showfall Media: The Inauguration

Xisuma stared at his communicator, then tapped the notification and pulled up the video. He watched it through once, twice; his brow furrowed. 

<(You whisper to TommyInnit): Hey Tommy do you think I could come over real quick

>(TommyInnit whispers to you): im in the nether rn

<(You whisper to TommyInnit): can I meet you somewhere?

<(You whisper to TommyInnit): Showfall released a new video and I don’t understand it

>TommyInnit: on my way

>TommyInnit: house

Xisuma spotted Tommy leaving Tango’s Nether portal as he was flying towards Tommy’s house. He turned sharply and swooped down to find Tommy leaning on the frame, panting and sweating.

“Are you alright?” Xisuma asked, concerned.

“I’m— fuck. I’m fine,” Tommy gasped. “Just— out of shape.”

“How far did you run —?”

“Just show me the video.” 

Xisuma stood next to Tommy and enlarged his communicator panel so they could both see it, then tapped the video. Tommy leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen.

Darkness surrounded a television crackling with purple static. The static shifted into harsher grains, then words began to appear.

Welcome. You have our attention.

Please ensure you are alone. There are precautions in place.

Tommy glanced at Xisuma briefly, then turned back to the video.

The inauguration is necessary. Prove your worth.

Please remain emotional.

The purple static returned, this time with a symbol smeared in red on its backdrop.

Act upon first impulse.

Tommy held his breath. 

Cats or Dogs?

“Cats,” Tommy said immediately.

Xisuma hesitated, looking sideways at the boy.

“It—” Tommy gestured towards the screen. “It said to act upon first impulse. And this one doesn’t have a wrong answer.”

Xisuma scrubbed the video back to the beginning. “I don’t understand what this is. ‘The inauguration’? ‘Remain emotional’? ‘Cats or dogs’? It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s because you’re not the intended audience.” Tommy pointed at the corner of the screen. “‘T_2’. Trailer 2. They’re preparing for another show. So, they’re offering the audience questions to determine what will best satisfy them.”

Xisuma frowned. “But then why does it ask for you to be alone? I watched it alone before, and nothing changed between that and when I watched it with you.”

Tommy stared at it in silence, then rubbed his arm. “Can— can I take your communicator to the Nether? And watch it on my own?”

“Yes, but it didn’t change when I watched it alone—”

“Again, because you’re not the intended audience,” Tommy said. “They— Showfall has ways of hiding messages— for specific people. Maybe, if I watch it alone, I can hear something. . .”

Xisuma’s eyes widened in understanding. “I see. They might have put something in the static that only you can hear?”

Tommy pursed his lips and nodded.

Xisuma took a deep breath, then unbuckled his communicator from his wrist and handed it to Tommy. “Come back when you’re done, okay?”

“Of course.” Tommy grabbed the communicator, an expression of surprise flashing briefly across his face. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sir?” Xisuma repeated, confused.

“Um— X. Thank you. Xisuma. Uh— yeah.” Tommy blushed and quickly stepped through the portal.

Xisuma exhaled, and settled down next to the obsidian frame to wait.  

One minute turned to five, and five to eight— Xisuma stood and stared at the swirling portal, uneasiness pooling in his gut— but just as he was about to enter, Tommy appeared back in the overworld, expression blank. 

“Did you hear anything?” Xisuma asked anxiously. 

Tommy stared at Decked Out, then licked his lips and turned to Xisuma. “Nothing. It links to other videos, but those didn’t have anything, either. I don’t think the message is meant for me.”

Xisuma sighed in disappointment and took his communicator back. “Okay. Okay. But you think there is a message of some kind, right? We’re just not the people it’s directed towards. So then who. . .?”

“Who else would th— Showfall have a special interest in?” Tommy said.

Xisuma blinked. “You don’t think. . . it’s for Grian?”

Tommy crossed his arms. “Probably. Or Pearl. Someone with an ability to sense things to a higher level than the rest of us.”

Xisuma nodded. “. . .Right. Okay. I’ll have to call a meeting. Thanks for your help, Tommy.”

Tommy bit his lip and looked away. “Sure. Hey X, if they release another video. . .”

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Xisuma promised. 

Tommy’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

Xisuma patted his back, then flared his elytra and took off, winging his way towards the shopping district. 

<Xisumavoid: Meeting at bdubs coffee shop in ten mins. Not planned but it's about showfall. Sorry for the late notice.

>(Grian whispers to you): we need to talk

>Grian: Perfect

❖✩✩✩❖

With the meeting being so out of the blue, it wasn’t surprising that less than half of the hermits actually showed up, but Xisuma hadn’t expected Grian to immediately take charge as soon as he arrived.

“I need to know something from all of you right now,” Grian said urgently, wings flaring from his perch on the counter. “Has anyone been able to contact Mumbo within the past two days?”

The hermits glanced at each other. Impulse cleared his throat, looking confused. “Is something wrong, Grian. . .?”

“Yes,” Grian spoke rapidly. “Mumbo was in the airport two days ago, waiting to come back to Hermitcraft, and he stopped talking out of nowhere, and he still won’t respond, and I can’t see him—”

“Okay, feathers, deep breaths,” Scar said, wheeling over. He took Grian’s hand and patted it reassuringly. “Let’s not assume the worst.”

“You said he was in the airport?” Cub asked. At Grian’s worried nod, he raised an eyebrow. “You can’t use communicators on an airplane. So, maybe he just lost signal—”

“For two days?!” Grian stressed. “He would have told me if he was getting on the plane—”

“Maybe he forgot to charge his communicator.” Scar squeezed Grian’s hand. “You know how scatterbrained Mumbo is.”

“No, no, he wouldn’t have— he would have—” Grian stammered.

“Grian,” Pearl interrupted. She stared at him intently, back straight. “You said you can’t see him?”

Grian met her eyes, swallowed, and gave a tiny nod.

Oh.

“There could be many explanations for this,” Doc said slowly. “Your Sight is not always so precise, and if Mumbo is somewhere you don’t expect, then—”

“No.” Xisuma stood. All eyes turned to him as he placed his communicator down flat on the table. “I have something you need to see.”

❖✩✩✩❖

Grian sat alone in the Nether hub, communicator held in front of him. He took a shaking breath, then stretched his wings out and closed his eyes. His stomach churned as the screen appeared in his mind in vibrant purple. Words pierced through his eyelids like lasers. 

Life or Death?

Death, Grian thought immediately, and tapped the screen to take him to the next video. 

Interesting.

Let’s test that.

You or them?

The static disappeared. A man was tied to a chair in a dark room, face covered by a square, but Grian Looked at it harder, concentrating, and it faded away.

A pale face. Dark hair. 

A horribly familiar mustache. 

Mumbo.

And then, like a long-forgotten rot, his mind supplied him with a thought: Them.

Grian vomited.

Chapter Text

Pearl had killed the last of the Watcher cult when she was twenty three. 

This, she was sure of. She had slit the last man’s throat with her own hands, watched as his life left his body, then incinerated it until there was nothing left, as she had done with every other member of the cult. 

There were no loose ends, no-one who escaped her wrath, no remnants of their teachings and philosophies. She made certain not to overlook any details, and nothing compared to the triumph she felt when she had finally destroyed the people that had hurt her and Grian for so long. 

There were no survivors.

Yet—

“We have to face the facts, Grian, nobody else would be so set on kidnapping us—”

“They’re only targeting me, if it was the Watchers they would be trying to get both of us, you know that! And you eliminated the cult, there’s no way they built themselves up so quickly—”

“They’re gods, Grian—”

“They need humans to do their bidding!”

“Yeah, Showfall!” Pearl began to pace. Grian remained in his nest, surrounded by blankets, but his feathers were ruffled. “Look, Grian, even if I did kill everyone in the cult— and I know I did, that’s not the problem— even then, the Watchers have ways of manipulating more people into following them.”

“I just don’t think a media company would—“

“Are you kidding me?! Grian, it’s entertainment!”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Grian said, exasperated. “I know the Watchers’ motivations, I just don’t see what the company would get in return! Humans don’t follow people so blindly unless they’re promised something in return.”

Pearl slammed her arm into Grian’s counter. “That doesn’t matter! The point is, Showfall is either with the Watchers or at the very least knows about them, and either way, they’re coming for you, and I won’t let you be taken away again!!”

They stared at each other for a minute, both breathing heavily, both tense with mirror whirlwinds of emotion contained within them. Pearl’s wings and hands shook, and she turned away, dragging a hand down her face.

“Dammit, Grian. . .” She said.

Grian bowed his head and grabbed a pillow, clutching it close to his chest. “. . .What do we do?”

Pearl stood for a moment, then walked over and knelt, taking Grian’s hand. “We have to run.”

“What?!” Grian’s wings flared out, flinging a blanket to the side. “Pearl we can’t—“

“We have to,” Pearl repeated, face determined. “There’s no other option. They know where we are—“

“Are you insane?!” Grian yelled. “We can’t just leave Hermitcraft, this is— this—!”

“It’s the only way! I don’t like it either, but they already hacked us once, they already stole Mumbo, you know they won’t give up as long as they know we’re here!” Pearl insisted. 

Grian yanked his hand back at the mention of Mumbo. “We are not abandoning our friends! If they have Mumbo, we need to focus on getting him back, not running away with our tails between our legs! I’m not doing that!”

“Would you rather let them be captured and killed in front of us?! Did you learn nothing from Evo—?!”

“Do not bring them into this!” Grian’s wings and eyes flashed purple and he thrust the pillow into Pearl’s arms aggressively. “We didn’t have a choice then, but I won’t leave Hermitcraft and let the Watchers ravage another family!”

Pearl hissed and looked away. “Grian—“

“No! I’m not leaving.” Grian grabbed her shoulders and met her eyes with steely resolve. “I’m not. Leaving.”

Pearl pursed her lips and looked away again. Grian released her shoulders and fell back into his nest, wings bleeding back to grey as they slumped. 

“Where would you even go?” He asked, voice quiet. “Hermitcraft is the safest server in the world.”

“It was,” Pearl muttered, “until it got hacked by a teenager.”

Grian shifted. “Xisuma’s code weaving is advanced, and adaptive, so it will react faster to intrusive magic attacks, and Tango added another layer of security around the firewall—“

“It won’t be enough.” Pearl dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. “It won’t be enough, Gri, they’re gonna tear through the wall and kill everyone— I feel so trapped.”

Grian shuffled forward and wrapped her in a hug. “I know, I know, but think about it— they haven’t attacked since Tommy got in, and they targeted Mumbo because— because he was the only one off-server and alone. Hermitcraft is filled with the most talented and protective people, and you know our friends wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

“I hate it,” Pearl said, voice breaking. “I just want to protect you, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Stay.” Grian held her tighter. “This is the safest place for us to be. The hermits are our family. They won’t let anything happen to us.”

Pearl exhaled. “What about Mumbo?”

Tears sprung to Grian’s eyes. “. . .We’ll get him back. We have to.”

Pearl sniffled, then pulled away. “God. . . I’m sorry Grian, you must be so torn up about Mumbo, and I’m just sitting here like an idiot talking about running. . .”

Grian gave her a shaky grin, though his cheeks were now wet. “Well with Mumbo gone, someone has to be the spoon. . .”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl whispered, and grabbed his hand again tightly. “I’ll stay. I’ll help. We will get him back. We can ask Doc to trace the message from Showfall— or maybe someone off-server saw him when he was kidnapped, he was in an airport— oh, that’s a better start, we can ask for the security footage—“

“Pearl,” Grian interrupted. His wings and shoulders drooped heavily, and his dark eyes were downcast and still brimming with tears.

Pearl bit her lip, then bent forward and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m here, Grian.”

“. . .I love you.”

“. . .I love you too.”

❖✩✩✩❖

SHOWFALL MEDIA TRANSMISSION AND COMMUNICATION SYSTEM

TRANSMISSION FROM: HERMITCRAFT

COMMUNICATOR ID 8337248398

15:52 EASTERN SERVER TIME 

>[XISUMAVOID]: SEGGVNE ZEAEUKEH— MDE LVGI UG UX MDE DUKE— XFZMD GMVZ HEGMZFBEH— DEZE WFZ V NFFH MUSE— XF ZEMZUEKVY XEAEGGVZB— AVX ZESVUX— SUGGUFX FXNFIXH— UXXUM

TRANSMISSION END

Chapter Text

Grian stood in the center of the bridge connected to his base, eyes closed, wings outstretched, feathers bleeding between different shades of purple. Images flashed through his mind, unknown servers, empty wastelands, leering strangers, rotting forests— nausea swelled in his gut but he pressed on, searching every dirty corner and forgotten street—

Life or Death?

Grian’s eyes flew open as he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, bile rising in his throat. He took deep breaths until his stomach settled, wings slowly shifting back to grey. 

“Any luck?” A voice said behind him.

Grian jumped and nearly fell off the bridge, but a hand shot out and caught his wrist before he could slip off the edge. Impulse’s eyes crinkled and he pulled Grian back to a safer place on the hovering moss.

“Thanks,” Grian said. His wings ruffled self-consciously.

“No problem. Sorry for startling you.” Impulse reached into his inventory and pulled out a stack of cookies. “Thought you could use a snack. Zed helped me make them. They have an anti-nausea potion in them, so don’t eat too many.”

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” Grian sighed, taking the cookies. He bit into one and found it pleasantly soft and gooey, with glowberries instead of chocolate chips. 

Impulse sat down, legs hanging off the side of the bridge. “Xisuma got the security footage from the airport, but there’s no sign of Mumbo. It doesn’t look like he was even in the airport when he was taken.”

“Right, well that’s definitely wrong. His last messages to me were from the airport, I remember him mentioning that his flight was delayed. Showfall probably wiped the footage,” Grian said. 

“That’s what we thought, too,” Impulse agreed. “They are a media company, at least as a front, so they definitely know how to do that sort of thing. But, even if the cameras are unreliable, the airport workers probably would have seen him, so unless they were also kidnapped. . .”

“They might have a better account of what happened,” Grian finished. He waved his hand around excitedly. “Then we just have to go to the airport and talk to them! That’s good! When are we going?”

“Okay, ‘we’ aren’t going,” Impulse chuckled. “They probably want you to leave in order to get a better chance at kidnapping you, so you and Pearl are staying put, and False and Beef are going to go talk to them tomorrow. It’s a long flight though, so it’ll still take a while to get any new information.” 

Grian grumbled and took another bite of his cookie. “Alright, alright. I’ll just have to keep Looking.”

“Don’t wear yourself out,” Impulse said. “If I see a death message from you falling off the bridge, I will come and force you to take a break.”

“I’ll be better now that I have these cookies.” Grian smiled at him appreciatively. “You might want to get some for Pearl, she’s also busy Looking for Mumbo. Careful though, she gets mad when her stomach hurts.”

“Noted. I’ll head over with some cookies and a full set of armor.” Impulse grinned and pulled out a rocket. “See ya, Grian. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Grian said.

Impulse leaned over his feet and tumbled off the bridge. He fired a rocket just before he hit the ground, and looped off towards Pearl’s base. 

Grian stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth and settled back into his spread-winged posture in the center of the bridge. 

“Alright, Mumbo, where are you?” Grian muttered as his eyes slid closed.

❖✩✩✩❖

Three days had passed since T_2 was released. Grian fluctuated between determination and depression, and anxiety was an ever-present heaviness in his chest. 

Impulse, Zed, and Scar took turns checking on him, making sure he ate, insisting he sleep to skip the night and refresh, and infusing potions into baked goods to help with his Sight-induced nausea. 

Despite that, Grian was annoyed to find his wings molting from the stress. Feathers littered his base, and his wings were constantly itchy. Multiple hermits had offered to help him preen, but all he could think about was Mumbo’s soft hands combing his feathers, and he denied every attempt to help. 

Pearl wasn’t doing much better. She was snappish and reactive, and spent most of her time locked up in her base or stress-building. Everyone gave her space after she’d almost put a sword through Gem’s chest when she’d accidentally snuck up on her while Pearl was Looking for Mumbo. 

It was just frustrating. It had been three days, and they still didn’t have any leads on Mumbo’s abduction.

False and Beef had hit a dead-end at the airport. None of the employees remembered seeing Mumbo when he was kidnapped— in fact, when shown a picture, they all agreed that they hadn’t even seen him enter the airport. The only clue they had was that his passport information was recorded in their system. 

Grian was running out of patience. He had searched what felt like every meter of the continent, and found not as much as a mustache hair hinting at where Mumbo had gone. 

 There was only one lead they hadn’t investigated: Tommy.

❖✩✩✩❖

Tommy’s house was empty when Grian arrived; he let himself in and settled down to wait, passing the time by Looking halfheartedly for clues he knew he wouldn’t find. He usually wouldn’t leave himself so vulnerable, but Tommy already knew he was a Watcher, so what was the point in hiding it, really?

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually he was pulled from his concentration by the sound of a door opening somewhere below him. Grian blinked open his eyes and folded his wings in as footsteps thudded on the ladder leading to the basement.

Tommy’s head popped up a moment later. His eyes landed on Grian immediately and he slipped, falling back down with a crash.

“Are you okay?” Grian called, stepping over to the hole. Tommy didn’t respond. “. . .I’m just here to talk.”

There was a long pause, then Tommy cleared his throat. “Y-yeah, sure, big ma— sir— Grian. You can come down.”

The basement somehow managed to be both cluttered and empty at the same time. The floor was strewn with clothes and tangled balls of yarn and empty bottles, but the bare stone walls made the room feel dark and uninhabitable. 

Tommy stood as casually as he could with the large bruise forming on his arm from falling off the ladder. His eyes flicked around the room, avoiding looking at Grian. “What can I do for you?”

“I just want to talk,” Grian said. “I assume you know about Mumbo.”

Tommy’s lips twitched downward. “Mumbo?”

“Mumbo Jumbo.” Grian tilted his head. He thought Tommy would’ve been filled in on the situation, but the confusion on his face said otherwise. “. . .Showfall took him.”

Tommy’s eyes widened in understanding, briefly, then settled back into a neutral expression. “Your attachment.”

“What?”

“You care about him. So they took him hostage so they can use your attachment against you,” Tommy said.

Grian nodded slowly, quietly surprised by how quickly Tommy had caught on. “. . .Yeah. Which is why I need to get him back. Tommy, if you know anything—“

“Why should I help you?” Tommy said coolly. “I work for Showfall. I don’t know why they want you so badly, but I’m not going to suddenly go against them.“

“Tommy, please— “ And oh, Grian hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but his eyes were tearing up from frustration. “You have to help me. I can’t lose anyone else, I can’t. Tell me what you want, I’ll give you diamonds, I’ll get you off the server, I just have to get him back.”

Tommy stared at him, then took a shaky breath and looked away. “You don’t even know. . . there might not be a way to get him back, you realize that? They could make him forget you, or— forget that he was ever human— they aren’t going to just let you waltz in and take him.”

“I have to try.” Grian wrung his hands. “Please.”

Tommy was silent for a while, then walked over to his chests and began digging through them. “. . .I know where they’re keeping him. But if they see rescuers coming, they’ll move him or trigger a memory wipe.”

Grian’s wings slumped in relief. “We can sneak in. Thank you, Tommy, tha—”

“That’s not going to work,” Tommy interrupted. He closed the chest and moved on to another. “They have nametag detectors, heat sensors, cameras. . . they’d see anyone coming hours before you reached them.”

Grian paused. “We have some of the best redstoners in the world on our server. If they trip the sensors—”

“There’s a failsafe that will notify them if the redstone is messed with.” Tommy finally found what he was looking for and turned to face Grian, cradling the face portion of his broken mask in his hands. “The only way they’ll let you through is if they see someone they trust.”

Grian stared at the mask. “. . .You’re not supposed to leave the server.”

“Neither are you. But you’re a. . . you’re different. You can make us leave without a message popping up, can’t you?”

“I can. . .” Grian said slowly. “But I’m not going to go behind X’s back.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Tommy raised his mask, clipping it into place around his ears. “If you tell Xisuma, he’ll put you on lockdown— he’ll set a guard to watch you and send someone else to get Mumbo, and they’ll detect him, and Mumbo will be moved— or they’ll capture whoever was sent out, as well. If they see you coming with anyone else, they’ll capture them along with you. The only way you’re getting him back is if it’s just you and me.”

Grian didn’t respond. Something was curling in his gut, a sense of unease, and something more— concern? Disappointment?

Tommy reached into his pocket  and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Look, I thought you would come, so I already wrote a note for Tango and Xisuma. Hopefully, by the time they notice we’re gone, you’ll be on our way back with Mumbo. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Realization dawned on Grian. “You just want to get me off the server.”

Tommy froze. “. . .What?”

“You just want to get me off so you can turn me over to Showfall.” Grian took a step forward, feathers ruffling. “Or to run off to them yourself. Don’t you?”

Tommy stared like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide. “N-no, I. . .”

“Don’t lie,” Grian murmured. “How long were you planning this? Did you tell them to take Mumbo because he was off-server?”

“No!” Tommy stumbled backwards, hitting the wall like a cornered animal. “I— I didn’t know— I swear, I wouldn’t—“

“You knew.” Grian pressed on. “You called him my ‘attachment’. You knew they would take something I care about.”

“I didn’t know it would be him— I—!”

“But you knew . You just want to get off-server and run back to them—“

“I don’t want to leave!” Tommy’s voice cracked. “You don’t— I don’t have a choice!”

Grian squinted. “Why? What did they promise you in return for my capture? What do you get out of it?”

Tommy’s hands shook and he looked away. “N-nothing, I don’t get anything, I-I—“

Grian hesitated, then stepped back, giving the boy room to breathe. He hadn’t realized how tense he was making Tommy. “. . .If you don’t gain anything, then why do you work for them?”

Tommy closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “It’s not about what I gain. It’s what I’d lose.”

Grian opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but was interrupted by a buzz from his communicator. 

His heart stopped. 

>[Mumbo joined the game]

Chapter Text

Mumbo spawned at his base, home on the Hermitcraft server.

It was just how he had left it— a tiny, hollow vault, barely a frame of the project he had wanted to create. He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips, and turned to look at Grian’s base, just across from his. 

He barely had time to process the enormous progress Grian had made, when Xisuma suddenly spawned on him, making Mumbo yelp in a very un-manly way.

“Oh goodness, X! You startled me!” Mumbo put his hand over his heart. “Give a man some warning next time, I—”

“Mumbo, are you alright?” Xisuma interrupted. He grabbed Mumbo’s forearms, eyes frantically scanning every inch of his skin. “Are you hurt, do you need potions, or totems, or—”

Mumbo pulled his arms back, laughing. “I’m fine, I’m fine! It’s so good to see you, I wasn’t expecting you to teleport just to meet me—”

“Of course I did!” Xisuma stepped back and a green light went across his visor as he scanned Mumbo for hidden injuries. “Where were— how did you—”

“My flight was late,” Mumbo said, “So I took a little detour to Japan, that’s all.”

“Wha— Japan?!” Xisuma exclaimed.

Mumbo opened his mouth to respond, but was suddenly tackled to the ground. He sneezed and twisted, dirt falling out of his mustache as he tried to uncross his eyes from the man leaning in an inch away from his face. “G-Grian?! GRIAN!”

“MUMBO K. JUMBO.” Grian shouted, and oh, that wasn’t good, he was using his full name— “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”

“My flight—” Mumbo squeaked.

“SUCK MY BALLS,” Gem screeched. “YOU WERE KIDNAPPED?! HOW DID YOU ESCAPE?!”

“I WAS SO WORRIED!” Grian yelled.

“I— kidnapped? No, no, I was just in Japan, I couldn’t message you because of the plane, and then my phone— sorry, my communicator, was broken by security when I landed in Japan!” Mumbo frowned. “. . .I actually don’t know why they did that.”

“I looked everywhere for you,” Grian insisted. His eyes were brimming with tears, and he had the front of Mumbo’s suit in clenched fists. “I looked everywhere, Mumbo, you were gone, you can’t do that—”

Mumbo hesitated, puzzled. “Did you look in Japan?”

Grian started to say yes, then paused. “. . .Did I?”

“Grian.” Mumbo and Grian jumped, forgetting Xisuma was still there. The admin in question had his panel up in front of him, staring very seriously at the pair on the ground. “I need you to take his shirt off. Now.”

“What?!” Mumbo turned red. “No! No, that’s my suit, that’s—!”

Grian ripped it open without hesitation. 

Mumbo flushed even darker and let out a strangled sneeze.

“Oh my god.” Grian turned white, eyes fixed on the dark handle protruding from Mumbo’s side. “Is that. . .”

“It’s a knife,” Xisuma said quietly. “He’s been stabbed.”

“It was an accident!” Mumbo protested. “Really! It— it happened in Japan, I stepped off the plane and the security took my phone and then just sort of. . . put the knife in me, and I was too embarrassed to ask for help pulling it out—!”

“YOU’VE HAD THIS SINCE JAPAN?!” Grian screamed.

“I do not think that was security,” Xisuma warbled weakly. “I think you got mugged.”

“Oh. Well in that case—” Mumbo grabbed the knife and pulled it out in one clean gesture. It immediately began to leak redstone dust.

“Hang on. . .” Grian cocked his head, staring at the red substance. “Something’s not quite right here.”

“It’s just redstone,” Mumbo said, carefully scooping it into a pile and eating it. “I’m full of soup.”

“Full of. . .?” Xisuma barked. “I need to make some phone— I mean communicator calls. I’ll be back.”

He threw himself down the hill, rolling rapidly and hitting rocks on the way. 

“What. . . ?” Grian stared after him, perplexed.

Mumbo sneezed, spraying Grian with redstone, dirt, and various non-concerning, non-trauma-invoking, non-tear-inducing flower petals. 

“Ha wa ue wa mukai te i masu,” Mumbo said seriously. 

Gem sighed and plucked one of the feathers from Grian’s wings, stuffing it into Mumbo’s open wound. It immediately healed, but he frowned nonetheless. “Do you think that was too graphic?”

“Nah, this chapter was PG 14+ the moment Gem told him to suck her balls,” Tommy said, suddenly there because you can’t escape the main character. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen, though, the author doesn’t really like explicit stuff. If you meant balls as in footballs or tennis balls, though, I’ll happily take some for Bloodhound.”

“Oh, how is Bloodhound?” Mumbo said conversationally. He pulled a confused Polish rabbit from his nostril.

“I’m trying to avoid him,” Tommy muttered. “He does weird shit during April Fool’s chapters. And he’s not Ren or Etho.”

“YOU’RE KIDDING,” the commenters screamed. 

“Maybe he is, maybe he’s not.” Gem gurgled sadly as he watched Skizz jog up to them, balancing a cucumber on his head. “Hey, Skizz. You’re not meant to be here, this is season nine.”

“It is?!” Skizz looked around, gaze landing on Grian’s build. “DANG IT!! I wanted to be part of the story!” 

“Not much of a story right now,” Mumbo sighed. “But maybe the author can fit you in somewhere later. Hey, maybe you’re secretly Xisuma’s long-lost brother from chapter twenty five!”

“What is happening?!” Grian cried. 

“The chapters are off on the non-clean Ao3 version because of the April Fool’s chapters and lore dump,” Skizz complained. “And it would be pretty sick to be Xisuma’s clone twin, but I like breathing air.”

“Not anymore,” Tommy said mysteriously. 

“Well, crap!” Skizz threw the cucumber at full force at Tommy, then sprinted towards the nearest body of water. 

“He should’ve said shit,” Tommy grumbled. 

“Is the April Fool’s chapter going to be a yearly thing now?” Angelic Fallacy wondered from somewhere in Grian’s feathers. Grian yelped and began swatting at his wings.

“I think it would be funny if it was canon,” Void said. She unfolded herself from her adorable baby ghast disguise and put her hands on her hips, surveying the scene.

“How the HECK would this be canon?!” Pearl flavoured said very flavourfully, arriving on top of Pearl’s head, like Remy from Ratatouille.

“I don’t know, it would just be funny. Maybe it’s the listeners messing with everyone. Or [REDACTED]. They just fuck with the world for a day, and then everyone forgets it ever happened. Except for Joe.”

Everybody nodded solemnly in total agreement, then said in unison, “Joehills is certainly a person that exists.”

“Absolutely,” Void said.

“Of course,” Tommy agreed.

“It’s a fact,” Gem hummed.

“True,” Mercury Cat pondered.

“Indubitibly,” Mumbo sneezed.

“Alright, folks, I think that’s it for the joke chapter.” Void broke off a piece of metal from Doc’s arm and chewed it thoughtfully. “I’m really stuck on the real chapter though. Hopefully doing this will help me write the real one. I’m not making Mumbo be shtabb-ed, though, chat DON’T WORRY.”

A Gay person thing put their longsword down, nodding sternly.

“Aw, man, does that mean Grian doesn’t get to rip his shirt off?” Gem said.

Grian began dissociating. 

“There’s only romance if you squint right.” Void began to oscillate with texture. “And that was, like, WAY too gay for my writing style.”

90% of the commenters pulled out various weapons.

“I like women,” Void said flatly. 

The commenters put the weapons away. Ranboo teleported in, hit Void over the head with a baking sheet, screamed PAN, and disappeared again. 

“I still want to be in the story,” Skizz called from somewhere. He was underwater, though, so it came out more as “blu-bluub blub gluh BLUB glub.”

“And Slimesicle,” The genloss and dsmp fans insisted. A Gay person thing raised their sword again threateningly.

“Non-confirming-nor-denying comment,” Void said, then was picked up by Moon Shadow and carried off to their basement, where she would probably remain for at least 18 months unless otherwise dictated by the kidnapper themselves.

“Chicken Jockey. . .” Watcher #28008 said, because he wanted to be involved.

Chapter Text

Mumbo spawned at his base, home on the Hermitcraft server.

It was just how he had left it— a tiny, hollow vault, barely a frame of the project he had wanted to create. He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips, and turned to look at Grian’s base, just across from his. 

He barely had time to process the enormous progress Grian had made, when Xisuma suddenly spawned on him, making Mumbo yelp in a very un-manly way.

“Oh goodness, X! You startled me!” Mumbo put his hand over his heart. “Give a man some warning next time, I—”

“Mumbo, are you alright?” Xisuma interrupted. He grabbed Mumbo’s forearms, eyes frantically scanning every inch of his skin. “Are you hurt, do you need potions, or totems, or—”

Mumbo pulled his arms back, laughing. “I’m fine, I’m fine! It’s so good to see you, I wasn’t expecting you to teleport just to meet me—”

“Of course I did!” Xisuma stepped back and a green light went across his visor as he scanned Mumbo. “Of course, I— Mumbo, what happened?!”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, you must have been really worried, yeah, my flight was delayed, and—“

“No, I mean after,” Xisuma interrupted. 

Mumbo fidgeted, confused. “A-after? Like, after the flight, or. . .?”

“MUMBO!” 

The shout pierced through the air. They looked up to see Grian hurtling towards them, spamming rockets one after another. 

“Oh my goodness, is he doing that without an elytra again?! Oof—!”

Mumbo soon found himself slammed roughly to the ground, purple eyes an inch away from his own as Grian shrieked with the thunder of a very upset watcher. 

“∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣  ↸╎↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ↸— WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!! HOW DARE— ᔑリᓵ╎ᒷリℸ ̣  ᓭ∴ᒷᔑ∷╎リ⊣ ꖎ𝙹ꖎ, I WAS SO—“

Grian’s wings were flinging feathers in every direction. Mumbo squeaked and grabbed one of the flailing appendages. “Grian!! You’re not supposed to use rockets with your avian wings, did you take off your elytra just to be here faster?!”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER!!” Grian yelled. His free wing smacked Mumbo’s face. “I was so worried, Mumbo, who cares if I get some smoke in my feathers—!”

“I care!” Mumbo spluttered. “I-I— goodness me, Grian, don’t do that anymore, you’re going to roast yourself— I-I don’t even know what to say, I’m flattered that you came so fast, but. . .”

“I’m going to put a leash on you and string you up in an obsidian box.” Grian whacked him with his wing again, then buried his face in his chest. “With elder guardians.”

Mumbo chuckled lightly. “Well, gosh. You’d better put a window in the box too, so you can still see me, otherwise you might start to really miss me!”

Grian lifted his head. A jolt went through Mumbo as he realized there were tears streaking down Grian’s face. “I really missed you.”

Mumbo floundered for a moment, then put his hand on Grian’s back. “I missed you too. A lot. I’m glad to be back.”

Rockets fired in the distance. Mumbo’s communicator was buzzing nonstop, and he glanced down, frowning. “. . .I didn’t realize everyone missed me this badly, I. . . wow.”

Xisuma knelt next to Mumbo and Grian on the soft moss. “I need to know if you were followed, Mumbo, or— or if there’s any sort of bug on you, or if the firewall’s been messed with again—“

“Uh,” Mumbo said.

“Our first priority is safety, okay, so you can keep holding Grian, but you need to tell me if we’re in danger right now, and then we can get you somewhere warm and safe, okay?”

Something tugged at the back of Mumbo’s mind— an uneasy feeling— and he sat up, careful not to pin Grian’s wings under him. “A-are we in danger? What happened?”

“What—“ Xisuma’s breath hitched. “‘What happened?!’ Mumbo, you were kidnapped!”

Mumbo’s mind went blank. He blinked at Xisuma, baffled. “. . .What?”

The rockets sounded again, and soon there were several hermits surrounding them, all talking and jostling each other as they tried to assess the situation. 

“How did you escape, I—“

“Back up, guys, give them space—“

“Xisuma, did you—“

“Are we under attack?”

“Do you need anything—“

“Calm down, guys—“

“Hang on, hang on!” Mumbo said. Everyone hushed. “Wha— okay— when was I kidnapped?! I think— I think I would’ve remembered that happening!”

Silence. Grian shifted off of Mumbo’s lap, but kept his arms around Mumbo’s torso as he looked up at him. 

“Showfall captured you,” Grian said slowly, voice shaky. “I— I saw you, Mumbo, there was— a test, a-and it said life or death, and I had to choose, and— and it was you.”

Mumbo’s mouth opened and closed noiselessly for a moment. “. . .I . . . what does that even mean? I am so— so confused right now.”

“Do you. . . not remember Showfall?” Impulse said. “Like, at all?”

The uneasy feeling returned. Mumbo rubbed his neck self-consciously. “I-I— well— Grian asked me to research their show, the Dream SMP or whatever— a-and I remember watching the show and not finding anything, so I was coming back, and. . .”

“Yes!! The airport!” Grian pulled out his communicator and clumsily opened his chat messages. “S-see? You found something, and then you stopped responding, and then Showfall made the video with you tied to a chair— how do you not remember this?!”

“Mate, I don’t know!!” Mumbo exclaimed. He skimmed Grian’s messages, finding no familiarity in his panicked words. “I stopped messaging you because— my communicator died, I don’t know! My flight was delayed, and then my communicator died, and then I got on the plane. How would I not notice being kidnapped and— you said tied to a chair?! Wha—?”

“What happened after you got on the plane?” Gem interrupted.

“I flew home!” Mumbo said helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you, I genuinely don’t— are you sure that was me, when would that have even happened?!”

There was a beat, then Scar spoke up. “. . .Are we sure it was him?”

“I saw him,” Grian insisted. “I— it was him, I know it was. . .”

His voice trailed off. 

“. . .Did anyone else see me?” Mumbo said. “I-I trust you, Grian, but. . .”

The hermits looked at each other uncomfortably. 

“. . .No. . .” Xisuma said hesitantly. “Grian had to use his Watcher magic to see past the censoring. But Pearl—“

“I trust Grian.” Pearl chewed on her fingernails nervously. “I. . . didn’t watch the video, my powers are confined to the realm I’m in. . . but I trust Grian.”

Nobody spoke for a few minutes. Grian kept glancing between his communicator and Mumbo, eyes flickering purple with obvious distress. 

Mumbo fidgeted with his suit cuff. He would have remembered being kidnapped, but everyone else seemed sure that it had happened, even though he was sure he had traveled with hardly any incident. . .

Or. . . no, there were blank spaces, weren’t there? Grian had received messages from him, messages he didn’t remember sending— and hadn’t his communicator been charging at the airport? 

What. . . had happened after he had arrived at the airport? He had found his gate, settled down with his communicator and luggage, opened up his media files to keep researching for Grian— and then he was on the plane. There was no memory of walking onto the plane— he was just suddenly there, but it didn’t feel wrong, he had just— forgotten, he was tired— there was nothing wrong—

Something was very wrong.

Mumbo’s mouth went dry. “How. . . long has it been?”

“. . .Three days,” Scar said.

Grian raised his head suddenly, feathers poofing out. “Tommy— he said something about a memory wipe, or— making you forget me— Mumbo, they wiped your memory.”

“Well, that part’s obvious,” Impulse said, slightly incredulous. “The question is why.”

“You spoke to Tommy?! Grian, he could have taken you!” Pearl exclaimed.

“I wasn’t going to leave the server!” Grian flushed. “He— he said Mumbo was my attachment, they were trying to blackmail me with him—“

“Then why is he back?!” Gem yelled. 

“And why wipe his memory?” Pearl added. She crossed her arms. “Whatever you found, Mumbo, it must have been important enough that they didn’t want Grian to see it.”

“I— I could check my communicator, maybe it’s still there on my end. . .?” Mumbo said.

Impulse frowned. “I doubt it.”

“Might as well check,” Xisuma said softly.

Mumbo adjusted his hold on Grian and reached into his pocket.

“Memory code is so delicate most admins won’t even get near it,” Grian said. “The fact that they have technology that’s able to wipe minds—“

“Um.” Mumbo hesitated with his fingers in his pocket, then slowly drew out a crumpled strip of green fabric with white patterns. “. . .What is this?”

Xisuma swooped forward and snatched it from Mumbo. “Oh my god— careful, it might have bugs— or drugs, or trackers— oh Prime, I need to scan the code right now.”

“Hang on, isn’t that the bandanna that one hacker was wearing?” Gem gestured at her face. “The one who was half enderman?”

“It—“ Xisuma paused, then looked at the bandanna strangely. “. . .Yes, it is.”

Mumbo perked up. He remembered this. “Ranboo. The half-enderman hybrid is Ranboo, but it’s Tubbo’s bandanna— and Ranboo is. . . important, there was something important about him. . .”

“Something important? Do you remember?” Pearl said.

Mumbo pressed his palm to his forehead. “I— gosh— Ranboo, Ranboo is important, it was something I needed— for Grian—“

“The picture you sent me!” Grian shook Mumbo’s shoulder invigoratingly.

“Right, right!” Mumbo grabbed his communicator. “It’s probably not still in my messages. . . nope, none of this looks new to me, but if I go to my image collections, it could be in the bin. . .”

Everyone crowded around and watched over his shoulder as Mumbo clumsily navigated to his trash bin. There— a deleted screenshot from four days ago. 

Grainy pixels showed minecraft terrain of weathered stone and grass— and a hand with a communicator on the wrist, with strange symbols glowing on the screen:

>Ranboo: ↸𝙹𝙹ᒲᒷ↸ ᔑ∷ᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹ᓭᒷ ∴⍑𝙹 ℸ ̣ ∷|| ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ∷⚍リ, ⎓𝙹∷ ╎ℸ ̣  ᔑꖎ∴ᔑ||ᓭ ᓵᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷᓭ ⚍!¡ ᒷ⍊ᒷリℸ ̣ ⚍ᔑꖎꖎ||

“Doomed are those who try to run,” Pearl translated. Her eyes flicked to Grian. Their faces were both pale. “. . .for it always catches up eventually.”

Mumbo stared at the image, then exhaled slowly. “. . .Well that’s just pants, isn’t it?”