Archive of Our Own ^beta

Helping Hands For Sickly Friends

💙  🧡  💚

The clop and scrape of wooden feet over carpet and wood gets real repetitive after a while, and Grian fights the weirdest flashbacks back to sneaking turtle-like beds inside Keralis’s giant city years and years ago. Now, that was a wild choice for interior design. Hours, sweat, and tears, Grian thinks, rubbing a sleeve across his head, but it’s gotta be done. The server’s closing far too soon. Even in a season thick with boats and fishing rods, no man is an island. Hermits help Hermits, right? Even with the endless chores.

Joel absolutely nailed it for his first Hermitcraft season, by the way. Look… There was never any doubt that he could run circles ‘round the rest of their gang, or at the very least keep up. Still, did he have to whip the enchanted bow out straight out of the gate? Puttin’ ‘em all to shame.

Joel’s got his poor ol’ hands full right about now. Server’s shutting down, and where is he? Probably flopped on his stomach in his real bedroom two buildings over, sick in spite of soup, with Impulse ready to serve another ladleful at a moment’s notice. Yeah, Grian’s been on the receiving end of that. “Tough love” doesn’t really describe Impulse; he’s more like a giant teddy bear. One who’ll do the heavy lifting while you recuperate, and then he’ll read you books at night. He’ll even do the voice shifts for every single character.

I’d better bring Joel some rolls or something. You’ve gotta have bread with good hot soup, and Grian’s got wheat fields aplenty. They don’t mispronounce his name as ‘Grain’ for nothing.

It’s one thing to cast skyscrapers towards build height with a song and a dream. Quite another, though, to fill the whole interior. Honestly, even the entire Magic Mountain crew working together probably won’t get it all wrapped up before Xisuma shuts the server down a couple weeks from now, but they’re certainly giving it a good ol’ try. Well… Grian is; who knows what the rest of these clowns are up to. Bed after bed after bed slams from the crafting table to the floor. There’s a lot of rooms in this big ol’ city to fill. But you know what Grian is? Look him in those blank black eyes… Stubborn. With a fistful of cooked cod and teeth that can’t grit tighter, he keeps on pace and never takes a break. Clop, scrape. Clop, scrape. Bed after bed after bed.

The pattern’s methodical: beds over here, nightstands between them, storage chests positioned like so. The rooms don’t have to be that unique, though Grian makes an effort to mix them up a little bit. He swaps the paintings around. He leaves weird sculptures in the corners and adjusts the color palette between the different floors. There’s a comfort in it, though. Familiarity wraps him in its wings. The rooms aren’t hard to finish, but he soaks up every chance to take a step back and breathe. Grian intertwines his fingers, pushes them as far out as he can, and stretches every crick and kink aching in his back. Hoooooo…

Footsteps shuffle outside the door. Gem’s voice catches from down the hall, though it’s Scar who pokes his head around the corner. He laughs when he sees the room layout, which leaves Grian looking at him funny. “Well! I see someone’s been productive.”

“Have you been napping on every bed you placed down again?” Grian drawls back. Lovable pest, that man, and he rolls his eyes as Scar giggles a little hehehe. “Of course you have, Scar… Joel’s going to dunk our socks in strawberry jam and slap us silly as soon as he’s awake. We’re never going to get this done if you don’t pick up your feet.”

“Easier for some of us than others,” Scar quips back, and disappears down the hall again. Hmph. Grian shoots one last glance around the room, then dims the lanterns on the wall. Joel was very insistent on every interior detail, you know. No torches left burning in the bedrooms, even though they’re cheaper and much more convenient. Ah, well. His base. His rules. Grian clicks the door shut behind him before heading towards the stairs in the opposite direction Scar went.

Someone’s running. Grian dodges to the side just in time to avoid Skizz, who whips fast around the corner with his arms so full of bedsheets, they’re spilling behind him.

“OOH-”

Skizz trips forward on a fallen sheet. He slams against the wall, but catches himself with a “Hup!” and tears off again just as fast. “Sorry, G! Man of the house demands it.”

Ihhh. Either Skizz has a lot of beds to craft, or Joel’s sicker tonight than they all thought. It’s peaceful weather, though. Warm. Quiet outside. Grian can’t help but stare through every winner, and he’s caught Gem doing the same. Joel’s the only one of their crew who really set up atop the mountain. The cherry trees run thick up here, but everyone else built their bases lower in the hills. Skizz calls out to Gem, who yelps, and a thump echoes from out of sight, nearly out of mind. Grian gives his head a shake.

Skizz isn’t the only one on laundry duty. A few seconds later, Mumbo comes around a slower pace with all the pillowcases, and Grian snorts just lookin’ at him. “You look like you’ve killed a ghost! Should’ve sent Impulse with you; he’d have done a nice clean job.”

Mumbo only laughs, though. Of course he does, and he dodges past Grian with a swirl of quick feet despite Grian’s every attempt to duck obnoxiously in his way and bat his eyes. “Lot of work, decking out a place this big,” he says over his shoulder.

“Uh-huh.” The next room in the hall can wait. Hanging out with Mumbo is far more fun. Abandoning all plans, forfeiting all thoughts to the mustached man strolling ahead of him (Not that there was ever any question), Grian keeps right on his heels. “Any word from Impulse? He’s got HQ pretty locked down up there.”

“Feeling a little better every hour,” Mumbo reports, which cheers the both of them. “He claims it has nothing to do with loads and loads of soup.”

“Haha, I bet! Let’s hope Skizz didn’t pull some spooky ritual on him. Or Gem; I dunno. She’s bein’ weird. Should come walking with me sometime, Mumbo; we can take the underwater tunnel and check out her base. It’ll give you chills, all right.” Oh- There’s Gem up ahead. She turns the corner, saying something to Skizz with her hands up high, firmly shaking her head as she leaves him there. Skizz protests with words that run together, and Scar’s laughter thrums through Grian’s whole body like the rain.

Ha. They’ve a lot left to do if they want to get this place all tidied up, ready for Joel to give his build the proper send-off on a wonderful Hermitcraft season. For now, Grian gathers half the pillowcases from Mumbo’s arms. “First one to lose these wins?” he offers. Mumbo, spluttering-

“Hang on! Let’s set some rules here: I don’t think I like the phrase ‘lose these’ in a competition like this. Do you even-”

Grian, giggly and dodging aside, hardly hears him. Still, as Mumbo trots after him-

“Do you have any idea how long these took to clean!?”

“‘Course I do. You’re going gray!”

Season 10’s been a good one. Grian honestly might miss it more than most.