Original Writing and Art of @mxmallory Some fandom, some original. Will tag for Mature/Explicit topics if any.| Adult (30+) | They/Them or She/Her | Autistic/ADHD| Queer
wish there was a non rude way to be like “I understand your criticism, I don’t even necessarily disagree with it, but I am doing these things on purpose, because I like them and I want to, and therefore your opinion has no value, because you might think me painting a room entirely pink is tacky, but I did it on purpose”
skimming bdubs' liml supercut really made me remember how strained the ethubs dynamic has become post-last life... obviously not for realsies they're still friends but from a character perspective it's like bdubs has spent the last three reasons trying to prove to etho that their alliance there doesn't define him. and it doesn't, but in turn he's let it define him in trying to escape it. he's constantly at the end of poor communication that leads him to believe etho is quietly betraying him at every end and it's working and warping his view of him but it doesn't change the fact that no matter how distorted his image of etho is it is still etho..!!!
sorry... him dying at the end of liml and hearing cleo and scar say it was definitely etho's doing and he just silently looks up at skynet while the clock ticking fades in is crazy. he's lucky he put that goofy ass outro music over it otherwise it would have been some horror movie shit
Im not autistic about cars or makes or models but I AM autistic about crumple points and field of vision and blindspots and conflict points. do you understand. urban design, anti car dependency/anti car centric infrastructure, and so cars themselves are part of that interest. because car design is urban design. cybertrucks SUCK as cars and also dont function well in infrastructure thats designed to care about people. there are good cars and vehicles that are designed good and fit well with good urban design
the funniest thing about new american trucks is that i was driving last week and saw someone with a dirt bike in the back and they had to have the tail gate propped open becuase the truck bed wasn’t long enough. the dirt bike was not that big. it was funny. you bought that car justifying to yourself that it’s a work horse, a ute. it doesn’t fit a 250cc bike brother
I have PERSONALLY had to move/haul heavy shit a lot and the vans with the short noses beat the hell out of the pickups, except for when you’re off-roading/in mud and in that case it’s a matter of low center of gravity + 4wd that really keeps you moving (which a lot of older trucks, being smaller & lower, do a HELL of a lot better.) I have had to GET OUT OF MY CAR and peer around these behemoth trucks parked on streets so that I can see enough to pull out of a driveway. Pedestrian deaths in the US are going UP, and as a person too short to be seen over the hood of one of these fucking things, they need to NOT be a “consumer ‘car’ of choice”.
The reason "weird" works so well against the right-wing is that it's difficult to dispute an external judgement. Right-wingers have a notable talent for denying reality - they can simply say "I don't think climate change is real" - but they can't say "YOU don't think I'm weird."
Consensus reality has previously been a plaything of the right, but the problem is that if enough people agree that right-wingers are weird (and it helps that right-wingers are REALLY fucking weird), then they just... are. It doesn't matter if right-wingers think they're not weird, or if they claim not to care; we're not trying to convince them. We're trying to convince the independents, the moderates, the liberals, and fortunately, they've been desperate for someone to say it like it is for years.
It also helps that every single time a right-winger insists that they're not weird, they'll try and prove it by doing something incredibly weird, like posting gay pornography in the Twitter replies of a total stranger, or LARPing as Homelander and making death threats.
this is why i steer clear of hard drugs. i’ve seen a fair share of stories similar to this. it’s good and great and awesome until it’s not and then there’s little hope for escape if you either don’t have help or can’t break out of the cycle for a second to realize you need to get that help.
anti-drug campaigns should absolutely be run by recovering addicts. shit, that’s what the anti-smoking campaigns do.
An old response to a writing prompt from a few years back. Thought I'd share.
Most people who get the Call to Adventure are teenagers. You, however, are a 30-year-old therapist.
[from r/Writing Prompts 08.10.2021]
"What part of 'no chance in hell' was not clear to you?" The muscles of my upper back were complaining to management about their treatment and muttering about going on strike amongst themselves, but I didn't dare lean back into the chair.
Not with that too-goddamned-cute fox-thing draped across the back, at least. One thing I'd learned from my clients - never trust a cute critter that talks. It wasn't easy though - magical creatures really have learned to hit all the "cute, harmless, trustworthy" buttons in the human psyche...especially the human girl psyche. I could feel its attention like a shiver along my spine, but as much as I hated having it at my back, it was safer than meeting its eyes.
"A great evil is threatening..." the creature tried again, its voice honey-sweet and airy as fairy floss.
"A great evil is always threatening." I rolled my letter opener between my fingers, wondering if I could work up the nerve to use the excessively ornate thing as a weapon. "Maybe it's time you found another tactic - using up little girls to fight your battles doesn't seem to be making your victories stick."
I thought about Surita and her nightmares. Raelyn and her aching loneliness after the loss of her teammates - a howling void that threatened to swallow up anyone who tried to get close to her. I thought about Emmet, fighting in a body that felt more and more wrong to him, pushing back his own needs to be the "heroine of light" that he was told was so desperately needed. Broken, used up children who had given up their normal lives to fight a war they had been convinced only they could win.
"...little girls and boys," I amended, softly.
I heard the soft creak of claws flexing against the false leather of my chair. Then a sudden imbalance, as the creature landed on my shoulder.
"Yesss," it cooed, a hint of malice in its voice. "Such good work you do, patching up our broken heroines. How... charitable..." It shifted position until it slid down across my chest until it pooled in my lap, staring up at me with hungry eyes and a Cheshire grin. "Why... it almost makes up for the fact that every one of those broken children is your fault..."
"My....?"
"The strongest Light of a generation - a strength of spirit and magic strong enough to seal away evil for good. And she refused to take up the call. And look at what that cost everyone."
It grinned again, and there was no sugar-sweetness in the expression this time. My letter opener was clasped its paws, and for a brief flash, it was more than just the decorative object that had gathered dust on my bookshelf for the last decade.
"So, are you going to stay in the office and continue patching up all the Lights that will break in the fighting - or are you going to stop acting like a stubborn brat and do what needs to be done?"
[AO3]
Participating in NaNoWriMo as a rebel this year, and using it as an opportunity to try to make a dent in my 'fic ideas folder', in hopes of outpacing the rate that new ideas get added. Thanks to Zee for this idea.
Characters: Jimmy, Hermes
Summary: Hermes sets out on adventure to visit the thirteenth empire, home of The Sheriff
Wordcount: 3038
Not long ago, in a place whose distance from us cannot be meaningfully measured, there lived a young boy whose fathers loved him very much.
Because the land where he lived was familiar and filled with the friends of his parents (and because he had the blood of a god and a hero flowing through his veins) the young boy was allowed to wander further afield than perhaps another child of his age would be permitted.
Perhaps it was the novelty of a child existing at all in this place, but wherever he went - from the city inhabited by animals; to the dawn-soaked lands ruled by the princess with butterfly wings; to the bustling, chaotic pirate cove - he was met by indulgent smiles and watchful gazes.
In all the land, there were no settlements where he was not welcome, where he would not be assured a treat, a smile, or possibly even an adventure. As he was a small boy, and the adults of this world were not fools, he was not permitted to go unescorted into the more dangerous parts of the land, places where monsters still growled and hissed and sharpened their teeth and weapons. (The adults were not fools, as I have said before, and none wished to be the one to discover the limits of the blood of gods and heroes.) But within the twelve empires, and on the protected roads between them, the young boy was free to go where he wished.
But it is the nature of children, even those of purely mortal birth, to push at the edges of boundaries that are set out to protect them, and the young boy knew his numbers well.
Thirteen, the young boy knew, was bigger than twelve. And when the adults were talking about the rulers of this land, thirteen was the number they used. Not twelve.
The young boy thought about this conundrum for several days, in the too-serious way of all children first coming face-to-face with proof that sometimes adults will tell children one thing, while knowing another to be the truth. It was obvious to him that the adults would not make up another empire during serious conversation amongst themselves, so it stood to reason that thirteen had to be the true number. Besides, ‘thirteen’ felt right - one of those universal truths that all children know without knowing why they know.
Which left the young boy to wonder why everyone had carefully only said 'twelve' when talking to him.
It couldn't be that it wasn't safe. There were several empires that could be considered dangerous - and all of the adults had carefully explained to him what 'dangerous' meant, several more times than he thought was strictly necessary - where he was still allowed to wander freely. And there must be adults there - the existence of a settlement was proof enough of that, right? Perhaps it was that there were no easy roads to the thirteenth empire. But the young boy could fly - if not always very well - so he dismissed that possibility out of hand.
The young boy thought on this conundrum, chewing on his lower lip as he did so. Perhaps...it was a test? He'd heard his fathers talking about the importance of young boys developing 'independence' - maybe this thirteenth kingdom was meant to be a secret for him to learn about on his own?
This seemed likely. The young boy briefly considered asking his fathers if he could go to the mystery empire - but that was quickly discarded. There was a possibility that his request would be met with a firm 'no' - one that would permanently shut the door on any chance of seeing the place. Best not to ask, just in case.
And if asking his fathers was ill-advised, then asking any of the other adults was likely to be downright disastrous. After all, they had also hidden this thirteenth empire from him, and they would probably feel the need to tell his fathers about any questions he asked. The young boy concluded that part of this test, if it was one, was to figure it out for himself.
So for the next little while he watched...and he listened. He learned quickly that being too quiet when adults were around caused those adults to become suspicious, but that a moderately quiet (and mostly-well behaved) young boy was nearly invisible. So he found excuses to be busy with the day-to-day necessities of a young boy's life - playing in the mud, capturing bugs, building precarious towers out of blocks and the like - activities that it just so happened absolutely had to take place in or near the places where the rulers met, in groups large or small. If his fathers noticed, they either laughed it off as 'starting his education young' or were quietly thankful that he was nearby, and not out where monsters out of the past could try to harm him.
So the young boy watched, and he listened...and he noticed. He noticed that when they met in small groups or groups of 12, that the rulers were easy with each other. They laughed and told jokes, and stole quick moments to gasp in awe over the young boy's current endeavor. (Somehow this did not feel condescending to him - after all, who could possibly fail to be astonished by a mud pie, or a makeshift boat to sail in a nearby fountain?)
He also noticed the strain in the air when the thirteenth ruler joined them. He was a tall, lean man with blond hair and a perpetually sullen expression half-hidden by his wide-brimmed hat. He spoke rarely, glared at the other rulers as if their very existence offended him, and left as soon as the meetings adjourned. The young boy noticed, too, that the meetings did not seem to last nearly as long when the thirteenth was in attendance.
Sometimes, the man came by when the young boy was visiting one father or the other. Those meetings were equally short, but conducted at a significantly higher volume. The boy was starting to form a theory as to why his fathers had not mentioned this ruler - this Sheriff - to him. Still the boy watched, and noted the direction that the man in the hat flew when he left - nearly the opposite direction from the other rulers, with only the ruins of the ancient capital nearby.
It would perhaps not surprise you to hear that by this point, the young boy was beginning to have a suspicion that the existence of the thirteenth empire was not some secret test for him. Perhaps, he thought, his fathers had good reason to keep him away from the man in the hat. But his curiosity had been piqued, and we all know that there are very few powers in the world stronger than the curiosity of a young boy. Young as he was, though, he realized that his best chance to try to locate the thirteenth empire would come with the other rulers were busy.
So the young boy resigned himself to patience, and waited for an opportunity to present itself.
Fortunately for our young hero - an opportunity was not long in arriving. There had been a strange rift, and a grand festival nearby, with all of the thirteen rulers in attendance. The man in the hat got into an argument with his fathers and stormed off early, while the rest stayed to enjoy the food and the music.
Then there had been strange sounds in the night, and strangers (though some seemed oddly familiar to the young boy). Then the rift had gone dark, and the rulers were suddenly concerned with making room for the visitors who were now stuck in their lands.
At first, the young boy found himself under a closer eye, but after the initial flurry of introductions and tours had passed, things settled down into something resembling a normal routine, albeit at a slightly more frenetic pace. Soon enough, he was able to resume his wanderings, and all that remained was to wait for a pleasant day, when the adults would be busy enough that he could slip away in the confusion.
He did not need to wait long. A few mornings after the visitors arrived, his father found him in the garden where the young boy had been playing, stopping only long enough to lift him up into a hug and to give him a teasing admonishment to 'behave himself' before heading out to his own responsibilities. The boy waited long enough to assure himself that his father was not immediately returning, before picking up his messenger bag and gliding off in the direction where he hoped to find the empire of the man in the hat.
It was a longer trip than the boy had expected. He glided down from his fathers city in the sky, past the grand bridge and the nearby hillside where some of the visitors had made a temporary camp overlooking the darkened rift. The ruins of the ancient capital passed below him, a scattering of stone against the faded green of the savannah, somehow seeming far less impressive from above than when he had explored them on foot.
The sky lightened into a lifeless blue as the forested land below him turned to the brilliant painted colors of the mesa. The young boy found himself entranced by the colors below him, but wondered how anyone could live in such a hot, harsh land.
He was about to turn around when the sound of a train whistle sang out from just ahead of him. He flew on, dropping lower and lower until he alighted on the rim of the mesa, overlooking a bowl-like valley dotted with wooden structures. Was this the thirteenth empire he had been looking for? He heard the sounds of a man - one of the visitors, he thought - shouting to someone out of sight, and scrambled down into the valley, careful to keep the train between him and the stranger. Now that he had found this place, he didn't want to be caught and sent back home before he had a chance to explore.
There was the sound of rockets firing, and the visitor took off, heading nearly back in the direction that the young boy had come from. The boy ducked down behind a barrel placed near the tracks, breathing heavily as he prayed to avoid detection. (Just who a young boy with the blood of gods and heroes running through his veins might pray to, I'm afraid I cannot say. Perhaps even he did not know.)
Whether it was the benevolence of a god or just plain luck, the visitor flew off overhead without showing any sign that he had noticed the young traveler. The boy breathed a sigh of relief, and looked around. The valley seemed empty, silent except for the *cling* of the metal steam engine as it cooled. For some reason, large structures of wood and canvas stretched upward from the rim of the valley like walls, painted in a blue far brighter than the local sky, and covered with a fleet of clouds that the desert rarely saw. He frowned at the display, wondering what the point of it was.
At first, he crept cautiously through the valley, looking into the various buildings and cubbyholes. He grew braver as his exploration yielded only silent, empty rooms, though there were signs that people did at least visit the buildings, if they didn't live there.
He approached the last building in the valley, only to freeze as he heard the soft clink of glass on wood through the other side of the swinging half-doors. There was someone inside this one! He crept towards the door as silently as he could, nearly jumping into the air when one of the boards of the porch squealed a complaint as he placed his weight on it. He froze again, trying not to breathe.
For a long moment, there was silence, and the young boy thought he might have escaped notice. Then a voice called out.
"I know you're out there. Y' might as well come on in outta th’ sun."
The boy sheepishly pushed on the swinging doors and stepped inside. The inside was empty, save for the blond-haired man standing behind a high counter, using a rag to dry off a freshly washed glass. The back swing of the door tapped the young boy on the back, urging him forward a few steps.
The man looked down at him, and if there was a hint of surprise in his expression, his voice was resigned. "Figured that must have been you sneaking around out there." He set the glass on the counter, and draped the rag over a rail running in front of a row of bottles. "Your dads know you're here?"
The young boy shook his head.
"Thought that might be the case. Well...c'mon and have a seat then - least I can do is give you something to drink before I send you back on your way." He gestured at a wooden stool near the counter, and the young boy fluttered up to take a seat on it.
The man took a bottle down from amongst the row of other bottles, checking the label carefully, before taking a quick sniff of the contents and nodding. He took out a short glass, and filled it about halfway with a pinkish purple juice before setting it on the counter in front of the boy. "Tell me what you think of that," he said.
The boy took a sip of the juice, and wrinkled his nose.
"It's prickly pear - too sweet for you?"
The boy nodded solemnly.
The man sighed and took the glass back. "That's what I was afraid of. Don't have much around here fit for little ones to drink, and that's meant to go with something else." The man hmmed softly, then turned towards the other end of the counter. "Hold that thought kiddo..." He disappeared through a door leading deeper into the building, then returned bearing a yellow fruit and a bottle of water. He squeezed the fruit into the glass of juice, topped it off with water, and then gave it a quick stir before giving it back to the young boy. "Give that a go, would ya?"
The boy took a hesitant sip of the concoction. Still sweet, but no longer strong, and with a hint of sour underneath. He considered for a moment then took another, deeper sip.
The man seemed to relax somewhat once the young boy accepted the drink. He started cleaning up the resulting mess, leaving the boy to look around the inside of the building. The young boy did not speak much, and the man did not seem inclined to, so the next few minutes passed in what could charitably be called companionable silence.
Finally, the man sighed, and looked over at the boy. "Suppose I owe you an apology, then," he said calmly.
The boy shrugged. He had no idea who the man was, so who was he to say if an apology was owed?
The man stood there in thoughtful silence for a long while, not quite making eye contact with the young boy. The boy was starting to think that the man wouldn't say anything further, but then the man took a deep breath and straightened up slightly. "I don't think you're stupid." His fingers drummed on the wooden counter. "Your dads and I. Well... let's just say we used to be friends. We ain't now, and..." The man hesitated, looking over at the boy. His next words were careful. "They've been hurtful to me, and I needed- I wanted," he corrected himself. "I wanted to hurt them back. 'Cept I didn't know how to do that, except to say hurtful things about you." The man ran his fingers nervously through his messy hair. "And that ain't fair to you, kiddo. So...I'm sorry."
The young boy looked at the man thoughtfully. It wasn't that he couldn't talk, so much as he didn't like to talk. And he wasn't as comfortable with this language as he was with the ones he had learned from his fathers. And right now, the boy had the feeling that he needed just the right words to say to the man, and that felt like too big a challenge. He frowned momentarily, then straightened up and started digging through his bag. With a triumphant grin, he pulled out his prize, and offered it to the man.
The man accepted the gift and looked at it curiously. It was a brass button nearly the size of the boy's palm, engraved with an ornate star pattern and looking somewhat worse for the wear. The man raised an eyebrow, then chuckled wryly. "I take that to mean you forgive me, then." He tucked the button into an inside pocket on his vest. "Thank you. I promise it's in good hands."
They sat in companionable silence until the boy had finished his drink. The man quickly washed the glass and set it out to dry, before retrieving his hat from a stool on the far end of the counter and placing it on his head.
"Well kiddo," the man in the hat said. "I'm gonna send you on your way now. I've got work to do, after all, and you don't want to be worrying your dads."
Wide eyed, the young boy nodded at the Sheriff and slid off the stool, only stopping long enough to wave back at the man from the doorway before taking off for home.
The Sheriff leaned back against the bar, fishing the button out of his pocket and taking a closer look at it. He took the rag off the rail and scrubbed at the button, removing some of the caked on dirt before returning it to its place. "Well," he murmured with a fond smile. "Wasn't that something?"
Straightening his vest, and taking a moment to be sure that his hat was properly seated on his head, the Sheriff left the bar to start his tour of the town, humming softly as he went.
Or "Four Times Cub Was the Weird One, and Two Times He Wasn't"
-----
My piece for @tangodyke's September Surprise Exchange
For @mete0rm0ss, who wanted something with Cub or Team Ranchers, and is getting a little of both.
Summary: Before the big charity stream, Jimmy gets a tour of the Hermitcraft server, and learns a lot about his friends' home server.
Final Wordcount: 2144
<Tango> just checking…
<Tango> you guys got your invites to Scar’s charity thing right?
<SolidarityGaming> yes! everyone’s very excited.
<SolidarityGaming> will you have time to show me that game you’ve been working on?
<Tango> umm
<Tango> maybe not
<Tango> think the day is pretty full?
<SolidarityGaming> oh :(
<Tango> lemme talk to X
<Tango> see if you can come over early
* * *
STOP 1 - SPAWN TOWN
Jimmy stepped out of the portal and looked around at the Hermitcraft spawn area. It was late in the server night, but the ground was still well lit and even the small bits of starter builds he could see around him were an impressive mix of styles that somehow still managed to blend together in some sort of coherent…something or other. He nervously straightened his vest as he slowly spun around, feeling more than usually outclassed in the moment. Sure, he was happy enough with his Tumble Town builds this season, but they seemed plain enough compared to the rest of the empires, let alone whatever was going on here.
After all, he didn’t build an enormous eagle, or elaborate trees, or…
…or…
…or a shrine made out of crafting tables?
Jimmy chuckled with relief as his eyes landed on the incongruous little build right near spawn, and stepped forward to examine it more closely. Here was something a little less intimidating…
“JIMMY SOLIDARITY,” a booming voice intoned from somewhere behind him, causing him to jump slightly in startlement, hands flying upwards to keep his cowboy hat in place. “WHY HAVE YOU TRESPASSED ON THE HERMITCRAFT SERVER?”
“I have a pass!” he exclaimed, frantically patting his vest looking for his token as he turned towards the source of the voice. He froze as he heard laughter, tensing as he waited to see how he had been made the butt of the joke this time, only to relax as he recognized…
“Tango!” he chastised him, though the effect was rather undercut by the broad grin on his face. His Double Life partner looked quite different, sporting black robes trimmed in soul flame blue, and a cowled hood hiding burning blue eyes.
Tango pulled back his hood, revealing bright blue hair and an enormous smile. “Hey buddy!” he said, hugging the taller man and slapping his back in a friendly welcome. “You made it!”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jimmy replied, teasingly ruffling Tango’s hair. “Gotta see what my ‘not-a-builder’ partner has been getting up to.” He gave Tango’s new outfit a once-over. “Quite the change from Double Life, huh?”
“Well… it fits my base for the season. The dread Dungeon Keeper, y’know?” Tango looked at Jimmy. “And you clearly enjoyed the Rancher vibe. Sheriff, huh?”
Jimmy groaned slightly. “Yes, but don’t get me started on that, or I’ll talk your ear off all day.”
Tango shrugged. “Okay. So…what do you think so far?” He gestured around at spawn.
“It looks amazing! But I’m surprised there’s not more people around - it looks pretty dead.”
“Huh?” Tango looked momentarily confused. “Oh! Well, everyone’s moved on to their main base projects by now. Everything here is mostly emptied out now - honestly, the lag was getting a little ridiculous.”
“So, this place just sits around empty?” Jimmy looked around in surprise. To build all these amazing bases and just…leave them? He gestured at the crafting table shrine. “So, do I want to ask why Grian thought that was a good idea?”
Tango looked over at the shrine, then chuckled. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that one was Cub. Got annoyed at everyone leaving crafting tables everywhere at the start of the season, replaced them all with obsidian blocks, and built the shrine here at spawn.”
“So anyways, what do you want to see first?”
STOP 2 - DECKED OUT
Jimmy stood at the edge of the stone platform, looking out at the massive hole meant to house Decked Out. He shivered slightly, pulling a borrowed sweater tight to keep out the cold as Tango rambled on about the redstone that he had just started installing.
“...so I just finished digging out this area for the Clank systems, and I’m starting to lay all the bus lines out for the redstone lines…”
“Hang on… how much space do you need?” Jimmy asked, jumping in when it seemed like Tango was finally about to take a breath.
“Huh?” Tango looked puzzled. “Well, there’s still a lot of systems to install…I’ve only done the card processing and clank so far, and nothing’s been connected up yet…”
Jimmy waved at the massive pit in front of him. “You’ve got all this space for redstone right here. Why do you still need to carve more rooms on the sides?”
Tango blinked, and then the light dawned. “Oh! That’s for the other levels!”
“Other…levels?”
“Oh yeah - I’ve only laid out the first level so far. There’s still another level that will go in this pit…and then two more levels that will go down into that cave over there.”
Jimmy looked up at the expansive ice dungeon overhead. That had been impressive enough, but…three more?
“And I haven’t even started working on bringing the ravagers and the wardens in…” Tango resumed his chatter, and Jimmy slowly began to realize that Tango on Double Life had been seriously curtailed in his…ambition (‘insanity’ Jimmy’s brain helpfully offered) by the small map size and lack of time.
STOP 3 - SHOPPING DISTRICT
“I gotta say, it must be nice to have all the stores in one place. We don’t really do shopping districts on Empires, mostly just go around and trade with each other for what we need.”
“We tried having shops in the different base areas last season, but all that happened is people just duplicated shops in all the different areas, and we didn’t mix as much. Even though we were staying much closer to each other last time.” Tango led Jimmy around the shopping area. “Gem and Stress’ prismarine shop is…well, it was right there. Huh…wonder what happened to that…anyways! Impy’s been selling beacons and other light sources all season, and he also has a little stand here for shulker shells…”
Jimmy turned around, wondering when he would stop being surprised by the sheer size of the builds on this server. And then there were the signs. ‘THOU SHALL NEVER AFK’ ‘THOU SHALL NOT MINE DIAMONDS’. He started seriously contemplating if putting up signs at all the other empires about respecting the Law would have any effect, only to quickly shelve that idea when he saw how the remaining signs had been vandalized.
He decided that he didn’t want to ask about the signs.
“...but honestly, I don’t really enjoy keeping a shop stocked, and Decked Out is going to be keeping me busy, so I just didn’t bother this season.”
Jimmy nodded. “I’ve been having a hard time keeping gunpowder in stock. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the others just gave up and built another creeper farm…”
“If you want some advice let me know. I can take you around to see some of the creeper farms on the server. Ren’s got one - his industrial district is pretty far away though. Jev’s got one, for the rockets. Cub probably built one too, when he was stocking up Total Chaos…not sure where that is though. Been pretty busy with my own game, if I’m honest.”
Jimmy was about to ask what Total Chaos was, when his gaze landed on a very…odd looking custom tree. He muttered something to Tango, and wandered over to look at it.
“Careful. That’s the TNTree.”
“Someone built a tree out of TNT.”
“Well, Cub had some extra.”
“Out of TNT and ancient debris…” Jimmy gaped. Ancient debris was such a pain to mine that very few people on his server had managed to get even a piece or two of gear upgraded, let alone have enough extra to use to decorate.
“Yeah, he had some extra of that too. You know…I should really see if he wants to help out, I still need about another hundred or so for all the lodestones for Decked Out…”
Jimmy just shook his head in bewilderment at the thought of casually needing that much netherite. He turned his mind back to Tango’s earlier offer. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of the creeper farms on the server.”
“Sure! Let me just see who’s available…” Tango pulled his communicator out of his pocket and started scrolling through his contacts.
STOP 4 - FARMS
“You guys don’t have any idea what ‘overkill’ means, do you?” Jimmy commented as he and Tango leaned back against a wall of cauldrons filled with powdered snow. (Jimmy was trying very hard not to think about how many cauldrons were in the snow farm…he’d tried counting, and given up after one hundred.) He stared down at the massive farm filling the valley beneath them.
“The good news is that the design is modular, so you wouldn’t have to make anything quite that big. The redstone is pretty easy, I’d be able to show you how it’s done.” Tango straightened up, and checked on his elytra. “Wanna go down and take a look?”
The two glided down and landed under the platforms. Jimmy opened up one of the chests, his eyes widening as he saw the stacks upon stacks of gunpowder. “How do you even use this much gunpowder? This is…what…thousands of gunpowder?”
“Six to eight thousand an hour, depending on who else is around,” commented a dry voice from behind them.
Jimmy spun around to see a dark haired man wearing a labcoat.
“You must be Jimmy. Tango said he was going to bring you over to see the farm. So…what do you think?”
Jimmy removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Impressive. Probably overkill for what we’d need on Empires though.”
“I can show you the plans if you like. We can probably pare it down to something manageable for you pretty easily.”
“Yeah, and Cub can give you some tips on how to survive in Total Chaos. Give you a leg up for when we play tomorrow.” Tango said, with a grin.
“As long as you don’t expect me to give away all my secrets…” Cub teased.
“Tango keeps talking about Total Chaos…what is it?”
Tango and Cub looked at each other, grinning. Jimmy suddenly had an understanding of what the canary felt like when the cats showed up.
“My friend…” Cub said, clapping a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I could tell you about it…but it’s probably better to show you…”
STOP 5 - TOTAL CHAOS
“This! Is Total Chaos!” Cub said proudly, gesturing towards the monstrosity of snow and redstone.
Jimmy stared.
There were no words.
STOP 6 - THE PERIMETER
“Tango, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the tour, but…it’s been a long day.”
Tango smiled and grabbed Jimmy’s hand, tugging him forward. “One last thing, then we’ll go back to my base and get some sleep.”
“Okay, okay…” Jimmy conceded with a laugh, letting Tango lead him towards a sandstone building perched at the edge of a massive cliff.
Or rather, at the edge of a massive pit. He carefully moved closer to the edge to look down. “Let me guess…Cub again?”
Tango laughed, and shook his head. “No, this particular crime against nature is Doc’s pet project. Calls it The Perimeter.” Tango turned and waved at a massive flagpole, goat head emblazoned on a white field. Jimmy blinked in shock when he realized that the small white and green speck at the top of the flagpole was waving back at them. He heard the faint sound of a heavy metal anthem playing in the distance.
He turned his attention back to the Perimeter. “This must have taken ages to clear out.”
Tango hmmed thoughtfully. “I think Doc said it took about 14 hours, once he got the worldeater up and running.”
“The what?”
* * *
The next day Jimmy and Tango returned to the portal to greet the rest of the visitors from Empires. Or rather, the other visitors from the Life series. Martyn was the first to pop through, immediately making a beeline to talk to Ren, still resplendent in his king’s finery. Lizzie popped through a minute later, and came straight over to greet Jimmy.
Tango greeted Lizzie with a warm hug, then wandered off to talk with Impulse and Skizz, leaving Jimmy and Lizzie alone.
“So, how was the special tour?” she teased him, reaching up to bat his hat off kilter.
Jimmy smiled as he adjusted the hat back in place. Somehow it didn’t bother him as much when Lizzie teased him. “You know how crazy the Hermits on the Life series can get?”
“Yeah…?”
“I…I think they might be the normal ones.”
Lizzie looked from Jimmy, to Ren, to Grian and Scar, to Tango, and back again to Jimmy. “Oh. Oh dear…”
I don't like mining. There's something about being underground that feels stifling, especially so deep down. I've had a few too many run-ins to ever feel completely comfortable in the mines, and since I've not had much luck finding anything worth the hassle, I've generally found it a much better use of my time to go trade iron and melons up at the village to get what I need.
Unfortunately, there are a few tools that I need that I can't get at the village. Due to my recent string of bad luck, I'd burned through most of my meager store of diamonds. There was no helping it - I'd have to go mine for more.
It was with some reluctance that I descended into the community mines, down nearly to bedrock, just high enough to hopefully avoid the worst of the lava pools - I'd had quite enough experience with those lately!
From the very beginning, it seemed like I was cursed. Every time I tried to mine straight, I'd run into another obstacle - an underground waterfall, the pop and hiss of lava on the other side of a wall, an eerily silent cave where not even a torch could push back the darkness...it was as if I was being lead around on a winding path until I could barely remember which way I had come from.
Finally, I broke into a patch of rock much softer than the surrounding deep slate - tuff is an ugly rock, but easy enough to mine, and there's usually something that will make digging it out worthwhile. I hadn't found any diamonds at this point, so I decided to poke around and see what I could find.
It wasn't long before I saw the telltale white rim of calcite that you usually find surrounding one of the large amethyst geodes. Sure enough, a little more digging and I broke through.
That's when things really got weird.
In retrospect, the first hint that something was off was the discordant note of breaking amethyst. But the first thing I noticed was the black, crawling, pulsating veins of skulk.
I’d seen skulk before of course, but… how did it get inside a sealed geode?
Really, I should have known better.
I should have left well enough alone.
I should have done any number of things.
What I did do was enter the geode.
At the center of the geode was a single catalyst. The humming heart of this strange infection.
I know I shouldn’t have touched it…but you know what?
For the first time in weeks, when I fell asleep, I didn’t dream of fire.
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NOTES:
A few of the people on The Hermit Archives discord started an SMP, and I've been playing on that for the last few weeks.
There's another statement that I've been working on that occurs before this one, but this statement gelled faster.
Still working on Chapter 4 of Banquet for Fears, but it's slow going. Hopefully getting this little drabble out will clear out the writing pipes, so to speak.
andulkaphoto
dededos
discoholicmusic
areudirty
titsay
theartofmadeline
