One last gift for @lumaberrycream as a part of @mcyt-winter-of-mf
Summary: Ren wants to try to incorporate pumpkins into the Gigaplant design. What a terrible time to discover a pumpkin allergy!
Gift under cut
Ren held the paper up to the light. This was the perfect design for his plants! Glow lichen and pumpkins made the perfect icky plant to produce the sulfury juice that covered the landscape of his fake planet, thanks to Gigacorp. He had plenty of glow lichen, but pumpkins were another matter. He could probably go and raid someone's pumpkin farm- really, he didn't even need that many of the plants. He was really just testing if they looked good in his base. Then he would commit. These plants needed to be everywhere! An evil company wouldn't just stop at one plant. No! They were taking over an entire planet, here.
He was getting ahead of himself, though. First he needed the dratted pumpkins in the first place. Ren left his base, just a simple white box, a shipping container/life pod thing, and one of many to come. First, though, he'd at the very least need to do some terraforming to replace all of the grass with mud, and maybe add some more interesting hills or something, so the pools of goo would make a little bit more sense.
Right now, there was only a patch of packed mud under his feet. His horse was in a similar one not far away. Once he got wings, he wouldn't use the poor creature as much; he'd decided to take it around more at the beginning. He hopped on it, spurring it. The only pumpkin farm he could recall off the top of his was at spawn. He rode grass waving grass until he met up with the path- several of the hermit had come to pave the island, since many of them were using horses during the early season. Spawn came up quickly. Ren ruffled through the chest, piling probably more pumpkins then he would actually need into his inventory. Better safe than sorry. His hands started itching as he stuffed his inventory with three whole stacks of pumpkins, barely making a dent in the sheer amount of pumpkin flowing out of the chest. No one really came around to spawn anymore. They were all too busy with their own projects, and no one had the time to memander down to spawn just to grab some pumpkins and do a little bit of trading. It was a bit of a waste of the always-loaded chunk, but hey, plenty of pumpkins for Ren to steal. Sure, it was a community resource, but he couldn't help but feel as sneaky as a raccoon in a domino mask as he shut the chest.
He gave into the urge to scratch at his hands as he shuffled back to his horse. It was starting to spread. His arms, uncovered by the nasa-themed t-shirt he wore- the costume space suit he wore around his base was too hot for building- had also started itching. It stung a little bit as Ren continued to itch. He barely attempted to stop from itching as he hopped on his horse and let it take him back to his base. Stupid itching, it was getting to be too much. Ren stuck his hands in pockets and bit down on his tongue. He was careful not to draw blood because he'd surely get a lecture from some concerned hermit (False, cough, cough) about the habit. He focused on why his arms itched so badly out of the blue. Maybe it was because of something in the chest? Ren had gotten hives from piles of redstone before, even if it had been awhile since that last happened.
Yeah, that was probably it. Some redstone dust snuck its ways into the chest, or was crafted into it by accident (it would've been easy, with how messy some of the redstoners were), and it was irritating Ren's skin. Again. It was a nuisance, especially when he ventured into redstone projects himself, but that was just a part of dealing with sensitive skin. Luckily, he was prepared for this. He just had to get the gel he kept just for this. Where was it ex- Ren shrieked, stumbling back from his own arms. Why were they red? How?! It hadn't even been that long since he'd last looked. Big red blotches covered his arms, crawling with a terrible painful itching. The last time he could remember getting redstone on himself, it hadn't even been half as bad.
He gapsed for air. It was getting harder to breath, and Ren couldn't tell if he was panicking or if something else was wrong. He sat down and fumbled for his comm. He needed someone with a better sense of logic than him. Through his watering eyes, he opened False's whisper channel. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just sent a couple of sloppy help's. False responded immediately, and Ren melted with relief. Hopeful she'd know what was going on. He just had to wait. He settled into one of the chairs by his fireplace- sure, it didn't exactly fit the space theme, but it was nice to have. Besides, there was that water creator from that one science fiction novel- that was pretty much a space fireplace. He was out of the chair within a few moments of sitting. Was the itching spread? It felt like it was coming from his very core. Ren got up and paced the floor. it didn't help. He tried to get himself a cup of tea, and nearly burnt water. He just sat on his hands after that. It was the sound of rockets that broke from the terrible itching that just wouldn't leave him alone-
"Ren?" It was more False's voice that told him who it was at the door, his eyes too watery to really see anything. "Can I come in?" Ren opened the door. He was too focused on pulling in his breathing to waste air on speaking. False entered, eyebrows scrunched tight. "You needed help with-" He showed her arms, cutting her off. She frowned, glancing down at the red splotches.
"It's a little hard to breathe and you're too watery to see." False pushed her way into Ren's starter base, stepping closer to him. She looked him up and down; he got the uncomfortable feeling of a specimen under a microscope. Or, perhaps more accurately for False, an enemy on the battlefield.
"Sit. Did you touch anything weird recently? Anything at all? A vine with leaves of three? Low to the ground bushes with oak leaves? It would be within two days or four hours?" Ren paused. He didn't remember anything, however he moved fast, always on the move. It was one hundred percent possible that he had touched something without realizing it.
"It only started showing up after I got pumpkins from the-"
"Try taking them out of your inventory? And maybe rub one on your leg?" Ren tossed the pumpkins without a second thought but gave False a weird look at the second part of her instructions. She crossed her arms and gave him her I'm Serious Look. "Don't you want to get to the bottom of this? Make sure it's actually on your skin."
"What, is the pumpkin the problem?" Ren asked, rubbing one of the smaller fruits against his leg, pant leg rolled part way up his shin. He stared at False, doing his best to ignore the crawling feeling of itch, itch, itch over his skin. False was probably onto something, but he wasn't going to admit that. He had a bit and he was going to stick to it like a dog with a bone. He broke eye contact a few minutes later. The terrible itch had spread to- to- Drat, that was another point to False. The avian cackled when she saw the look on Ren's face. She was right and she knew it.
"Yup. I guess you didn't know you had an allergy to pumpkins?"
"I didn't!" Ren grumbled. "Stupid sensitive skin!"
"Go take whatever seasonal allergy potions you have. I've got some stronger ones back at my base."
"Well, on the bright side, I have the perfect plant to become my Gigaplant!" False turned around in the doorway, staring at Ren.
"What."
"You heard me! The perfect plant! It won't cause Gigapox in anyone but me! The lore is accurate but the plant won't harm anyone!" This was exciting enough that he could almost forget about the stupid rash. False sighed.
"It'll be your downfall. I'll go get you the recipe for those allergy potions. I get the feeling you'll need them." It was Ren's turn to cackle as his friend shook her head and took off, hawk feathers sparkling in the sunlight. Ren left to take her advice. Well, half of it. For what Ren needed, pumpkins were perfect.
Another gift for @lumaberrycream as a part of @mcyt-winter-of-mf
Summary: Bone's point of view of Sniff's mining accident
Fic under cut
One of the first bits of mining advice Bones had given Sniff was that she should never go into the mines alone. They might have been a hypocrite, but if Sniff heard that they were often down in the mines alone, she'd try to do the same. With her skill level, that... to put it simply, it would be a bad idea. She'd do it anyway, of course. She was just sort of like that. Stubborn. Bones could admire that, even if it had them worrying. They slashed through a zombie, their glittering blade barely flashing out. It was dark, dark down here. Without someone to watch their back, they had to be extremely careful, to put it lightly. They placed another torch and creeped around a corner.
They had to fight to suppress a gasp. Speak of the devil, and she shall appear. Well, it was more like Bones had stumbled across her, lying half behind a rocky wall. They glanced around and darted forward. Was Sniff even breathing? This was why Bones had told her not to go alone! Their fingers found a familiar spot under Sniff's jaw, and they nearly deflated with relief. The beat was slow, slower than Bones would've liked. It was a small comfort, given the state of Sniff's injuries. Luckily, it seemed that whatever had caused her injuries was gone now, probably a skeleton. Bones lifted Sniff up, but paused, then set her back down.
Her things were scattered around- she would just push herself even harder if she had to get all of it. Bones grabbed her bag, and shoved everything in. The last thing they grabbed was a clipboard, which they shoved into their own inventory, since the bag was overflowing. That would be so much fun to sort through later. They slung the backpack around their shoulders, and picked Sniff up again. They didn't know how bad the injuries were, but they didn't want time to make them worse. They made their way to the surface, slower then they would've liked to, dodging mobs occasionally. They followed the trail of torches back up the surface.
It wasn't long until they could finally give Sniff a proper check up. Her house was not the sad ashy remains that it had been once. Sniff had managed to rebuild it in such a short amount of time. How often had she built out in the cold, how often had she worked under the stars? It was a beautiful house, but its price was the weight of Sniff's eye bags. Bones shifted and opened the door, into a house that was empty enough that their steps echoed. It could be very cozy, but at the moment, it was simply small. Bones had to turn sideways to make it up the stairs without Sniff hitting any of the walls.
What were the odds of finding any useful medical supplies? ...not high enough to go looking through Sniff's things, more than they already had. Good thing that they had brought their own. Sniff would need at least a first aid kit, sooner or later, and having to walk to the store with a cut was not fun. Bones settled Sniff onto her bed, finally looking closely at her wounds. An arrow stuck out of her shoulder, crusted with blood- it looked like the worst of her injuries. Bones would need to pull it out, stuff the wound with gauze until it stopped bleeding. Blood. Why did it have to be blood, of all things? Bones could barely stand the sight of it when it was their own, and that was mostly because of the years and years of mining, which came with a large helping of monsters. They huffed. Standing around wasn't going to help Sniff.
One step at a time. First, the arrow. They cut away Sniff's shirt from the wound to help the arrow slide out. It getting caught would make this longer and worse for everyone involved. They grabbed the arrow and yanked. It came loose with a wet sclurck sound. Fresh blood, bright ruby, flooded up. Bones fumbled for their gauze before unrolling some of it. They shoved in into the wound, pressing with as much as much of their weight as they could. Pressure helped stop bleeding, right? When it seemed like the bleeding had mostly stopped, they hurried through the rest of the process. They were a little worried about whether cleaning the wound with alcohol would make it worse, and it wasn't the kind that would be fine with just water. It was remedied with a squeeze of a tube of antibacterial from their first aid-kit, which they would need to replace soon, and a fresh set of bandages.
The clean white quieted the nausea that had been swirling in Bones's gut, a least for a little while. They still had a lot of work to- that bite on Sniff's arm, for one. Bones rolled up their own sleeves, before working to clean Sniff up. When all of the wounds that Bones could see had been dealt with, they piled everything from Sniff's backpack into a chest by her bed. They paused for a moment, the weight of the clipboard dragging at their heart. It was wrong. They knew that- Sniff had a right to privacy. But... The clipboard had the instantly-recognizable paper of the general store, and if that didn't sting... Bones had already seen what happened when you combined pride and stress too great for one person.
Bones pulled the clipboard out of their inventory. This was too much. Everything was too much. Too many things, too much work, too many questions. They were up to their shoulders, they couldn't leave now. What was it like for Sniff? ...Had Bones waited too long to reach out? Again? They set the clipboard on the table and buried their head in their hands. They weren't going to leave until they got answers. They couldn't, not when they knew that one of their friends was struggling. It wasn't the sort of thing that they wanted to happen in Fernsville. Bones dropped the clipboard back into their inventory, settling into one of Sniff's kitchen chairs. Now it was time to wait.
They got bored of sitting and waiting. Sniff probably wasn't going to be waking up soon. After a quick check on her to settle their rolling stomach, Bones headed out onto the farm. They frowned at the sight that greeted them. Weeds were fighting with plants that were on the edge of overripe, carefully laid paths completely overtaken by greenery in a way that was more jungle than farm. As if they had needed more proof that she was in over her head. They glanced toward the house, and rolled up their sleeves. It had been a good fifteen years since they'd last picked up a hoe, but a childhood of farm labor doesn't get forgotten easily. They remembered why exactly they chose to take a blacksmith apprenticeship the moment that they get to work. Bones gritted their teeth instead of opening their mouth to complain to the wind. This was for a friend. In for a penny, in for a pound.
Okay, maybe a little complaining was warranted. Bones trudged into the house as the sun began to set, body aching in a familiar way, and settled into the same chair they'd pulled out earlier that day, when they brought Sniff in. Sniff. They should check on her- she might need a proper doctor, especially if she hit her head. Bones wouldn't have known, but the fault would still be on them because they thought that they knew enough to say that Sniff was safe, and they'd heard that people with concussions could fall into comas- Sniff could b-
"Bones?" A voice interrupted Bones's thoughts like a electric shock. Sniff. They turned, scanning Sniff. They were sure that she would try to be up as fast as possible after an accident, even if it hurt. They couldn't see anything that looked like it was worth keeping her in bed for, though that arrow wound would be better with more rest. "What are you doing here?" Bones met Sniff's eyes- clear, but confused. They swallowed, finding their voice somewhere in their stomach.
"I was going mining, and found you passed out. I got as many of your things as I could find, but getting your wounds treated was more important.” Bones explained, resisting the urge to shrink under the weight of Sniff’s gaze.
“Did you see a clipboard?” Sniff asked. Bones blinked. Not exactly what they’d expected her to ask about. There was definitely something up with the board, especially considering the value of some of the things that she had on her. They shook their head. Sniff needed a response.
“This one?” They held it up, the metal clip part of the clipboard glinting in the sun. The general store’s logo, printed in faded green, was immediately recognizable. The reaction was instant. “I was wondering what it's for?”
“A grocery list?” Bones closed their eyes so that Sniff wouldn’t have to see the eye roll that followed that. She was a terrible liar.
“...Who needs over a hundred pieces of corn?” Bones replied, pointing out the frankly bizarre amount. “Or that much wheat? I get not wanting to do dishes, but sixty bowls?” Sniff glared at the floor, a blush creeping up her face.
“I don’t have to tell you anything, Bones! I can handle myself just fine! It’s not any of your business!”
“Can you handle yourself? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like someone too scared to ask for help. Sniff-”
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t need your help. I need you to leave, because you obviously don’t think I’m capable. Of anything, really even knowing my limits.” Bones flinched at that. They weren’t overstepping, right? Just… just trying to help. …Help was pointless when it wasn’t wanted. They stood up, and walked past Sniff without a glance in her direction. Their steps echoed in the too-empty house. The door creaked softly, sounding like lightning in the air. Their chest was tight with the weight in the air as they shut the door behind them.
Bones barely got past Sniff’s farms before tears were streaming down their face. How were they exposed to help her when she didn’t realize that she needed it?
==
Bones had gotten over it. They were very much over it. It didn’t hurt that one of their friends was struggling and refusing to ask for help, to even consider that she might need it. No, it wasn’t the worst sort of deja vu they had ever experienced. They just had to let Sniff figure it out for herself, and it would all be fine in the end. In the meantime, they needed to stop thinking about it because the thought made it hard to breathe. They brought the hammer down on the anvil. One step at a time, that’s how this worked. There was no point at being mad at Sniff when she was probably just as Bones. And she was the one doing it.
In and out, up and down. The blade they were crafting was taking shape well under their hammer. It was a good kitchen knife, the sort that was perfect for cutting potatoes thin. When they had gone down into the mines with Sniff for the first time, they had decided that they were going to make her a set of kitchen knives. She’d only had one, and she’d spent her time using it to slay monsters. The bravery was impressive, but Bones preferred not to risk getting zombie guts in their food.
Footsteps drew them out of the soothing rhythm. They paused- the knife was okay to be left to cool for a little bit. Boones entered their shop through the forge entrance. Sniff. Not exactly the person they’d been expecting to see. Hope swelled in their chest.
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