Name's Wen! Welcome to my writing blog! This is where I pour all my thoughts and NOT flood my main blog. I ramble more here, and might post a fanfic or two.
Here's what this blog will contain:
- Rambling about Herobrine obviously :3
- My selfship (#herowen)
- Herobrine x Reader oneshots
- Minecraft Fanfics?
- General rambling about other interests
- OCs :0!!
And you are free to request ideas for Herobrine x Reader stuff cause I'd honestly like to write more of that! Nothing problematic obviously.
Basically Herobrine WAS the Nether King here, but he was banished/exiled from the Nether by a group (name pending) powerful enough to overwhelm him. Initially he was bitter about this, but he eventually learned to adapt to the peaceful life of being in exile. The Overworld is a lot calmer than the harsh dimension that is the Nether. Definitely better than having to stress over whether or not the piglins would listen to you.
Then, his peaceful days were cut off when a bounty was mysteriously put on his head. He didn't know about it at first, but he gets ambushed one night, completely catching him off guard. It definitely frustrated him as he wasn't able to detect the hunters that were following him — was he losing his edge? — and to put the nail into the coffin, he also gets overwhelmed by the hunters and gets cornered by them.
But, before anything else happens, smoke appeared out of nowhere, blocking the hunters' sight and he gets dragged away from the hunters. The one who dragged him away is none other than Wen!!! Woah!!! They are named Wenilyn here to differentiate them from the other versions. Wenilyn drags him away until they know it was far away enough from the hunters.
Herobrine, obviously pissed off and not wanting to deal with more strangers, demands to know who Wenilyn is and why they saved him. They simply told him that they saw he was in trouble ("You were getting bullied by those hunters") and just wanted to save him out of the goodness of their heart. They don't really care if he was the former Nether King, the one everyone feared.
Obviously, Herobrine was stunned that they didn't care about who he was and just "wanted to save him". He immediately becomes suspicious of Wenilyn, but due to the injuries he sustained, he wasn't able to object as much when they started treating him. He was basically forced to stay by their side to heal up, and he promised to Wenilyn he'd leave once he's healed up.
That wasn't the case, obviously. When Herobrine's wounds were gone, and he wanted to go and leave, Wenilyn started following him around like some sort of lost puppy, stating that he "owes" them now (which is a joke, Wenilyn didn't care about debts). As much as Herobrine wanted them to leave him alone and forget about the entire thing, deep down he was glad he had a companion now.
(The hunters would also be the antagonists in this AU, and they would be adamant on capturing Herobrine cause he fetches a LOT of money)
Basically, Farlanders are just shapeshifters in disguise. They have the ability to mimic any living thing they come across, and of course, these forms aren't exactly replicas of the real thing (white eyes the most obvious sign).
The Fog Form is their original form - the form where they don't take shape or anything and are just the fog or mist you'd see. You would never know the fog is a creature or living thing until they suffocate you by going through your lungs, then you'll know the fog you walked into isn't an ordinary fog (or you won't, cause you're already dead).
The Physical Form is the form they shapeshift into - the form that gives them the ability to properly interact with the environment. No one knows for sure why they have the ability to shapeshift, but this power to shift into anything doesn't have much limitation - as long as it's alive and well. The only downside is not being able to keep the form stable for long. They would immediately start dissipating unless they try to keep the form together with duct tape or bandages, whatever would hold it together.
While in this form, if they get "injured", the fluid or "blood" that would leak out of the wound would be vapor. So, imagine a Farlander getting a cut on their arm, vapor would pour out of the cut. They wouldn't feel any pain from it, just inconvenienced since now they have to fix the leak from their body.
Another old one-shot that I originally planned to post with part two, but never got around to writing part two so I'm posting the first part :3
Can be taken as romantic or platonic! I really need to write something romantic with him...
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CW: Mentions of blood and injury
Summary: You were on your way home when you found an unconscious man bleeding in front of your cabin.
Word Count: 2,898
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There was a man passed out by your cabin.
You lived peacefully in the middle of a forest, returning from your weekly trip to the nearby village. You didn’t have any neighbors or anything, having lived peacefully for years—just the way you liked it.
That peace was broken the moment you stepped into the clearing.
Immediately, you saw the trail of blood leading to your cabin. Your eyes followed the trail until it landed on the man with blood pooling around him, right by your front door.
You froze by the treeline for a moment, processing what was going on—your eyes flickered back to the blood, then to the man, and before you knew it, your feet moved on their own. You hurried over to the man, kneeling on the grass and pushing him slightly to his side.
Seeing his face, there were scratches all over his skin. There was a gash across his forehead, his brown hair fell over his face, strands sticking to the blood from his wound as the red trickled down his face. The cyan t-shirt he wore was covered with dried blood and a majority of it came from the wound on his abdomen—it looked like he’d been stabbed there. To make his condition more worse, the left part of his purple pants had been slashed, revealing a huge cut on his ankle.
All in all, he was covered from head to toe in his own blood.
From the amount of wounds and cuts you could see on this man, it was obvious he came from some sort of battle, a battle he lost. As much as you didn’t want to be involved with him and whatever enemies he had, you knew you didn’t want to leave him bleeding in front of your cabin. That and you didn’t want to bury a body near where you live.
You placed your hand by his neck to check for his pulse—see if the man before you was still alive. A faint pulse and you sighed in relief. He was still alive.
That was one thing down, next was to treat his injuries.
It took you ten minutes just to get the man inside of your house and put him on your couch—he weighed a whole lot. Despite your relatively fit physique, it still took you all your strength to drag his unconscious body inside. There was now blood on your wooden floor, a trail leading from the front door to the couch. You’d have to clean that up later.
After the man was on your couch, his blood seeping into the cushions beneath, you doubled-checked his injuries. A gash on his forehead, a stab wound on his abdomen—you weren’t knowledgeable enough if it hit a vital or not—and a huge cut on his left ankle. Not looking too good.
You took a cloth from your bathroom, took a healing potion from your barrels and poured some onto the cloth. You crouched beside the couch and went to dab the cloth onto the man’s forehead.
However, the moment you placed the cloth onto his forehead, you heard a faint hissing sound. The man’s eyes snapped open and shoved you away. You yelped, hitting the floor with a thug.
“What are you doing?” The man asked out loud, his hand landing on the part of his forehead your cloth barely touched. He was propped on his elbow, looking at you with narrowed eyes—glowing eyes. But that didn’t bother you, not when this man had the audacity to shove you away.
“What am I doing? I’m treating your wounds, that’s what! You passed out in front of my house for Jeb’s sake!”
The man blinked, his eyes widening in shock. “I… passed out?”
You pushed yourself up to your feet, clutching the cloth you were holding. “Yes and from blood loss by the looks of it. It’s all over my living room after dragging you to the couch.”
You gestured to the trail of blood on your floor boards.
With his glowing eyes and lack of pupils, you knew you wouldn’t be able to see where he was looking, but he tilted his head to the direction where you gestured.
“Blood… that’s a lot.” He commented.
You let out an annoyed huff—the way he was repeating your words and how he seemed to be taken aback seemed like he wasn’t used to passing out and losing blood. Judging by his glowing eyes, you wondered if this guy was even human. Again, that didn’t bother you, you were far more concerned about the fact he was injured and bleeding all over.
“Care to explain why you were passed out by my cabin?”
This time, he pushed himself to sit up and he winced, his body protesting at the sudden movement. He leaned against the couch and clutched his injured abdomen, “You don’t know who I am?”
“No? Am I supposed to know who you are?” You asked, confused at his question while you placed your free hand on your hip as you tilted your head at him.
He pointed at his eyes, his brows furrowed. He seemed to be just as confused as you are. “You really don’t know?”
You shook your head in response, “No. Not really.”
At that he was silent, his hand dropping to his side.
The look of his injured self did bother you, however, and you decided to step closer, not wanting him to bleed even more. You once again lowered yourself to the floor, lifting your hand which held the cloth and went to dab it against his forehead.
As soon as you were close enough, the man flinched and immediately grabbed your wrist, “What do you think you’re doing?”
You jumped slightly at his tight grip, almost dropping the cloth. “Cleaning your wounds? What do you think?”
His grip on your wrist tightened, pulling it away from his forehead, “Don’t. I can heal it myself.”
“Heal it yourself?” You echoed, trying to wiggle your hand free from his grip. “What, you can do magic?”
“Yes.” He loosened his grip, relaxing slightly once you pulled away from him. He looked at the cloth, “What did you put in that?”
You lifted it up for him to see, “A healing potion. Thought it’d be the best way to clean your wounds.”
“No healing potions. My body… it doesn’t accept it.”
You let out an amused scoff, “Your body doesn’t accept it? What does that even mean?”
The man blinked at you, the initial confusion coming back as he furrowed his brows once more. “You really don’t know who I am?”
“No. How many times do I have to repeat myself? I don’t know who you are!” You retorted, frustration evident in your voice. You don’t know anything about who this guy was—much less whatever his glowing eyes means, but you feel like you should know a thing or two about him. But you don’t.
“Calm down. I’m just… surprised you don’t know who I am. I—” He paused, his lips pursed into a thin line. He seemed like he wanted to say something else. “I’m Herobrine.”
The name didn’t ring a bell.
“Finally an introduction from you.” You told him your name, holding out your other hand for him to shake.
Herobrine hesitated, glowing eyes looking at your hand before accepting it, feeling the calloused palm against your own. He lets go eventually and rubs off the blood that got onto his eyes, reminding him of his bloody state. “Do you have a bathroom?”
You point to where your bathroom was, “It’s right over there, but after you’re finished, you will help me clean up your blood.”
He nodded at your demand and slowly rose to his feet from the couch. He seemed to wobble a bit and you instinctively stepped closer to support him, but he took a step back from you and shook his head. “I can take care of myself.”
After that, he limped his way towards the bathroom, another trail of blood following behind him and shut the door with a soft click.
-
By the time you heard the bathroom door open, you were already holding another cloth, attempting to clean the floor from the blood. You would’ve gotten better cleaning supplies if it weren’t for the fact Herobrine was hogging the bathroom for an hour straight.
You heard footsteps walk towards you from behind and you looked over your shoulder to see your unwanted guest all cleaned up. There weren’t any signs of his wounds anywhere, the only evidence being his clothes stained with blood.
His eyes seemed to land on the cloth you held, “You’re… cleaning the blood with that?”
You shrugged and went back to cleaning, “Not much I can do when you were in my bathroom for an hour.”
“Let me help.”
You went to offer him the piece of cloth you held, but Herobrine held up his hand and shook his head. He gestured for you to stand on your feet.
You raised an eyebrow at him in question before rising to your feet, “What’ll you do?”
Herobrine didn’t answer. He looked down at the trails of blood, his eyes looked like it landed on the stained wooden floor, then to the couch, and lastly to the trail that led from the front door. He walked towards it and swung it open, peeking his head out, probably checking the blood outside.
He closed the door once more and walked back towards the couch, bending down to trail his fingers across the blood that stained the cushions below. You wondered what was going on through his mind—he seemed pretty surprised to learn he’d bled out and lost consciousness earlier.
Then, without warning, he snapped his fingers.
The room immediately lit up in a blinding white light, causing you to wince and close your eyes shut, your hand instinctively going to shield your eyes from the light.
After a moment of silence, you heard Herobrine’s voice. “You can open your eyes now.”
You slowly opened your eyes, blinking to adjust your vision and what you saw surprised you.
All the blood was gone.
All of it—the floor, your couch, the trail leading to your bathroom, it was clean. Squeaky clean. It was as if Herobrine wasn’t bleeding all over your living room just a while ago. The only evidence was the amount of blood still staining his clothes—he must’ve forgotten about the blood on him.
“Wha—? How?” You turned to Herobrine, mouth slightly agape.
There was a smug smile on his face, his eyes creasing. “I can do magic, just like you said.”
“Magic? That’s—” You were definitely at a loss for words now. “Don’t tell me even the outside…?”
Herobrine nodded and he gestured towards the front door. You looked at him with narrowed eyes before heading over the door, holding onto your cloth tightly as you opened it.
Your eyes widened st the sight before you. The grass was clean. There was no evidence of the trail of blood that led to your door. No evidence it was ever stained with a man’s blood. You closed the door shut and turned back to look at the mysterious man in your home.
“Who are you, Herobrine?”
He walked over to your couch, plopping down onto it, “This is surprising to me.”
You could tell this was going to be a long conversation so you walked over to the couch and sat at the end, thigh resting against the arm of the couch. “Surprising how?”
He leaned against the back of couch, legs spread out as he stared at the wall across him. “You’ve never heard of the legends people spoke of me? The rumors, the speculations, nothing at all?”
You raised a brow at him, “No? Do I have to keep repeating myself to you?”
“It’s just… hard to believe.” He admitted, his head lowered and his eyes on the wooden floor. “I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t know who I am.”
You let out a sigh before standing on your feet. “Listen, Herobrine, I don’t know who you are or why you were out there bleeding to death, but can you at least start explaining things to me?”
Herobrine was silent, as if contemplating your question before he nodded. “Alright. I will.”
“Good, but first, let me get you some clothes.”
-
You went to your bedroom to get some clothes for him—you couldn’t stand the sight of his dirty clothes any longer. Herobrine insisted you shouldn’t get him any clothes, saying you’ve already helped him enough. However, despite his protests, you still went to find some.
After rummaging deep inside your closet, you found some clothes that seemed to fit his body—a plain grey t-shirt and black sweatpants. You weren’t even sure who owned these. The clothes were definitely not your size, and you could only guess it probably belonged to your parents before you moved out.
You went back downstairs and gave Herobrine the clothes, who could only let out a sigh at your persistence before walking inside your bathroom once more to change. You sat by the dining table, taking a sip from your coffee you brewed for yourself—Herobrine said he didn’t need a cup—as you waited.
The door opened and he changed into the clothes you have given to him. The t-shirt was a bit fitting, showing off some of the muscles on his upper body while the sweatpants were a decent enough fit. He carried his old clothes in his arms which were folded neatly, and he walked back to the table, placing them on top.
You tried your best not to stare at his chest, your eyes focusing on your reflection on the coffee instead as he went to sit across you by the table. He had a decent amount of muscle on him, you admit, but you wanted to be respectful, at least.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice your awkward predicament or maybe he did and decided not to comment on it. Whatever it was, he started talking.
Herobrine didn’t share much details on why you arrived at your cabin covered in blood and unconscious. He told you he lost a fight with someone dangerous and happened to teleport right by your cabin when he was running away. He didn’t know a cabin was near when the fight broke out. You were lucky enough to not have heard or been involved in such a fight.
What he didn’t share was the person he was fighting. He seemed reluctant to share the identity of whoever it was, but he reassured you he’ll make sure you wouldn’t be involved in his fight. You didn’t know if you could trust his words—you did help him, no matter how small that help may be.
“How come you’ve never heard of me?” He finally asked, still in disbelief you didn’t know anything about him.
You shrugged, “I grew up pretty isolated with my parents. No neighbors or anything, and no hearing of legends or rumors from anyone else, which meant I never had the chance of hearing about you… or whatever legend you claim to have.”
“How about your parents? Did they tell you anything?”
“Nope. They only told fairytales to me. Didn’t want to scare me any further considering we lived in the middle of nowhere.” You clarified as you took a sip from your coffee, looking at him from the rim.
Herobrine nodded in response, taking in your words. His head was lowered, staring off into space. You can see that he was lost in thought, perhaps processing the revelation of you having no knowledge of him for all your life.
After a moment, he broke his silence, “I should get going.”
You sat up straight, placing your cup down on the table. “Already?”
“Yes, I don’t want him to find—” He paused, jaw clenching as he looked away from you for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I don’t want you involved in this any longer. You’ve already helped me enough.”
You didn’t ask for a clarification when he corrected himself. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.
Herobrine stood up, picking up his torn clothes from the table, “Thank you for the change of clothes. I will make sure to return them when the time is right.”
You waved your hand at him dismissively, a smile finally creeping up on your face, “You keep it. They don’t fit me anyways.”
His eyes widened for a fraction, “Are you certain?”
You give him a nod, “Yeah. Keep them.”
Herobrine stared at you for a moment, his glowing eyes steadily meeting yours. You sat there, feeling like you suddenly said the wrong thing—your smile faltering a bit before he broke the silence.
“Thank you. I bid you farewell.” He gave you a wave of his hand, his lips curling up to a smile before turning around, his torn clothes tucked underneath his arm. He disappeared into a purple puff of smoke.
As you sat there with a half-empty, staring at the spot he had disappeared from, you knew in your mind there was a slim chance of meeting him again. You can only hope Herobrine would be able to defeat whoever was after him.
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If ANYONE says I'm using AI because of the em dashes, I'm going to crash out ✌️
In the Overworld, the Farlanders' species doesn't have an official name. There wasn't anybody around to "study" and give name to them.
Anyone who has slight knowledge on The Farlands (most knowledge stemming from after The Collapse), and the "creatures" who lived there have unofficially titled them as "The Fog". Not that creative, but the name describes what they really are - sentient fog creatures who can adapt to the environments they are in (are forced live in).
Before Herobrine and Villainsbane "emerged", no one knows for sure what abilities these Fog creatures have, but apparently they can mimic any living form, especially humans. Although not an exact carbon copy of the human they chose to mimic - some irregularities exist such as the eyes and ears.
They haven't quite mastered the ability to "mimic" creatures, having lived most of their lives without a clear physical form, mostly staying in their fog form since birth. This is another reason for the instability of their physical forms, as it is hard to keep their human forms together most of the time - this is where the bandages come into play. They basically act as tape.
Due to the nature of their species, The Farlanders don't have a set gender at birth! At best, they are all agender. When they eventually get a physical form, their gender is based on the human they decide to mimic! Which is why Herobrine is physically male and Villainsbane is physically female as their forms are based on Steve and Alex.
In the Overworld, the Farlanders' species doesn't have an official name. There wasn't anybody around to "study" and give name to them.
Anyone who has slight knowledge on The Farlands (most knowledge stemming from after The Collapse), and the "creatures" who lived there have unofficially titled them as "The Fog". Not that creative, but the name describes what they really are - sentient fog creatures who can adapt to the environments they are in (are forced live in).
Before Herobrine and Villainsbane "emerged", no one knows for sure what abilities these Fog creatures have, but apparently they can mimic any living form, especially humans. Although not an exact carbon copy of the human they chose to mimic - some irregularities exist such as the eyes and ears.
They haven't quite mastered the ability to "mimic" creatures, having lived most of their lives without a clear physical form, mostly staying in their fog form since birth. This is another reason for the instability of their physical forms, as it is hard to keep their human forms together most of the time - this is where the bandages come into play. They basically act as tape.
what would herobrine’s and null’s opinions be each other do you think . I always interpret null as really uncaring to other entities unless they directly affect him (e.g. the player, circuits, etc)
I was going to answer this after playing the mod for a bit, but Null was taking too long to interact with me so I decided to read the wiki and found out there's actually lore??? Woah??
So whatever answer I had beforehand changed after reading it. It's going to be more based on the lore of Null and how it'd affect Herobrine's opinion on him.
I'll also include Creepypasta Null here cause he's very different compared to TBS Null and I've always based my headcanons for him on the creepypasta.
Anyways, very long rambling below the cut! I also wrote a bit of a storyline thing? IDK man
Creepypasta!Null, from what I remember, is implied to not like Herobrine in his lore, so I've always made Null hate/dislike Herobrine, and since Null is "evil" here, I headcanoned he probably was the one who spread the rumor that Herobrine is evil and whatnot, so this causes Herobrine to hate him back, something like "Why would you spread rumors that I'm a bad guy? What did I do to you?" Mutual hatred, basically.
TBS!Null, on the other hand, is very different compared to Creepypasta Null. Something about a friend group getting killed off by the entities in the mod. I won't go in-depth with the lore, but I feel like Null wouldn't care about Herobrine.
He definitely has some fragmented memories of Herobrine (considering he is a piece of some guy's soul), but he wouldn't mind or care about him too much. He means no harm anyways, unlike the player and circuits.
Herobrine (my version), is another story altogether. He'd definitely be curious about Null after hearing about him somewhere, something about Null and his friends getting killed by some entities. He then decides to visit the supposed deleted server (now recovered) of where this happened and takes a little tour.
Herobrine see the many, many structures left behind by the players (and entities?) who resided in the world. He'd wonder why there were pillars, random crosses, the sinkhole that leads to the void. He eventually comes across a big structure (Clan Build), and that's where Herobrine encounters Null himself.
They both have a staring contest for a few moments before Null asks Herobrine what he's doing in his world and why someone like him is there. Herobrine would answer truthfully, something like "out of curiosity", and Null would be a bit stunned, but ultimately just tells him to leave. He's already dealing with another nuisance (ahem, the player).
Herobrine knows there's something up with this guy, especially with the amount of structures that exist in his world, and decides to leave the world, not wanting to end up on the guy's bad side.
For a bit, at least.
Herobrine's curiosity still gets the better of him soon enough and goes to visit Null's world again, albeit more stealthily this time. He spends a few minutes in the world, occasionally spotting the "player", running around before he eventually encounters the other entities who reside in the place.
Since Herobrine isn't like the player and is basically similar to these entities, they pay him no attention and go for the player instead. He just watches as the player is tormented by these entities, feeling sorry for them but ultimately decided it wasn't his business in the end.
He leaves the world, gaining new knowledge and the opinion that it's "fucked up". He gives himself a mental note never to visit the world again and let it be. Let Null do his own thing.
TLDR:
Null - Doesn't care about Herobrine. The guy hasn't done much to him and knows he doesn't mean harm. He wonders why Herobrine is in his world, but just doesn't care enough to know. He wants the guy to leave.
Herobrine - Null intrigues him, moreso his world and everything in it. But, he doesn't want to be too involved with the guy, so, like Null, he just lets the guy be.
In summary: they don't want to be involved in each other's messes.
I was going to answer this simply, but the thought of Herobrine just visiting the world, realizing how fucked up it really is, and dips out is really funny to me. Also because TBS lore intrigued me.
Also, this mod is sooo interesting and fun, but I just wanna say I hate that fuckass Sub Anomaly 1 glitchy mf, like DUDE get away from my house I'm trying to build!!!!
Occasionally, Steve and Alex would sometimes force Wen to come along with them both to their adventures—either mining or just exploring the Overworld—but there are times where Wen wouldn't come along with them (they usually regret this in the end), leaving them bored and lonely in the cabin.
So, one day, they ask a book from Steve to have something to draw and write on. They'd write their thoughts—feeling homesick, wondering if they should find a way out of the Overworld, most of their inner thoughts—and would draw a quick doodle here or there.
All of this was prior to their friendship with Herobrine, which means he never figures out Wen does draw and write beforehand. So when they do become friends, he figured out Wen draws, and would sometimes watch them draw on their book. Unfortunately, Wen isn't used to having someone watch them draw—much less from their crush—so they'd occasionally fumble a doodle here or two. They even erased the thoughts they have of him in that book, not wanting him to know what they really think of him.
Eventually, because of this, they start keeping another book, solely for self-indulgent purposes while the other book is for more public eyes (ahem, Herobrine). Sooner or later, they start drawing Herobrine in this secret book. The quiet moments they have with him, the "white eyes" in the forest that they figured he still does sometimes. All sorts of moments.
When I say self-indulgent, the book really is just that. Sketches of Herobrine, and the occasional thoughts of what they think of him—the stuff they would never say out loud to him, even if they do get the chance of dating him. They hope he never finds this book. Ever.
Unfortunately, when they start dating Herobrine, he does find the book. By accident.
He wasn't trying to be nosy or anything, he just happened to find it one day when Wen asked him to get them something. He finds the book hidden somewhere and despite scolding himself to not look, he eventually gives in to his curiosity.
Herobrine flips through pages of him of the book, seeing the soft sketches of him and reads what they think of him—surprised Wen sees him in such a different light compared to how he sees himself, even more stunned on reading what they thought of him. It makes him see them in another light as well, realizing just how deep their love and care for him goes.
Afterwards, he just quietly returns the book to its place and gets the thing Wen asked him to.
He never mentions the book to Wen, but they have caught him several times looking at them with a soft look. They wonder what they did to deserve being looked at like that.
I have so many Herobrine x Reader drafts that I've left unfinished, not sure if I'll ever finish them... I usually write in one sitting, reread the entire thing and call it a day. So, if I don't finish writing something within that day, I forget the idea I had for that one-shot and lose the motivation to finish it. A bad habit I know :']
Because I'm greedy, HeroWen happens in a lot of universes. Nether King Herobrine? Enemies to Lovers. Fallen Kingdom Herobrine? Wen is stuck with a ghost who they warm up to eventually... so on and so forth. You get the idea.
However, the only universe where they don't happen is Monster School. It's more of a "I don't know how to write them in this universe" sort of deal rather than anything. I also can't see them getting together?
Herobrine is too busy teaching his students and if Wen even attempts to go near the school, they'd get attacked by the mobs since they aren't so friendly towards humans. Herobrine doesn't even bother to stop the monsters 'cause he doesn't want a human near his school anyways.
Wen thinking Herobrine wouldn't be interested in them or anything when he literally has a whole JOURNAL about them. Nothing creepy or anything, mostly just him talking about how Wen just appeared in the world one day and wonders what their story is. He has entries talking about how he wants to befriend since he thinks Wen's nervousness around him is due to them being scared of him when it's the complete opposite.
Wen doesn't know about this until AFTER they start dating. Herobrine just one day shows them his journal—telling them he writes about their first arrival and plops the book on their lap unannounced. Like Wen isn't going absolutely insane over Herobrine telling them he WRITES about them. Like that isn't a crazy thing for your now-boyfriend to say to you.
So, imagine the amount of mixed emotions going through Wen when they read through that journal—seeing how he slowly, but surely also fell in love with them subtly in the writing. Their flustered face and their smile that definitely didn't reach from ear-to-ear.
Herobrine doesn't know what was going through Wen's mind, but he likes the huge smile on their face :P
definitely don't imagine your f/o reading aloud to you. don't imagine being tucked into their side, their arm draped around your shoulder, fingers tracing patterns on the crown of your head. also, don't imagine having your head laid on their chest, listening to their heartbeat and the soft thrum of their voice as they read the words from the page. don't imagine how the soft glow of light from the floor lamp that hangs above you casts golden contours over their profile. don't imagine how warm they are or how good they smell. definitely do not do that.
In fact, it's a nightly ritual for them both later in their relationship! Of course, Herobrine would do the reading cause Wen can't read properly with him listening (they get flustered a lot when he stares at them for a long time).
Wen would fall asleep most of the time though before Herobrine would finish what he's reading, but he doesn't mind! He finds out eventually that Wen remembers everything he's read to them and would recount whatever they heard him reading before falling asleep :3
Even if they happen to forget what he's reading, Herobrine would gladly reread it to them if they ask him to!
Fallen Kingdom Herobrine who found peace with his death. He had expected to feel anger, resentment, the desire for revenge—but as soon as that sword struck through him, the jolt of pain passing through him while his life flashed before his eyes, he felt oddly at peace.
He saw what he had done, what he had conquered. The vast amount of monster armies he'd led into different kingdoms, the fear and helplessness he'd instilled amongst the general populace, and decided—this was what he deserved.
His consequences for everything he’d done; for every villager he massacred with his army, for every kingdom he’d destroyed, for every family he’d separated, for every terror he’d caused to the Overworld—he knew his actions would come back to haunt him.
Well, here it was. His punishment.
A sword to the heart from the son of the King whose kingdom he destroyed. Not the best way to go, but it was something that was inevitable. At least, to Herobrine that is.
Now, he lives on as a ghost. He wasn’t sure if he was vengeful or if he couldn’t move on from his actions—which he now calls as mistakes. Whatever kind of ghost he was, it didn’t matter. He was stuck in this ruined castle, this very castle he had fought that kid and lost. Horrifically.
Abandoned and lost, wandering forever in the remnants of who he once was.
Nether King Herobrine had spent too much time in the Nether, he had forgotten what it was like to be in Overworld. To see the sun and bask underneath its light, a light that isn't full of oranges and yellows, and to feel its heat above him—surrounding every part of him.
So, when he visits the Overworld again—be it during his redemption or someone else managed to convince him—he gets hit by the bright sunlight casting down onto him and the Nether Portal behind him. The purple glow mixing in with the afternoon light.
He stands there for a moment, taking in his surroundings—the green scenery of the clearing, the trees around him providing shade to whoever would be needing it, and of course, the dreaded ball of gas up in the vastness of what the others call the sky.
It had been months—maybe years—since he'd last seen the sun. It hasn't changed one bit. It was still the same as last time—high up in the sky, giving off heat to the world below, heat that he thought he would be long accustomed to because of his time in the Nether.
However, the heat the sun gave off this time was different. It was still hot—much like the Nether—but this one felt... kinder. Warmer. Gentler, even.
Unlike the heat from the lava, this heat was a lot less hostile. Herobrine doesn't know how to explain it, but the heat from the sun makes him want to lay down on a field of grass and bask in its presence.
Perhaps that's what he did, for a few minutes—or maybe hours. Just laying on the grass, taking a moment to breath, and... relax.
Take off the crown, the king underneath and become someone he'd not been for years.
Herobrine.
Not just King of the Nether or whatever it is people call him nowadays—just Herobrine. Himself.
