10 Works by springbeetle
Listing Works
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you're the first and last of your kind by springbeetle for januarymorning
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP
05 Jan 2026
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“I liked sleeping on my back,” Grian said in despair. “It was the comfiest position to sleep in, it let me rest my neck and now I’ve got to invest in hammocks. I can’t be a parrot hybrid!”
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Look At How I’m Scratching At The Surface by springbeetle for Katricia
Fandoms: Dream SMP
29 Dec 2025
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It had been nearly a full week since the Angel of Death had surrendered, and Command was getting increasingly antsy about the transformation thing.
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the skin's all wearing thin by springbeetle for salemoleander (heartbeatsinreverse)
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP
29 Dec 2025
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Grian flushes beautifully once Scar gets his shirt off. He squirms and fights, of course, panting out wonderful little phrases like “Scar,” and “Cub– Cub,” and “I’m not– hold on– ow,” but none of those are the safeword and his dark eyes are blown wide, mouth opening to let Scar deepen their first kiss. His lips taste like salt tears. His tawny hair has twigs in it from when he was still fleeing the both of them, Scar giving chase as Cub circled around to cut Grian off.
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follow the lines and wonder why by springbeetle for im_always_stressed
Fandoms: Dream SMP
28 Dec 2025
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“Oh, shit, you’re a piglin,” Phil blurted, rooting around in his inventory for gold, and the piglin kid stared at him, tilted his head when Phil realized he had jack fucking shit on him because of the prisoner thing and gave up.
The kid was head-and-shoulders taller than Phil, with bright dark eyes and a little scar on his snout and clothes just like he’d been given, plain and practical, nothing like the hoglin leather that piglins liked to wear at all. He said something in Piglin that sounded surprised, maybe, and kind of annoyed, and pointed at the vent.
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so enlist every ounce of your bright blood by springbeetle for januarymorning
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP
29 Dec 2024
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“Actually, I was thinking of building a permit office,” Scar said carefully, and Grian’s feathers bristled up. “Don’t freak out, though, okay? I’m not reusing ideas, never, perish the thought. We’re free thinking men, I’m taking inspiration. Opening doors to new experiences, really— digging deep.”
The basement, then. Grian skittered his gaze away from Scar’s, stared at one of their shulker boxes and envisioned the contents with gusto. He’d gotten fantastic at counting his inventory if he was having trouble thinking correctly, within the boundaries their new admins preferred. He had to keep his thoughts in order if he was going to come up with phrases like well, batter my fish sticks and fry me at the fair— the one time he’d tried that one out, Scar had laughed so hard that he’d fallen off a battlement and died, and One had punished Grian for the delay. Clearly he needed better material.
“And here I thought vex didn’t need to open doors,” he said lightly.
“Oh, we don’t, really,” Scar said, and alright, that was Cub. Cub was here. Cub was here.
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It was daylight, not that you could tell from the enclosed room Xisuma had teleported Grian into. A bright, fantastic Hermitcraft day, his friends bustling about the server engaged in activities, cheerfully oblivious to what Xisuma and Grian were about to do in this room together. To what Xisuma was about to do to Grian.
Most Hermits weren’t big on tradition, when you got down to it. They’d been around too long, seen enough of the universe to have set preferences about their bodies, or they had their own plans for each season. Scar and Cub had recently finished with their predatory ConVex business, for instance, and Cleo kept her zombieness– zombitude? Zombiehood?-- firmly under her own control, and the less said about Joe’s usual brand of shenanigans, the better.
So it had been unusual, having a new player such as Grian bring the concept up in the roundabout fashion he had, side-eyeing Xisuma like he wasn’t sure whether Xisuma would just snatch him up one day, like he was checking off a box on some haphazard to-do list-- like he’d smacked himself on the helmet and gone oh, silly me, that’s right! I forgot to modify Grian to my personal preferences last month!
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tall enough to reach the branches by springbeetle for moebiusdoublereacharound
Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP
15 Jun 2024
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“Maybe we should go through it again,” Mumbo said. He abandoned his own project, an attempt to diagram an automatic dispenser so a baby player could memorize it, and wandered over. Grian batted him with the top of a wing on principle. Mumbo sputtered and stepped pointedly out of range. “Right, take a gander at this, yeah? Watch me extremely carefully.”
He crouched next to Grumbot, suit jacket crumpling a bit, and started explaining what he carried with him all over again, slowing his cadence like he was giving a redstone tutorial to a clueless builder. Grumbot inched closer and pressed against his side, peeking up at Grian like he was making sure he was still there.
Grian’s heart flipped in his chest, making a good faith effort to crawl up and block his throat.
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Grian recognized the walls around him as the inside of the Entity, the back rooms he hadn’t bothered to design an interior for, but he hadn’t put those other doors there, hadn’t built this far back. He certainly hadn’t constructed the Entity’s insides out of that lifelike, throbbing red, but as he stared at the doors the clues came together into a bad picture, the worst, and– and his muscles wouldn’t respond to him, when he told them to run. He stayed in place, hyperventilating.
The most that the thing enveloping his mind would do was let him sink to the floor, indulgent like with a recalcitrant pet, so that would just– have to be enough. He’d already created the Entity’s foothold on Hermitcraft, it told him, already peered at the monstrous voidspawn with his other eyes and let it know a Watcher was on the server. It was ridiculous to think he could wriggle out of his obligations now.
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weave a nest from sticks (or let the cold in) by springbeetle
Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP
02 Dec 2023
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“You can’t prove I didn’t, can you? Maybe one day I woke up and said you know what, it’s time for baby, and I just– just like that, I was gonna lay an egg, and then I did lay one and it wasn’t any of your business.”
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Jimmy shivered when Grian wiped away his tears, wings drawing in. One couldn’t fold more than halfway, wounded at the joint and still not really healed, but the other tucked in close, tattered yellow feathers sticking up every which way.
“I am ashamed, though,” he said miserably. “You shouldn’t have come after me. You could’ve left me for dead, and you’d have been on your way, free as you please.”
“I could have, sure, but I didn’t, did I? So too bad, so sad, no regrets for you,” Grian said. “Come on. What are we?”
“We’re pleas– pleasure slaves,” Jimmy choked out. “We’re prisoners, we’re gonna– they’re gonna hurt us and maybe separate us and I don’t, you shouldn’t have come after me–”
“Tim. Come on, get your head in the game already. Forget about that. What are we?”
“We’re Bad Boys,” Jimmy said, a reluctant smile ghosting across his face.