Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Breathe, Tommy

This is it. build height. You could see from miles away, a large cobblestone pillar, taller than anything else Tommy has ever built. Usually he wouldn’t build this high, a waste of resources and a pain in the ass (to say the least) when it comes to getting back down. But, he was here for a different reason.

Right, we have to focus

Throwing the rest of the cobble in his inventory down off the ledge, he slowly moves to sit down. It’s nauseating from up here, the subtle wind in his hair and the way it tries to coax him off of the edge, and the view. Oh prime the view. Logstedshire, nothing but a small dot in his vision, was obstructed by the wispy clouds that were always so far away. 

He sat there, prime only knows how long, admiring. Admiring the way the wind rippled through the trees and grass, making abstract lines and hues in the fields. Admiring the peace of the clouds, seemingly moving faster from up here, fluffy and wispy, the details normally ignored or forgotten popping to life. Admiring the peace he finally felt after so long, still alone of course, but he felt at peace with it rather than distressed about the lack of company.

Maybe he would see Wilbur. His mind drifted as he watched the world float by. Maybe they would find peace together. Sitting under a tree, playing the guitar and singing, surrounded by the fallen blossoms. Maybe a small picnic, freshly baked bread and sweet ripe apples. Prime, so vivid he could almost smell spring somewhere in the air. They were kids back then, the calm before the storm, per say. Before the wars and the fights and the deaths and the-

He went to go trace a specific scar on his face, the one Techno gave him in the pit, and was surprised to feel it was wet. When had he started crying? He was so fragile nowadays, glad that Techno didn’t come around anymore. “You’re so weak,” he could hear his brother’s voice echo in his head “No wonder you’ve been exiled.” It swarmed his senses, causing his head to buzz and heart to beat out of his chest.

That’s why we are here.

He remembered why he brought himself up here. Why he, Tommyinnit, was at build height. Taking a deep breath, he turned to stand up - careful as the rocks slid under his hands and his weight shifted at the change in balance. He had been here long enough. What if Dream or poor Ghostbur came and found him, looking down and fucking crying. 

There’s no one here. He had to remind himself. No one ever came by anyway. He had all the time in the world. Sure Dream would come by at some point, but right now, it was just him and his thoughts.

Swaying as the high altitude began to get to him. The air was thick in his lungs, head still buzzing, and tears were still silently falling. His mind focused for a couple seconds, hand mindlessly tracing the engravings on the compass that never left his neck. “My Tubbo”

“I’m so sorry Tubbo,” he whispered to the sky, hoping that somehow, some way, his best friend got the message.

Tommy mustered all the courage he had, knowing that it would all be over in a matter of seconds. Before he knew it, his legs were moving.

And he jumped.

Chapter Text

Xisuma woke to his communicator buzzing almost continuously on the bedside table. Did the server bug out while I was asleep? Are my comms broken? Groggily feeling over to where the buzzing was coming from, he half-heartedly attempted to stop the disturbance. He picked up the cell phone-like communicator and squinted just barely enough to see what the chaos was all about. 

<TangoTek whispered to you> yo X did you invite someone new?

<TangoTek whispered to you> hello?

<TangoTek whispered to you> there's a kid here at spawn, seems pretty beat up but haven’t gotten too close

<TangoTek whispered to you> ????

<TangoTek whispered to you> they seem scared, gonna keep my distance

<you whispered to TangoTek > sorry asleep

<you whispered to TangoTek > omw

Rubbing whatever sleep was left from his eyes, he took one more look down at the concerned messages. That's one way to wake up. The admin slipped on his helmet, followed by his elytra, when it took a couple seconds too long to boot up. With the admin panel open on the HUD of the, now fully on, helmet he began his search. Now let's see, what went wrong here.

Xisuma could practically hear Bdubs’ voice in the back of his head as he flew towards spawn. Time and time again the admin had been caught distracted with his work, especially as he flew. “Don’t code and fly, I’ll take your helmet away!” Logically, his friend would never be able to do such a thing, but the message stuck nonetheless. After that encounter, he made sure to cut back on having his helmet active whilst midair. His friends care about him, and although Bdubs couldn’t take his helmet away, he wouldn’t risk being grounded (quite literally) either way.

Although this was a different case, he thought. Never in his years of being the caretaker and admin of Hermitcraft had someone just appeared at spawn. Sure, glitches came and went. Hackers trying to get themselves whitelisted and failing, people messing with the code, but this? This kind of thing was practically unheard of. The whitelist was in perfect condition. There wasn’t even a message in chat announcing the new arrival. He attempted to push down his unease about the situation as Tango appeared in the distance, quietly sitting on the scales of Shade-E-E’s.

“Oh thank Void, there you are! I called Doc and Stress too, they should be here any minute.”

Like clockwork, the two healers appeared over the town hall, heading straight where the other two hermits were now standing on the island outside of Shade-E-E’s. 

Landing, Doc immediately started asking questions. “Have we talked to them? What kind of condition are they in? Do we know where they came from?”

Tango, almost expecting this reaction, held up a hand and responded. “X just got here too, and honestly we don’t know. They’re terrified, we know that much for sure.”

“Oh, dear.” Was all Stress could seem to muster, worry plastered onto her features as she listened.

“Let me go in first, as the admin, and I’ll wave you over if I need you guys. Doc and Stress should come in next if need be.” Tango, could you call Grian? They seem to be an avian of sorts, maybe he could help us calm them down a bit. Remember, they might be dangerous or here with mal intent so watch out.” 

Everyone nodded in approval of the plan the admin proposed, sending worried glances his way as he turned towards the tiny spawn island. One rocket was more than enough to start circling the island. Xisuma, careful as he always is, slowly glided in circles, getting closer and closer to the ground. 

Oh, Void. The details were slowly coming in. A kid, no older than 17, curled into themselves, shaking violently in the sand. Their blond curls were matted and unruly. Their clothes, from what he could see, were in tatters. Scrapes and cuts riddled their pale skin, deeper scars stood out amongst them.  They did have wings, but something was clearly wrong with them, although he couldn’t quite tell what, through the blood and mud caked into the feathers. I’ll have to ask Grian about that. 

Landing, on the complete opposite side of the tiny piece of land, was enough to wake them out of their trance. X stood still as the kid whipped their head up, wide-eyed and still shaking. The fragile avian just sat there and stared, almost through X, and time felt as though it stopped.

“Hello, my name is XisumaVoid. I’m the admin of this server. Do you know where we are?” He explained carefully, attempting to cover the growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

At the mention of the word “admin”, the entire demeanor of the kid changed. They went from terrified to flat-out hyperventilating. As X stepped forward to attempt to calm them, his thoughts only spiraled deeper. This is bad, this is very bad. The poor kid only shrunk further away, gasping for air and covering their face as if someone was going to hit them. Welp, on to plan two.

Xisuma pried his eyes off of the kid for the first time since he landed, only to look at his friends, still patiently waiting. Even though he was too far away to see their faces, he knew they were worried sick, clearly distressed at the sight of the scene but waiting for their admin’s approval. Large wings caught his eye when he realized there was one extra waiting too. When did Grian sneak in here?

Luckily, Doc and Stress got the memo, frantically pulling out rockets and activating their elytra. He watched as a stressed Tango grabbed Grian by the sweater, and frantically explained something. Turning his attention back to the kid, just as one of the healers in the air boosted again. If it was bad, it's a full-blown disaster now.

The scene unfolded in front of his eyes. The rockets triggered something within the ball of feathers and mud in the sand. Their hands went from their face to frantically covering their ears. The poor thing is heaving now, begging their lungs for air as they try and fail to get any amount of fresh air in them. The two new hermits to the island landing must have been the final straw for them, their body finally having enough as they fell to the coarse sand below. 

What in the void did I just witness. His healers picked the newcomer up, placed them in a boat, and took off for what he could only assume was the Town Hall. Lightheaded, dizzy almost, as he watched them fade into the distance. 

He stood there, spaced out watching the waves crash at his feet. All of the emotions from the past few minutes were finally catching up with him as he was finally given a chance to breathe. With each new crest arriving and rushing over the metallic boots of his suit, a new set of panic appeared. Nausea started to set in as he thought what, more like who had done that sort of thing to a child . Where was his admin? What did he do to deserve all of that pain? Why didn’t someone help him?

A strong hand on his shoulder pulled Xisuma out of his head. How long have I been standing here? He raised his head, turning towards the worried Tango standing on his left. The admin opened his mouth to say something, not sure quite what yet, maybe an apology or an explanation, just something to ease his friend’s mind. Tango, knowing him all too well, beat him to it. 

“Let's get going buddy, I bet they’ll be fine. We can look into the code in a bit, but for now, you look exhausted. We can go to my place, it's closer and I don’t quite trust you to fly very far, to be honest with you.” Sensing that X was just about to protest, that he was “ not in fact that tired” he continued “-and I will call Bdubs if you so much as try to get out of this.”

A small sigh left Xisuma’s mouth after that, a silent agreement that he was, in fact, correct. Bdoubleo, the one, and only sleep king would take one look at him and drag him by his stinger to the nearest bed. He had been working harder recently, as daily admin work and shop stocking took up most of his time anyway. But their recent switch to 1.16 brought its own troubles for the server, meaning more and more nights spent chugging coffee spiked with regen just to stay awake. 

With that lack of further protest, Tango took off, gliding in a small circle to check if his friend was following. Content that X was shortly behind him, the two hermits headed for Toon Towers, the small multi-colored blur in the horizon.

Chapter Text

The air felt stuffy. Humid and thick but also slightly chilly. The floor underneath him hummed, occasional buzzes reverberating through his body as it moved. Tommy opened his eyes to… a train? More so a public subway system, one you would see under London or New York. He looked around, taking in the sight in front of him. Empty, not a single seat filled, no one standing or talking, nothing. Creepy, he thought to himself, how in the hell did I get here. 

The windows were black like the void, clearly in an underground tunnel somewhere, and the only thing seen from them was a dim flash of the few lights passing by. Fucking fantastic. He thought, acknowledging the two things that prevented his escape from wherever he was. 1) He was moving, and fast at that and, 2) He was underground. A sense of panic settled in, filling his lungs and mixing with the humid air. Every bone in his body screamed to get out . Maybe, just maybe, a door would fall loose and the train would be forced to stop, or an emergency alarm would still be active. Just something to get him out.

When the train finally slowed, every part of his body ached. He had slammed and pried and kicked, committing every form of violence against that Prime be damned door. It just wouldn’t. Fucking. Budge. The subway car came to a slow but all so sudden halt, which startled the panicked teen even more. Small blue lights blinked above the door, causing Tommy to shift back in order to see them better. As the intercom’s computerized voice echoed through the empty car, he finally noticed where they were stopping. A station? Finally, we can get somewhere!

Stepping out, his heart sunk right back to where it was just a few moments ago. His steps echoed through the empty station, somehow even creepier than where he came from. The pure panic bubbling in the back of his head finally caught up with him at the sight. He sank to his knees, tears welling up and overflowing as he lost all control. The station taunted him with his own ragged breathing and sobbing being echoed back. Lost in his mind as the panic attack ripped through him, he missed the sounds of heavy work boots against the tile as they made their way closer.

“Tommy?” No response.

“Toms I’m going to need you to breathe for me, just like old times.” The shaking teen was pulled into familiar arms, warm and safe, as a hand rubbed small circles into his shoulder. 

“Toms, how did you get here? What did they do to you?” Wilbur’s soft voice rings in his ears, riddled with worry. Tommy, unable to really think, let alone talk, just holds tighter to the familiar jacket, hoping that his older brother would catch on. They sat on the floor of the empty station, Wil murmuring soft nothings to him as a way of calming and grounding his younger brother. 

Tommy lifted his head just enough for his voice to be heard, even though it was just above a whisper. “I’m sorry Wil, I’m so sorry. There was no other way. It was just so hard and I-” He was fully rambling now, his breathing speeding up with the realization of just quite where they were sitting.

Sure, Ghostbur talked of the station when prompted, but he wasn’t necessarily a reliable storyteller. The ghost often talked about random details without real purpose or plot. The station only really came up once, only after Tubbo suggested a subway system for the local area. When asked about it later, the ghost had forgotten the whole ordeal. They all wrote it off as another one of his silly moments. 

But here he was- they were- in the station.

Quiet shushing brought him back, realizing that he was on the verge of another panic attack. Wil sat him up, carefully resting a callused hand on his younger brother's cheek. “ What did they do to you? ”

All Tommy could do was cry. A soft mumble made its way through the ragged breathing, though Wilbur could only really hear something about him deserving it.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me Toms. I don’t care what happened, you’re here and that’s what matters. I love you, you know that.” Wilbur offered a soft smile, though the underlying sadness still showed through. “Mum stopped by a while ago, she said you were struggling. I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you.” Tommy met eyes with his brother for the first time, whispering a small “Mum?” before continuing to cry in his brother's arms.

“Yeah, and she gave me something to give to you.” Wil fiddled with one of his pockets, pulling out a small yellow ticket, and placed it in Tommy’s scarred hand, curling it up and locking it safe within his palm. Tommy only responded with a mumbled “What?” as he opened his hands up, turning to look at the small piece of paper in his palm. “It’ll take you back, I’m not sure where but mum said you will be safe.”

Tommy fully sat up at that, looking towards his older brother. “What if I don’t want to go back? I wanna stay here with you.”

“Oh Toms, it’s not your time yet, you know that. You’ll be safe and taken care of, you’re way too young to stay here.” Wilbur softly curled Tommy’s hand around the ticket once more. “C’mon kid, let's get going.”

 Wilbur pulled his brother to his feet, and mentally winced when he was much lighter than he remembered. He made sure to guide and help Tommy to the ticket booth, and hold his hands steady when they shook too much to get the small ticket in the slot. There was an uneasy sort of quiet between the two, both knowing what came next but not admitting it to themselves or one another. They watched the doors slide open and the lights inside the train car come to life. They stood there, stuck, until a hand was placed on Tommy’s back, silently guiding him forward.

 “Wil, I- I don’t think I can leave you here, I can’t. I’m not ready to leave. ” 

“Toms, I’ll be fine, I’m strong, I can do it.  We’ll see eachother again, I promise. But you’ve got to go back now, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Wil-”

“Toms” Wilbur offered a small smile, although his eyes were still filled with tears. “I’ll be here, I promise. We’ll see eachother again. I promise.”

With that, Tommy stepped into the car, turning to watch the doors slide shut behind him. The two brothers were once again separated, eyes watering and red after their too short of a time together. Tommy walked along with the train as it began to move, running like a little kid who didn’t want to say goodbye, following the windows to stay with his older brother for as long as he possibly could.

 When the bricks of the wall took up the last window, he slumped down in the nearest seat. Tired, from the emotions and events of the past hour, he let the hums of the engine lull him to sleep. He could swear he heard the hum of Wil’s voice echo amongst them, in an all too familiar tune.

‘I don’t think I want to leave you, here alone’

~~~

He woke up to the sounds of the beach, the taste of salt in the air, and the hissing of rockets. Shitshitshitshitshit. Wilbur said I would be safe, why here. Anywhere but here. He was on the beach, the sand itchy and rough on his wings as he curled into as small of a ball as he could. Someone, most likely Dream, was circling him like a hawk, watching and waiting for him to let his guard down just enough to strike. 

He curled up more, the hissing of dud rockets faint in the air, and he wrapped his wings further around himself. The bastard’s using duds, he’s saving the real ones for me. Straight panic coursed through his veins when heavy boots landed just a few paces in front of him. There he stood, the reason Tommy had jumped in the first place, freshly polished axe in one hand, unloaded crossbow in the other.

“I’m sorry. It was an accident! I was good, I didn’t break any rules.” His voice wavered between terrified and a poor attempt at confidence. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh Tommy, you should know by now not to piss me off. I slightly missed the peace and quiet around here lately, but as my toy, I’m glad you’re back. As an admin I’m very busy, and you have only made things worse. You aren't off the hook though, you’re going to have to pay for your little ‘fall’. ” 

As the crossbow in Dream’s other hand was being loaded, Tommy fucking bolted. He took that millisecond of distraction and (quite literally) ran with it. Every ounce of his body was pounding with pain mixed with anxiety, though he couldn’t care less, all that mattered was getting away. 

Everything sounded muted, covered by the sounds of his breathing and the constant drumming of his heartbeat. Yet, Tommy put every ounce of his remaining focus to listening behind him. He stopped, why would he stop. Fuckfuckfuck this can not be good. He slowed, mainly when the sounds of boots against the hard dirt quieted, but only turned around when a different sound replaced them. SHIT. Dream had stopped about 20 yards back, but above him, flapping their wings and hovering, was god themself, DreamXD. 

Although never actually seeing the god before, every muscle in Tommy’s body seemed to seize with the implications the figure in front of him brought. Phil and Techno had come back to the cabin one night, shaken and startled after a trip. Apparently, they ventured off to the stronghold, simply to see if it could even be found, only for the figure to stop them. According to Philza Minecraft himself, they had broken the end portal with their bare hands. All before fucking fazing back through the walls.

So yeah, not a force to be reckoned with.

A standoff, per say, and an uneven one at that. I do not like these odds. He thought as he took in his opponents. On the ground stood his tormenter and admin, now fully loaded crossbow in one hand, shiny netherite axe in the other. Above him, a couple yards back, a literal god. 

The two pristine white masks stared straight through him, waiting for him to make the first move. A smile, one that still haunts his memories and dreams, was accompanied by another, this time with an angrily carved “XD” into it. Both hungry for blood, both hunting their prey.

Something clicked within Tommy. They are going to get me either way, better go out with a hell of a fight. 

For the second time this evening, he turned and bolted towards the forest. Like a mouse that got a bit too close to the barn cats, he was being hunted like prey. Everything was too loud and too quiet all at once. The sounds of his feet against the forest floor, of his overexerted breathing, of his heart reverberating throughout his head.

The echo of faint laughter in the distance. 

He kept going. It didn’t matter that he was bone tired, that his muscles were struggling to hold his weight, that his heart had been working too hard for too long. He kept sprinting through the woods, getting continuously more and more scrapes and bruises from low hanging branches and bushes. His feet stung, lacking proper shoes for running and no doubt had splinters and cuts from it. It didn’t matter, what mattered was getting away, getting free .

His vision blurred from the hot tears welling in his eyes, either from his mental or physical state, he’s not sure. Honestly, the lack of vision was the least of his problems, between being literal prey or the fact that his mind was going haywire rightnow. There was only one thing on his mind now.

Run.

Chapter Text

The seemingly never ending cover of the forest finally broke as Tommy happened upon a clearing. It was a patch of plains, big enough to fit a large village to fit in if needed to, but small enough to see the forest on each edge. It was gorgeous, some might even say perfect. It felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders, releasing the heavy burden that had become commonplace upon them. Somewhere, somehow, his subconscious knew that Dream was gone.

Dream was gone.

DREAM WAS GONE!

I did it! I actually fucking did it! SUCK IT GREEN BOY!!

He slows down to a walk, clearly tired from his adventure thus far, but still curious enough to keep going. The smell alone of fresh wildflowers and morning dew wrapped around his mind and carried him forward. Most likely yellow oxtails or coneflowers he thought, though he only knew their names after Tubbo insisted he knew every yellow wildflower in their area. He waded through the mix of knee high grass and flowers, letting every one of his senses calm in this new found patch of heaven. 

Tubbo would love this place.

Nice weather was rare on the SMP, even so, Tommy had never experienced anything like this. The sun was nice and warm against his skin, although not to the point where he was too hot. This was his favorite type of weather, that of a warm spring day. Days that reminded him of picnics, of quiet guitar, of reading with his brothers under the blossoms. The wind swirled the smells of flowers and spring all around him, almost begging him to stay, begging him to relax.  

He smiled, for the first time since exile, he actually smiled. Everything was just so nice.  The compass that never left his neck felt warm against his heart. He hummed, tracing the engravings as he usually did when his mind wandered, and let eyes slightly close, taking in the warm rays on his face. 

For the second time in the past few hours, he heard his name being called. At first it sounded like the wind, humming, no calling to him. But then, a flower crown and horns peaked over the horizon. 

Suddenly he was engulfed, more like tackled, into a hug by his best friend. Both fell rather clumsily down into the soft grass, both laughing at their descent and just enjoying the fact that they were together again, after all this time.

At least, he thought Tubbo was laughing too.

That was, until his friend looked up to meet Tommy’s gaze, eyes red and puffy, his cheeks riddled with tears. Tubbo watched as Tommy’s face switched from joy to confusion to fear to something unreadable. 

“Big man, what's wrong?” Tommy asked after a few seconds. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Tommy, I - shouldn’t’ve left you there, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Tubs, it's okay, we’re safe here, I escaped!” 

“What?” Tubbo paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully, “Dream told us you died, you died, I saw the pillar myself.”

“Yes, but then I met Wilbur, and he gave me a ticket, and I was back! And Dream was there but I ran, Tubbo! I ran! A-and now I’m here, and safe, and alive , and we can live here, run away like we always talked about.”

His friend didn’t share his excitement or hope, keeping a solemn look on his face. He looked worried, anxious even, as Tommy waited for an answer, patiently studying his face as his friend thought. Now that he looked, Tubbo looked like shit. Sure, they’ve been through a lot, and it shows, but even so, his best friend looked worse than he had ever seen him before.

The once outgoing and bubbly personality was nowhere to be seen, locked away and replaced by a guarded and quiet one. His eyes were puffy and sunken as if he hadn’t slept properly in days, maybe even weeks. Tommy looked down to see a shaky hand hold his, though he couldn’t help but notice when his best friend’s sleeve rode up, just enough for scars, new and old, to poke out from underneath. 

It was a bad habit Tubbo had picked up when they were kids, a way to cope with the ever present stress and confusion that war brought. It had changed him, changed them both, and Tommy would never blame the other for needing an outlet, as dangerous and scary as it was. He would never say it out loud, but seeing a relapse always hurt, especially in times like these when he didn’t even know. 

How long has this been going on? Why didn’t he reach out? Did Dream lie-

He was brought out of his thoughts when Tubbo replied, quietly. “Tommy, I have a nation to run, I-I have to go back.”

Tommy deflated at that, silently scared of letting the other go. Though, he once again stayed silent, afraid of hurting his friend even more. Tubbo had known Tommy long enough to look through the poorly made facade that he held up, and sensed his disappointment in what he had said.

 “But I don’t mind staying here a bit longer.” 

Tommy made it his sole purpose to take advantage of the time they had left together, and thus they fell into comfortable, yet chaotic, conversation. They talked about Ranboo and Michael, the marriage, the station, and Tommy’s not so accurate retelling of the chase (because he was a big man and big men don’t get scared). It was like nothing ever happened between the two, their laughter and banter as loud as ever. They laughed like they were kids again, before the war and scars and pain.

It wasn’t until the sun began to set that they finally began to calm down, falling into comfortable silence while watching the colorful hues tint the sky. A figure, with the classic robe and black wide brimmed sun hat, sauntered over to the two. She reached out a hand to help Tommy up off the ground.

“C’mon Tommy, let's get you home.” Mumza hummed in a low, soft, voice. “Can’t stay here forever.”

Although he hadn’t seen his mum in forever, he knew he had to go. He could huff and dig in his heels like he was a toddler but something deep down whispered to him. That it was okay, that he needed to go.

Tubbo must have gotten a similar feeling, understanding the importance of this moment. Although he smiled as Tommy took his mothers hand, the tears welling up in his eyes betrayed him. He knew this moment had to end, he had even said it himself, but fear was now taking over.

Mumza could tell he was scared, despite his best efforts to hide it. The ever knowing Goddess had met too many people, taken too many lives to not recognize those emotions. She hummed, Tommy’s hand interlocked with hers, and reassured him. “He’ll be safe, I promise.”

Tubbo knew better than to doubt the Goddess of Death herself, however he would be holding her to that promise.

Tommy, now standing, whispered a small goodbye to his best friend, and turned around. He would never see the way the other mouthed it back, or the way he unhooked the compass from around his belt and clutched it to his chest.

With one hand interlocked with his mum, and the other carefully holding his own compass to his chest, they took off into the, now mostly darkened, horizon.

~~~

He was the most comfortable he had been in years. Everything around him was just so soft. He was on the softest mattress imaginable, accompanied with the softest and heaviest blankets he's ever felt. It reminded him of being home, sick in bed, with Mum by his side taking care of him. The gentle waft of fresh made soup, still in the air.

Someone was lightly preening his wings, clearly trying not to wake him, but still enough to clean out some of the dirt. He had stopped taking care of them in exile, letting soot, dirt, blood, and other grime build up deep within the feathers. Realistically, he should be running away, Phil hadn’t preened him in years , but it just felt so good to be taken care of.

Someone was reading to him softly, and even though he couldn’t really make out the words, he appreciated it nonetheless. Silence became something he hated over the years, almost always bringing tension and war. Days when Pogtopia would go silent still haunt him, everyone distancing themselves from their possible traitor, with tension thick in the air. Was he finally home? Was Techno reading to him like he used to so many years ago? 

“Techno?” He mumbled, cracking his eyelids open just enough to let in a bit of light and the silhouette of his brother.

Although, when his eyes finally focused, a man with kind amber eyes and a large @ symbol on his shirt stared back. 

 “Hey kiddo.”

Chapter Text

They had finally let him in. After three long days of fighting to get to the fledgling, Grian was finally let inside.

Those three days had been hell for everyone involved. Doc and Stress had quickly set up a make-shift hospital room in the basement of the town hall, with curtains and whatever medical equipment one might need. They had their work cut out for them, between the multiple fractures in his legs and the bruises that painted their skin, the two made it very clear for the others to not bother them while they worked.

While the two healers went to work on stabilizing the kid, Scar and Bdubs went to work transforming the rest of the basement. A kitchen, some sleeping bunks, a bathroom, and pretty much anything that could provide comfort to the previously intolerable space. The room matched the rest of the town hall, with sandstone and birch walls, reading nooks and the most comfortable beds in the ‘verse. The two builders knew that their friends would most likely be here for a while, and built accordingly.

Adding to the already tense environment surrounding the town hall was a very stressed out Grian. The avian, more like mama bird, was fighting anyone and everyone who left the building. After sneaking in, and being kicked out (multiple times mind you), Xisuma was put on security duty. Grian still fought tooth and nail to see the kid, his fledgling, and neglected everything else. He no longer slept, ate, or even preened his wings. It was only until he nearly passed out from exhaustion did he sleep, and even then, he continued to fight the minute he woke up.

Mumbo had been called after the chaos of day one, and his only purpose was to calm Grian, although it was more to give Xisuma a break. This task was easier said than done, being that the avian in question would not leave the area and insisted on fighting with those who tried to coax him away.

After bickering for what felt like hours, Grian finally agreed to build a small nest in one of the upstairs offices. He was reluctant at first, but as soon as Mumbo brought out the blankets and wool he couldn’t help but let his already raging instincts take hold. Turns out, a light preening session was all it took before he was out like a light.

Doc knocked on the door around noon on day three, and was met by a sleepy Mumbo, with an asleep pile of feathers behind him. Grian didn’t stay that way for long though, because the minute Doc started to speak he was up, ready to fight for any information he could. Little did he know, Doc was there to give the go ahead and lead them downstairs.

Now, Doc, X, and Mumbo were standing outside the curtain, with said energetic avian in tow. They were waiting while Joe did one final check on the kid before letting unfamiliar people in. Although they had been asleep the entire time, Joe still made sure to talk to the kid and let them know what was happening to them, just in case they could hear their surroundings. There had only really been four total people inside of the curtains, all of which had talked plenty of times to let their presence be known. The last thing any of them wanted was to scare the kid with a new voice.

Once the curtains opened, however, all excitement drained from Grian’s features. The kid on the bed was asleep, covered in bandages and healed up scars. His wings had been lightly guided off to one side, out of the way and lightly stretched out so as to not cause any discomfort. 

That's when he noticed it. He reached for Mumbo’s sleeve, something to ground him as nausea and faintness creeped in as he stared. He stepped forward, subsequently dragging the other along with him, and lightly touched some of the feathers. Everyone seemed to freeze in the moment, watching and waiting, knowing something was wrong but unsure as to what.

Tears welled up as he made a low trilling noise, something akin to desperation, as he continued to feel through the feathers.

“ Nonono- You can’t just do that to a child.” He murmured, seemingly to himself, dropping Mumbo’s sleeve in favor of using both hands to hold the fragile wings. Xisuma stepped forward, close enough to look at the wings as well, and placed a hand on Grian’s back. They waited there, staring at the asleep boy, until Grian turned to his admin with watery eyes.

“X, he’s been clipped.”

You could hear a pin drop in the room after that as everyone stood frozen, processing what Grian had just said. Hermitcraft was notorious for being a safe haven for hybrids, a place to live in peace without the horrors and bigotry found outside. Hybrids, especially avians, have been abused and hurt for decades, because of their “freak” like nature. Over time avians learned to hide their wings in order to survive.

 Now, most people had never met nor seen one, but they still knew of the horrors done to their kind. There was only one who had ever been seen in the Hub with their wings out, a crow avian by the name of Phila Minecraft. A legend, the god of death himself, only safe from those who harm by his protector, the blood god. Even so, they only roam tight knit private servers, leading many to believe he was a hoax to begin with.

Grian lightly pulled out one of the matted wings to extend it fully. Sure enough, a large chunk of their primaries were missing, clipped, like someone would do to that of a pet. A shaking hand placed it back to its resting position, a silent attempt to insure they stay asleep. 

Grian stayed there, in solemn silence and deep in thought, and stared at the fragile kid. Barely, just under his breath, he whispered a promise to himself.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this.”

~~~~

Grian had slept there, in a fold out chair by the side of the bed, all night. Everyone had tried, and failed, to get him to move into a more comfortable area, one that wouldn’t crowd his already stiff wings or hurt his back even more. He was being protective and stubborn, his instincts practically screaming at him every time someone checked up on the two of them or tried to get him to move. 

It really didn’t matter that his wings were stiff, that all he wanted was to fly home and sleep in his nest at home. He had a job now, to take care of and protect his fledgling.

It started slow, with little chirps and coos. He was clearly scared of making a mistake or accidentally hurting the one he has now vowed to protect. When the healers would check in he would calmly explain the process to the smaller avian, explaining who was there and what was being used, and ensure that they were safe. 

It only took a few hours for Grian to finally break down. He had specifically avoided touching or messing with the fragile wings in front of him this entire time for a reason, even though his instincts cried to preen them. There was no real way to tell if they were causing pain due to the severe amount of grime caked into each and every feather. If there were cuts or bruises he couldn’t see them, making the whole endeavor that bit more scary. Yet, the sight of matted feathers was scarier. I can’t imagine how horrible that must feel.

So he started slow, lightly combing through in places that were visible and cleaning out what he could from there. He found himself cooing softly at particularly difficult pieces, a soft “ I’m sorry, it’ll feel better” here and there. His mind began to drift, simply letting his fingers fall into familiar patterns, and let himself relax for the first time since the new member arrived.

Grian barely noticed when Joe checked up for the final time before going to bed, and didn’t fight Mumbo when he brought in a warm bowl of soup for dinner. He just let himself drift off to the meditative task of clearing dirt, taking care of another.

It wasn’t until he woke up the next day in his nest upstairs (with an asleep Mumbo by his side) did he realize he must’ve drifted off. 

Grian let himself stay there, knowing that the kid, that both of them , were being taken care of by the best.

Chapter Text

With the whole ordeal with Grian dealt with, Xisuma was finally able to focus on the real issue at hand.

How did someone, especially a kid, get onto his server unannounced. 

Hermitcraft, Xisuma especially (as the admin and all), was known for their insane security. Nobody got in without a whitelist and an explicit invitation. Where other public servers had holes and openings in their code, something that would easily let someone in if they tried, Hermitcraft was known for being neat and tidy, an impenetrable vault. Where other admins left hard to fix cracks and bugs, X fixed every single one, no matter how difficult or time consuming. He once even walked to the border early in the season just to ensure his hermit's safety.

 Even in those cases, something was alerted. His comms went off at almost any issue, and alerted someone else when he went afk. Even then, it was always logged and available later, under encryption and passcodes, and virtually impossible to access (to anyone other than X). Long story short, it was extremely strange that nothing showed the new arrival.

So, this led him to checking the kids code himself. Perhaps an admin changed some things that would notify others of player updates, though that wouldn’t explain passing by the whitelist. Maybe a really intense glitch? He’s seen undetected riffs before, ones that just pick up players and drop them in a new server, even those had provided a notification of some kind. He let himself ponder the possibilities as the data was being transferred, trying to understand how to fix this mess.

Well, I found the problem.

The code looked just as bad as the kid himself. None of it made coherent sense, as if someone took out every other line and then mixed it up. It would take days if he wanted to get any information out of it, weeks if he wanted to fix it completely. No wonder the server didn’t notify anyone, it couldn’t even tell that they were a player.

He sat down on one of the cots, helmet in his hands as he thought of how to approach this. This is bad. This is worse than I could have ever imagined. 

He called Joe first, as his second in command and someone who’s great with kids. Then gets started on calling every local admin that could possibly know how to fix this. Deep down he knew that he had to help this poor kid, and was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

~~~

Stepping into the throne room of the town hall, his deconstructed debug room in tow, Joe immediately realized that this was going to be the most serious project he has ever worked on. When Xisuma had texted him Galactic rather than English and told him to bring his setup, he figured it may have been bad, but the sight in front of him was something else entirely.

On the upper balcony of the town hall was the admin in question, pacing as he usually does when thinking or stressed out, with a frantic Bdoubleo following quickly behind. It was clear that whatever Bdubs was ranting about was not important in the slightest, as X simply kept on his path without even acknowledging the other. Joe had known the other admin for a very long time, having joined in Season 1 and all, and had only seen him this serious a handful of times.

“Oh thank Void you’re here!” Bdubs exclaims down the balcony, not even caring when X continued to pace on without him. “This derp is refusing to sleep! See X, you can finally rest, take a nice, long, restful nap . Joe ‘ll take it from here!” He drew out his words, attempting to sound as enticing as possible. 

It didn’t work.

The voidwalker simply stopped where he was, seeming to realize that Bdubs had stopped his hovering, and turned towards where Joe was standing awkwardly in the doorway of the Town Hall. The first thing Joe noticed was the fact that his visor was black, the tint cranked up to 100% so no one could see in. He would be willing to bet that his noise canceling feature was on too, blocking out most if not all of Bdubs’ lecture. Joe knew he was stressed out beyond belief, and was, in turn letting himself fall into the safety of not being vulnerable in front of his friends. They would definitely be having a talk about that later.

For now, he thought, might as well work with what we’ve got.

Picking up his shulker, he headed up the large flight of stairs. “I’m gonna set up in my office ‘zuma, just tell me what needs to get done.” 

~~~

“We need to call a meeting.” Joe proposed, although it didn’t leave much room for debate. They had been sat in the dogcatcher’s office for quite a few hours now, and both of the admins were at a  loss for words. The more they sifted through the code the worse it seemed to look. 

Xisuma let his helmet fall to the table with a quiet plunk before responding. “I know, I’ve just never seen anything like this. What am I supposed to say?”

“X, It’s about informing the others, not fixing it right this second. We all know this is out of our comfort zones. We don’t expect you to know how to navigate this.”

When he didn’t respond for a second Joe figured this conversation wasn’t going to happen right now. That's alright, he thought to himself, it’s better to wait for a less stressful time to talk rather than risk a full blow shut out. X did that from time to time, his voidwalker upbringing makes him believe he has to deal with problems on his own. Although it has gotten better over the years, too much stress can still cause him to shut everyone around him out.

Xisuma lifted his head off of the table before mumbling a small “ I’ll send out a chat.”

~~~

With the kid still out, Joe offered to take over watching him. Usually, they tried to keep someone within the curtains during the day, just in case they woke up or something happened. Joe often read out loud or wrote quietly in the corner, and others filtered in and out throughout the day. Of course, the broody Grian was also there most of the time, preening and cooing to them as well.

Upstairs, the meeting was about to start. Eight hermits cramped around a table in the dogcatcher’s office. Xisuma had made sure that everyone who wanted to learn more about the kid was here, as per his message, and was adamant that this was serious.

Xisuma was at the head of the table, and for the first time since this endeavor began his visor was tint-free. Even though the only visible part of his face were his eyes, it was clear he had been up for days on end. Large bags hung under his eyes, cut off by the edge of his visor, and his eyes were glassy. He was standing, leaning over the table with his hands supporting most of his weight, as if without the support he would fall over. His entire demeanor screamed Tired, Overworked, Stressed.

To the left of him, Tango and Impulse sat quietly talking amongst themselves. Tango, after the horrors that the first day brought, committed every ounce of himself to helping in any way he could. The netherborn was constantly running errands and building farms that would help the crew that was taking care of their new member. Impulse, after not seeing Tango for days on end, followed suit. Both were worried, namely because they weren't given much more information than the fact that it was not good .

Sat directly across from X, was the deathly quiet duo of Doc and Etho. Both had a blank, stoic look plastered on their faces. Etho had been hanging around the town hall mainly to keep the creeper hybrid sane, simply knowing how he does under mass amounts of stress. Doc, nervous about what the meeting may include, invited the other, to get Etho informed, of course, and definitely not to help keep himself calm.

Next to them, and to Xisuma’s right, were the trio of Mumbo, Stress, and Iskall. Mumbo was toying with the cap of his pen, nervous, with his redstone notebook out. Even though he was there to take notes for Grian, he couldn’t help but pull out his own notebook to ease his mind while they wait.

Stress and Iskall were talking, hushed whispers between them, most likely over the condition of the kid downstairs. Iskall was carefully asking questions, most of which she couldn’t answer, but it was clear she was trying her best.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, disrupting the hushed conversations that were kept, and revealed a frazzled Bdoubleo. Light bags were under his eyes, although they were nowhere near as bad as the other hermits in the room. 

“Sorry! Sorry, Scar kept me a little longer than I thought and I-” He rambled as he shuffled in to sit next to Doc and Etho.

“It’s fine.” Xisuma responded, directing his glance towards Doc. “Alright, that should be everyone. Doc, Stress, you two should start.”

The two healers made eye contact before Doc nodded, indicating that Stress should start. 

“Well, it’s not good,” She starts, flashing a sad smile before continuing. “The poor luv really got themselves hurt. Multiple fractures in the legs, two broken ribs, a large gash directly between his wings, the list goes on.”

She looks to Doc for help, who is attentive and ready. “We were really concerned about the scars.” He typed something into his comms before a few pictures showed on the screen behind their admin. “Some of these…” He started carefully, almost as if he was unsure of how to phrase it. “...look as if they are from an anarchy.”

Tango gasped, although everyone in the room held a shocked expression on their face. A tense silence took over the room, with Doc letting them process the information for a few seconds. Anarchy servers had a minimum age of 18, and that was required by law. Of course, kids slipped through the cracks, but it was still unlikely to say the least. Most people knew what they were getting into when they signed up for an anarchy, and most had the moral decency to leave kids out of the equation.

“Are you sure?” Tango asks, quietly and voice laced with pure dread. 

“Uhm, we are pretty positive.” Doc responds quietly, keeping his gaze fixed onto the table. “Based on the healing patterns, and mass amounts of battle scars, I- I would say yes. Either it’s from an anarchy or some sick server that imitates one.”

“Luckily, though, they should heal up just fine!” Stress makes sure to add on, sensing the fear building within the room. 

Doc looks to X, who just nods and switches the display behind him to a picture of the code he’s been working on non stop. 

“I’m going to keep this short, mainly because we didn’t get much from the code.” Xisuma states, raising an arm to highlight the mess of code behind him.

“Either a previous admin or a…” He trails off, avoiding the very possibility that a watcher could be involved. “A previous admin,” He starts over, more confident, even though everyone knows the other possibility. “Messed with his code quite a bit, and it will take a lot of work between Joe and I to even begin to fix it.”

“What we do know is that his name is Tommy.” He makes sure to add, trying to wrap their meeting up on a lighter note. He had more to say, of course, but right as he takes a breath to continue, the screen of his hud lights up, indicating he received a message. 

He gasped, before quickly rising to his feet. “Tommy’s awake.”

Every single person in that office was up and down the stairs faster than you could blink.

Chapter Text

That is NOT Techno.

When he opened his eyes the first thing Tommy noticed was the way Not Techno stopped reading. The man, whom Tommy had mistaken for his brother because of the fact he was reading aloud, was across the room in a comfortable looking recliner. Tommy was lying on his side, facing him, on a bed big enough for his wings to comfortably stretch out behind him.

He was on a bed. A bed, something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Dream had never let him sleep on anything other than the pile of rags he was given, and even before that he still couldn’t remember the last time he had slept on anything other than the floor. Nights were often spent wherever he could fit, usually leaving him on the floor. 

His bones ached for it. The way the wool packed into the mattress melded to his form yet supported him perfectly. The way the, clearly hand knit, blankets were soft and warm and safe. It was big too. The few times he could remember sleeping on the bed in the van were spent uncomfortable at best. His wings often hit the sides of their bunk or hung off the end in a way that almost always woke him up. Not here.

His muscles were almost tired enough to just let him fall back to sleep. To let the mysterious man in the corner continue reading and push off dealing with the inevitable danger that came with new scenarios. If they were going to let him rest, he was going to take it, no matter what comes next. He was going to get punished, as these people most likely knew Dream, and he would need every ounce of his strength for that moment. He was going to get that well needed rest.

That is, until someone behind him unfurls their hands from the feathers of his wings.

He hadn’t even realized they were there until they moved away. They had sat idly preening and softly placing each feather back into place for so long that they felt as though they belonged there, with Tommy in his sleepy state. Now, those comforting pets turned tense, once confident movements stuttered, and the touch felt wrong. A stranger was preening him, and he let them.

He growled, low and dangerous, like a stray dog cornered in an alleyway. “Get away from me.”

He could barely see the person behind him in his peripheral vision, as they started to move, and then freeze. Good, they were scared. He growled again, slightly louder this time, and the peak of red that was once in his line of sight quickly moved again, out of where he could see. 

Tommy quickly turned to a sitting position with practiced precision. He was used to being on the ground, most likely getting the shit beaten out of him, and still getting up. Techno taught him that, and although he had never let the roles reverse long enough to get a fair chance, Tommy was silently thanking him for the “practice”.

His muscles screamed at the movement but he didn’t care. Let’s who we’re up against.

A fragile looking avian in a red sweater was not who he expected. If they worked for Dream, which was the most possible answer, shouldn’t he have bodyguards that are a bit more… buff? The man staring back at him was definitely scared, with the feathers around his ears pressed flat against his head as a sign of submission and his wings were slightly shaking where they were tucked behind him.

This was going to be a hell of an easy fight. Sure, it was two against one, and he had the handicap of being injured, but he’s had worse odds. He flexed his fingers, stretching them after so long being idle, and readying them for a fight. Tommy looked down as the movement was hindered slightly, and realized there was tape covering the front of one of his hands, holding in an IV.

Oh hell no.

He starts to pick at the tape surrounding it, readying to pull it out. He was awake after all, he didn’t need it, and as strong of a fighter as he was, a needle buried within him does not help his odds.

“Bud, I’m gonna need you to keep that in. You’re still pretty hurt. We won’t come any closer but we need you to stay put for a bit.” Not Techno explained, keeping his voice calm and steady, clearly less scared than the avian.

Yeah right. Tommy looked up to make eye contact with the other, his gaze strong and taunting. He kept his glare up even as the tape freed and he yanked the IV out of his hand. “Fuck you.” He grumbled.

They maintained eye contact, a silent fight for dominance as Tommy tested the other’s strength. Bitch boy the avian would be easy, Not Techno? He wasn’t sure. Although the man didn’t look physically strong, he also didn’t look like he would give up easily. He sure looked like a dork, but so did Techno at times, so he couldn’t be too cautious.

Sadly, he didn’t get a chance to test his theories. The moment he started to hunch over into more of a crouch, readying himself to pounce at Not Techno, two new people burst through the curtains.

A stout woman with a bob and a pink cardigan was the first through. Really? Tommy thought. This is all he could get? He could probably take her at the same time as the others if he played his cards right, and he still would have energy to fight. She had a steaming bowl of soup in her hands, clearly made specifically for him. Tommy would be lying if he said it didn’t smell fucking delicious. 

The second person, on the other hand, was the first person he really questioned his strength. A seven foot tall creeper hybrid, about the same height as Sam if not taller, with a robotic face and arm. He had a lab coat on, though it had large tears throughout, and Tommy thought he looked a bit silly when he saw the bigger ones were patched up with flowers and bright thread. 

Tommy growled again, another low rumble, still a warning but now teetering onto something else. When Cyborg Sam continued forward towards where the IV lay on the floor, as if nothing even happened, he realized what this was.

A test.

They were testing him, trying to see how strong he really was willing to be. Right now, he seemed like all bark and no bite but Tommy knew that that was far from the truth. This was a test of dominance, and right now, Tommy was about to lose.

“Get. The Fuck. Away from me.” He hissed, nice and slowly so they could hear each and every syllable. 

When Cyborg Sam still didn’t stop, he readied himself for a fight. There was no way in hell that he was about to let any of them near him without at least a little bit of blood. He bared his teeth like a rabid animal, showing everyone that he had teeth and was not afraid to sink them as deep as he could into anyone who got too close.

Although he kept eye contact with the new challenger, he couldn’t help but notice a pretty purple glint in his peripheral vision. He made sure to keep his eyes up, as to not tip them on his plans, but he was now putting all of his energy on that little purple blob. A dagger from what he could see, it was netherite, definitely enchanted. Oh hoh hoh, It’s my lucky day.

When Cyborg Sam bent down to grab the discarded IV tube, Tommy went for the dagger. He quickly leaned over the edge, his wings stretched fully behind him for balance, and snatched it. 

That was way too fucking easy.

He leaned back up and flashed a cocky smile towards the now startled hybrid. One could almost mistake it as a confident gesture, but the rest of him betrayed that facade. Things like the way his hand was white knuckled around the handle of the dagger, or the way his wings were clearly tense and slightly shaking. Tommy tried not to dwell on the fact that it was way too fucking easy to tell he was scared.

Cyborg finally stepped back, dropping the recently picked up IV in favor of showing him his empty hands. I’m not five, he thought, and I’m definitely not stupid. He might have been tricked by a move like that when he was a kid, trusting that they actually meant no harm. Not now, he’d been through way too much to fall for such a simple move.

Bitch boy and Soup Woman were gone now, leaving just him, Cyborg, and Not Techno, who was still sitting quietly in the corner, watching. This wasn’t a fight he had as much confidence in, but he had a dagger, and therefore the upper hand. 

As he watched Cyborg’s every move, he studied the cybernetics that made up half of the man’s face. It was times like these where he wished he had paid attention to Tubbo when he rambled on and on about cybernetics. Sure, he didn’t remember anything about how they were powered or how to easily disconnect them, but a dagger to the redstone eye ought to do the trick .

“Tommy, please put down the knife, we aren’t here to hurt you.” Cyborg pleaded, though his voice stayed steady and there were still no clear signs of fear. 

“Yeah right.” He huffed back. “Heard that one before.”

“Tommy. Put it down.” His feathers surrounding his ears flicked and pinned back at the sound of a new voice. He whipped his head around to be faced by a man in brown and yellow armor.

Hazy memories filled with the sound of waves and the feeling of sand beneath his feet. “Hello. I am the admin of this server.” Fear coursed through his veins as he backed up, only to be met by cold water flushing over his bare feet. They were coming, they were coming for him, he fucked up-

“Tommy, did you hear me? Please put the dagger down.” A firm voice cut through his mind, like a hot knife through butter. It scalded, bringing him back to reality.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt me-” He dropped the dagger off of the side of the bed, flinching slightly when it bounced and thudded against the hardwood of the floor. He scooted back towards the headboard. Dream hates it when you try to run. The punishment is always worse, you should know this by now. 

“Please don’t hurt me.” He whimpered, high pitched and a stark contrast to how he was just minutes before.

Tsk tsk, Dream scolded, slowly walking towards the cowering boy on the ground, dragging his deathly sharp axe behind him. “You shouldn’t hide things from me, I thought you knew this.” Tommy whimpered at that. He hated when Dream got this way, when he was in a mood to have fun rather than simply punish. Now close enough to touch his boots, the other lifted his axe. The smile on his porcelain face was burned into his memory as the flat side of the axe slammed into the side of his face-

“Tommy? Hey kiddo, they’re gone, it’s just you and me.” Not Techno hummed, keeping his voice quiet and safe.

Sure enough, everyone else was gone, and Not Techno had scooted his chair a bit closer to the side of the bed. He was curled up, ankles crossed and knees as close to his chest and he possibly could get them, shaking. Tears ran down his cheeks as he came down from that. His mind was racing, and yet, nothing seemed to stick. He was realizing how tired he truly was, and the more he regained his breathe, the more fatigued he felt.

“I can read to you, if you’d like. It always seems to help me calm down.” Not Techno suggested, however, not forcing it one way or another. If this was a test, he was too tired to give a shit.

“That would be nice.” He whispered back.

Chapter Text

Lets just say, another meeting was needed.

The first real moments with the kid went worse than anyone could have ever imagined, and it left each and every hermit struggling for some kind of footing within their minds. 

Xisuma had faith in his hermits, and knew they all wanted to help in any way that they could, but at the end of the day, they were all way in over their heads. Yes, they expected the boy to be scared, but the reaction they had received wasn’t something any of them expected from a boy his age.

Grian had been the first to burst out of the curtains, tears streaming down his face and hair disheveled. He pushed through the crowd of worried hermits in favor of simply taking off. He left, flying as far up as he could, somewhere where he knew no one could follow him.

Stress was the next to leave, not shortly after Grian, and was a bit less upset. “He’s a feisty one.” She stated, clearly trying to lighten the mood but her guilt seeped through her words. After she had left, Iskall had to pull her to the side. Last Xisuma had seen, she was crying.

Now he was forced to deal with the aftermath. Doc was gone, disappearing with Etho hot on his tail, and it left him alone. Thoughts echoed through his head as he stood, jumbling up like unkempt wires, and none of them seemed to stick much longer than a few seconds.

All but one, that is.

What did I do wrong?

Xisuma had called a meeting, another one, but this time with everyone, including Grian and Joe. 

Now, he was left pacing, in their normal meeting spot, usually reserved for their weekly meetings. He shivered, feeling a wave of deja vu wash over him, cringing when he realized what it was from.

There were very few times he had called an urgent emergency meeting, and even less where he was this worried. Usually, he could predict their responses to things, and was confident that they could make the right decisions together. Today though, he wasn’t sure there was a correct thing to do.

Flashbacks of the past meeting hit Xisuma like a freight train, forcing him to pause in his pacing. His knees buckled and he was barely able to catch himself on the large oak table. I promised that would never happen again.

He looked to his left, carefully studying TFC’s face after dropping the news on friends, his family. The god seemed deep in though, carefully considering each and every word of his response before he said anything. Xisuma had always wished he didn’t do that, he knew Tin long enough to know the filters he was placing, the metaphorical bombs he was avoiding. Sometimes he wished he would just say what was on his mind.

A scoff echoed through the silence of the room they had built. It was a cave, hidden deep within their group project for the season, and had a horribly loud echo to it.

“You can’t be serious X, I thought you were better than this.” Xisuma looked down at the table, avoiding the creeper hybrid’s eyes. Even though he didn’t look, he could feel the disappointment radiating off of the other.

“Calm down Doc, you know he means well-” 

Calm down? You want ME to calm down? After EVERYTHING they fucking did to me. Look me in my fucking redstone eye and tell me that again-” 

“Doc-” Another voice, Wels maybe?

“No. The answer is no, X. I don’t know why you even asked us.” Doc stated, hissing angrily before slamming his fists on the table and sitting back down.

“They’ve hurt us too, maybe we should hear him out? I mean, if what X says is really true the kid might actually need a place to hide.”

“They aren’t a watcher anymore. He just needs to hide from one.” Xisuma mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard by the group.

“Yeah, and you want to put our lives on the line because he needs to hide from the watchers. X, you know that's impossible.” 

Mumbo mumbles to himself, looking down and avoiding everyone. “We have been testing, and it’s actually working.”

“And? You’re still bringing one onto our server.” Doc, still hissing between every word.

“The poor luv’s been creating servers on his own and server hopping, he’s ought to be so worn out by now.” Of course Stress was worried about their health.

“I say we hear him out. From what I understand they were human at one point, that means they are technically a hybrid, right?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“The watchers are a mean fucking group of people, for them to take someone in and turn them, that requires a lot of energy, even for watchers.”

“Tango, I don’t understand what you are getting at here.” 

“I am saying, the kid can not afford to be caught again. A hybrid like what your describing can not physically take the kind of torture we are expecting. They are a watcher, yes, but not enough to handle their form of ‘punishment’. We have to do something.”

The group devolves into argument, everyone talking over each other and stating their points, for or against. Xisuma sat and watched, silent, regretting even speaking up.

“I agree with Tango.”

The room went silent. Everyone stopped to stare at the god. TFC sat for a second, letting everyone quiet themselves down before continuing.

“We are the best group of people to take care of them. Doc,” He turned to face the upset creeper hybrid. “-you don’t have to interact with him but we all agree that he needs a place to go, and we are more than capable to do that.”

Xisuma spoke up, truly, for the first time since dropping the news. “Like Mumbo said, we have been testing in other worlds and when we switch servers the changes should already be made. I am so sorry to drop this responsibility on you all, but we are running out of time.”

The room is left in silence once again, everyone left quietly pondering whether or not this decision was worth it.

Xisuma was picking at the seams of his suit, a nervous tic of his, while waiting for someone, anyone to speak up.

“Xisuma?”

He woke up on the ground, previously passed out, with a nervous Impulse kneeled by his side.

“Hey buddy, how are you? I came in here to check that everything was ready and found you passed out on the floor. Everything alright? We can postpone the meeting if you need to.”

“How long have I been out?” His voice was hoarse and quiet, but his point got through just fine. He wanted to continue, he just needed to know how long he had to recover.

“Uhm-” The Imp glanced at his communicator before responding. “You have about 10 minutes until the meeting.”

Xisuma nodded, slowly pushing himself up off the floor. “I’ll be fine.”

Impulse hovered for a second, readying himself to leave before immediately turning around and facing his admin.

“Can I at least get you a glass of water? No offense but you look like you need it.”

“Okay my friend, if that’s what you need to feel better.”

Chapter Text

The room looked as if a normal meeting were about to start.

People talking and laughing, showing plans for their bases or new farms. They were a lively group of people, the 20 something of them, and it definitely showed. 

Even the hermits that have been isolated in the town hall were joining in, with Beef and Doc’s laughter overpowering the atmosphere of the room. It was nice, friendly, as if it were a normal meeting and not the impromptu and emergency meeting that was taking place.

Xisuma rose to his feet, standing like he usually would at the beginning of a meeting, ready to address the table of anxious hermits. He waited until their voices mellowed out, letting the room come to a hushed quiet before speaking.

“Hello everyone! I’m glad everyone could make it. I’m sorry to call a meeting at such short notice, but seeing the current situation I felt the need to call an urgent meeting.” Xisuma stood as he addressed the group. He winced when his voice cracked ever so slightly, letting everyone in the room know how he truly felt. 

He was scared . 

He didn’t want to disappoint his family like last time.

And yet, he had to do this. Had to inform them because he knows what it's like when he doesn’t. They’ve established that the best decisions are made together, as a team.

“X? Cleo’s not here.” False nodded towards the empty seat next to Joe.

“Yes, she is…” The admin took a deep breath, clearly nervous. I guess we are getting straight into it. “She’s watching our newest member.”

Every single pair of eyes in the room snapped to him at once. The room stayed quiet, but the tension grew by the second.

“Before you all question my decision, let me explain. About a week ago, an anomaly happened between our server and another. This led to a player getting directly deposited into our server, bypassing all security features I have set up. I’ve checked and re-checked, and we are in no immediate danger.” 

He took a deep breath, looking around taking in their reactions before continuing.

“Usually, in cases of break ins, I would simply ban the player and patch the bug. However, this is a… Unique case. The player, a boy by the name of ‘Tommy’ appeared abused, scared, and unaware of how he got here. He is in such a condition where I made the executive decision to keep him on our server.”

“So Cleo has to watch him? You took a violent child in without our opinion? Goddamnit X, I thought we were past this.” False slammed her fist on the table, clearly pissed at the news.

“You have every right to be upset at me. Before we get off track, this meeting is not to debate whether or not they are staying, it is simply to make sure everyone on the server is educated on what is happening.”

False huffed, but let Keralis pull her back into her seat. “Okay. We’re here. Tell me about him.”

Xisuma looked between Doc and Joe. “Who wants to go first?”

Doc nodded, before huffing and standing up. He clicked a few buttons on his communicator, projecting the same few pictures onto the large screen.

Gasps of horror echoed through the room. It was clear that was not what everyone was expecting.

“He appeared on our doorstep in pretty rough shape. One of his legs was broken in multiple places, as if he had fallen pretty far. With that, he had two broken ribs, and the rest were significantly bruised. We also found large gashes in multiple places on his body, ones that required stitches, and numerous others that could heal on their own.”

He took a deep breath, letting everyone take that in. Not even Tango, who spent a few years as an anarchy server hopper, had scars that bad. This was a child, a child who had decades worth of scars riddling his body. 

False was pale. Slightly shaking in her seat as she processed the information. Guilt riddled her features as she messed with the hilt of her sword. 

“In my- our- professional opinion, this was from a limited life anarchy server. Based on the scarring patterns and the way some of them healed, it's pretty clear that they weren't aided by a respawn.”

He pressed a button on his communicator, and the projector switched to a picture of Tommy’s back, with the wings spread out. 

“The reason we think it is a limited respawn server is because there are two scars that would’ve been fatal. This one, most likely from an axe, has scar tissue down to around his spine. He would have been easily paralyzed and killed without a respawn, but is not healed the same way that multiple respawns would have.”

“So he was kept alive during all of that?” False murmured to herself. Keralis was by her side, looking just as terrified as the rest of the table.

“Yes, unfortunately we believe that's the case.” 

“Hold up. How did a kid that young get into an anarchy? Shouldn’t he have a family?” Tango practically hissed as he turned to his Admin. “X? Can’t you check for something like that? I mean, there are limits for a reason. What kind of parents let something like that happen?”

Xisuma looked up, tearing his eyes away from the sight on the projector, before meeting Tango’s eyes. The demon hybrid was quite literally fuming, with smoke ever so slightly seeping out of his mouth and eyes a deeper crimson color than usual. His long ears were pinned back, a sign of aggression and anger.

He was pissed and ready for blood.

The imp to his left wasn’t faring much better. Golden eyes turned dark and his shoulders tense. The usually calm and goofy demeanor that he usually held was long gone , now replaced by a cold icy form of anger. 

Fire and ice, both ready for vengeance.

“Unfortunately, his code is really, really messed up. It looks like a previous admin used it for coding practice. It’ll take weeks to sort through and fix, a lot of it might not be able to recover.”

Tango huffed, eyes going a blood red hue for a moment before blinking it away. Impulse stood up, placing a hand the others back, trying to keep him from slipping even further into his anger. The other grumbled to himself, clearly upset, but still let the other ground him.

“I’m just saying when we find that motherfucker someone's going to see what I can do.” 

“Yeah, if I don’t get to them first.” Grian states, a smug look on his face.

“Guys please. We all want to protect Tommy, but for now that means learning about him and taking it from there. I want blood too, don’t get me wrong, but right now that's not the best way to help.” Impulse, although responding to the two more violent hermits, was talking to the entire group. 

A beat of silence hit before Doc spoke. “I’m done, by the way.” He nods to Joe before taking the pictures off of the projector.

“Howdy folks! As you know I’ve been looking over the kid for the past couple of days and wanted to just share some things that I’ve observed.” He pulls out his communicator before projecting the screen to the larger display on the wall.

“I’ve been making a list of sorts, it's not very long, but it's a start.” The projector showed a text document, with two columns, separated by a line in the middle. One side was labeled likes, the other, triggers.

“We’ll start with likes. The most important one on this list is that he likes both music and being read to. I feel like, at least the reading part, may come from a friend or family member who used to do it, because when he first woke up he called me ‘Techno’.”

“So someone used to read to him? Like, it calms him down or something?” Jevin asked, clearly confused but wanting to know how to help the best he could.

“Mhm! Earlier, when I asked him if he wanted me to read aloud, he said yes. He calmed down right away and fell asleep soon after.”

“Oh wow.” Doc whispered, clearly amazed that the feisty kid he met was the same as the one Joe was describing.

“The next one is preening.” He looked to the board, where ‘preening’ was written, followed by a dash and a ‘maybe’. “When he was asleep, he really enjoyed it when Grian cleaned out his wings. He had a few… Nightmares, per say, and the preening really seemed to calm him down.”

Grian nodded, but something behind his features showed that he felt guilty.

“It has the maybe next to it because he really does not like touch. When he woke up, he got upset at Grian for preening. Hence, the ‘Maybe’.”

He looked around, taking a deep breath. Before moving on, he looked around, ensuring nobody had any extra points to make. Doc spoke up, quickly and clearly as an ending note. “He also likes knives. Stole mine off my belt. Definitely for protection, but, just sayin, the kid ain’t afraid to steal.”

The hermits around the table, specifically those who carry weapons at all times, nodded. False in particular made sure that she understood, even going as far as writing a small note to herself.

“Yes, that too. This leads into our next point of ‘triggers’. He is very scared. Clearly being from a fighting and war ridden server, he does not like people in his space and is unafraid to show that fact. Like Doc said, he stole the knife off of Doc’s belt, but even before that he was very confrontational. Ripped out the IV, hissed- actually hissed- at Grian to get away.”

“Void, we knew he was gonna be scared but-” Doc hummed.

“Yeah. As far as the rest goes we only really know that Xisuma, for whatever reason, is a big trigger.”

The admin in question looked down in shame. Clearly upset that he was hurting the situation without really being able to help.

“Wait, Shashwam? Like, big eyed bee boy? How??” Keralis questioned, obviously confused that the loving and softie of an admin would scare anyone.

“We honestly don’t know. The best guess we have is that it's related to his admin status, but we don’t know. The only words we have gotten out of him have been ‘go away’.” Joe chuckled to himself.

“Hopefully we will be able to get him to talk eventually. For the time being, we are going to take it at his pace.” Xisuma added on, clearly hopeful of their future with the new kid.

“The poor luv should be sleeping the most of it, but as feisty as he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if they got up a bit sooner than expected.” Stress added.

“This leads into our concluding part of today’s meeting. There will be a sign up sheet outside the town hall going up sometime later today, and if you would like to volunteer in helping us, please, do sign up for a time or reach out. You are not required to help, but right now and especially in the future when the kid is better, we are all hands on deck.”

Some of the hermits perked up, waiting for any and all excuses to help. Thank the void today's meeting went better. They all seemed happy to help and ready to be a part of welcoming their newest member.

“That concludes today’s meeting. You are free to go whenever!”

Xisuma sat in his spot, watching the hermits, his family, filter out. Some often stay and talk after, and he couldn’t help but smile when he overheard bits of their conversations. False was ecstatic, going on about seeing how well he can fight and if he would like to learn. Etho was softly talking to the rest of the NHO, but based on his smug expression, he was probably guessing what shenanigans they could get up to together. 

“Xisuma. The meeting is over, and someone passed out earlier. I think you should lay down for a bit, get some well needed rest.” Impulse playfully elbowed the other, however he was definitely not going to be dropping it soon.

“Ugh, do I haaaaaave tooooooo?” He was aware he sounded like a toddler, dragging his feet and avoiding bed.

“Yes X, you do.” The other huffed like a parent. “C’mon, I’ll even have Joe adapt the chunks for you so you can sleep without the ol’ helmet.” Impulse knocked on the side of it, just to make a point.

Now that Xisuma thought about it, sleep sounded really nice. Just the idea of taking his helmet off for the first time in days pulled him in and dragged him down.

A wave of tiredness hit him, and his head slightly nodded as he tried to stay awake.

“C’mon you big derp, let's go.”

It didn’t take much convincing, he knows, but the idea of a good night's sleep was really appealing right about now.

And he wasn’t about to turn down Impulse’s offer.

Chapter Text

“-Joe, I understand you’ve adopted the kid, but if you don’t stop hovering I swear to the void below-”

A new voice rang through the air, a woman’s, but not soup lady’s like before. This one was harsh, rough, maybe even mean, with a strong and commanding tone behind it. She was scolding someone, thank the void it wasn’t him, and trying to keep her voice down, supposedly not to wake him.

“Yes, I get it Cleo, stop hovering. But, you know what to do, right? Make sure he-”

Not Techno? The guy that was supposedly named Joe, was the one being scolded. It was odd, as he didn’t really strike the man as getting into much trouble, but then again he didn’t sound upset? Scolding always prefaced a punishment, and Dream liked it if you were quiet and listened. How he could be so nonchalant in talking back was beyond the scarred teenager.

Tommy silently hopes Not Tech- Joe doesn’t get a worse punishment for speaking back. From what he could hear, she didn’t seem like the type you’d want to piss off.

“I will break your legs if you don’t get your ass upstairs right this second.”

“Fine! I’m going!”

He peeked his eyes open, just enough to see the blue of Joe’s shirt disappear through the doorway. The lady, from what he could tell, was a zombie hybrid. 

Well shit.

The zombie woman (Cleo?) stood a bit shorter than a normal zombie, maybe 5’9, 5’8, and looked badass. Blood orange hair, braided with flowers and vines, was draped messily over her shoulders. Her shirt was ripped up, but patched with neat and colorful stitching, a contrast to the dark navy of the blouse.

A thick leather belt caught his attention, specifically the items on it.

On her left, a large, shiny, netherite sword hung heavily off of the scabbard. Although most of the blade was covered by the dyed leather, the scabbard itself was clearly custom made, and in turn let bits of the expensive sword show from underneath. Beautifully cut windows in the leather, shaped like that of spiders, were outlined and embroidered with purple and white silk. No one, not even Techno, had a sword this nice.  

At the top, the hilt of the sword was clearly worn, the purple leather that wrapped the grip was shined with what looks like years of use. The pommel was what really caught his eye, with a small glass spider wrapped around it. The two front legs created a loop, which served as an anchor to connect a rope to, with the other side hooked back to her belt.

She clearly had no plans of losing this one any time soon.

On her right, a book, the leather well worn and lightened from use, hung from a thick chain. Tommy let himself ponder what the book may contain, what secrets it might hold. 

Why would she need it on her person at all times?

There is one thing Tommy knew for sure, both were worth stealing.

Cleo proceeds to huff to herself, clearly tired of Joe’s antics, before turning around. Tommy quickly let his eyes shut, not wanting to be caught this early on, and pretended to be asleep.

Surely, she would fall for it.

“I saw those eyes kiddo, I know you’re up.”

Shit.

Tommy slowly opens his eyes, guilty like a little kid being caught, and makes eye contact with the scary woman.

The zombie hybrid was standing with her hands on her hips, an amused and playful look danced on her features. She didn’t look mad, quite the opposite actually. She seemed happy that he was awake.

“You hungry? Stress gave me something for you to eat, you know, something that isn’t soup.”

That- was not what Tommy was expecting. The change of tone gave him whiplash, and his brain struggled to catch up as tried to keep up with this new character. He was expecting to be punished, Dream hated it when he pretended to sleep, but she didn’t show any signs of even being upset.

Another test. Tommy hated it when things like this happened. Dream often played games with him, sometimes making him test the waters on his own to figure out the rules rather than simply just telling him. These “tests”, as Dream would call them, often lead to the worst punishments.

One time in particular stood out.

Second day of exile. Dream walked in with a warm bowl of chicken soup, steaming slightly as he waltzed into the cool tent. To say Tommy was hungry was an understatement, it having been at least a day, possibly more since his last real meal. 

“I brought you a little gift.” The man says, calm and collected, although there was an ounce of something else sprinkled in. “I made it myself.”

He hands the bowl to the wounded teen on the floor, still tense from the events a day prior. Tommy reaches out, quickly taking the wooden bowl in his shaking hands and gulps down the warm broth. It was wonderful, filling the void in his stomach with warmth. He lowers the bowl, opting to take a breath-

SMACK

The rest of the soup was spilled onto his shirt and the ground below, already creating mud beneath his fingertips. He had shifted, bowl long forgotten as he let one hand catch his fall, the other cradling the already bruising skin on his cheek.

“Ungrateful little basta-” Dream was cut off by Tommy kicking out one of his legs in a poor attempt to trip the other.

“Ohohoh, you’ll learn to not try me. You’re nothing Tommy, just a little leech under my control.”

Tommy tries to get up, but is knocked down by a heavy boot on his chest, forcing all of the air from his lungs.

A whack to the side of his head, presumably Dream’s axe, knocked him out. 

He only woke up hours later, in a puddle of his own blood, and in the worst pain of his life.

“Kid?”Cleo prompted, after not receiving a response for a few seconds.

Tommy shook his head, opting to take the safest route possible. Dream would be proud, he thought, Dream always hated it when I talked.

“Um, okay kid.” She says, clearly unsure. “We aren’t gonna hurt you, if anything we want you to eat something.” 

When Tommy shows no signs of responding, she continues. “Let me go get it anyway, maybe you’ll change your mind. Plus, Doc might kill me if I don’t at least try.”

She turned around, leaving the curtains for only a few seconds before returning, now with a sandwich in tow.

Tommy would be lying if he said his mouth didn’t water at the sight of it.

“What do you want in return?” Tommy asks, wanting the sandwich without the debt that inevitably comes with it.

“I’m not following, the food is free, kid. We want you to eat something.”

“Why? I know this is a test, what does he want from me this time?” 

The look on Cleo’s face was that of pure confusion. She set the plate on the side table, easily within reach of the teen, without being pushy. Then, she pulled a chair up and sat, making worried eye contact with Tommy.

“I’m not sure who you are talking about, but, from what it looks like, they did some pretty horrible things to you. Nobody, not me or anyone else here, would try to trick you or ‘punish’ you for things like eating. If this doesn’t sound good to you or you can’t eat it, we can always get something else. We want you to get better, and we want you to eat.”

She rested her hands softly in her lap, and looked towards the sandwich before looking back to Tommy.

 Tommy sat pale faced and confused. Was this a test too? Dream wouldn’t go that far, would he? Tommy looked at the tempting plate of food on the table. It was just a little less than an arm's length away.

Surely, one meal wouldn’t hurt.

Quickly, as if it would be taken away if he took too long, he snatched up the plate. He placed the plate on his lap as he sat up further, hunching over it, guardingly. Shaking pale hands swiped up one of the halves, immediately bringing it to his mouth and taking the biggest bite his mouth could take.

It was heavenly.

He must have stopped after that first bite, simply marveling at just how good something as simple as a sandwich could be, because the other laughed a bit to herself.

“Good, huh? I remember the first time I tried Stress’ cooking, it's a life changing experience.” She hummed.

Tommy wasn’t really listening though, continuing to scarf down the best food he’s ever had. It took him back to the bakery, with Niki baking fresh bread in the back for Tubbo and him.

Once he finished, he was still looking for more. Like a little kid, he picked up every scrap of dropped filling, every crumb of bread off of the plate. He didn’t stop until the plate was basically clean.

Cleo took the plate from Tommy’s outstretched hands, careful to not brush up against them, and once again left out the curtains to place it away. Tommy couldn’t help but lean forward, trying to get the best angle he could to see through the small gap.

No one was outside them.

When she returned, she simply sat down and pulled out a sketchbook, ignoring Tommy entirely in favor of going back to sketching. The silence was extremely uncomfortable, for Tommy, that is, and all he could do was watch the other sketch out some kind of superhero scene. As time went on, he got more and more bored.

“Where did the others go? You know, Bitchboy, Nerd, and Cyborg dude?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her planning to make eye contact with Tommy. “Who did you say?”

“Bitchboy, Nerd, and Cyborg. The guys that have been watching me.” She simply laughed in response.

“Oh dear, of course they didn’t tell you their names.” She stops to catch her breath, opting to turn to a different page and write something down. 

Just as Tommy goes to say something, clearly uncomfortable and worried that he said something wrong, she continues. “Wait, wait.” She holds her hand up towards him. “Let me guess who’s who.”

“Okay, Cyborg is obviously Doc. Does he look like a big creeper hybrid, half cyborg face?” She looks at him with an amused face, cracking up even more when he nods.

“Nerd is probably Joe, right? Carries a book everywhere, glasses, a giant @ symbol on his shirt.” Tommy nods. She laughs before typing something out on her comms, probably teasing the other about the new nickname. Despite being the maker of the nickname, he couldn’t help but chuckle along with Cleo’s infectious laughter.

“That leaves Grian. Avian with a red sweater and a face that kind of looks like a cod.” Tommy giggles lightly before nodding. “Oh my void! You have got to tell me how he got that one.” She was fully laughing now, tears pricked in the corners of her eyes as she looked to him for answers.

Tommy proceeded to explain his thinking. Almost showing off to the other as he retold the story. He was named bitchboy, simply because of how weak the other looked, and because of how the other shook when he talked. Bitchboy, or Grian, was scared of him, and Tommy couldn’t help but boasting about it to the scary woman.

By the end of his long, and not so accurate, retelling, both were teary eyed, laughing, and out of breath. Cleo had her comms out, texting Grian about the story, and laughing to herself about his, clearly disgruntled, responses.

“Oh kiddo, you are gonna fit right in, let me tell you.” She was still catching her breath as she spoke, but the point still stood. She was fond of the kid, and she was growing on Tommy himself.

He honestly didn’t know how to feel about that fact, but something about her was just right. Her subtle violence or the way she didn’t treat him like a fragile little kid like the others. Cleo was nice to him, and thought he was funny. 

Although Tommy would never admit it, he trusted her.

Not enough to talk about himself or stay longer than he intended to in this foreign place. But enough to have a laugh and let his guard down, even if it was just a bit.

And that was something, right?

Chapter Text

It is a well known fact that crows are bad news.

Crows, as abundant as they may seem, are not actually “natural” parts of a world’s ecosystem. They are the only known animal to be capable of world hopping on their own, without being a part of one single world, and there is a good reason for that. 

Long ago, Lady Death and the human, Philza Minecraft, got married. 

The wedding was beautiful, of course, but the gifts are the important part of this story. The human promised to devote his life to her, to be a representation of her in the mortal realm. She gifted him immortality, alongside a beautiful set of jet black wings, like that of a corvid.

He, the new God of Death, is presumed to be the first ever avian. 

After the wedding, the Lady had to return to her spot in the void. She had work to do, and as much as she wanted to stay, both understood the importance of her work. That doesn’t mean she left him, quite the opposite actually. Every free moment she had was spent watching over and protecting her partner.

As she watched over him, it became abundantly clear that the work of a god was not fit for a man. Guilty, she began sending gifts, helpers, in the form of crows.

What started with a few increased as the humans grew and advanced. They were getting smarter, she noted, and were learning that her husband brought the spirit of death with him, hiding away from him as he tried to do his work, and avoiding him whenever they could.

Her gifts were loyal and strong, able to hop through the worlds and find people better than anyone else. They were perfect. Servers riddled with death, like that of anarchy servers, now had crows hanging about. They flocked around the God of Death, and were seen as a “calling card” of sorts.

The only place free from the disciples were endless respawn servers, places where permadeaths were simply not existent. Crows were only sent to these servers to find those attempting to hide or to find those who have wronged the Gods themselves.

So why in Void's Expansive Verse is one outside Xisuma’s window.

~~~

It happened about a week after their meeting.

He had been holed up inside his debug room, working away at the horrors some might have called code, when a light * tap tap tap* echoed through the room.

At first, he thought it was just the wind, maybe a stray branch being blown into his building, but it just kept happening. Every few minutes, like clockwork, three taps, evenly spaced, followed by silence. 

That wasn't the thing that eventually got Xisuma to stand up, no, it was the fact that it got more aggressive each time.

Light and friendly sounding taps grew stronger and more pointed. As time went on, the taps grew less and less friendly, and more and more like something that sounded more like someone was trying to break through his window. 

Slightly concerning, but considering the most recent escapades on his server, not the worst he’s experienced. 

When he eventually did stand and open the door to his windowless cave, he was met by the interesting sight of a crow.

On his server.

One slow blink later, he was fumbling with his communicator, texting the one person who could possibly have beef with the God of death himself.

<You whisper to Docm77> Doc, what on earth are you doing right now

<You whisper to Docm77> I swear to the void, if you have pissed off another god

<You whisper to Docm77> Who are you with right now 

<Docm77 whispers to you> Suma, chill out, I’m just mining

<Docm77 whispers to you> What is going on? When was the last time you slept?

<You whisper to Docm77> I promise you, I am staring at a crow, at my base

<You whisper to Docm77> And im sure its looking for someone

<Docm77 whispers to you> oh shit

<Docm77 whispers to you> omw

Xisuma put his communicator away, holding up his finger to the crow as a “stay there” motion, and fumbled back through the doorway. His eyes, having seen proper light for the first time in days, had adjusted to the outside world, and now his debug room was extremely dark. It was completely black, other than the light blue-green glow coming from the screens. Where in the hell did I put the damned thing?

Clearly rushed by the newest issue , he had no time to let his eyes adjust. The admin simply went in blind, quite literally, and rushed to the cramped desk. Almost tripping on stray cables and discarded papers, he felt around for his helmet.

It wasn’t necessarily unusual that it was fully powered down, seeing that he had been spending most of his time in the base anyways. But what was odd was the light film of dust that coated the thing. Have I really been cooped up that long?

When he returned to the opened door, he almost expected the crow to be gone. 

But, it was still there, peacefully sitting on the windowsill and preening its wings. It noticed that he was back, carefully folding its wings back to where they usually rest before cocking its head. It felt like a taunt to Xisuma, like death herself was asking, “Are you going to let me in? ”

He simply stared back, having a silent staring contest with this bird as he waited for Doc. Xisuma may be a derp sometimes, but he definitely knows better than to invite a disciple of death into his home. 

As he stared, he happened upon a distressing thought. If Doc wasn’t the one to provoke this, then who did? 

He started to check the player list, frantically checking the list over and over, trying to see which hermit was missing, which one might be in grave danger.

Crows sometimes come to servers sensing a permadeath, checking things out and preparing the world for the death that was soon to come. Although it wasn’t noticed in normal servers, because there were always a few crows hanging about, but with servers like Hermitcraft, it was a distressing sight.

Someone was going to die, and Xisuma didn’t know who.

Panic flooded through his system, frantically sending an emergency message out to chat, stating that if you have seen it, please reply.

Doc came barreling through the door, elytra still slightly activated and fur fuzzed up with stress. The creeper hybrid had seen the crows numerous times, void, he’d even had run-ins with both gods of death a handful of times.

But this? This was different.

Doc walked over to the window, and punched it so hard it shattered. “Who do you want? Why are you here?” He hissed out.

The crow simply cocked its head, an attempt of showing its confusion. It sauntered in, before taking off, opting to perch on Xisuma’s shoulder. Tap tap tap. This time, on X’s helmet.

“I don’t know what it wants, don’t they go straight to the person? Why is it here?”

“I don’t know.” Xisuma muttered back. “Call Tin for me, would you, I think he would know more than us.” He paused for a second, debating something. “And have someone check on Tommy for me? This might not be for us.”

Doc nods, taking off to the other room to make the calls.

Tap tap tap. “ Chommy? Chommyinnit?”

Wait, what?

Crows weren't supposed to do that. They were supposed to be silent disciples of death, bringing a mix of fear and peace for those around it. No one, other than the god that they follow, has heard them, let alone understood them.

Xisuma lifted a gloved hand to his shoulder, trying to get the crow away from his helmet and let it perch upon his hand. He was grateful for the armored gloves that he always kept on as large talons dug into them for balance.

He pulled the hand back, and took a good look at the crow. Xisuma, being in the end for most of his life, had never seen one this close. Its large wings, the color of the void itself, seemed to sparkle in the mid-day sun. Xisuma marveled at the small creature when it stretched out a large wing and stuck its head down into it to fix a few of its purple tinted feathers.

When it pulled its head back up, the corvid cocked its head. “Oh, sorry. I’m staring, aren’t I?” Xisuma muttered. The crow lightly cawed, eerily similar to that of a human laugh, and bowed.

Surely, it couldn’t understand him.

“Tommy?” This one was in a different voice, American, and was deep and gravelly. “Get out of that!”

Wait a minute.

Xisuma realized that it was repeating phrases, presumably ones that had been heard time and time again, like a parrot.

“DaADzAA!” It screeched, in a loud, higher pitched, British accent. Doc came running back in, a terrified look painted across his face. 

He faked a calm voice, simply as he spoke to the hermit on the line. “Yeah Tin, mhm, just stop by, mhm, bye.” He hung up, waiting a few seconds, making sure that the line was officially dead before turning around.

When he opened his mouth, probably ready to let out a string of expletives, the crow spoke again. “Blood for the blood god!!” In the same American accent as before.

Doc was stunned, confused, amazed? He really didn’t know. Making direct eye contact with his admin, he stuttered out a small, “That's not supposed to happen.” Though, it was barely audible over the corvid’s caw’s, the same ones that mimicked laughter. Xisuma simply mouthed back an “I don’t know?”

Although Doc couldn’t see it due to the helmet, the sentiment was still the same.

“CHommY?” It cawed, raising its pitch at the end as if mimicking a question. “Chooommmyyyy.”

“Why does it keep saying that?” Doc questioned, genuine confusion mixing with anger laced his voice. “If the damned thing can talk then why won’t it-”

“Fuck off!” It screamed. Flapping its wings and smacking both hermits.

Doc had never shut up faster in his life.

“Understood,” Xisuma hummed, lightly chuckling to himself. “I think it's a mimic, like a parrot.” It simply nodded in response, as if prompting X to continue. “And I think it can understand us.”

“But why can it talk?” Doc hissed. This experience was unlike every single run in with crows he had ever had. Even the ones that stuck by the God of Death’s side were content with hushed whispers and light clicks.

“Philza Minecraft!” It beamed, seemingly very excited that it knew the answer.

“Philza..? Like, Death ?” Doc whispered to the other, carefully. The crow simply showed a crooked smile to the two hermits.

“Why are you here? Doc demanded, louder, with a tone similar to that of a parent explaining to their child why they are in trouble.

“Tommy, get your ass over here!” It hissed, and Doc shuttered at the uncanny similarity to him.

No denying who’s crow this is now.

They sat in quiet for a few ticks before the realization hit both of them at the same time. The two’s eyes met, both stunned by what this crow wanted.

He’s here for Tommy.

“Oh. My. Void.” Doc stutters out. “We can not do what you are thinking right now.”

“What do you want, another pissed off god? Be my guest. It’s looking for someone, we know who that is.” Xisuma reasoned back. “It will find him eventually, we need to bring it to him now. ”

When Doc paused, obviously debating whether or not to follow his admin’s orders, Xisuma warned. “Doc, you know I’m right.”

The creeper hybrid simply huffed in response, a little growl mixed in just for good measure, before responding.

“I’ll call Tin about the change in plans.”

Chapter Text

“Just so you know, I think this is a very bad idea.”

“Doc.” Xisuma warned, “Trust me, I know. But this is the only good option we have.”

“Suma, we could easily, you know, not bring the disciple of literal death to our newest member.”

The admin huffs, and proceeds to not respond, a clear indicator that this argument is now considered over. They walk in a tense silence, the only sound to break the silence being the mumbling like caws of the crow on Xisuma’s shoulder. 

For being a follower of death, it seemed to prefer causing trouble over anything else. The walk was a long one, and with that extra time (and no stimulus other than the two hermits) the corvid got bored, fast. 

It started with the occasional taps to X’s visor, something that quickly got a quick bop to the head and a small “stop that” from the admin. Eventually, when that got boring, it started going quiet for long periods of time, sitting and waiting until their guard would go down, just to screech, scaring them both. 

Doc wasn’t too pleased when that happened, both times.

Luckily, they reached the portal to the town hall and Xisuma finally spoke, saving them from the troublemaking crow.

“Do they know we are on our way?”

“Yes. Tango and Impulse have been spending a lot of time with the kid, and they both know we are here. Tin should also be meeting us here, if shit hits the fan.”

Xisuma sighed a little breath of relief, before stepping through, Doc hot on his tail. 

When the world loaded in, the last thing he expected to hear was laughter. Impulse was smiling outside of the curtains, waiting for them to arrive, with Tango still inside. Tango and Tommy were having a heated discussion about something , although he had missed too much of it to know what about.

The kid is really fitting in.

Impulse, even knowing the predicament, went pale at the sight of the corvid. Trying to smile off the clear worry, he stepped up to the two, making direct eye contact with the small bird perched on Xisuma’s shoulder. 

He flinched harder than he was willing to admit when the crow laughed at him.

As the new sound echoed through the room, the conversation within the curtains became nothing more than a hushed whisper. 

“I- I don’t think I should go in.” The admin nervously admitted.

“Uhm, okay. Will it perch on anyone else? Because I could bring it in.” Impulse replied, though it was clear that the thought of actually doing it was terrifying to him. 

“It can fly, if we hold the curtains open it should be able to go in.” 

“Okay.” 

Every single person was uncomfortable with this new situation. They had spent the past two weeks taking care of this kid, healing him, and the thought that this might be the end nearly broke each and every one of them. 

But it can talk. Xisuma reasoned to himself. It knew his name. We have to know why.

As the curtains opened, X made sure to step out of view, letting the crow down off his shoulder before he did so. A gasp rang through the room at that moment, definitely Tommy’s, and everyone held their breaths.

And then.. laughter?

“What in the world are you doing here?” Tommy giggled, his tone like a parent catching their kid doing something they shouldn’t. Not mad, per say, just amused.

Impulse stepped inside, followed by Doc, which left only Xisuma outside of the partitions.

Tango, who was now standing beside the bed, had a confused yet goofy smile painted on his face. All three adults shared the same emotions, the same shared look of what in the actual fuck is going on.

Tommy just giggled, petting the back of the corvid’s neck as it tried to perch on the tip of his nose. He eventually got the troublemaker to sit put, perching on his hand with a light grip, much lighter than the one it had on Xisuma. 

Cheeky bastard.

The crow made a happy sounding caw, before spreading its wings and dipping its head into a bow. It was an oddly formal gesture, especially for such a wild animal.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that for me! You know I don’t care about formalities.” Tommy hummed, tone lighter than it's been for a while.

It simply ruffled its feathers, obviously showing how upset the words made it. The hermit’s, now more confused than ever, just watched the scene unfold, being left speechless by the two.

Then, it leaned forward, making a small whisper like noise, before looking at Doc.

“Oh him? He’s a hybrid, most of the guys here are. You don’t have to worry.” Tommy smiled as he continued to pet the small corvid. “Those two are a demon and an imp, both are really friendly though.”

This little kid can speak to crows. 

When the crow showed no signs of responding, simply opting to stare down the others in the room, Tommy continued, “So who sent you? Mom or dad?” 

The crow, sounding as if it had just been accused, gave an offended squawk in response. “What? I know you didn’t come here on your own accord.”

It huffed, or as close as a bird could get to one, before mumbling a small “phil.”

Tommy laughed, before asking “Let me guess, mom didn’t tell him?”

They both laughed when the crow stayed silent for just a bit too long. Realistically, Tommy knew the answer, but he really wanted to hear it. That his dad sent a crow to find him, to make sure he was alive, to make sure he was okay.

He could feel tears welling up, just below the surface, when feathers brushed against his own, lightly preening the ones on top. The crows were always good at knowing how he was feeling, and it was times like these where he really, really cared.

The past few weeks were… rough. No one here was trustworthy (was anyone?) and they were an eccentric bunch of people to say the least. Scary, rich, and nice? It was confusing.

Everything confused him here.

The crow nestling into his wings grounded him as he contemplated what to do. Did he want to go back? Stay here? Did they even want him back if he were to go? Why would Phil even send-

“Do you have a piece of paper?” He heard his voice echo through the silent room, although it didn’t even feel as though it was his.

Tango, one of his newer friends, was the first to respond. “Uhm, sure, let me go grab some.”

It was uncomfortable silence, with the other two adults still in the room, and he didn’t know what to do. Tommy, who was aware of the fact that his code was fucked, had been deliberatly hiding anything related to home from them. They know. Oh fuck, they know.

Soft trills, similar to that of a cat’s purr, picked up, a quiet attempt to help calm the boy. It helped, only because of their similarity to Phil’s.

Tango came walking back in, pen and paper in tow, and placed them on the bedside table, easily in reach. They had been using it as “neutral zone” per say, and it was a clear indicator that something was his to take. Too many days had been spent fighting or flat-out ignoring food and water before their system was figured out, and left Tommy exhausted trying to figure out what was his.

It wasn’t until Joe came up with it, and exclusively used it, did Tommy actually eat without fear.

The three adults watched as Tommy picked it up, a feather quill ink pen, and examined it. They didn’t know that it looked identical to the one he signed L’manberg in or that he was stalling. Stalling writing a letter to his father, who abandoned him with his abuser, who sent a crow to find him, who doesn’t even know he’s alive.

The kid breathed a shallow and long breath, before dipping it into the pool of ink, and lifting it to the page.

~~~

Dear Philza Minecraft,

Thank you for sending. You will be happy to know that I am alive and well. I took a short trip to the under, met both Wil and mum, and was sent back. I am keeping my location secret for the time being, as I work towards healing, and may reach out with that information at a later date.

I appreciate your concern, but ask that you leave me alone. I have no plans of returning to the server, nor do I have any plans of you joining me here. What Dream did to me in exile was abusive, and I only hope that in my absence he does not target anyone else. I am sorry Dad, but I can not do that to myself again.

I am sorry for those who I may have wronged on the server, and truly do send my deepest apologies to everyone there. I understand why I was put in exile, and I may at some point return to finish my punishment. As for the time being, I intend on staying on my current server until I have fully healed.

Please do not inform the others, I hope you understand. 

With love,

~Thomas

~~~

The light reflected off of the small tracks of tears on his cheeks as he rolled the letter, tied a strip of his bandana around it, and gave it to the patiently waiting crow.

“Thanks buddy.” 

With that, it disappeared into thin air.

Chapter Text

It was just another day for him.

Stepping out into the cold tundra was always the most difficult part of the day, but it was necessary. They were off the grid, without the simple necessities of heat or electricity, and a day without chopping wood always led to a cold house and raw food.

It wasn’t pleasant, bundling himself up, tucking his wings close to conserve heat and chopping wood. It was days like this, where the cold nipped at his eyelashes and threatened to freeze them off or the action of stepping outside was enough to make his fingers tingle with numbness, where he was glad his axe was enchanted.

His roommate, an old friend, had noticed his lack of enchantments and offered to do it for him. Always too good with tools, that one. When he received his axe back, the netherite sheen accompanied by the purple hints were enough to make the grown man cry.

He listened to the soft yet constant taps of crows at the windows as he added wood to the fireplace. There wasn’t enough to last them the whole day, but the logs he did get would surely keep the house warm until the other got home. 

A loud whining like sound, followed by many more, rang out, and the man didn’t even bat an eye. Continuing with his business as normal, not even looking up. “You know you aren’t allowed inside, Techno would have my head if he found out one of you were in here.” 

More persistent caws and taps caused him to turn around. “You all are rowdy today, huh? Trouble, trouble, trouble.” He lightly shook his head in minor amusement.

“Dadza! I have a note!!” One of them screamed out as the avian made his way to the window. Sure enough, the crow at the front had a small rolled note attached to its front. 

“ Fine. ” The man huffed, clearly not amused. “You win. Let’s go to the paddock.”

Happy caws and rumbles echoed through the room as he made his way towards the door. It wasn’t unusual for the God to get notes, usually filled with apologies and grievances, people begging for their loved ones back or simply begging to not be taken. He was the God of Death, I guess that comes with the job.

The avian would never show it, but excitement bubbled in his chest on the walk there. He had sent a crow to check on his son, and it might return soon. 

The swarm of rowdy crows followed him, perching on his hat or on his shoulder, fighting over who got to sit where and who got to talk. The god simply ignored them, having experienced this daily charade for centuries, and focused on getting to the paddock.

As he opened the heavy barn door to the stables, happy rumbles took over the once silent room. With Techno out with Carl, there wasn’t much in here, and the crows loved it. They were cold after all, and were perfectly content perching on a high beam and settling down, letting soft rumbles and hums fill the room.

Relaxing into the comfortable chair at his makeshift desk, made solely for this reason, he leaned back. “Okay, which one of you has it?”

One last nip to his ear and the crow was hopping down from the man’s shoulder, stepping to the hard spruce of the desk. It cocked its head forward, leaning down into a regal bow, before looking down to expose the knot on the base of its neck.

That material looks too familiar.

Phil untied the poorly made knot as fast as he could, careful not to rip the already fragile material. Could it be? Could it really be?!

He watched himself open it, feeling as if he was up in the rafters, looking down at himself without really being in control. He watched as every single feather on his body fell, as he stood up from the chair, as he dry heaved into the bin beside his desk, clutching to the scrap of bandana that had kept the note tied shut.

His own son, ghosting him.

Once the initial shock began to wear off, he simply sat, glassy eyed and staring at the piece of paper. He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching it as if it might disappear if he took his eyes off of it. The crows could sense his discomfort, his pain, and began to flock around him.

Carefully, they sat around his wings, beginning to preen them as a way of calming their deity, their god. 

Philza imagined it was Kristen.

A heavy knock on the door broke him out of his trance, the thick wood creating loud echoes through the paddock. It wasn’t Techno, Techno wouldn't have knocked.

Who could it-

“Philza! I know you’re in there! I’d just let myself in but I figured I’d be a good guest.”

Dream.

Without even thinking about it, he raised the very corner of the note to a candle, and watched it burn.

He is not going to get my son.

~~~

The newest member on the Hermitcraft server had messed up a lot of things, at least schedule wise.

Large bases got pushed back and postponed, collabs got canceled, shops went unstocked for weeks on end, you get the gist.

For Scar, it was the paperwork.

He had always put it off anyway , but with his normal workspace taken over by the constant stream of hermits helping out, the mayor was a bit too busy to file his taxes.

But with Cub’s pressing, and Bdubs quite literal begging, he found himself back in the office. The town hall had become much quieter in the past few weeks, with the kid getting a lot healthier, but it still wasn’t an ideal place to work.

Quiet swishes of the portal and loud booms of rockets outside stole most of his attention, making it increasingly difficult to focus. The mayor groaned, cursing Bdubs for forcing him into this position, and drew on. 

Around the halfway point, sounds of quiet feet on the stairs outside pulled him out of the pages, causing the man to place his calculator down and stretch. 

He had worked here long enough to know what everyone sounded like whilst heading up the stairs. Bdubs, often excited and up to trouble, had louder, heavier steps. Cub was often consistent and quieter, although his classic boots of his enforcer uniform always gave him away. Even Joe had a unique gait, often careful and slow, sometimes accompanied by the sound of a new puppy's nails on the wood.

Soft, quiet little patters that were almost not even there at all, were his favorite. They brought the sight of his favorite coworker (who just so happened to be his cat as well).

“Oh Jellie!! You silly cat, are you coming to help me work?” Scar brushed off his desk, moving his stack of finished papers and pulling out a cat bed, just for her. He knew Jellie would waltz in, stealing her favorite spot, whether or not there were papers in the way. As cute as it was, the mayor couldn’t afford to re-do some crumpled or ruined papers, not today at least.

The soft steps outside paused for a couple of seconds, before continuing. It sounded as if someone was creeping, careful and slow, trying to time their steps with the sounds of outside rather than just coming up like normal.

“Jellie! Are you in a playful mood today?” She did leave her toys upstairs often, finding and stalking them later on. If she was really lucky, she might even find a real mouse, practicing her hunting on some live prey. Either way, the cat had a habit of stalking up the stairs, scaring whoever was lucky enough to run into her.

Scar pushed his wheelchair away from the desk, pulling the hand knit blanket off of his lap before making his way to the door. Jellie, being the silly cat she was, would either play outside the door, causing a ruckus and distracting Scar even more, or she would scratch at the door, letting her paw pads and claws alert the man to her need to be let inside.

Either way, Scar would have to leave his work to take care of her.

Scar sighed, now understanding the fact that no more work would be finished today. Damn that cat, he mumbled, but couldn’t help but smile as he made his way to the door. A break was needed anyways, I can always get back to it later.

Opening the door ended up startling both parties more than they would admit.

Scar, rolling back away from the now open door, was still catching his breath. The scruffy little boy he was face to face with just seconds ago was already booking it down the stairs. He knew the boy was getting better, but stalking up the stairs?

“Wait! Come back! You just scared me a bit!” The kid paused, looking around, clearly determining whether or not stopping was safe or worth it. He had something in his hand, and though he was far enough away that Scar couldn’t tell what, it did look like a small pocket knife, probably stolen off of someone.

Welp, gotta be more careful here.

“I thought you were just my cat! Come back, I didn’t mean to scare you off. We can sit and talk for a bit!” The kid– Tommy, if he remembers right– made direct eye contact with him before bolting off, hopping the banister and running back downstairs.

He couldn’t help but notice the trail of diamonds that the kid left behind, presumably falling out of his pockets in the dash. Scar laughed to himself, clearly amused more than anything, before turning back around.

Memories of season 6 flooded back as the man got a short sense of deja vu. Short blond avian who always seemed to cause problems on purpose? Hmm, reminds him of someone.

Oh, he has got to get Grian back in here.

Chapter Text

“He did what?”

“I’m telling you dude, he was talking to the thing! Impy! Vouch for me, man.”

“I mean, yes. He could understand the crow.”

The five of them sat around a table, somewhere deep within Xisuma’s base, talking over the events. Doc, Tango, and Impulse sat on one side, frantically and wildly explaining to Xisuma and TFC, who were sitting on the other side.

TFC had been quiet, not actually seeing the crow in question, and was taking quick notes in cursive. Xisuma, who was technically there, was the one asking questions. So far, they had only really gotten to where they let the crow inside, but all parties were baffled.

“What was his name again?” TFC asked, breaking the silence in the room.

“Tommy.” Both Impulse and Tango replied, almost instantly.

“Hang on, I’m going to make a call.” Tin gruffed, leaving absolutely no room for questions. They all knew better than to question the man, being an immortal god after all, but they couldn’t help but let their confusion show through. Tin’s usually blank expression began to show worry as he stepped into the hall.

That worried everyone.

~~~

Struggling with the buttons on his communicator, Tin put in one of many numbers he had memorized. Being a god meant a lot of things, but his favorite was having a universal communicator. Immortal beings had all the time in the world to find the best plugs for technically illegal things, such as overpowered communicators.

His comms, for example, was able to create a two way connection to anyone with a communicator, no matter the blocks and protections in place. 

In times like these, it was awfully helpful.

It rang, and rang, and rang. 

Just when Tin was about to give up, ready to pocket the damn thing and forget the idea as a whole, they picked up.

“Tin?” The man on the other side questioned, voice soft and wavering slightly.

“Phil! How are you? What’s it been, a couple of centuries?”

An old friend of his, Philza Minecraft.

A fellow god whom he’d met early in his turning. Providing some of the most solid advice and chill conversations, the god became a good friend over time. 

Phil sniffled, trying to cover it up with a laugh. “Yeah, I guess it has.” He sounded soft, mourning almost.

“I’m sorry Phil, but I really don’t have a lot of time. There’s been an emergency on my server. I was hoping you would be able to help.”

“Tin– You know I don’t hop servers much anymore–”

“Oh, of course not. I just need you to answer some questions.”

The man on the other line hummed, before making a small sound of agreement. Sounds of feathers settling echoed through the line as he sat down and got comfortable. “So what happened? You’re still on Hermitcraft, right?”

“Yeah.” Tin huffed, clearly confused and frustrated. “One of your crows visited.”

The silence that echoed through the line was deafening. “Tin. You know I can’t take back anything that I do. It’s my job, just like yours is protection and X’s is-”

“ Yes, but it didn’t claim anyone.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“We got a kid, just, out of nowhere one day, just put onto our server with no warning.” Tin took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself and avoid rambling. “He was in bad shape, from what I heard, and he was getting better.” 

“What was his name?”

“Code in terrible shape, terrified, but we decided to take him in. Xisuma couldn’t figure out where he came from, but in my experience, there are only a few gods, maybe watchers, that could do something like that. It’s been a couple of weeks–”

“ Tin, what was his name?”

“And then the crow came and we thought he was dead, or that someone had pissed you off again or something. But it talked. Like a parrot, it kept repeating phrases and words. He wanted someone, so we brought it to them.”

“ Tin, I swear to the Void below-”

“Did you have another kid in the time we haven’t talked?” Tin asked, clearly trying to regain his fleeting composure.

“Tommy.”

~~~

“We have a son of death on OUR SERVER?”

Doc was outraged, pacing, clearly stressed from the news. The whole room smelled of gunpowder, thick in the air, a warning to everyone that he was this close to blowing up completely.

“Doc, listen. This actually helps us.”

Doc stopped in his pacing, whipping his head around to shoot daggers at his admin. Xisuma, although slightly shaking with stress, was still standing at the edge of the table. He was trying to calm the situation, preferably before the cyborg short circuits. 

Doc couldn’t actually explode. His cybernetics had a built in safety feature, one where, if put under mass amounts of stress, would shut itself down, forcing him to calm down. It was a safeguard, protecting his cybernetics and the people around him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make it right up to the point of explosion.

“Tango, please call Etho and/or Iskall.” The admin said with as much authority and composure as he could, ensuring there was no room for complaints.

The demon just nodded, pulling both him and Impulse out of the room. Hissing, loud and stressed, brought his attention back to Doc, who was still throwing a glorified tantrum.

“Doc, listen to me. You have to calm down. You have every right to be upset, but please, you will short circuit.” Xisuma pleaded with the creeper, thankful for the fact that he couldn’t actually blow up, but scared nonetheless.

A coffee cup slammed into the wall, shattering, and spraying the drink everywhere. TFC and Xisuma simply let it happen, understanding that he needed to get it out of his system. Sure, the man was fuming, but thank his creeper hybrid side for that. 

Doc stuttered, the grip in his bionic arm loosened and eye flickering for just a second, a clear sign his redstone was getting overloaded. 

Etho ran into the room, quickly checking over the angry creeper, ignoring the fact that the man was still fuming and throwing things around him. The man wasn’t scared, not really, not after the late nights spent in the NHO headquarters late in season 5 or after the plain years he had spent getting to know him.

Doc had things that made him tick, one of which is death. 

It was right of him to get upset.

Even so, he didn’t deserve to go into a nearly catatonic state for… hours? Days? Weeks? Depending how stressed out his redstone got, it might take upwards of a month to manually reset and rewire the locked circuits.

“Doc, talk to me!” Etho shouted, barely speaking above the growling and hisses that already filled the room. 

Etho gestured to X and TFC, silently telling them to get out before someone gets hurt. 

They both ducked out without question.

With the others finally gone, Doc turns back around. Something behind his eyes is switched off, replacing the anger with pure and undescribable fear. 

His need to be big and strong, his need to protect his family, went into overdrive. Scared, terrified, but still willing to put his everything into protecting, even if that meant bringing him all the way up to an explosion.

“Aw honey.” Etho hums, opening his arms to the hybrid. “It’ll be fine. He’s not a god, and doesn’t seem to have the same powers as his father.”

His shoulders fell, but the fur on the back of his neck stayed fluffed up. “We aren’t in any danger, and even if we were, you aren’t fully responsible for our safety. You and death have a history, and that's okay. We will get through this.”

“ What about the kid?”

“He’s a good kid, Doc. There may be a bit of trouble, but the plan doesn’t change now that we know. He’ll stay here, if that’s okay with you.”

Doc nods, still apprehensive, but much calmer than he was just a few seconds ago. Etho beckons him to sit back down at the table, which he gladly does.

“Iskall’s outside, mind if I bring him here to look at your circuits? You were flashing a bit.” Doc nods, searching through his inventory and grabbing a small repair kit, handing it to Etho. “After that’s done, we can go over what this means. I think X has some ideas.”

He sits back in the chair, eye steadily blinking in standby mode as the two redstoners do their work. At some point in time, the rest of the group comes back in, making quiet conversation and idly cleaning some of the mess, waiting until Doc is set.

Once he’s back, Xisuma wastes no time getting to work.

“Okay. I’m hopefully going to make this quick, but here’s what we have.” The man stands up, TFC handing him his notes as he does so. “Tommy, the kid we recently got on the server, is one of three sons of Death. 

This is, surprisingly, a good thing.”

Looking at Tin, the admin continues. “Apparently, none of the other sons received any god-like properties or powers, other than the obvious one of talking to crows.”

Xisuma pulls up a data sheet on his helmet, sending it to everyone in the room. “Usually, this data sheet would be available upon arrival. Due to the unusual circumstances within his code, I was unable to reach it. Luckily, there is a database, and knowing general details such as who his father is, I was able to retrieve this.

The sheet that Xisuma sent was… bare.

Only containing a full name, known relatives, current admin and server residence, a small picture, and a few other details. Sheets like these look like passports, in a way, and are used to document and track all individuals. 

The board of admins suggests updating these every in-game update, however, updates are only required for world changes. Depending how long an individual resides in a world, and how “rural” said world may be, people can go years or even a lifetime with only updating their sheet once.

The more updates a sheet gets, the longer and more accurate the sheet becomes. Xisuma, for example, updates his every few months. Full and detailed pages about Hermitcraft, how long they stayed in past worlds, details about the current world, specs and coding information about the servers as a whole, everything.

The more he has, the better he looks to the board, and boy oh boy did he take that to heart.

Tommy’s sheet had no extra information. None.

A single page, probably from around age 4. A small kid, blond with a bright red bandana, and a smile so bright it could light up the world. He barely reached the frame.

The page also contained information about current server residence. Although it was updated forever ago, Xisuma could assume it was accurate, considering the board of admins are pretty strict on server moves.

“This sheet tells us quite a bit, but easily the most important would be his past server. He lived in a server by the name of the Dream SMP, with, you guessed it, a man named Dream as his past admin. This server is particularly secretive about what goes on inside, considering most of its inhabitants' sheets are out-of-date, but we can assume why.”

Tango, whose hair began to smoke, looked deviously to Impulse, whose eyes had turned a dark goldenrod, ready to fight. They just smiled at each other.

“Before you get any ideas,” Xisuma stands between the two, breaking their eye contact. “We are also dealing with a server specific god, who goes by the name of XD. From what I have heard, and what Philza has said, he is powerful, dangerous, and aided by the admin himself.”

Tango just cracks his knuckles in response, clearly not bothered.

“He is not a force to be reckoned with. Until we have decided, as a group, on what to do, I will be enforcing a server wide lockdown.”

“What! X!! Pleaaaassse.”

“Wait, X, re-think this for a sec–”

“No, as far as I’m concerned, nobody in, nobody out.”

Tango and Impulse both huffed in disapproval, slouching down further into their seats.

Chapter Text

“Knock knock!”

Scar was currently sitting outside of the curtains, speaking his knock out loud, ready to meet their new member. Sure, he mistook the boy for his cat, but he did plan on meeting him eventually.

“Hello?” A voice spoke out from within the curtains, laced with fear, timid and shaky. 

Leaning on his cane, Scar opened the curtains to a scene.

One that reminded him too much of himself.

Tommy was sitting, knees to his chest and hand white knuckled around a dagger. Fear rippled through his wings, him trying (and failing) to puff them, a poor attempt at appearing bigger. He was much smaller than Scar imagined, lanky and thin, but looked just as ready for a fight.

Staying calm, he hobbled into the room, ignoring the terrified kid and opted to sit on the furthest chair from the bed. 

They stayed there, in silence, Tommy clutching the stolen dagger (now he was closer, Scar recognized it from Cub’s desk), and Scar simply looking around the room. He hummed, a song long lost to his mind, and Tommy only scooted away from him.

From what Scar had heard, the kid was supposedly getting better, but everything he was seeing said otherwise. Tango and Impulse had both described a bright kid, someone who smiled and laughed, caused chaos on purpose and didn’t have any regrets about it.

The kid was still scared.

“How are you doing? I didn’t mean to scare you back there.” Scar started, and when he realized there wouldn’t be a response, he continued. “I’m glad to see you up and walking, we were worried there for a bit.”

The boy huffed, but the grip on his dagger loosened, even if just a bit. Scar stared at the scattered diamonds on the floor, carefully avoiding eye contact, even as the kid tried to gain it and challenge him. It was a fight for him, trying and failing to assert dominance over the space, all while Scar simply sat, calm.

“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she.” Scar nodded to the dagger, still ignoring the tense avian holding it. “It’s Cub’s. From what I’ve heard, the man crafted it himself, although more for the beauty of it rather than to fight with.”

The man laughed, looking off to the distance, reminiscing. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen the man use it once. I guess he’s not much of a dagger person.” The man used his natural flair to fill the space, not even acknowledging the responses (or lack there of) and simply saying what was on his mind.

That was what helped him, so many years ago. So maybe, just maybe, it would help the kid.

Tommy flipped the purple and gold knife in his hand, seemingly realizing just how nice the thing was. The blade reflected hues of violet and gold onto the walls as he rotated it, admiring. Dyed leather, seemingly brand new, almost soft under his fingertips. 

Scar watched the kids face, recognizing the quiet admiration on his features. So he likes weapons, good to know.  

“What is Cub?” Tommy ponders out loud, just above a whisper, never taking his eyes off of the blade.

“Say again?”

“What is Cub? Like, is he a voidwalker? Or maybe a phant hybrid?” Tommy looks up, pure curiosity in his eyes as he makes eye contact with the man across the room.

“Oh! He’s a vex hybrid. You can probably feel a bit of vex magic in there, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

Tommy squints his eyes, before responding. “You’re one, too.”

“Mhm!” The mayor responds, trying not to show the strange feeling deep within him from the words. Most people couldn’t tell. Vex, especially hybrids, were very good at hiding their traits. The vex weren’t necessarily liked , per say, and have learned to keep themselves hidden most of the time. How this kid, who had most likely never been off of his past server, knew what he was, was beyond him.

“How’d you know!”

“Your energy is all… Wobbly. I’ve never met a vex before, but my brother’s a phant. Didn’t know if it was a hybrid thing or a god thing.” Tommy shrugs, now avoiding eye contact, fiddling with the dyed leather wrapped around the handle.

“Hmm. A god you say?”

“Of music, but I know phantoms also can get weird with the whole energy thing.”

“Now you’ve got me curious. What else has ‘weird’ energy?” Scar asks, simply because he’s never seen something quite like this. What else can this kid detect? Why can this kid feel energy?

“It’s usually gods. But like, some things that have magic or aren’t from here have it too. Like the avian, his felt weird but I couldn’t place it.”

“Oh Grian? Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.” Scar lies. “He does have a history most of us don’t know much about. We kind of just ignore it to be honest.” He laughs, attempting to make the space more comfortable than awkward.

“Why? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not really, I mean, we all have things that haunt our pasts, and most of the time they don’t matter. We are a group of misfits, and all of us have things that we never talk about, that we don’t need to talk about. Tango used to jump anarchy servers, Cub and I used to be part of the ConVex, Etho’s got a redstone eye (or two, he mumbles). I bet we would tell you if you asked but other than that, we don’t really care.”

Tommy stays quiet, clearly deep in thought.

“How did you get the scars?” He asks, timid and shy, the fighting kid he met moments ago replaced by one curious yet terrified to ask.

“Which ones?” Scar laughs, lifting up the edge of his shirt, just enough to show the myriad of scars riddled on his stomach and up his chest. “There’s a reason my nickname’s Scar!”

“All of them?” He asks, terrified voice now laced with more curiosity than anything.

“I’ll make you a deal, For every scar I tell the story of, you can share one of yours.” Scar hums. “We can make it every two, if you want to.”

“Deal.”

And for the first time that evening, Scar watched the kid drop his guard. Laughing and explaining certain stories that made both of them laugh wildly. It didn’t matter that Tommy clearly avoided the major ones, the one on his face, between his wings, through his chest, the ones with trauma. It didn’t matter.

Because at the end of the day, the boy was comfortable, happy, and having fun.

Chapter Text

After the kid, the new avian, woke up, Grian found himself working more and more on the mansion.

It wasn’t like he was upset or scared of the tiny thing, of course not, but the more he re-lives those fateful moments, the more the man feels content with staying indoors.

As the interior walls of the mansion went up, the work became increasingly time consuming. What once was a simple task to distract himself from the presence of another avian became his entire waking moment. Building in favor of going outside or doing any sort of pranks, avoiding anyone and everyone he could possibly run into.

What color should the walls be in the bedroom? I wonder what Tommy is up to?

Should there be skylights here? Will he know how to preen his wings, or-

Maybe I should go see Mumbo. He’s too busy with Tommy.

A knock on the door, followed by another, more urgent one, and Grian was rushing to see who it was. Shulkers dropped to the floor in favor of checking himself in the mirror, double checking the ever deteriorating state of his appearance and making sure they, whoever it was, wouldn’t be too worried.

Hopes of it being X worried after not seeing him for days on end or maybe Doc with news about Tommy fell flat when Grian opened the door. Two netherborns, both with a sly smile and a mischievous glint to their eyes, greeted him.

“Are you busy?” Impulse asks, voice serious, dripping with command. It was clear that he expected a specific answer, but felt the need to ask out of being polite. Tango stayed quiet at his side, simply tilting his head with a questioning movement.

“Uhm– Not really? Is everything alright?” Grian asked, inching ever so slightly back into the dark mansion. The light of the outdoors hurt his eyes and made him feel more exposed before his extremely serious guests.

“We just need to talk.” Tango smiled, and not the nice happy one either, the ready to kill sort of smile.

That scared Grian more than he would be willing to admit.

“Okay, I–I just finished the entrance, we can talk out here or somewhere else if you want.” He was fumbling over his words, trying to be polite, yet that was getting increasingly difficult when your guest seemingly wanted to kill somebody who might be you.

 The two were scarier than Grian had ever seen them. Eyes turning dark for split seconds at a time before blinking back to their normal shade, Tango’s ears flicking in the way that meant he was upset and trying to cover it, the way Impulse would occasionally lean over and put out a piece of the demon’s smoldering hair. Every second they spent inside Grian’s home was a second Grian feared for his life.

Leading them to the couches, the small avian thought through every single way he could have pissed the two off. A prank gone wrong? Something I missed while I was gone? Something to do with Tommy?

His voice shook, wavering in a facade of politeness. “Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Water?”

“I think it's better if we get right into it.”

If there was any moment where Grian would beg the gods of death to take him right then and there, it would be now.

He put some space between them, sitting in a chair about halfway across the room, before nodding, indicating that he was ready to start.

Impulse was the first to speak, clearly being in charge of the moment. “We heard you can jump worlds through a lockdown.”

Wait? What?

“Yes. I can leave and get onto worlds on a lockdown.” He answered carefully, voice dripping with confusion. “How come?”

“We need to get off the server without Xisuma knowing.” Tango replies, clearly itching to go.

A beat of silence hit, Grian unsure of exactly what they had just asked of him, and Impulse clarified. “We learned more about the kid, specifically who his previous admin was, and are interested in… having some words.” The two smirked.

“And you can’t leave on your own?”

“Xisuma put us on lockdown when we found out about him. Something about the admin being notorious for being dangerous and having a god working with him–” 

“Sounded like a bunch of bullshit to me,” Tango cut him off, waving his hand dismissively.

Grian paused, before pulling out his communicator.

“X has a point–” A set of scoffs followed by the sound of a sword being pulled out of its scabbard. “It CAN be dangerous, hence why I’m going to text Philza–” Grian points down at his communicator, making terrified eye contact with a bloodthirsty Tango. “We should meet with him or someone else before we try anything.”

“We?” Impulse asks.

“Yes, we. I’d be stupid to let you two go alone.”

~~~

“Dadza!! You’ve got mail!” One of the crow screeched outside his door, mimicking the notification sound that Wilbur set for his communicator, followed by a cacophony of caws. “I’ll be out in a second!”

The two, him and Techno, were peacefully reading on the couches. They did this often, the tundra often bringing hours to days on end where they couldn’t leave their small cabin, and it was beneficial for the both of them. Occasionally humming and sharing small bits of knowledge from their respective books. It was nice, it would be nice, if the crows were able to calm down for more then two hours at a time.

“DADZAAA” A deafening scream, followed by the sound of Techno slamming his book, and Phil was forced to make his way to the door. “What, what could you possibly–”

“Oh.”

A crow sat with his communicator in his mouth, the screen on with a private message.

“Thank you.” Phil hummed, much quieter than he was previously, before closing the door.

“Who is it?” Techno questioned from inside, voice still uninterested and monotone as before. It was clear he didn’t really want an answer.

“Not sure yet mate, let me open it.”

~~~

<Grian whispers to you> Heyy Philza

<Grian whispers to you> We need to meet up, two of my friends and I need to talk about your admin

<Grian whispers to you> Its about Tommy

<You whisper to Grian> Um sure mate

<You whisper to Grian> We are both coming from lockdown servers, assuming you’ve got a way to the hub and back, sure

<You whisper to Grian> Is Tommy okay?

<Grian whispers to you> Hes fine, we really just need to “talk” with the admin

<Grian whispers to you> You’ve got a time you can sneak out?

<You whisper to Grian> Midnight, sometime next week

<You whisper to Grian> I can open a server for us

<Grian whispers to you> We have a deal

“Heyy Technoo?”

“What do you need from me?” Techno replied, knowing yet still annoyed.

“You’ve been talking about wanting to go off server, what about sometime next week?”

“You need a bodyguard, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh, you owe me one.”

“Of course my lovely Technoblade, of course.”

Chapter Text

“Hold on tight, everyone, it might get a bit bumpy.” 

The world shuttered for a second as the void itself began to swirl in the middle of the room, dimming the mansion’s entrance hall in mere ticks as it grew. Grian, now floating in front of his portal and extending his arms out to control it, let his eyes fall open, concentration licking at his features and making his eyes a bright, glowing end purple .

He almost shone. With the way his Watcher’s glow backlit his features and the way the room had darkened, he became the center of it all. Both Impulse and Tango stepped back, shell shocked despite the fact they knew what was in tow. Their servermate, their friend , had just transformed into a villain from their childhood storybooks. 

To help them .

Grian’s eyes shut once again, the room temporarily going even darker without their glow, the void-like portal seeming to suck in every ounce of light from the room. The lights, the fireplace, the full moon that could barely be seen through the windows above, all seemingly quieted by the pure watcher magic.

“Let's go.” An almighty voice whispered, shaky and hoarse as if being mute for quite a while, directly into their heads, is if it were simply another thought echoing around in their brains.

~~~

The crowds parted as the trio made their way through the hub.

Eyes burned into every inch of them, heads turning at the way the crowds bubbled and moved around their group, attempting to find what had caused the disturbance in the hive-like buzz that was a constant here.

Not that that was very hard.

Going off server, especially to a place as public as the hub, meant the hermits had to give up some of the inherent comforts that their admin provided. While that meant little changes to their comm or the way interfaces appeared to them, it also meant c osmetic changes .

Grian was no longer just any avian hybrid, no longer able to tuck his wings in and blend into the general public, of course not. His recent use of his powers, and the way his code was now structured in general, meant one thing.

Full watcher mode.

Eyes, so many eyes , decorated his now milky pale skin, the purple swirls following and staring into everyone and everything. He had transformed into an omni-present being, dressed in the exiled classic watcher robes, small parrot wings gone, replaced by large inky black and purple, easily over 20 feet in wingspan.

The world seemed to glitch in his presence, colors washed solely into tones of purple, black, and a blinding white.

Although Xelqua’s Grian’s feet moved as if walking, they never touched the ground, always staying mere pixels away from the dirty, foreign, disgusting floor. 

Tango and Impulse hadn't really changed that much. They were noticeably different, maybe taller, bulkier, less human, but not enough to really stand out in the same way. Sure, Tango did stand a few feet above the average height of the crowd, and Impulse’s horns were easy to spot with the way they stuck out, but compared to the rest of their party it wasn’t too bad .

Oh yeah, and the way their Hermitcraft-specific badges twinkled above their tags didn’t really help with the whole “get in, blend in” sort of mission.

“Hey ASSHOLE!”

A voice broke through the ever present hum of the hub, stopping them right before the hallway they were aiming for, as a stout man broke through into the empty circle of people that surrounded them, the crowd backing up as to not get too close.

Grian simply blinked, a wave of slow blinks making their way across the rest of his eyes before they all turned to focus on the disturbance.

“Did you fucking hear me? We don’t take your kind very nicely around here.”

The two demons stood behind Grian, who’s large wings had now extended enough to show their size, and waited for his response. Although not technically the leader of the mission, they were currently here because of him, and it only seemed right to look to him for protection.

Their unofficial leader simply turned, ready to leave, when the man stepped forward and shoved. The circle of bystanders grew around them, quietly, yet very excitedly, watching for the drama to come.

“We oughtta harvest those wings of yours, I’ve heard Watchers get a pretty penny nowadays with their scarcity.” He smiled, flashing a smug toothy grin and reaching forward, as to touch Grian’s wings.

Grian moved, stretching his wings back as the stranger moved forward, leaving the crowd frantic in expanding the circle to avoid contact with the watcher.

“!¡╎ᓭᓭ 𝙹⎓⎓” His voice responded, unamused and bored as it filled the space, monotone as every other watcher, not even finishing what he was saying before he once again turns to leave. [Piss off]

“I don’t speak bullshit . Maybe you should have one of your filthy demons translate for you, huh?”

In mere ticks, the calm and collected Watcher facade broke. Wings fluffed up and stretched out, showing the sets of eyes hidden within the feathers, each open and pupils small pinpricks of anger. Grian turned on his heels once again, open wings fluttering with anger as he began to hover above the ground more noticeably.

He couldn’t help but smile at the pure face of regret staring back at him.

“You can insult me all you want, but do NOT come for my friends.” The way he shook the walls and the ground was a real testament to how far he played up the ‘Watcher voice’, a facade that could easily trick anyone. A reminder, to those watching and his friends alike, that Watchers were not to be messed with.

The many sets of eyes in his wings fluttered closed in waves, Grian lifting further off of the ground and eyes shining brighter. With a snap of his fingers, the crowd gasped in horror as the man disappeared .

Lowering down and tucking his wings flush against his back, he was finally allowed to turn towards his destination, a small hallway that branched off of the main room, leading some of the highest end private servers, Tango and Impulse confidently following behind.

As soon as they turned the corner, out of sight, the facade dropped. Tango burst out laughing, Impulse not far behind, with Grian smiling smugly to himself.

“Oh I forgot how much control I have of things here! Most of the stuff I did wasn’t even my powers or anything, just scary changes in my appearance!” He wheezed, leaning against the wall for a second as he regained his breath, “Oh I definitely need to pull that more often.”

The trio broke out in laughter once again, poking fun at the man and how scary they pretended to be. Grian extended his wings, showing the severe lack of eyes, giggling as he explained just how much control of their physical forms Watchers had. (Obviously there were requirements to the look, but some things could be tweaked.)

After a while, they managed to calm down, just enough to wipe their tears and begin the walk to Philza’s portal. 

It was quieter here, with very few (and very scared) individuals in the private halls. It let a calm quiet engulf them, the realization of what was to come now dawning on them.

Tommy. That’s why they were here, to meet Tommy’s father.

The portal was dimmed when they arrived, the wall showing through where the swirls of blue and purple should reside, and now all that was left was to wait for it to open.

“Hey Grian, where did you end up sending that guy, anyways?”

“Oh, just a few hallways down, in a broom closet. He’s fine .”

Three sets of laughter followed, the trio once again fighting to keep their breaths.

~~~

Getting to the hub was actually pretty simple, all things considered.

A short talk with his wife, and another (much longer) talk with Tecnho about the rules, they were finally on their way. 

Phil had waited until midnight, meticulously ensuring that no one was awake, before opening a temporary portal and pulling the two of them through. They swayed on their feet, the slight nausea that comes from traveling this way hitting them in waves before the server finally set them in the middle of the hub.

People, humans and hybrids alike, swarmed like bees. Quickly coming and going through the hundreds of different nether-like portals that surrounded them. 

It was a pretty traditional setup, a large circular room lined with many of the popular public servers, with hallways on each of the cardinal directions leading to the lesser known or private servers. On the northern wall, instead of a hallway, stood a small service desk, there simply to set up or shut down servers of your own.

Whispers followed them. ‘Is that the blood god?’ ‘I thought he was retired’ ‘Why are they here? We haven’t seen them for forever.’ ‘I thought they were both a myth!’ 

Techno let out a groan as they approached the desk, already sick and tired of the wonders that the hub brings. He had a dead expression, the perfect mix of pissed off and bored to make anyone run after making eye contact. Phil simply smiled next to him, politely greeting the employee sitting behind the service desk. 

The poor teen was shaking.

“We need to set up a new private server. The name is Philza Minecraft.”

Clicking of a keyboard, followed by a short scared exhale by the employee. “Uhm- It appears that you are currently under a lockdown server. I am unable to set that up for you and unfortunately I will have to report this to your admin.” She chuckled nervously, fiddling with the buttons on her communicator as she spoke.

There was a quiet huff from the piglin, and Phil just closed his eyes and shook his head like a disappointed parent, knowing exactly what was coming.

*click*

A curved blade, about six inches and shimmering purple of enchanted netherite, was stuck into the counter that separated them. He did it with ease and precision, driving the switchblade at least an inch into the hardwood without even breaking a sweat.

“That won’t be necessary.” He gruffs, releasing the blade in favor of fixing his cape, “We will work around it.”

“Sir- sirs - weaponry of any kind is prohibited within the hub.” She points to a small sign behind her, “I- I’m not sure how you even got that in here.”

The employee is sweating, nervously playing with her hand and attempting to wipe the ever present sheen of sweat found upon them on her thin pencil skirt. She makes eye contact with Phil as she speaks, before promptly looking back to her small monitor, pretending to be occupied with something in an attempt to seem calm.

Philza leans forward, tall frame leaning fully on where his forearm meets with the counter. His demeanor is a polar opposite to the person across from him, he's relaxed and uninterested, draped along the desk as if he owns it.

“Come on, doll ,” Her face turns an even brighter red at the name, “You really don’t want to mess with me right about now. I’m on a small,” he pauses for a tick, letting her fill in the blanks herself before continuing,  “ business trip , and it relates to one of my sons, s o you better think very wisely about your next decisions. ”

The employee stumbles on her words, attempting to get something out. “I- I- I am protected by cameras!” She blurts out, “My supervisors are re- required to review the tapes, after my shift.”

“Oh we will be long gone by then.” He breaks eye contact with her to look to the rafters of the main hub, dark and bare so far above them. “Plus, I’ve got ‘watchers’ of my own.”

A single crow appears from the darkness, floating down and pearching upon the handle of Techno’s blade. The god of death smiles, dark and dangerous, before offering his finger as a perch for his disciple. Technoblade chuckles too, pulling his knife from the table and admiring the sharpness of its blade.

She freezes, taking in a deep breath before resetting herself. Standing tall once again, she began typing.

“Of course, my deities, what name would you like that under?”

~~~

“I haven’t had to do that in a while.” Phil admits, looking at his partner while they make their way through the empty hall, passing by the rows upon rows of unlit portals. “I guess retirement was treating me quite nicely.”

“Eh. Threatening government employees is so last century anyways.” Phil chuckles in response, murmuring a small agreement before looking down to the small piece of paper he got as a confirmation of his portal opening.

“That should be it, right… Here!” Phil makes sure the portal is correct before pulling out his communicator. “I’m going to let them know, give me a second mate.”

A quiet silence filled the space, only filled by the quiet typing of Phil’s comm.

“This better be worth it.”

“I am almost certain it will be.”