Work Text:
Tubbo_ had never expected to meet his heroes. They were out of touch, as all heroes should be. Ever since he had spawned, Hermitcraft had been there, just beyond his reach, being the incredible beings they could be.
They were adventurers, survivors, inventors, and builders. Heroes, even, with the way they helped other players. They were everything Tubbo wanted to become, and everyone Tubbo wanted to be around.
The hermits purchased planets set for destruction, planets either ravaged by war or environmental disaster, or just in the way of some massive capitalistic project. The hermits took those places, hurt by the world and unwanted by all, and transformed them into masterpieces, with all the farms and builds and beauty a world deserved.
Even beyond the initial transformation, the hermits kept giving, opening up the worlds, once they were done with them, to refugees from other war-torn or otherwise destroyed worlds. The hermits gave countless players a new home, one safe from harm, and free to live and explore in, and expected nothing in return.
Tubbo respected that decision so, so much.
After the disaster that was the DSMP, one of Tubbo’s first real experiences with a proper server world, he needed to be a good player. He needed, deep in his heart, to be better, nicer, stronger than he was, better than all the players who had hurt him or revealed themselves to be shitty in one way or another.
The hermits provided a perfect inspiration for him, giving him a blueprint for an excellent storyteller, a talented redstoner, a strong leader, and, most of all, a kind and generous being, who does good for the sake of good.
So, now, as he stood on the turf of Minecraft Championships, staring at his heroes milling ahead of him, he was starstruck. He would get to meet, well, not just meet, but talk to and compete with and against, the players who had inspired him ever since he was a child, abandoned by the world and failed by his mentors.
Tubbo stepped forward, and immediately, of course, tripped. And as he tried to right himself, a hand reached out. One connected to a very familiar skin, although wearing a decidedly different outfit than usual.
Ethoslab, the actual, real life Ethoslab, grabbed Tubbo’s hand, helping him up. And Tubbo, in his endless coolness and nonchalantness, squeaked out a small “thanks” and almost blacked out. Typical.
LDShadowLady knew her husband longed for more. Every world he joined, every series he completed, his buildings became bigger, more dramatic, with thousands more resources and hours put into each build. Not that he wasn’t satisfied with the Empires or X Life, or any of the other dozens of worlds he had traversed with Lizzie by his side, but he felt a constant need to one-up himself.
Lizzie never understood that part of Joel, to be honest. Sure, she enjoyed putting in extra work or becoming a better builder, but her joy really came from the lore she could put in her builds, the stories she could tell people and experience with her friends.
Especially now, as burnt out and, honestly, exhausted as she was, with building, with creation, with the constant world-hopping and resetting, she didn’t understand him. Building a massive Megabase, or spending hours upon hours grinding out a new resource never appealed to her, but it did to Joel.
So, when he was invited to Hermicraft, a server full of players who loved the endless grind and build just as much, or even more, in some cases, as Joel, she knew he would join.
Of course, he sat down with her, asked her opinion, as this would be one of the first long-term servers where she would not be by his side. They needed each other, needed that perfect love and connection the two had built over so many years of friendship and beyond, but, sometimes, they also needed to be apart.
Lizzie knew this would be one of those times. For her own good, for she needed a rest from the endless movement, some stability and calmness in her life for a time, while Joel needed the stimulation. He thrived on the chaos of a large, fresh world, where players were constantly talking and interacting and building on and on. Hermitcraft was also, as Lizzie had heard, not nearly as lore- and story-heavy as some other servers she and Joel had been on. Again, Lizzie loved the story, always diving headfirst into whatever lore and worldbuilding and roleplaying she could, but she knew Joel was different in that way.
Sometimes, a relationship requires sacrifice, and this opportunity would be a sacrifice for her. Losing her husband, for long lengths of time, but gaining his joy and her peace. A worthy sacrifice, and she knew they would only be strengthened from it, as that was the way they had always been.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, especially if the distance allowed one to follow his dreams and aspirations, and the other to finally have some time to live her own life, unburdened by the chaos of life.
As Pixlriffs adjusted his microphone, clipping it properly to his jacket, he turned towards his cam account, floating in the air before him. The small orb, mechanical in nature but glowing with the telltale faint purple of code-changing magic, was vital to his job, recording his voice and allowing him to do flyover footage of the events he needed to cover.
Pix was one of the few non-hermits allowed on the current Hermitcraft server, and he took advantage of that allowance as often as possible. To have that sort of privilege was wonderful, although he was used to it.
He had been there since the beginning, when it was just a handful of humans from Earth, sent through a black hole and stumbling around aimlessly on a strange world. Pix was a reporter, sent into space on accident mostly, as space travel from Earth still hadn’t been cleared for civilians and non-researchers. However he made it into space, however he made it into the black hole and across the universe, didn’t really matter now, however many Earth years later.
(It was hard to tell how long it had been, due to time dilation and the strange blend of magic and technology harnessed by the inhabitants of this solar system, used to both change the time and keep people alive far longer than they should, but Pix figured it had been at least a few hundred years.)
But through it all, Pix had the hermits by his side. First that group of Earthlings, those who understood exactly what Pix was going through, then a series of non-humans, slowing filling up the group as
He had been invited to join, several times over the years, but he never wanted to be a part of that group. He just wanted to report, really.
Unlike many people from Earth, Pix really enjoyed what he did. Ever since he was a child, becoming a reporter or journalist or some other job in that area was his ultimate dream, and he accomplished it, becoming so well-known in his field that he had been asked personally to report on the new launches into space.
And, for the first few planets the hermits passed through, Pix was aimless. Reporting didn’t seem to exist very well in this system, despite the high-tech communicators everyone used, and Pix began to feel. . .empty. He didn’t have a reason to be here, and he had no real interest in the building or redstoning the other Earthlings embraced.
Sure, over the years he dabbled in both on occasion, becoming quite proficient and even joining a server of his own, but nothing really scratched that itch that reporting did.
So, he decided to make his own job.
He started small, using a small private world to experiment and report on new advancements and techniques discovered, but that still felt off.
He needed a real story, something heartfelt for people to connect to. And he remembered the hermits, the group who helped him when he was feeling down, who had struggled so hard to get to where they did, who accomplished so much.
They would be the perfect subjects to watch and learn from, to spread news of across the system and beyond.
And so Hermitcraft Recap was born, with the blessings of the hermits, of course, and Pix was happy. He still continued his own personal server, his “survival guide” of new discoveries and strategies, but the Recap was just what he needed to round out his life.
And, of course, it gave him ample opportunity to visit and talk to his old friends.
Taking a deep breath, Pix straightened his jacket and did what he was made to do. “This week, on Hermitcraft. . .”