#fullhotbarfic

“What? Why’d you want to do that?”

Maybe he hadn’t heard. “Everyone says I’m crazy. But I’m not crazy,” Pearl says. “Do you ever think your friends make you want to be a worse person?”

Jimmy does a little shuffling motion slightly closer towards the gate, then stops. “Erm. I don’t think so?”

“You’re cute. Like a little bug I could step on with my shoe,” Pearl informs him. “I don’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

“Well, good? Thank you? I don’t wanna hurt you either.”

Pearl says, “We could be soulmates, have you considered that? Wouldn’t it be awful? I think it would be worse than a lot of things. But then we could tease Scott about it! With the snow! I had a dog,” she adds. “People were so mean to my dog, they hit her and kicked her and then when she growled at them they’d hit her and when she snapped at them they’d kick her.”

“...Okay,” says Jimmy, awkwardly. “Should I call someone? Er, Martyn, maybe?”

“Nooo, no, no no,” Pearl says, sing-song, “don’t call! I won’t come when you call! I just wanna talk. You like talking! Right? You said we could be friends? Oh, but then you changed your mind.”

“I was kinda worried about you,” Jimmy says. Then, “I’m still kinda worried about you actually.”

It’s been a while since anyone’s been worried about Pearl. She brightens, leaning over the little wooden gate, closer to Jimmy. “He’s worried about you too,” she says, like it’s a secret, which it probably is. But Pearl’s been sneaky, sneaking around, getting all kinds of sneaking in. “Bet you’re glad you’re not his soulmate, yeah?”

“I’m— I’ll have you know I’m perfectly happy with... with my soulmate,” Jimmy says.

Pearl says, “Isn’t it kind of rude to be soulmates with someone else when you’re married? Isn’t it kind of cheating?”

“I—”

“Just kidding!” says Pearl. “I really shouldn’t have stolen your horse.”

“It’s fine,” Jimmy says. “I forgive you. I’ve got another one.”

Pearl giggles. Oh right, she was supposed to be apologising. “Sorry! Sorry, it’s fun to tease you, I think he was right when he said it’s fun to tease you. Everybody says I’m crazy,” she adds. Did she say that already? Well, people keep saying it. “I’m just lonely. I don’t want to tie you up and put you in a cage and poke you with a stick. And say you’re the worst person and the reason I don’t believe in love and the cause of all my problems. And hurt me.”

Jimmy looks kind of like he’s been hit upside the head. “Did... did someone do that to you?”

“Oh, I hope not,” Pearl says, shuddering. “That would be really mean, wouldn’t it?”

using the prompts in @redwinterroses’s fic writing challenge from… uh… 2021 LMAO whatever i’m late to the party but it’s ok!! i decided to go with minecraft because i love the lore :3

this is a full hotbar fic! it is exactly 579 words, as a full hotbar would have 579 items.

***

you are being watched.

or, at least you think so.

you can’t confirm anything just yet, but there always seems to be eyes on you. a quiet observer. you never see it, but you’re certain it’s there.

every so often, while mining, you pass by a three-by-three tunnel dug straight through a cave wall. you hear footsteps. when you approach, they stop. you cautiously place down a torch. there are no mobs. but there is something, somewhere, watching your every move. a chill runs down your spine as you stand still, waiting for it to appear and attack you. it never does.

each time, the mining trip ends with you digging your way to the surface as quickly as possible.

at first, when bringing it up to alex, she calls you ridiculous for suggesting so.

“of course we’re being watched,” she says. “there’s a billion monsters out there watching us every single night. that’s like saying a block is square.”

but it’s different, you swear. it’s not like any other mob. it’s something more.

“more what?”

you’re not so sure. maybe it’s the footsteps. or the tunnel in the wall. or the fact that it never attacked you. you always see a flash of white eyes. you assumed it was a stray the first few times, but you later realize that it isn’t. it always seems to be the same entity, over and over again.

but that can’t be possible. mobs despawn after time. villagers stick near their homes. you and alex are the only players.

at least, you think so.

that changes when alex bursts through the door the next day, eyes wide open when frenzy.

“you’re right,” she huffs. “there’s something out there. i saw him.”

“him?” you ask.

“i’m actually not sure. i only saw an outline of a man through the fog. but i know it looked like us.”

a player.

you both barricade the doors in your house afterwards, even though you know it won’t do anything against a player, who can destroy like you can. you’re not sure why you’re so scared. you’ve never seen alex this scared, either.

thankfully, the next day is sunny. you visit the village first thing in the morning, asking if they know anything about what you and alex saw. they can’t answer, instead referring you to the library. you spend the new few hours carefully combing through books, searching for any mention of caves, fog, or white eyes.

there’s only log recording strange occurrences in the world. trees without leaves. pyramids in the ocean. holes in mountains. but no white eyes. the sun has already set, so you thank the villagers and make your way back home. you’ll ask another village tomorrow.

the fog has settled in with the darkened skies. you quicken your pace, sprinting down the path.

you freeze once you spot a dark figure with glowing white eyes in the distance.

he doesn’t move. neither do you. he carries a glistening sword. his clothes are tattered and torn. his gaze pierces into your chest.

you barely see him, but even within the fog, you realize that you recognize his face.

it’s yours.

he says something, but you can’t hear it. a chill runs down your spine.

he steps forward. you blink.

when you open your eyes, he’s gone, like a shadow in the night.

as you stare into the empty mist, you finally hear his voice echo in your mind:

The day is a long rectangular table, with four friends sitting not on the ends but in the middles. Windows are open to let the heat out, because stone is good for trapping heat. One passes the butter with knife to the other and doesn't grip the handle's end like a rope. Stone is good for trapping heat. But today the windows are open.

Not that Cleo could be bothered to care.

After a sleepless night spent running in the nearby forest until the first lights of dawn, being behind the counter working was akin to a nightmare. A situation she was going to murder Ren for at the next meeting.

Although, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he had been able to acquire solely werewolf employees. Hell, with a name like ‘Fur and Paws Coffee Shop’ one would think that no self-respecting werewolf would willingly subject themselves to work in such a place. And, yet, Ren had been able to gather a following of werewolves with no sense of dignity.

Themselves included, unfortunately.

That said, Cleo was going to murder Ren.

A steaming cup of coffee slid on the counter before them.

“You looked like you needed it,” murmured False, before yawning.

Clap hummed in agreement, sagging against her as they picked the cup in their hands, warmth seeping through their fingers.

“You’re a life saver.”

Next to them False smiled, looking just as exhausted as Cleo felt. Strands of hair fell from her usually pristine ponytail, framing her pale face and highlighting the dark bags under her eyes.

“I’m going to murder Ren,” Cleo admitted, between sips.

“We had a good run,” and that was enough of a glaring sign of her current state to make Cleo frown.

“You’re letting me make threats to your precious punching bag? Are you alright?”

False hummed, placing a kiss on Cleo’s temple, “I’m fine. I’ll just have to find another best friend. It’s okay though, they grow on trees.”

Cleo turned, holding onto her arm so as to not let her escape, “You sure you don’t want to take a nap in the back? There aren’t that many people and, if something happens, I can just call Beef or Iskall.”

“Oh, yeah. Because they’re definitely going to be delighted about having to run here after the night they spent.”

Cleo snorted, “As if I care, they knew what they were doing when they decided to get stuck in a tree whilst-“

She wasn’t able to complete the sentence as False kissed her.

“You do care, which is why I’m going to stay here and help you. That is why I volunteered, after all.”

“You volunteered?” asked Cleo, “I don’t know if that’s the most romantic or the most masochist thing I’ve ever heard.”

False grinned, “I think stopping a murderous rampage is pretty romantic.”

“I wouldn’t call murdering Ren a rampage. Definitely murderous, but he is only one person,” they said, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek, “but, I appreciate the sentiment, dear.”

“Hello?”

They turned, prepared to stare down whoever had interrupted them, and found themselves before Gem. Fidgeting and observing her surroundings as if she wasn’t sure she was in the right place.

“What are you doing here?” 

Gem huffed, “Ren sent me. He knows that making you work after the full moon is torture. So, here I am!”

“But, you don’t work here,” said False.

“Do you want to work? Because I can just-”

“No!” Cleo exclaimed, “It’s wonderful to see you! Our saviour! C’mon False, there’s a bed waiting for us at home!”

There was a book. No, there will be a book. No, there is a book; it tells tales. It speaks, it sings, it reads of vanity and memory, betrayals and meetings. It says: bountiful luck, a prosperous land, a king, a soul, a father. 

You and Fate, you and I, you and chaos and—

There is. There was. Do you hear that? It’s coming.

Nine glimpses of the end of the world. A stack of premonitions to light the way.

Jorgen Weight had a missing girlfriend. Again. She could- and would- probably get herself back with minimal damage. Hopefully she didn’t have a delver as a passenger this time, though. As much as he loves Chet and M-bot, they’re a lot to deal with. His attention was called back to the meeting on what to do for cytonic training. Whatever, Spensa would be fine.

Spensa was quite lost. She was in the caverns, hunting for rats and avoiding school, like any other day. Unfortunately, while in a rage about another dishonor on her father, she hadn’t mapped her journey. shit.

Of course, she just had to run off, again. What would her mother say after catching her skipping class for the fifth time this month? So what if it was only the 7th?! She didn’t really need most of her classes to become a pilot anyway. It was Dumb. And she would become a pilot, no matter what anyone said about her or her father. She sighed, stopping and actually taking a moment to look around.

This section of the caverns had a rather large amount of those glowing mushrooms and- there was a thing! Spensa jumped back, pointing her makeshift harpoon at it! But it was just a slug thing. Bright yellow with blue frills and little flute-like things on its back. Or- what she assumed was the back. It didn’t really have a face. She walked up to it, slowly, reaching out to touch it. It- surprisingly- let her, leaning into her pat.

“Huh.” She sat down next to it, setting down her harpoon and bag.

"What-” she lifted it up- “Are you doing here?”

The slug just made a flute-like sound and tilted it’s- head? Maybe the head? The front bit of it’s body.

Spensa jumped a bit, almost dropping it.“What- don’t scare me like that!” She glared at the slug, setting it down in her lap and starting to pet it, despite her earlier words.

The slug just tweeted happily at her again.

“Well, I don’t think you have a name, unless it’s-” Spensa tried, and failed miserably, to whistle.

The slug made another noise that sounded suspiciously like laughing.

Spensa glared at it. “Oh, whatever! I’m going to name you…” She focused on the slug. “Doomslug.” She nodded, proud of the name. “Because you’ll bring about doom and death to your enemies!” Spensa said, words getting graver and more aggressive as she raised her hands into the air.

She looked down, at a somehow confused slug. “And also because you’re very cute. Therefore also dooming your enemies into trusting you.” Spensa gave Doomslug a new bout of scratches at the words, and he fluted happily.

They sat there for a while, enjoying each other and the glow of the mushrooms. Before a giant clash sounded out further down the tunnel.

“God DAMNIT!” A voice shouted. It sounded kinda familiar, but Spensa did have bad voice blindness, so after a very calm and reasonable reaction (almost chucking Doom Slug and her harpoon in the direction of the sound, but not before making a very un-pilot-like squeak) she stood up, put Doomslug on her shoulder, her bag over her other shoulder, and got ready to harpoon whoever was there.

She needed to be smart and brutal, like a pilot, so she-“I can feel you over there! Whoever you are, I'm probably your superior officer! I need help now, or so help me, I will tell Admiral W-”

CW: brief mention of animal death

AN: Cal uses she/him pronouns!

Cal had a problem. Against both his wishes and better judgment, he had undeniably become the leader of this little band of scavengers--as much as Byrne still thought of himself as the one in charge.