#watcher! grian

Dread was the easiest to manage. It never stayed for long, evaporating shortly after it appeared, but those moments when it decided to make its presence known were the worst. It was like Xisuma was constantly on edge, paranoia forced his eyes to shift over everything in sight to make sure nothing was going to happen, because of the sinking feeling he had in his heart. Dreams become nightmares, fictional premonitions of disasters that will never come to fruition, that loomed over him till he realized his irrationality. 

Guilt has proven to be as difficult, if not more, than anger some days. Just like dread, it would linger long after the memory faded back into his consciousness, reminding him of the actions that lead to the feeling. Sometimes it made him stay in solitude, allowing him to think about what has been done and to create solutions if the situation were ever to come up again. Other times, when the worst of it would hit harder than it usually did, guilt would bind him to his bed. Forcing him to be plagued by whatever horrors his mind conjured up. During those times, not many things could get him to break his own spell. Keralis used to be able to, many years ago, but has since lost his touch. A good cup of tea and a cry session would do the trick sometimes, but lately, it hasn’t worked. And as of recently, Grian so far had the magic touch to release the fog from his mind and bring him back to the land of the living. (Though Xisuma doubts he’ll be able to trust Grian again for the last cure to work.)

Anger was different than the other two; where dread and guilt came and went, anger was a monster Xisuma had to constantly push back into its cage. It left him in a state of mind that created dread and guilt when it was over, it made the nightmare premonitions come to life and locked the guilt in place when it finally subsided. He hated how he became when anger took control. Logic flew out the window and words he would never even think about would spew from his mouth at any unsuspecting person, anything that could be broken was in pieces after every outburst – It was like a different person took control of his body and left Xisuma with the unconscious consequences when it was done.

He hated it. But, at the same time, it was a drug Xisuma was addicted to. He couldn’t get enough of it no matter how many times it left him in a state of self-loathing.

When the rage consumed him, with its claws dug into him and fogged his mind with a red-hued haze, Xisuma could do the impossible it seemed. Nothing could stop him, no player or mob had the power to subdue the admin. (He knows, he’s had people try.) His brain was able to create redstone circuits better, faster. Physically, he was stronger, able to best hoards of mobs with his fists and an ax if he so wished. Life seemed easy when the world was tinted red and he was feared, respected, because he knew that no one would oppose him. This was useful when he had to protect his hermits, when they were threatened and were unable to save themselves, his anger was able to keep both of them until the threat was gone. 

Yet here, in the broken and burning mess that was his base, Xisuma didn’t feel the rush of endorphins his body had after the anger slowed. He didn’t relish in the way the rage made him invincible. His rage didn’t deserve that satisfaction but it wasn’t like he was able to stop it. That nasty part of him, the part that loves the sickening sound of breaking bones and the terrified screams that came with his rage-sickness, had taken control and driven away the only person who had accepted the unpredictable bouts of anger. But that wasn’t to say Xisuma was the only one at fault.

His anger, he believed, was justified in this scenario. 

Grian had kept his true nature from him for years, withheld information that could’ve brought disaster and suffering on his server. There was a reason Xisuma had gone to great lengths to protect his hermits from watchers; a reason Xisuma had given them a place to recover and learn to forget the tragedy that befell them, nearly half of his hermits had been at the mercy of unmerciful killers. And yet, despite his efforts to keep them safe, to make sure that a watcher could never find their way to his server and torment them, two had joined their ranks. Two had become family to them. One had become more than friends. 

It hurt even more knowing that Grian was also the one to cause many of the hermits the trauma they endured. Grian had been the one to kill their families with no remorse, just a being of no emotions with a weapon that thirsted for blood. The blond tried to explain–tried to make Xisuma see that he was forced to kill and became the monster he is unwillingly–but the anger that rose at the sight of him wouldn’t listen. It didn’t want to see the truth behind his words, focusing only on the fact that he lied and could’ve put the server in danger.

And then there was the bombshell that was “Grian is Xelqua.” When Xisuma chose to worship the minor deity, the stories of their indifferent kindness had reached him in a way that the teachings of his home village never had. The admin had found his calling in the ventures of Xelqua and how he helped those who asked, those who didn’t, and protected them as they tried to find their way as he tried to find his. It was the reason players had given him the title of  “protector of wanderers.” 

It was the reason he started Hermitcraft, he and GenerikB created a place for people who needed help and were searching for something, those who had lost their way. And it worked how they predicted; players came and went, each one yearning for something others couldn’t imagine, and each one would leave when it was their time. When Irene gave them kindness and showed them the way to their hearts' desire. For others, their search had stopped with Hermitcraft. They had been seeking refuge, a safe haven, from disaster and when they found it, they never left. 

Grian was one of those kinds of hermits, one seeking asylum from a horror he wouldn’t tell, which was fine, Xisuma understood his secrecy about his past. (The admin himself didn’t really tell his own past to the others whenever they asked and it brought on another wave of guilt over him. How could he get angry with Grian if he himself didn’t speak of his story? What a hypocrite.)  

Xisuma picked up his helmet. He had thrown it at the nearest wall in his rage against the avian–watcher–during their argument. Cracks created a spider web-like design over the back of it, pieces had been broken off and clattered against the floor as he turned it around to inspect it. The point of contact was completely gone, in its place was a gaping hole and the remnants of it by his feet. It was effectively broken. Besides the hole, the breathing apparatus had been dented (which resulted in it falling off when he tried to fix it) and rendered the helmet useless. This was his favorite helmet, the one he had been using for years, and now because of his anger, it was broken. 

This just made him angrier.

Once again, the helmet went soaring through the air and crashed into his mud farm. Water trickled from the hole in the machine where the hopper was supposed to be, instead the headpiece dented the hopper into a mangled version of itself that let the water flow, making the mud farm another thing on his ‘to be fixed’ list that was steadily growing. 

He sighed, if asking Tommy his story was going to result in this catastrophe, then the admin would go back in time and make it so he never asked. Everything was fine before the kid had told them– before the kid had joined the server. Xisuma couldn’t blame Tommy, no, he knows better. He knows his anger is misplaced and he’s looking for something to lash out at, but that doesn’t stop the aching in his chest from the sudden end of his relationship. It doesn’t stop his yearning for better times, a time when everything was how it should be and everyone was happy; but then Tommy wouldn’t be happy. The kid would be back in the disaster that was the Dream SMP and be forced to relive all the torture and agony that bad been forced upon him. And as much as Xisuma wanted to go back, he knew it was better for Tommy to stay here. Here he had his mother. 

It was a shock to say the least when Xisuma pulled up Tommy’s code and found the name of one of his hermits written under the family sector. Pearlescentmoon- mother- living, it read, every other name crossed out except for five. Grian, which he knows Tommy thinks of as his uncle/father figure. Philza Minecraft, the angel of death and his stand-in guardian during Pearl’s and Grian’s absence,  his two children, Technoblade and Wilbur Soot, piglin hybrids that Philza and his wife adopted,  and Wilbur’s son Fundy, a fox-hybrid that Tommy considers his nephew.  (Xisuma doesn’t know how Grian knows Philza, the angel had been a recluse for decades and preferred to live alone in hardcore worlds, but he was too angry with the watcher to ask. )

“X? Are you in here?” A voice called out for him, he doesn’t know who. Tunnel-vision had taken its hold over him as he stared at nothing before him, wrapped up in his thoughts. “Are you okay?” 

He wanted to say no. To fall apart and let the server know that their admin, the person who was supposed to stay as the strong pillar that kept everyone afloat, had succumbed to the anger and guilt, and depression within himself. 

“Here, let’s–um–let’s take you to the bed, yeah?” The person said and he felt a hand on his shoulder. “This way.” 

Xisuma shook his head and sank to the floor, the blurred world around him coming into a fuzzy focus as he controlled his breathing. The anger seemed like it didn’t want to let go. He could feel it trying to claw its way back to the surface, to yell and push away the kind hermit who came to see him, it wanted to take control. He saw what happens when it does and Xisuma does not want that. 

“Xisuma, look at me,” The hermit said and he reluctantly turned his head to face them. It wasn’t hard to figure out who it was, only one person wore a bright pink sweater. “Let’s get you some fresh air so you can think better, okay? Staying here won’t help…c’mon, let’s go outside.”

–––

“What’s on your mind?” Stress poured the hot water into the pot, the sweet smell of the sweet berry leaves wafted into the air as the water took a warm brown color. Tea has always been a remedy for anyone on the server, no matter what ails them. Head cold? Dandelion tea. Stomach bug? Glow berry tea. Heartache? Sweet berry tea and cookies. It was a staple that everyone had just in case of moments like this–when one’s head and heart are fighting, unable to know or figure out what happens next and leaving them in a state of confusion. Add anger to the mix and you have someone on the borderline of a long-overdue mental breakdown. “Hm? X, c’mon, tell me.”

She placed the tray of tea and small deserts on the stump between them, careful not to tip it over on one side as she lowered it. They sat on the edge of the ledge Stress built her starter base on. A gentle, salty breeze rippled over the Hermitsippi River below them and rustled through the leaves. It was calm. Fresh. A drastic and needed difference between whatever happened in the admin’s base. Stress knew that he was the reason his base was a mess, having seen the extent of his anger in season five against the red-clad mirror clone of her admin. 

It was frightening, for lack of a better word, to see him battle against his brother. The way he stood before him, menacing and cocky, as if he knew Evil Ex wouldn’t be able to harm him. A smile etched its way on his mouth as he charged, eyes red with malicious intent, but his grin was far from happy. It was sinister, vile, and wrathful. Like he had been waiting for this moment to incite harm on the other. Stress couldn’t look at Xisuma the same after that; but here, in what was clearly the aftermath of the rage he once had, he looked like the admin she first met. 

Xisuma hadn’t said a word yet, quiet and surely drowning in every negative emotion Stress could think of, but he sighed and stared at the warm tea in his hands. “I don’t know if I can trust Grian again.”

“Why not?” Stress sipped her own cup. This wasn’t what she was expecting. The two of them had been inseparable since season seven after a torturous season of pinning and awkward blushy moments where they finally admitted their feelings to each other after demise ended. 

“Grian is a watcher,” He said. “He’s been hiding here, him and Pearl, so that the others won’t find them. They’re a beacon to the other watchers and are waiting for them to come and destroy everything.” Xisuma placed the cup back on the tray, afraid he would break it. “He made me believe that they were like the rest of us. That they were lost and looking for a place where they didn’t have to run––” He chuckled. “Right. As if I believe that now.”

“They are, though–like us, I mean,” Stress looked at him. “They wouldn’t be here if they were going to hurt us, right? Just like the rest of us, like you said, they’re running from something and didn’t want to be found. Maybe they’re running from the watchers. Isn’t that how Xelqua became our patron?”

“You mean Grian became our patron,” Xisuma sneered. “He’s Xelqua.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” The admin said. “The mighty deity that we thank for bringing us all together is also the one who is going to bring disaster. He’s a watcher of Death, Stress! They’re known for killing and ending servers because they want to!” Xisuma stood up from his spot, one hand resting on his hip as he paced and the other rubbing his temples. “That’s what they do. They kill, hurt, and destroy everything in their path. They’re watchers!”

“I know for a fact you’re saying that because you’re angry,” Stress replied, calm, afraid to tick off the admin more than he already is. “Think. If they were going to hurt us they would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“Then why didn’t he tell me, huh?!” Xisuma yelled. Stress could see the anger begin to rise again. It was the way his muscles began to tense and how he paced, hard-footed, and face-paced steps as he walked a line in front of her teapot base. “If they didn’t want to hurt us then why wait till disaster looms on the horizon and I find out from Tommy’s code what they are?! Tommy’s code! That isn’t how we should be finding out information like that, he shouldn’t have kept that from us––from me!”

“I know, that isn’t how we should know about it.” The tea in her hand was now cold. “But that just means he didn’t trust us to know about it because of reactions like yours! He didn’t want to cause a scene or break your heart which is why he didn’t tell you!”

“Trust? Trust?!” Xisuma scoffed. “He trusted us enough to stay here, enough to love us, but I guess it wasn’t enough.” 

“And what of you, Xisuma, hm? You’ve been here since the beginning of Hermitcraft and how many people have you told about your history?” Stress countered. “Besides the small handful that’s been here just as long as you, who else have you told? Because you haven’t told me! Or Mumbo! Or Tango, or anyone! You’re getting mad at him for doing something you’re doing. That’s not fair.”

“At least my past won’t kill everyone in the long run,” Xisuma spat as he walked off, his anger rolling off him in waves.

Stress gasped as she turned to the admin. “X!” She called, but he didn’t turn around. “Xisuma, wait I have important news to tell you! Stop!” The man didn’t stop, no matter how much she pleaded, and Stress was wise enough not to go up to him. It scared her what could happen if she were to try and stand his way as he stomped off. “Ugh, I guess I'll just have to tell Doc.” A silent crack of a firework lifted her off into the air, the perimeter not too far away, and the flight would give her time to think. 

The tea sat cold on the stump. One cup nearly full placed perfectly on the tray; the other, shattered among the crumpled flowers, and whatever was left in the cup had now seeped into the dirt. 

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I've only ever seen one fic that had X blow up with rage like this (Slayers' Sons by ambered great fic 10/10) and I really really really wanted to try my hand at it

I'm not the best at writing anger, it's not an emotion I feel too much myself to truly write about, so this is mostly practice for me on how to write and describe it, so please feel free to give comments and critique!