This is the butter on the bread. In other words, this chapter is the butter knife I will use to butter me toast. Yes, you are now a piece of toast. Does that make sense? Of course, it doesn't! There is no foreshadowing in this, what are you talking about?

Anyway! These are just small activities that Tommy did at some point between chapters! Perceive this as a 0.5 chap; a filler! :D

*

"Reeeeen, I'm tired!", Tommy shouted as another tree fell to the earth before him. He leaned on the netherite axe he had been given, the blade glimmering with enchantments so that the work he'd been put through would be easier.

Yes, netherite. The wolfdog-hybrid had entrusted him with such a jewel, such luxury. He did so on a regular basis whenever he enlisted Tommy's help to stock his log shop. Thankfully, Ren did most of the heavy-lifting on that one, only handing Tommy an axe to cut down the trees with and the man would carry them into a pile. The first time, Tommy's mouth had fallen open in shock. No one just hauled around a jungle tree trunk like a fuckin' ragdoll! And there Ren had been, doing exactly that, flannel tied around his waist and face shining under a sheen of sweat.

The dude could have had easily rivaled Techno in strength because he had also seen him haul a spruce tree. Every year at Christmas and it had to always be the tallest in the area for some reason, despite it not fitting in the house and having to be decorated outside in the cold, biting weather of winter.

Anyway, point was, Tommy was tired. It had been a long day for him because he had been woken up at 6am by Shroud hissing at someone and then he was practically dragged out of bed by Stress, the woman telling him that Ren needed him for something. That something, as previously stated, was tree chopping. It was now about 5 in the afternoon and the sun had yet to go down, adding to Tommy's drowsiness and exhaustion, bullets of sweat dribbling down his head.

He silently wondered how Ren managed to do all that by himself every other day to keep his business up and running. He had seen Iskall's old and broken concrete maker and when he had asked the man why he wouldn't just make a redstone farm for trees (it wasn't like he didn't know how to make one), Ren had simply raised an eyebrow and told him that he wanted everything harvested by hand.

Sure, he could sell less for more that way but Prime, why did he have to torture Tommy too?

"Just another tree, my dude, and then you can go!", Ren barked out a laugh at how wrecked he must've looked. He could already feel his hair growing greasy and his palms felt hot and sweaty. Eh, he could wash later in the lake, maybe snug a cookie from Stress' if she wasn't home since he'd be in the area.

With a loud, very audible and overexaggerated sigh, he lifted the axe and swung at the dang tree in his path. How dare it be standing after one swing? The fact irretated Tommy to no end and he gave another just because. Sure, he could have just left and let Ren handle things on his own, having nothing to regret because he hadn't verbally agreed to that whole thing but... Well, he didn't fancy walking with how his feet were aching and he hadn't put his elytra on because of his sudden and rude awakening.

Stress was lucky that Shroud liked her (the feeling wasn't mutual) and was surprisingly affectionate around her. How that woman charmed her way into everything's hearts, Tommy didn't know. Not even Prime herself knew, he was sure of it! Tommy had stopped questioning the female charm when back on the Dream SMP he spent time with Niki and learnt just how dangerous women could be given a good reason.

Ren had a big heart. A man with a big heart who was incredibly considerate of everyone and caring to a degree that Tommy could exploit such kindness. That was what he was planning on doing right after this tree falls down- and there it went. The tree fell and rolled off the stump, down a hill into the unknown.

"Done!", he yelled back and turned just in time to see Ren pulling another log onto the ever-growing pile. Said pile would deminish overnight, carried off to the shop it belonged to and sorted into smaller piles to be sold. The man waved at him, not even turning his attention to him, sweat shimmering on his well-toned biceps.

"Alright, see ya next time, Toms! Thanks for the help, I needed it! Tell the dudes I said hi!"

Thing was that Tommy wasn't going to leave. Not alone, anyway. Swaying Ren would be a slice of cake with not one but two cherries on top. He waited a second, just enough (yes, he had been planning this for like an hour), until he noticed Ren's ear twitch and Tommy had to hide his mischievous grin.

"Are you-"

"My feet hurt, Reeeen", he complained and plopped his ass on the ground with a huff, spreawling his legs out over the grass. "They ache and they buuuurn", he smirked on the inside when the man visibly faultered where he stood.

Maybe Tommy was inhibiting log restock but when he felt his stomach twist in guilt at the other's troubled face, he reasoned that it could serve as a small break for Ren as well (the guy hadn't even taken a break for lunch, unlike Tommy, he deserved at least some stretching before dying of starvation).

Ren sighed and adjusted his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, I'll take you home", Tommy did a small happy dance that had Ren chuckling. That was embarrassing. Moving on- "Come on, hop on my back and I'll take you to..."

"Stress"

A nod.

"To Stress"

And that was how Tommy arrived at Stress' doorstep not on a horse but on an oversized wolfdog. That was also how Stress poured Ren a cup of tea, saying that an actual break would do him some good as Tommy dragged Dandelion to the lake.

Φ

Tommy's time with Grian wasn't filled with just pranks. In fact, the pranks were only a small highlight of the avian's day, as he had found out that building and planning and marking spots on the G-Mansion were the blond's favorite passtime. Countless were the times that he had asked Tommy if he'd like to help him expand and dig and mine stone with him and countless were also the times that Tommy accepted. He had nothing better to do, having abandoned the plans to build a shop and only having to walk the spider. He had also figured that spending time with the hermits was way better than all the blue gems he could've had acquired by selling Iskall's stock of unused slime blocks.

And he had noticed something very repetitive in Grian's way of life. Specifically, that he wouldn't take as good care of himself as he'd take of others. Emotionally, he was fine; peachy even! Maybe a bit anxious or nervous every once in a while and he had the tendency to become a ball of nerves when a detail was missing from his plans but who didn't do that? Physically, however, he looked like a whole tornado passed through every few days.

Such a day was the day Grian asked Tommy for help in regards to the still unfinished, famous back of his mansion. Yes, yes, it had become a pretty funny meme and he learnt that pretty quick when one time Bdubs had come over whilst the two were working and he started teasing the blond about it. Tommy had, of course, joined in when the meme was explained to him -why would he miss out?

Good old times, innit?

Anyway, point was that Grian was working himself to the bone and his wings were a mess of feathers. It was somewhat of a pet peeve to Tommy: messy, uncared for wings. Phil also had the habbit of forgetting that his wings were also limbs and that they needed to be combed through like the hair on their heads. So, Tommy had to take matters into his own hands. He had plenty of experience with stubborn people who refused to sit their asses down to say the least, and Grian was about to join Phil on that list.

"Grian, lunch break!", Tommy called from where he was sitting on the small picnic cloth he had set out.

"Coming!", he heard from above. Grian was replacing rocks and bricks on the back. It lacked that "something", as the avian had called it and they had yet to figure out what that "something" was.

He pulled the large lunchbox over and opened one side to set out two plates and then the other to pull out the sandwiches he had packed for lunch. Chicken and pork sandwiches to be exact and Tommy would never ask why Grian liked to commit canibalism by eating chicken. It wasn't his business.

What was his business was the bundle of down trying to come off the other's fluff and the small chunks of dust that were just sitting there being visually annoying. That as well as the broken primaries that threatened to bend even further- how was that man still flying? Whatever, doesn't matter, Tommy sighed quietly, trying not to look too much into that wonder of nature.

The real question was how he'd bring it up in the first place.

As the man sat down, saying a few words of gratitude as he bit a big piece off the chicken sandwich, Tommy simply watched him. He watched him until the avian flicked his eyes at him and then they were staring at each other. Grian looked behind him for a second, before determining that there was no one else Tommy could've had been looking at and turning back to him.

"Are you alright, Tommy?"

"Your wings look like shit, bigman"

Grian squawked, probably majorly offended. It'd been so long since Tommy used an insult and man did that feel good -somewhat foreign but good; Prime, it would seem he was spending too much time with the other hermits. He supposed that the blond had not expected to hear a curse, much less the context of Tommy's sentence.

Instead of shouting at him, as one would think Grian would do to anyone who so much as spat a swear word his way, he simply frowned. He frowned in disappointment, not at Tommy but mostly to himself. He fluffed up his wings and stretched one forward to look at it and he immediately grimaced.

"Yeah, I think you're right"

"That's because I am right"

The stretched out wing fell to the ground with a poof of dirt and dust -Tommy sneezed- as Grian threw his head back and groaned. His other wing mimicked the first one and dropped as well in a show of exasperation.

"I don't have the time for thiiiis, uuuugh", the man complained and Tommy simply shook his head.

Other than stocking the barge (which Grian had done for the week) and building, there really was nothing else to occupy the avian's free time -except the pranks he'd pull on his friends and having himself getting tangled up in Shroud's web when he'd attempt to booby trap Tommy's base. Shroud was such a good spider, getting rid of all intruders like the absolute, undisputed and adorable guard do- spider that he'd grown to be.

"I could preen them for you if you want, mate", Tommy offered, nonchalantly looking off to the side with his own sandwich in his mouth. The avian's head snapped forward as soon as the word had left Tommy's mouth, so fast that Tommy thought he heard a crack but it was just his imagination.

"What? "

That was the part that Tommy was just the tiniest bit scared of. Preening in avian culture was something intimate. Phil had told him that it was something mates did to bond, as well as with their children as a show of love and care. Now, thing was, in that context, "mates" meant a "pair"; a "pair" as in partners not just in crime but also in bed if you know what he means.

Then again, if one did not delve too much into it, you could say it's a family thing. Tommy himself realized at that moment that he was declaring Grian as part of his family. Which was fine -he almost spat out his food but it's fine. The concept of having the hermits as part of his family, and him being part of theirs, was still a somewhat sensitive subject, so this whole thing made him feel... butterflies.

It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling but that didn't mean that Tommy couldn't dislike it for existing.

"My dad taught me how when I was little", he said instead, trying to mask how he almost shot the food from his mouth with an awkward cough.

"Is your dad an avian?", Grian asked, curiosity highly piqued.

"Yeah. He and mum", Tommy responded.

"So are you?...", the other waved his arms and hands around like the silence couldn't insinuate his question.

"Nah, I was born too poggers and OP to need wings, big G"

"Oh"

Tommy shook his head, just a bit frustrated with the direction the conversation was going. So he did the most logical thing: he changed the subject (more like returned to the subject).

"Soooo, can I?"

Grian shrugged but propped up his wings so Tommy took it as an invitation. He got closer and sat behind the man and Prime did his wings look worse up close.

He didn't waste too much time observing the mess, though, simply recalling what he could from Phil's little lessons on preening and starting from there. First, he took care of the fuzz of down feathers, pulling off handfuls of the little buggers before his hands came back mostly clean. When that was sorted, the wings shifted, Grian visibly relaxing.

Tommy fought back a proud smile at his good work. He had more to do.

Carefully, he snuck a finger between the big feathers and straightened them to the best of his ability, pulling off those who were holding on by a string. No, not string, by a hair; those feathers were stubborn. It was a slow, repetitive process but it was also calming. Tommy found it had the same effect as braiding long strands of hair.

Grian seemed to have had been hypnotized by the care and the sun on their backs wasn't doing them any favors. He had begun to doze off before Tommy had passed through half of the wing but he didn't realize. Neither of them did, each focused on separate feelings of comfort.

The sun set with Grian hunched over, head in his hands and in blissful sleep. Tommy was still tending to his wings but he doubted he'd finish before nightfall.

He stretched his upper body, heard and felt many pleasing cracks and crooks of his crumped limbs and back. He'd pester him again tomorrow.

Φ

The instances of hermits getting sick were rare. Especially for those who stayed up late into the night for an unhealthy amount of days in a row or for those who decided that flying out in the cold, freezing rain would be a good idea. Or, y'know, the unlucky once who caught the flu every once in a while.

Even rarer were the hermits who admitted to being sick and needing rest. A good example of that type would be Mumbo, who was always pacing back and forth like he'd taken pills and basically couldn't sit still for one fucking second. However, the hermit in question wasn't Mumbo.

It was Stress. Which was weird considering how she always scolded Tommy for not resting properly when he would get sick on the one day it happened to rain. She complained that there was work to be done, stores to be stocked and buildings to be built -the same mantra Mumbo would always go on, though for him it was "redstone machines" and not "buildings". So, Tommy decided it was high time for a change in roles.

Again, if they could parent him, he could parent them and in her poorly condition, Stress couldn't do shit about it.

"Tommy, I'm fine. I'm not sick", she insisted but the heat visible on her flushed cheeks told a different story because it was cold as fuck outside and the skull was only room temperature. She looked exhausted as well with small but noticeable bags under her eyes; even her flower crown had withered just a tiny bit!

"No, you are", he deadpanned at her as he forced her back down on the bed and begun tucking the pink blanket underneath her body like she had done for him before. Stress just groaned in annoyance and accepted her fate as a human and blankie cocoon. It's not like she had a choice, Tommy was too stubborn and he was proud of that trait.

"I'm fine, it's just a cold. You don't have to worry", she grumbled, though the rough cough that ripped through her throat harshly contrasted her words.

"Mimimimi, 'I'm fine gurleeeegh'", Tommy poorly imitated a person throwing up. Which, he'll admit, was a little overboard but who would judge him about his theater skills?

Stress chuckled for a second, though a bit tired and exhausted by the illness that she was ignoring. There must've been a party going on in her lungs, because she coughed up a storm right after. Tommy rolled his eyes at the dismissive gestures she threw at him.

"Don't make me bring Shroud to guard you", he threatened.

Even though Shroud was nothing but a puppy with more, hairy and not furry, legs, more eyes than a puppy should have and a very adorable hiss, Stress didn't exactly like him. She didn't like any creepy crawlies in general but she tolerated the lil' spider because he was Tommy's pet and that was also the reason she hadn't killed him yet.

"Tommyyyy", she whined but didn't make a move to sit up or stand, staying a perfect cocoon on the mattress.

"I'll come back in an hour and I better find you asleep", were his only words before he walked out of the room.

Right. Rest was number one priority so that was checked off the notional to-do list for sick people. Next thing on said list was food. Food and potions, though food was more important than spending an hour on brewing potions, especially when he couldn't be arsed with brewing. He's pretty sure that he saw some chicken in the fridge anyway and he was familiar enough with the kitchen to grab a pot and begin what would turn out to be the best chicken soup ever.

He cut the chicken apart, threw in some random but non-lethal greens he found in a chest, some salt, a tiny pinch of pepper and all he had to do after that was stir the mixture as the water boiled. It was a relaxing activity -cooking that is; one that he hadn't done in a long time. On Hermitcraft, he was happy to scarf down golden carrots like the other hermits, happy with the fact that he could ignore all other food items, so cooking wasn't exactly at the very front of his mind.

It hardly took him 20 minutes to fix the meal up, probably because he spent too much time looking for those greens he added but he gave it a little taste test and it passed with a solid 8/10 so it was good enough. So, he had another 40 minutes on the clock to do whatever he wanted without leaving the house or the surrounding are. Just in case, y'know? So what was he supposed to do for the next fourty minutes? There weren't many obvious activities and he's certain that Stress wouldn't appreciate him making a mess while she was sick.

Dandelion came in from outside then, her paws padding through the entrance, shaking off her fur and drenching the carpet by the door. Then, she continued to the back of the house and at first, Tommy didn't think much of it but then he saw the muddy pawprints the dog left behind. Housekeeping it was then.

A good hour and a half passed while he was doing chores. He was so focused on tidying up everything he found messy, like fixing the couch cover or dusting off the high shelves, that he didn't notice the time. Well, at least Stress would be asleep for sure at that point. Tommy sighed and dusted off his pants, running (tiptoeing) to his old room to change clothes (he tried giving Dandelion a bath but that dog knew some incredibly impressive evasive manuevers) before going upstairs.

It was raining outside, as it normally was there in the tropical jungle. He's pretty sure he heard a tree fall somewhere in the distance while he was rushing to save the drying clothes from the clothesline but it didn't disturb anything as far as he knew. A bolt of lightning struck somewhere closeby, shedding just a bit of its yellow light on the pink tinted windows of the skull, the vibrations of thunder reaching the home and making his feet tremble. That was cool; he'd never experienced that before.

And then, he heard a scream. Stress' scream. Tommy picked up his pace, bursting through the trapdoor with little grace, fearing that a mob had somehow snuck inside without him noticing, or that Stress had somehow hurt herself.

"Mum!", he yelled, pushing himself out of the hole. Throwing a quick glance at the bed, she found that there was no Stress to be seen. Fuck. Who would kidnap Stress at such a time and in such weather? Unless she jumped out the window to escape his coddling but that was very unlikely.

Then an arm raised from behind the bed. Oh.

"Over 'ere!", Tommy only panicked a little tiny bit when he heard the strain in her voice. He entered the room fully and walked over to where the woman was lying on the ground, clearly having fallen off the bed.

"You good, mate?"

"My leg hurts, goodness- ow", oh, so it was actually hurting. Tommy would apologize for the very inelegant kick-check of her leg later.

"How did even you manage this?", he laughed instead as he very easily picked her up and placed her on the bed again, where she would stay even if he had to have Shroud spin her into an actual cocoon for that to not happen again.

She didn't let go of him when he placed her on the matress. Her hands bunched up his shirt, dragging him down until he was low enough that she could engulf him in a hug and hold him there. Surprised, Tommy didn't move for a second but he returned the gesture right after.

"I had a nightmare", she started with a tired chuckle when she let go. "Well, I don't know if you could call it a nightmare but it scared me"

Tommy made a noise of curiosity. "What was it about?"

"Remember your dream? That time I was reading you stories?"

"Yeah?"

"It was like that but different"

He sat down on the bed, criss-crossing his legs on the mattress despite wearing shoes (muddy shoes). "How so?"

"You were lying on the ground, I was ontop of you", she started with a sharp exhale, eyes wide as she recalled the events of her dream. Tommy raised an eyebrow, leaning slighly forward. "You had this expression of hurt on your face and I recall feeling mortified... I think I had a sword, I don't remember why"

Tommy's eyes blew wide at the coincidence. So her dream had mirrored his but Stress had no reason to mistrust him nor to betray him and he was damn sure she would never go as far as to murder him if he did something she didn't like. All in all, her dream was based on nothing but lies if Tommy's interprertation of it could be trusted.

"Maybe something happened beforehand?", he pitched in and Stress shrugged.

"Maybe. Ugh, that dream really messed me up", she sighed, running a hand through her hair and tugging on a knot until it came undone.

"I made some soup for you", he told her -no, he was not blushing at all, shut. "I'll pour you a bowl"

At that, Stress laughed. The reason? Tommy didn't know the reason.

"I won't get any food poisoning by eating it, will I?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that I am an amazing and very skilled cook!", he huffed. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Alright, alright, go on then. Feed your old lady, darling"

Tommy gave her an incredulous look. He knew he'd been basically adopted by the hermits but they hadn't gone as far as to impose an actual family dynamic.

"What?"

"You called me mum"

Oh. Oh, that he did, didn't he?

"Um, maybe?"

"D' awwww, look at him, he's blushing!", Stress laughed, reaching over and pinching his cheeks with her hands.

"Am not! Stress is what I meant to say!", he only realized that he further proved the point rather than not. Oh no.

"All embarrassed and flustered, denying your mum!", he swatted at the hands assaulting his face, only to receive a boop on the nose.

"No! Stop! I will bite you!"

Stress, as predicted, did not stop and Tommy kept his promise. Along with the hurting leg (which would be looked at after the rain stopped), she also had a bright red bite mark on her hand. Eh, Tommy had warned her.

"I'm not going to bother warming up the soup for a bully", he threatened once he got up from the bed, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Aw but Tommy, I am so weak and old", she made a strangling sound as she fell back on the bed.

Tommy huffed, spinned sharply on his heel and went downstairs. He did not, in fact, bring her cold soup. It was warm and he only cried a little on the inside when he saw Dandelion with muddy paws when he was retrieving a bowl from the cabinet.

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See you lot next chap ;)