BATTLE SCARS | mcc9 blue bats | minecraft championship

15. Battle Scars

A/N: Ohhh it's the titular chapter! *roll credits* :D (jk)

This will feature excerpts of H's actual Reddit post about 5 underrated MCC players (https://www.reddit.com/r/MinecraftChampionship/comments/ibp39m/5_players_who_need_more_love_on_here/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf), please give it a read as it is incredible foreshadowing (and altogether a wholesome post).

This is also getting progressively more dramatic and exaggerated lmao. You can tell I'm very inspired by the "How The Blue Bats Won MCC 9" documentary.

Please listen/ loop this (https://youtu.be/a8FmE4tJMPs) and then this (https://youtu.be/pguae0Ql4v4) for the first part of this chapter :D It'll make it better, I promise! <3

-

This is an anthem for the homesick

For the beaten

The lost, the broke, the defeated

A song for the heartsick

For the standbys

Living life, in the shadow of the goodbye

-

Ren's house always had a distinct smell— it wasn't a bad smell, nor was it good, it was just a Rendog smell, and the hermits were pretty familiar with it.

Anyway.

False curled up in a corner on Ren's couch, her banana hoodie over her head, a spoon stuck in her mouth. Ren apparently had a huge tub of caramel ice cream, and he offered to split it with False since "desserts make everything better" (and he couldn't eat it on his own). Ren said he bought it on a grocery trip with Scar, Bdubs, and Grian, and they had a long argument about how "caramel" should be pronounced (mostly the British way versus the American way). False grinned. It was just like the hermits to bicker over stupid things.

"Sorry for crashing in again," False said absentmindedly, letting the caramel ice cream melt on her tongue.

Ren laughed lightly. "I'm just returning the favour when you let me crash at your place."

"Yeah, you forgot your keys like the derp you are. Maybe I should've locked you out and you would've gone to Iskall's to beg," False murmured.

"How's your arm? You need some ice?"

"That would be great, thanks."

As False held the ice pack against her bruise, she asked, "You didn't get too hurt, did you?"

"Only my dignity," Ren joked. "But seriously? I'm alright, just a little scratch here and there. But you guys were pretty beat up."

False gulped. "You were the only exception to the Pink Parrots' bloodlust."

"Just my luck, I suppose."

False glanced around her. Ren's house was geometric and mostly wooden, with occasional accents of black and orange. His walls were covered with photos of his family and friends, and his shelves were full of trinkets from his childhood (Ren had an oddly specific but funny story for each one). A half-finished Star Wars Lego set laid on a tabletop, while a guitar was propped in a corner.

"Sooo, what did you think about the Championship?" False asked, wanting to start the conversation. "Be honest."

"We did our best, it just wasn't enough," Ren bluntly replied. False nodded in agreement, then when she realised he couldn't see her, she replied with a half-hearted "yeah".