DreamSMP and Hermitcraft Oneshots [By Request]

It Hurts Till The End Of Eternity But I Don't Regret A Thing

[for context this was posted on April 1st]

There once was a story.

This story was very short.

The story was so short, in fact, that it decided it should end.

So the story ended.

The End.

Okay please I'm sorry I couldn't resist the call of the pranks I did actually write a thing here you go

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It was so long ago.

The time when the entire world was eternal darkness, empty void spanning the pit of nothingness that surrounded it all, cradling it in the finest layer of existence. There was everything, and there was nothing, for the nothingness that was everywhere was everything that there was.

Nothing is an odd concept, but it was that gentle word that best described what could be found outside the tiny orb of darkness that had yet to come alive.

Nothing is a word that means darkness and emptiness and silence and blindness. But it's also the word that means rest and relief and freedom. It's as flexible as water cascading down jagged stones, molding and changing to become a fine spray of white mist or a dark spiral of energy, crashing upon the rocks below.

And then there was a pull from deep inside that unknown, pulling upon the golden threads of time, hope, and fate, and the Universe was born.

Perhaps not born, but rather, it created its own consciousness, and became a living creature of its own accord.

And the Universe grew. It pulsed with life and light and change.

Things began to come to life around it. Green and gold and white. Warmth that spilled from the bright glare of the sun, blessing the many worlds it shone upon with life. The wind breathed its own magic upon the lands, as did the silver spell of the moon and the shimmering cloak of rain.

It watched mountains form, oceans rise. It watched the sun peek above the horizon and travel across the sky, a cycle that would repeat until millennia passed- a circle. Perfect and round and beautifully flawless in every way if not for the blandness that so surely came with repetition.

An endless forever ring of continuation. It was reliable. Time would move onwards, and the fate of everything would unfold with it, the same way it had for the short eternity that the Universe had known.

But it was bland, tastelessly boring. And so the Universe willed something into existence, a small, delicate concept called ephemerality.

If things could live, then they could die.

Nothing but itself was permanent- change was subject to any of its creations, no matter how grand.

And thus Empires fell, mountains crumbled and forests withered to nothingness. But the Universe was not cruel, for within the death that plagued its creations, it brought back, once again, life.

Another cycle- a circular being.

The Universe doesn't know what prompted it one day to walk among its creations.

But it was on a bright day on the start of a new year that it assumed the form of a man and set itself down on the snow.

He had a bright face and blond hair and a pair of silky black raven wings upon his back. He had always been quite fond of birds - free, light and ever opportunistic, fighting a lifelong battle against the pull of the world- of reality to take to the skies.