#as grian says i take a bow i take a bow

[jestroer]

Hello hello, today I was thinking about Scar who i headcanon as a powerful fae and Grian who is just a bird guy tormenting people together and because i think in meme templates have this

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[theminecraftbee]

finalized smallishsona au party, in true join order:

grian, justice. his persona is signy, and his weapon is a naginata. he's an all-arounder who gets both physical and magical attacks, with a focus on dark and light magic (eiha/kouha damaging skills and mudo/hama instakill skills alike). technically the earliest member of the team, also one of the three starter members of the team when joel joins. he has been doing this the longest out of anyone, and sometimes, it shows in ways that aren't so great.

scar, magician. his persona is majnun, and his weapon is bows. a magic and ailment-based attacker, but he gets healing and support skills in his moveset as well (that, story-wise, he focused on due to him and grian being the only two persona wielders for a while, and scar's persona being the only one suited for them). his element is wind/garu. acts as the early-game healer until joel gets better options, then settles into massive magic damage and ailments.

joel, wildcard/fool. he has many personas and roles, but his starting persona is pygmalion, who is associated with ice/bufu. his weapon is knives. his role in the party is to be everything for everyone all the time. no this doesn't say anything about him. shut up.

skizz, chariot. his persona is enkidu, and his weapon is brass knuckles. a heavy physical attacker through-and-through, the fact that his attacks cut his own hp to deal damage is unfortunately fitting for his character. what little magic he gets is fire/agi, but like, he's the party member that learns charge naturally, you will not be using those unless you have to knock over some guy's weakness and joel forgot to bring a persona to cover it. while his rescue and awakening happens before joel starts exploring Altered Space, it takes a little bit for skizz to join, as unlike joel, using his persona does not come naturally to him. also is the earlier members to get various buff skills.

mumbo, moon. his persona is ariadne, and he is the navigator. for those unfamiliar, the navigator does not enter battle with the rest of the party, but DOES have the ability to help buff the party, scan enemies for weaknesses, and do other helpful things to help the team, well, navigate. giving a man with anxiety an all-seeing web probably can't hurt anything, right? in my head he functions as a cross between fuuta's very useful scan and various dungeon skills (like the escape one), and futaba's very useful in-battle buffs.

impulse, emperor. his persona is siegfried, and his weapon is axes. he's the TRUE party healer who gets stuff like me patra (heals the party of any status effects), samerecarm (revives someone with full health), and mediarahan (heals the party to full health) as his persona gets to higher levels. he also picks up electric/zio skills for decent damage (although he doesn't have scar's magic stat and is very much built to heal most of the turns he's around). it probably says something about him that he gets healing skills once he truly awakens his persona, especially given skizz. while he's aware of his persona from the start of the plot, it takes until a bit of a ways into the plot for him to truly awaken to it. also, because this is an au and not an actual game, i can get away with the most effective party healer joining this late. any other persona game, he'd be one of the earliest members. for obvious reasons. (and the fact scar is their most effective healer for a long while is. DEFINITELY a plot point here.)

gem, empress. her persona is atalanta, and her weapon is swords. she's a late-game powerhouse type build, with powerful bufu/ice magic in combination with almighty/untyped magic damage. she can show up and cast megioladon on the shadows' asses, is what i'm saying. she also gets the debuff and buff skills that aren't already scattered across the existing party members, but unlike scar, she doesn't get concentrate, so she's not the PERFECT damage-dealer here. as one of the two party members who hasn't been directly tied into this plot from the beginning, it's possible she has her own motivations and things going on that the rest of the party doesn't know behind her awakening. but that would just be silly, right...?

[cattimeswithjellie]

I do like the fact that in a session where there were three permadeaths, they were all so very different.

There was the useless, senseless accident that was Jimmy's death. Jimmy's death was unique because it was both preordained and fiercely denied. After three series with Jimmy the first permadeath, it's almost a game in itself to make it not happen again. People were willing to die to keep Jimmy from going out first. Bdubs, who was barely Jimmy's ally, literally begged Jimmy to kill him when Jimmy's timer ran into the single minutes. Scott jumped off a bridge to give Jimmy just a bit more time to live. Grian and Joel were on deck, ready to spoonfeed more life into Jimmy with their own deaths if they needed to, just to keep that canary chirping a little longer. But none of it mattered in the end, because Jimmy's foot slipped in a moment of excitement and he was too startled to pearl or bucket clutch or do anything to save himself. Gone in an instant for no reason and no chance to say goodbye.

There was Joel's death, a helpless, hopeless race against time and an implacable enemy. Joel made some serious tactical mistakes in his final episode. His gleeful killing alienated him from his allies, antagonizing the Clockers by killing Cleo, annoying the Nosy Neighbors by killing BigB. He griefed Scott's base with TNT twice, once tactically and once just because he wanted to blow stuff up. By the time he was down to the wire, there were lots of people who wanted him dead and barely anybody who wanted him alive. Even Grian, his Day One ally, eventually realized that trying to keep Joel alive was a losing proposition when Scott and Scar and Martyn and Cleo could siphon away Joel's time much faster than Grian could ever donate it. But even knowing that it was hopeless, even knowing that a _best case scenario_ would barely carry him into the next session, Joel fought desperately til his last second ticked away.

And then there was Skizz's death, premeditated and proud, carried out at the hands of a friend. Skizz had been dying from the very first day of the server. His Session One was absolutely atrocious, losing four hours right off the bat to back-to-back Bogey kills. No matter how well he played after that, no matter how many kills he got or plans he came up with, Skizz was never seriously in contention to win the game. And he knew that. He came up with alternate win conditions for himself. He set a goal to affirm every person on the server and he did. He set a goal to make the team he led a force to be reckoned with, and he did. And most importantly, he set a goal that somebody from TIES make it to the end of the game. By Session Seven, it was clear that Skizz wasn't going to be around to bring that goal to fruition himself. Time was not on his side, and his skill was just not there. Skizz is a clever redstoner and a good entertainer, but he's no PVPer and his bow skills are mediocre. Every time he tried to get a kill, he wound up losing more time. So when it came down to the wire, he didn't beg for his life or fight for more time, despite knowing his friends would give it to him. He called his team together and he gave them his new strategy. Someone from TIES needed to make it to the end, and it couldn't be him. But they could take his resources and his time forward with them, so long as he gave them up willingly. By sacrificing himself for his team, Skizz lost his last 20 minutes of life, but he put his team one step closer to that final goal.

There's probably only one session left, which means it's going to be choked with permadeaths that don't get focused or remarked on very much. Each one will be different though, each one will have its own flavor. In a series like Limited Life, the end is never in question, but the ending is unique to each player.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

Okay so in this post, you said this of Scar & Grian: Highway robbers. Specialize almost exclusively in armed robberies, but take commissions every now and there

I don't know if thats just the aUtism tm but i read this as "they specialize in armed robberies but sometimes take commissions where the robbery is NOT armed as a lil challenge" little to add to that, this was a very funny image this conjured in my brain. Ok but seriously, what did you mean by that? What else are they doing with their time? Are the commissions specifically NOT robberies? Like infiltration sneaky spy stuff?

by commissions i mostly meant contract killing, to be honest. Its not something Grian really does, but Scar has his bounty hunter sniper experience and Grian doesnt mind helping him with a hitman buisness for some extra money

a bit more in depth info about both of them below. Bonus Grian headshot as i already posted the bounty hunter Scar drawings... he has normal goggles and noise-cancelling earmuffs

Scars bounty hunting experience really is very handy to both of them; Grians main speciality (other than hobbyist illegal racing, i suppose) are robberies and all sorts of explosives-related buisness. His earthian upbringing made him a great thief, his first years in space made him great with explosives, but its Scar who really made him a great high-stakes highway robber. When Scar first joined him, Grian wasnt nowhere near Pearls bounty yet, being freshly out of earthian organized crime and trying to become someone in the new space world (a fun fact is, he was pretty popular in illegal racing circles. Its something he picked up really fast and likes to do). Scar on the other hand had years of experience fighting crime, but was pretty new and naive when it came to being a criminal himself; what doesnt help is that its a choice he made by himself and not a consequence of something bigger, like in Tangos case. He was just dissatisfied with centralized bounty hunting and the way everyone treated him, to a point where he decided to not only leave but also turn against them. While he isnt great at it first, he knows how hunting works and what to avoid, keeping himself and Grian safer. His knowledge is what saves Grian after his encounter with Martyn (Grian finds the tracking device Martyn put on his ship and destroys it; something Tango doesnt do when the same thing happens to him near the finale, which leads to everyone getting captured). Not to mention Scars extreme proficiency with riffles and bows is what makes these robberies truly possible in the first place; they are a great duo. Through Scar Grian also met Cub, who isnt a criminal himself, but doesnt mind helping Scar with whatever he needs, and is a tech guy to them in a way (before Cub, Grian only had Mumbo, who doesnt exactly... understand the criminal world. I really need to draw his ship at some point its so extra and fun. But this isnt about him)

At some point both of them went into specifically highway robberies. When i say highway i want you to imagine something like the astral gates from cowboy bebop; literal circular "gates" in space that allow to travel through space in a much shorter time. Grian and Scar usually attack their targets in strategic places between the guarded gates. Its worth mentioning that the reason theyre doing a fairly risky kind of robbery is that they need the money to pay back Doc; so much so that they actually try to rob a space train, which is the thing they needed Tangos help with

[yeahiamjustalittleguy]

can i request reader x hermits (seperate) ? like reader has a bunch of old scars and on a hot day they wear a tank top and expose all of their scars? completely okay if not AND TAKE CARE OF URSELF🫶

Okay, let me tell you, as someone with quite a visible scar on my face (I was a very courageous and dumb kid) and a few less visible ones on my hand, I get asked about it so so often and this request hits hard and I have decided to put my whole soul into it as headcanons. I've just picked a couple hermits I feel would have different reactions to it so here u go!

HEADCANON:

Grian

This boy is not going to mention it, like, at all

He has his own bad memories and sad backstory so he understands that you might not want to talk about it

The only reason he would ever talk about it would be if you ever showed any discomfort or insecurity about it

If you just never talked about it he wouldn’t either

Maybe at some point he would reassure you about yourself if you’re both deep in a relationship, but he would never explicitly mention the scars 

If you do mention them at all, it depends on how you approach it

He knows how to tell situations very well and I think he would still be careful about it

If you approach it humorously, like it doesn’t affect you then he will too

Maybe ask you where some of the bigger ones are from and expect you to tell him some good stories

If you get uncomfortable about them, or insecure he will reassure you

“I love you no matter what” or “I think they make you look cool”

He will always be supportive

Mumbo

He does try his best, but the moment he sees you he can’t help it

Shock on his face as he clearly looks you over

It’s clear he is concerned, and if you’re alone he will ask you about it

Stuff like if you’re okay, if you ever want to talk about it or if you need anything

If you reassure him you’re fine, he will totally dote on you after he is done being shocked

Will kiss your exposed scars and talk about how pretty or handsome you are to him

He will totally try to spend extra time with you, both because he learned a new thing about you that makes him love you even more but also because he is secretly making sure you’re totally okay

Even if you say you are, he would rather make sure

He will keep a little bit of a closer eye on everything you do and every little emotion you display just to keep himself sure you’re really okay

Either way he loves you how you are

Scar

This fool, this dumbass man

He cannot keep his mouth shut at all

He thinks communication is so much easier and better than having to just bottle things up or keep guessing what everyone else is thinking

So he just mentions it, asks where they’re from if you’re okay with him asking

He tries to guess it, if you’re not

The guesses will start out super detailed stories that are so far fetched as to ease you into it

“So this one is obviously from a wolf attack, where you managed to fight off 3 wolfs the size of the moon with nothing but your bare hands”

Then he will slowly try to reel it in and guess them more accurately

If one is sort of a piercing one, he will say you lost a duel in a bow fight

The one on your arm? That one is a cut from training your sword skills

He is just spitballing, trying to get it right

Either way he will pester you until you open up to him, he will not let it go

He thinks it’s so cool and really makes you look tough

Will ask you to protect him since you’re so strong

Will also definitely trace your scars whenever you are idle and he has the chance to

Even if you ask him not to, it just happens and he will laugh it off

He starts to slowly like them, the more he sees them

Every rare moment you show them, he slowly appreciates them more and more 

Really weird but he has favorites

He just loves them to be honest

It makes you so uniquely you

Etho

No matter what he will start out by making some sort of snarky little comment

“Did you fight your kitchen drawer and lose or something?”

It’s not mean spirited at all, it’s supposed to be humorous 

He just likes to approach things with lightheartedness and jokes 

He knows it might be a serious topic, but his objective is always to turn it into something fun or less serious to try and make you feel better about it

He won’t dote on you or reassure you like the others unless you open up about it

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you the way you are, his love is just more subtle like that

It’s small things you wouldn’t immediately notice about his reaction to it

Sometimes he will look at one of them and imagine the pain or maybe even accidentally imagine the person who might have given it to you

It’ll make him look at them with hatred, but it’s not directed at you even if it would seem that way

He’d make up little fantasies of revenge in his head to clear the thoughts

At this point you might even be the one who will have to reassure him that it’s no problem anymore, if it ever even was 

Bdubs

He will instantly be all over you, and no matter your approach he will be excited

Unless you just start straight up crying he won’t notice if you’re sad or insecure about them cause he is just so excited about seeing a different part of you

He’s the same as Scar where he wants to know where every little scar comes from

If it’s serious he will of course reassure you, but he will definitely also compliment them no matter what

He just think they suit you, and in the end Bdubs is sort of just a hopeless romantic

Anything that is a part of you, he loves it

Anything that is you is beautiful

Which in turn makes your scars beautiful too

He feels closer to you, looking at them because in the end it tells your story and your past, making him feel like he is closer to it 

It’s something he’s probably been sad about before, that not every inch of your life is tied together, that there are parts of you that he can’t be a part of which is before you met

But seeing the scars can help him understand that part, and sort of relate to you in a way that he finds very intimate

So of course he will pester you about them any given time they are on display

He does love them, just as much as he loves you

Pearl

She’s definitely the most careful out of all of them, at least out of the ones who want to approach the topic at all

As much as she is a rambunctious personality she is also an extremely caring thoughtful individual 

And as much as she doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries she also has to know you’re okay

So she approaches it very head on, but she picks her words very carefully

“I don’t know if you ever want to talk about it, but I’m willing to listen if you ever want to tell me anything about your scars.”

That’s all she ever says about it, and at that point it’s up to you to go to her about it

She wants to be as respectable to you about it as possible

She has the mindset that she doesn’t need to know if you don’t want her to know

As long as she’s sure you’re okay now, your past doesn’t matter to her

For what she thinks about them look wise, she does think they suit you

It’s not going to change how she thinks about you, knowing you have a few scars

And she has a couple herself so it doesn’t really matter

She still loves you

Tango

Tango is probably the one with the roughest reaction

He is pretty emotionally driven, and just seeing something like that on you genuinely breaks his heart

It’s almost like he is going through the pain you went through with every single scar at once

He’s almost just,,, getting teary eyed seeing you and you might get confused at the looks he is giving you as you see each other

You probably won’t understand exactly what is going on with him and he simply takes your hands in his and he stares at you before embracing you in a warm hug

He wants you to feel physically that he is there for you

“Where are these all from?”

You cannot get out of a heart to heart with this man, and even if it’s all from totally normal and uneventful encounters he still thinks it’s very serious

Even if it was not traumatic like, at all, just you at some point being in pain is awful to him

Just the few times you’ve gotten hurt while on the server with him has been awful for him so to know you’ve gone through pain that’s left scars is unbearable

He doesn’t like your scars, hands down I will just say it

He hates having a constant reminder that you experience pain because he wants nothing but happiness for you

Obviously it’s delusional to think you’d never experience anything bad, he knows that, but he still wants that to be the case so bad and having to see it every time just sucks for him

That’s not to say he doesn’t think you’re still beautiful, he does, he thinks you’re amazing

But he does just wish you’d never have to go through that 

Xisuma

Oh boy

His first thought, and I am sorry to admit this, would be how hot that is

He loves that type of thing, he can’t help it

This guy loves a man/woman with a story to tell, and scars to show

BUT that does not mean that the next thought isn’t slight worry

He’s been through it all, considering he is experienced with every kind of server and an admin who has had to consider all kinds of walks of life and he knows what some servers are like

That in itself has lead to him being very observant and mindful, and he also knows exactly how to handle it no matter what

He won’t ask, he will wait for you to come to him, if need be

If you do explain them, he will take it from there. Sad? He’s got just the right words to assure you that you’re both safe and that it changes nothing in his opinion of you (It does.. He finds it so hot)

Happy and uncaring? He is making the best jokes you’ve ever heard about it

There is no losing with this blessing of a man

[justathingfromthebrainvoid]

Okay so Gem throughout Secret Life (and also the one episode in Limited Life) has been so fascinating for several reasons. (hello i'm back, yes this is the brain rotates the gem post, welcome.)

so first off everyone is fairly Aware of her pvp prowess, GeminiSlay is a name they know. So for the most part, no one tries to fight her. She's brought down by fighting blazes & an enderman, the red horde going after everyone (them fighting back) and eventually Scar's bow, and then by and large Grian's tnt minecarts before Pearl and Scar together kill her in a 2 v 1 fight (that for the 1st part mostly-ish bows, something she isn't quite as good at). People talk about how they don't want to fight Gem. Not unless they have to.

This affords her a level of safety. If they're scared of fighting you, they don't go after you.

And then she's the New person. She's the only New Person. She's cheery and happy even as she goes on her murdering sprees. Even Lizzie and Mumbo, not back since Last Life, have a different edge to them and then they're out so quickly they don't reach the line where the server goes into murder and betrayal. Cleo says it in the last session: Gem doesn't know what is about to happen.

And she doesn't. Not in the way everyone else does. It is a murder game, and Gem treats it as such, but she doesn't get the weight of what happens in those last sessions.

She loses her first life and is mildly bloodthirsty, she opens the end, sends in greens in hopes of getting more yellows, she gets a task that says kill every non red at least once and does so without hesitance, she turns red, succeeds 5 red tasks in her next episode and gets her two teammates to sacrifice themselves to her along with killing Pearl, and she smiles throughout the entire thing.

When the last session starts she's happy, ready to go out and murder some more people, and sure it's a bit "erie" and "quiet", but she's having a great time on the murder camel, looking for Skizz, figuring out how they can kill Etho/Cleo/Grian.

The other players Know what's about to happen, and she doesn't. Scott stays with her almost the entire episode. He knows what's going to happen. He already decided how he's going to die.

And then they come back from the Nether and Gem loses about 30 of her hearts, she panics slightly and a bit more when she finds Grian behind a wall (alone and down a bunch of hearts her first thought is run), but she goes back to the fight, kills Grian herself, and, oh, it's only them and the mounders left, time for the last battle apparently. She tries getting her murder buddy on their side again but Pearl refuses and it's not like she's leaving the Scotts, so they shoot arrows and run around the server a bit before retreating up the stairs back to their base. Pearl shoots her, Impulse dies, and Gem is starting to think they are going to as well (it's fine, that's what the game's about), but Bdubs and Joel are killed pretty easily and then she and Scott are running again (run, shoot, run again, why'd it have to be a bow fight?), there's a close call with Scar (it's fine, she gets away, where's Scott though?).

But I don't think she really gets it yet. Not until she joins back up with Scott and the first thing he says is "I need you to kill me. I've got 2.5 hearts, you need to kill me." And Scott throws items at her, food and an end crystal, and takes off his armour and Pearl and Scar aren't far behind...

Gem doesn't even get time to process. Pearl and Scar weren't far behind. She runs and fights and holds her own even in a 2v1, but it doesn't matter.

Gem is the new person. And she makes it all the way to 3rd, she's proud of that, should be proud of that. But she only thought of it as a fun murder game right up until Scott died. Sacrificed himself for her.

[raichett]

So, I’ve been thinking a fair bit recently about how the Hermitcraft servers, in-universe, actually function on a social and micro-cultural level. 

A list of real life facts:

1. They have unlimited respawns on Hermitcraft. Death is generally either funny or an inconvenience, and pranks resulting in death are very much allowed, even fairly common. Scar, for example, in his Hotguy persona, literally goes around and shoots people with his bow for fun (and it’s considered a little rude to not die if you’ve been Hotguy’d). 

2. Hermits are invite-only and it’s a rather exclusive server; if a (rare) guest is whitelisted, it is only temporary. Many new Hermits are suggested and supported by an already existing Hermit, and there is a phase where a potential new Hermit is researched before any invite is sent. Once you’ve received an invite, there’s no taking it back, and there’s no probationary period. Hermits (and potential Hermits) are not obliged to either accept nor to stay, however! Many former Hermits have left amiably, and some have even come back after missing a season or two, like Keralis.

3. When it comes to server-wide decisions, everyone has to agree or else it won’t happen. It’s quite literally all-or-nothing on Hermitcraft. And everyone has a say and everyone’s voice is weighed the same, no matter how long or short they’ve been there. 

4. Many Hermits are pioneers or big names in their field (Doc and Tango in redstone, Grian and Scar in building, etc.), or else have been around in MCYT circles for a long time (e.g. Etho and Xisuma). This is not true for every Hermit, but there is distinctly an element of this in the line-up as a whole. It is also very common for Hermits to ask for help/opinions from other Hermits whose specialities are different from their own.

5. Mega-builds and mega-projects are the norm on Hermitcraft. It’s generally expected for a Hermit to take months and months on creating a starter base, then a mega base, at least one shop, usually a mini-game or two for server-wide events, etcetera etcetera. Not every Hermit does this, or does this every season, but most do.

6. Hermitcraft has very, very few rules: griefing is allowed, stealing is allowed, etc. No, really! You can do just about anything on Hermitcraft - so long as you’re prepared to deal with the consequences, and to make reparations if you actually hurt someone’s feelings.

7. It does, however, work on what are called “gentleman’s rules”: that is, if you make a mess, you clean it up, basically. If you prank someone, expect a retaliatory prank, which you have to take in good humour. If you destroy (by accident or design) someone’s items or builds, you’re expected to replace/reimburse/help set it to rights. The entire Hermitcraft economy (the shopping district) works on an honesty box design. Good sportsmanship is the name of the game on Hermitcraft. In the words of Grian himself: “We prank hard, but we clean up harder.”

8. As touched on before, no one on Hermitcraft actually has authority over anyone else. Some people have admin access (Xisuma, Tango, Joe Hills, etc.) but everyone’s voice weighs the same, even if some people have stepped up to take the lead when it comes to the engineering minutiae of maintaining a very popular server.

9. Every Hermit in the current line-up (Season 9 at the time of writing this) is an adult. I can only think of one person who was not an adult when they joined Hermitcraft and that is Mumbo Jumbo, who was 16 or 17 at the time, I think. Most of these people have life experiences and careers before MCYT. Some of them have only recently ceased to be part-time youtubers/streamers and change to full time as they quit jobs to pursue it (e.g. Cleo, Impulse, etc.). 

So, what does all this mean in-universe? Well... 

- Death is temporary, and very little weight is assigned to it, save that if you kill someone for a prank, expect to be pranked fatally in return. There is very little angst to be mined here.

- The Hermits’ expectations of other Hermits generally boil down to “good sportsmanship”, “willing to lend a hand/their expertise if they’re open to doing so” and “willingly accepts consequences for their own actions”. If you don’t follow these expectations at least most of the time, you’re not really acting in a way that is considered acceptable to the rest of the server, and you’re not fitting into the community on Hermitcraft.

- No Hermit takes on any particular authority figure role, neither in the sense of a boss or manager who looks after things on a professional level, nor in the sense of someone taking on a parental role for anyone else. Friendships are certainly encouraged, and Hermits have varying social relationships with each other, but there really is no “mum friend” or “dad friend” around, excepting the occasional joke, there really just isn’t. And there aren’t any Hermits who seem to want to take on this role.

- The closest I can describe the micro-culture of Hermitcraft in real world terms is “university/college dorm full of mature students (mature students = people not fresh out of secondary school/high school)”. They are all busy with their own massive projects, and then on a social level are out to have a good, slightly chaotic, time. They’ve generally got a good sense of identity, or are blossoming into the kind of creator/person they want to be, because they’re in an environment that encourages growth and ambition while (contrary now to the university/college metaphor) not punishing failure. 

- Hermitcraft is a place of “healing” only in the sense that it is a place where people have a fresh start to dedicate themselves to massive projects and become a part of an exclusive but generally helpful and kind community. The only expectations are that you take responsibility for yourself and your own actions, and if you dish out something you’d better be prepared for it to be volleyed back to you; all of these are fair, in my personal opinion. Some people absolutely thrive on such an opportunity! Some others do not.

- Hermitcraft is exclusive, and not everyone who visits the server gets to stay there. To be offered an invite to become a Hermit requires you to be a good fit for the server and its community, and for everyone to agree on that. If even one Hermit doesn’t want someone there, they won’t be invited. That being said, the Hermits are mature individuals, and if you’re not a friend, then you can at least be a colleague. But if you can’t even be that... well. Hermits don’t offer invitations quickly, due to the fact that there is no probationary period; you’re either in or you’re not.

- LARPing is fairly common, wars are games, and everyone there is just out to have fun at the end of the day. If you don’t want to be involved in whatever “storyline” is currently being acted out on the server, you’ve got to manually say so and tap out. You can just say “sorry, busy with my mega-build, have fun at the war” and be left in peace. And these play-pretend games are not necessarily server-wide, either. Not everyone wants to be involved, and those who don’t aren’t pressured to be. But they do very much happen, and pretty frequently. 

And... yeah, that’s about it. Hermitcraft is a world where a bunch of people are basically running wild and free, able to create huge projects and have fun with their friends (in that distinct adults-who-don’t-have-to-go-to-work-and-are-free-to-be-who-they-wish-to-be kind of way), and while the in-universe reality of any storyline can be up for debate in fandom (e.g. in Season 5, was the jungle actually possessing people or were they just LARPing that?), at the end of the day, most of what happens is in good fun and good sportsmanship. And that is what it means to be a Hermit.

[lugwen]

my sibling assigned every life series member a dnd class

grian: bard, college of lore definitely a talker, will create lore in any case.

mumbo: artificer subclass artillerist bc redstoner and building machinery, first to build a tnt cannon

tango: artificer bc redstoner ofc

etho: alsl redstoner, but washed up… but i guess still artillerist artificer

cleo: barbarian subclass berserker or ancestral guardian. i feel like they are a grudge holder of past life series' aka their "ancestors"

jimmy: cleric, grave domain "serve the idea of life and death, the balance must be maintained" well in my eyes, the balance is his curse of always first out lmao also, useless in non-magical combat.

pearl: barbarian subclass berserker (anger fueled) or totem warrior (wolves as "animal spirits" joining her) shes definitely the axe swinger kinda person. i mean double life pearl??? need i say more?

martyn: rogue subclass: inquisitive (literally like a detective) always listens in on conversations, spying on ppl even tho its useless mostly

skizz: bard but college of therapy (self explainatory) always gives free therapy and a pep talk

bdubs: ranger subclass beastmaster (has a horse) i see him with a bow or crossbow while walking thru da woods. also has limited magic

Joel: the real rogue. subclass assassin sneaky and chaotic and not afraid to cause damage. actually happy to do so. always quick to red life (evil) will use every opportunity to shoot an arrow at u when ur close to an edge

lizzie: sorcerer she's a magic user for sure. but like natural magic in her bones, in her blood.

bigb: rn hes a warlock, patron: the hole lmao definitely signed his soul away to the hole man

scott: paladin, oath of devotion NEVER betrays his allies. always sees his friendships through to the end. somehlw a tank? rarely takes huge chunks of dmg, even when ppl aim for a crit. shield guy.

impulse: wizard i feel like he'd be a magic user but not naturally, instead someone who studies it by the book (nerd)

gem: druid gives animal lover vibe combined with being a force of nature (pvp goddess)

scar: bard college of eloquence THE talker. not very good at fighting but hes using magic and words to screw u into a useless deal

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Thus Always to Tyrants

Chapter 1: The Start of the Fall

Gem is the commander of the Wintertide royal army, Grian is the leader of a resistance hell bent on taking the crown down no matter the cost. It was only natural that they would become enemies.

Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

Read on ao3 ❀ here ❀

CW: past/mentioned war, non-graphic violence.

Words: 6,493

Pov: Gem

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The tip of Gem’s sword punctured the dummy’s chest, right through the center of the worn out fabric X sewn into its burlap surface. She planted her foot right under where the blade was buried and kicked it away with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, freeing her sword in the process. The dummy rolled away from her,  it’s sewn on face frowning up at her sadly in an almost comedic way as it went. She panted and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension they had collected in the muscles. 

Her ears were met with a round of clapping, and she turned to smile at the group of young knights and squires who had gathered at the edge of the training grounds to observe her sword play. She gave an elegant, somewhat exaggerated, bow before turning to look up at the sky. She shielded her eyes from the shining rays as she checked the sun’s position. It was just about noon by this point, if not nearing it. She should be on her way, lest she be late.

“That will be all from me, I’m afraid. I’m in danger of receiving a verbal lashing from sir Impulse.” She joked to the trainees with an apologetic smile. 

“Do you really have to go?” One of the younger squires asked with big, pleading eyes. The others echoed the sentiment, all trying to convince her to stay and show them more.

“Unfortunately, yes, I do,” She said, “It’s a very important day today, as you all know, and my presence cannot be missed. Why don’t you lot work on what I just showed you until you are called to join us, and then you can show me your improvement another day. How does that sound?” There was a chorus of disappointed vocalisations, but they got back to their own work pretty quickly after a stern look was thrown their way.

She walked over to the fallen dummy and took a moment to stand it upright so that it was ready for the next person to use. She jogged over to where she had abandoned her water skin at the edge of the training ring, expertly tossing the practice sword she had borrowed into the designated barrel behind the dummies as she went. She took a few greedy gulps of sweet, crisp water before wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow with the hem of her sleeve. Her clothes were damp with sweat and sticking to her skin, but where she was heading would be just as hot, if not more, so she was not worried about it. 

She really should not have let herself be roped into showing off to the younger knights and squires, but how could she not? She simply could not resist their charms; she had no choice but to say yes when they came to her on her way out to beg that she show them a few basic forms. They reminded her far too much of her younger self, she supposed. Bright eyed, full of admiration, and ready and eager to learn. There had been someone once in her life that was willing to give in to her pleas and show her everything they knew, she only thought it fair that she be the same kind of role model in these kids' lives. She would just die if she didn’t live up to their expectations. If that meant she ended up a little late every now and then? So be it.

She hooked the skin to her belt and bid the young ones an enthusiastic farewell, which they returned with varying degrees of equal cheerfulness and disappointment, and with that, she was off. She darted through the servant's entrance and into the kitchen, where she quickly snagged a bread roll out of a basket on one of the counters, giggling at the indigent shout of “Commander!” from one of the cooks as she did so. She waved goodbye to them, and they rolled their eyes at her, crossing their arms as she rounded the corner into the hall.

She made her way through the corridors with the bread roll secured safely in her bite, the loud clanking of her armor bouncing off of the high walls. As she ran, she took the opportunity to fix her bun, which had gotten rather messy during her little showing off session. She tucked loose strands back where they belonged and tightened the binding holding the bun and the braid together. It probably still looked a right mess, but at least it was a little more presentable. With her hair out of her face, she took a large bite out of the roll, groaning at the sweet, buttery taste of it.

She haphazardly shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth and chewed as fast as she could without choking. She licked the flakey crumbs from her fingers and wiped the rest of the mess off on the skirt of her dress. Not the most polite or proper, and her mama would definitely scold her for doing it, but she had not the time to worry about manners. She was going to be late; later than she probably already was.

She waved to the on duty guard at the main door and he yelled for her to have a good time just as she exited earshot. She lifted up the hem of her dress as she ran down the front steps, trying to avoid tripping over the expanse of fabric. She stumbled a little on the final step, pinwheeling her arms in order to steady herself before carrying on her way. 

She squinted against the sun in her eyes and slowed her pace to a light jog, a smile coming onto her face as she caught sight of her friends and the small group of guards waiting at the front gate for her. Impulse and Scott looked up as she skidded to a stop in front of them. She put her hands on her hips and bent slightly at the waist as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Worry not, I am here!” She proudly declared as she straightened her stance.

“Here, and late.” Scott said from where he was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and one foot propped against the stone. His long hair was pulled over his shoulder into a braid, a stray stand of the blue locks falling into his amused face. Impulse beside him stood more casually with his thumbs tucked into the belt around his waist. The eldest man stifled a laugh at her expense.

“I will have you know that I am barely late. It is hardly even noon yet!” Gem defended with her hands still on her hips, turning her nose up at him in a playful manner.

“Late is late, Commander,” Scott laughed, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming with delight at her defensiveness. Gem opened her mouth to continue the friendly argument, but was halted by Impulse’s hand’s clamping down on either of their shoulders.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you two. Let's be on our way before our absence is missed.” Impulse said. Despite being lower in rank than her, Impulse was the oldest out of them, and one of her best friends, so Gem took no offense when he gave her a light shove in the direction of the town.

Gem took the lead as they exited the front gates, bidding the guards up at the top of the tall wall a goodbye as she went. Truth be told, it really was not too much of an issue that they were heading out a little later than what they expected. She had long ago coordinated and dispatched another unit to go ahead of them early this morning. Not only that, but her presence was not something that was strictly required, it was a personal choice. Technically there was no way for them to be late to this event. Scott simply enjoyed pulling her leg, and she, his.

The journey to town didn’t take them very long - a journey that they could have made shorter had the capital not been too crowded to bring horses on a day like this -  and in the blink of an eye they were entering the crowded city. 

Stands and carts littered the usually empty streets, filled to the brim with rare goods and flooded by customers eager to get their hands on whatever was being offered. The decadent smell of cooking meats and spices filled her nose and caused her mouth to water, the faint hint of baked goods and perfumes lingering just under the surface. Lively music filled the air, as did laughter and conversation. Over the heads of many a passersby she could see a stage set up in the center of the city square, where a band was playing the jolly tune that could be heard. 

If one was to look even further, they would also catch sight of even more booths and carts, designated entirely to games and things of the like. There were even places set up for the trading of livestock and furniture. Buildings were lined with decorations that were vibrant in colour.

The event wasn’t to officially begin for another quarter of an hour, but it appeared things were already in full swing.

The Festival of Good Tides; a yearly occurrence in Wintertide that was first established several years back after a truce had been called to end a three-year war between the kingdom and its neighbouring lands, Coral Crest. What was originally created as a way of boosting post war morale had become somewhat of a national holiday that the people looked forward to with great anticipation. Its popularity was also helped by the fact that the many activities and wares sold brought a large increase of income to the kingdom, something that many now relied on for the coming winter season, where food and warmth was a bit hard to come by without a bit of extra coin.

Though the festivities only lasted one day, the most was always made of it. Events and trading started at noon and extended into the evening until the sun had set and the stars had risen, from which point the king would make his appearance, give a speech and his blessing for the coming winter, and then the feast would begin. This grand dinner would go throughout the night and into the early morning, with more than enough food and alcohol to satisfy the masses provided by the castle.

Though it had only been a few years since the tradition had begun, its rise in popularity had been swift and widespread. People would come from all over the land just to partake in the joyous occasion, and get a piece of the financial opportunities that it offered. 

During this time, Inns would become so crowded that people even took the opportunity to rent out rooms in their own homes to travelers. It was even common for those intending to sell to camp out with their traveling carts and stalls in the surrounding woods during the week leading up to the festival, so common that there were designated areas marked and prepped for them nearly a month in advance. 

Gem never really got to enjoy the festival as the celebration that it was, preferring to act more as security so as to ensure that things didn’t get too out of hand, but it was still something that she looked forward to every year. It was one of many highlights that came from living in the capital. It reminded her of who she was here for, who she spent every day of her life training and fighting to protect.

It wasn’t too long ago that this land would have been rife with paranoia and poverty, the war having taken its toll on the people and the land itself. Gem basked in every second of the happiness that she could, while also remaining vigilant that nothing disturbed it. She would do anything to ensure that this time of peace lasted.

“I’m going to split off here,” Scott said, interrupting her thoughts. He jabbed his thumb over to the left of the path they were walking to indicate where he was going, “I think Jimmy’s stall is somewhere over there. I’m going to go see if I can haggle him out of some of the high-quality leather he sells before it is all snatched up. Assuming it hasn’t been already”

“Alright, we will see you at the feast.” Impulse said, giving him a rough pat on the shoulder as a farewell.

“Don’t forget to actually do your job while you’re at it.” Gem teased, punching him in the shoulder. She then motioned for two of the other knights to break off from the group to accompany Scott, and motioned for two others to go in the opposite direction, where she knew more knights were already patrolling. She didn’t want them too split up lest something happen and they need numbers, but it is never a bad idea to have eyes in more places.

“You know me, I’ve always got an eye out,” Scott replied.

“Give Jimmy and Tango my greetings” Gem cheerfully told him as he began to walk away, only to be met with a grimace thrown over his shoulder at her. She laughed at the expression. She knew that Scott’s relationship with his friend's partner was strained and awkward at best, and it was too much fun to tease him about it.

“I think I’m going to head over to my parents' cart. Would you like to come with me?” Impulse asked, looking around the crowded area to try and spot them over the masses.

“I think I am going to hang around the stage. A vast majority of fights always seem to break out in or around this area, so it is best I stay here for now.” Gem said, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for anything, or anyone, that might be out of place.

“I know we’re here to keep an eye on things, but do try to have a little bit of fun, alright? This is, after all, a celebration!” Impulse insisted, gesturing towards the festivities with a broad sweep of his arms.

“I will do as I please. Give your mothers' my greetings, yes?” Gem asked, shooing him away and sending an extra knight after him with a gesture of her hand.

“Will do!” He gave her a two fingered salute before jogging away.

Gem would not lie and say she had not been tempted to go see Impulse’s parents with him. They were lovely people who adored her and always “snuck” handfuls of candy into the pockets of her dress when she wasn’t looking, but she had meant it when she said the city square and the stage were where 90% of the festival's problems broke out before the feast began, second only to the alcohol booths. Regardless of how rare issues actually were, though, she really would prefer to stay close so she can break up any altercations before they had a chance to escalate 

She did, however, make a pit stop over to one of the meat carts to buy her and the remaining knights with her a rabbit and potato skew from one of the stands a little ways away from the center of the festival. It was a divine bit of food, and she would be a fool to not get some before it was all sold out. The bread roll she had snagged from the kitchen had done little to satiate her hunger and it would be foolish to work on an empty stomach, she reasoned as she thumbed coins over to the vendor and was handed a couple of skewers in return for her payment. 

She distributed them among her remaining knights and then took a big bite out of the hearty meat as she led the way back towards the stage, just in time to catch the start of the next performance.

A stout young woman in a short sleeved, rose pink dress made her way up onto the stage with a bright smile on her face. A man followed behind her with a staff in his hand, and Gem grew giddy with excitement as she realized where this performance may be going. The man went down onto one knee and offered the woman the staff , which she accepted with a deep bow before he rushed off the stage.

She raised the staff, made of wood old and brittle with a glittering jewel entrapped in its spiraled tip, up towards the sky, and the crowd waited with bated breath. She whispered something under her breath, so quiet that it was sure not a soul in the crowd had heard her, but Gem watched her lips form the words, and she knew what was coming next.

For a moment nothing happened, and then light burst forth from the tip of the staff up into the sky in a coil of glittering gold. The strings of light rippled through the air before coming together to form the image of a bird big and grand, which spread its magneficent wings and flew over the crowd with a brilliant wooshing sound. The crowd screamed with delight and laughter as the bird let out a tremendous caw. It rose high into the sky before turning abruptly and diving straight for the stage floor. It exploded as it made contact with the ground, sending glittering shimmers of light, almost like millions of miniature stars, all across the wooden planks.

The crowd erupted into raucous cheers, which Gem joined in on, holding the now bare wooden skew in between her teeth in order to do so. The woman, her smiling face now red and shiny with sweat, bowed once more, holding her staff out to the side of her and placing a hand over her heart as she did so. She took a moment to wave to the crowd before rushing off stage to make way for the next performer. 

What a brilliant performance, Gem thought. Magic in this day and age was a rare sight to see, so even simple spells like that were enough to leave most in awe. 

Gem couldn’t even imagine what it had been like back in the day, when magic was rampant and widespread across the lands, when things like this were commonplace and about as impressive as someone tying their boots. Gem was well versed in what little there was to be known about magic, and it wasn’t a lot. There were very little records of that time long past, only a few books here, the odd fairytale there. There was barely even enough to tell the people of today that there was once a period of time where magic ruled the lands, and no one exactly knows what happened to it.

Now there were barely any folks left with any sort of magical inclination about them at all, and those who did had so little of it that they were barely able to do simple illusion spells like the one Gem just saw without being left utterly exhausted by their efforts. 

She watched several more performances after this, ranging from a man who juggled an armful of colourful balls, a woman who balanced herself on the tip of a tall, slim poll, a woman who sang a beautiful song accompanied by her husband’s lute, a man who did a magic trick involving balls of fire, and many more.

Hours had passed and the next performer was just about to come up onto the stage when Gem caught something out of the corner of her eye. A swish of red fabric that was all too familiar to her; one of the reasons she always preferred to stay on her toes. 

She inhaled sharply through her nose, sparks of anger already kindling in her chest as she whipped around to ensure it was who she thought it was, and without a doubt, it was him. There he was, standing there so close to the stage it would be no problem at all for him to climb upon it should he so wish to. He was eyeing the performer with an almost bored expression. Even with what little anonymity that stupid hood of his offered him, she would recognize him anywhere. 

She marched towards the person, her hand moving towards her sword despite knowing she could not, and would not, use it in such a crowded space. Not when so many innocent lives were at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

His head turned in her direction, his inky black eyes lighting up with amusement as he spotted her, a smirk spread across his bird-like face. He turned away and took off into the crowd, and Gem gave chase without a second thought.

He weaved through the crowd faster and faster, seamlessly avoiding bumping into people as he moved in a way not too dissimilar to a snake in the grass. She shouldered past people, yelling quick apologies to those who shouted in protest as she tried to keep up with the smaller man, his distinctive red cloak being the only thing that allowed her to keep sight of him through the tightly packed crowd.

He led her all the way towards the bustling merchant’s area. This part of the festival was full of richly coloured fabrics that were folded neatly along the surface of the carts that sold them, and there was a large variety of rare clothing article, which hung from racks in tidy rows on either side of her, easy to knock down and cause a fuss should she not move carefully. The air was thick with perfumes and the smell of dye, the scent thick and almost overpowering to her hard-working lungs as she ran through the area with delicate movements. He threw her a devious smile over his shoulder as he ducked under a rack of brightly coloured scarves, which she darted around, knowing she would not make it under. 

She wasn’t a fool, she knew this was a game to him, and she wasn’t going to let him keep playing it.

The crowd was beginning to thin the further they got away from bustling city square, giving her the opportunity to increase her speed at last. Her armor rattled as she pushed herself to catch up to the nimble man, her blood rushing through her ears and her heart racing loudly. He attempted to duck into an alleyway, but she followed after before he could escape, turning sharply on her heels. She grabbed the back of his cloak, pulling him backwards and his hood down.

She ducked as a set of razor sharp talons ripped towards her face, messy pieces of her hair whipping past her field of vision as she grabbed the man’s wrist, bringing her palm up swiftly into his gut. He gasped as the air was knocked out of his small body. She took the opportunity to swing around into a kick, and her boot would have connected with his neck had he not raised his arms into a protective position in order to block the blow in the last moment. It was still enough to send him to the ground, however, and he hit the cobble with a bounce that sent him rolling.

He used the momentum to flip himself up into a crouching position, blood running down his chin from where he had presumably bit his tongue. His expression was still somewhat playful, but now had a much more serious glint to it. He kept his talons at the ready to counter Gem’s next attack, his body tense with anticipation. His sharp eyes were taunting her, waiting for her to make the next move as he always did.

“Grian.” She said, her hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it at any moment.

“Commander” He said in turn, tilting his head unnaturally to the side, much like the owl he shared his attributes with.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, looking down her nose at him, her thumb inching her sword out of the sheath.

“Is it a crime to enjoy a national holiday like every other citizen in the kingdom?” He questioned in an almost teasing manner.

“Enough of your games! It is no mere coincidence that you would show up today of all days after months of silence.” Gem snapped, her shoulders rising in turn with the bubbling anger in her heart.

Grian, a slippery, troublemaking avian that she had been butting heads with on a near regular basis ever since she was a bright eyed squire fresh off of the snowy mountain she called home, eager to prove herself in her search for glory.  

He had made his entrance into her life in a flashy and grand fashion that was bound to leave an impression on just about anyone; an explosion in the castle's courtyard. It had been small, only enough to take out a tiny portion of the wall. It had been so clearly a distraction, but after years of war, it had been enough to cause a panic that only Gem had been levelheaded enough to power her way through. It was her quick wit that allowed her to act swiftly in the face of potential danger, and her friendly and outgoing personality that let her realize she’d never seen his face around the castle before and clock that he was an intruder. She’d taken him down before he was able to do whatever it was that he was planning to do inside of the castle, but he’d still managed to escape in the end.

Along with an increase in security and guards stationed on the outer walls, the royal army gained another knight that day. Ironic that it would be the man who would come to torment her any chance he could in the near future that would see to it that she was promoted early in her career.

They met many times after that first initial encounter, and with each one it only became obvious that his goal from the very beginning was to tear down the Wintertide royal bloodline at any cost and destroy the peace she tried so hard to protect. 

He sought to create chaos and disorder within the kingdom, and he would stop at nothing to see these goals met. It was only natural that they would become rivals, enemies that would be at constant odds with each other until the end of all things. Time and time again he would make his move against the royal family, and she was always there to put an end to it. It was an endless dance that they seemed to be trapped in indefinitely, for better or for worse.

As the years passed, he shifted his focus from the castle and the king to something else, something more attainable. He would commonly be found in the streets, yelling about injustices to anyone who would give him an ear. 

At first, no one would pay him any mind, and he would always make a break for it the second Gem showed up to put a stop to his public disturbances. Over time, however, as taxes were raised to cover the costs of damages done to the land and economy by the war, and tensions between their neighbouring kingdom rose yet again, his ideals slowly but surely gained more and more popularity. People were moved by his cause, rallied by a hatred for a monarchy they felt provided them very little protection or surety in their time of unrest. 

Suddenly he wasn’t a single person acting alone anymore; he was the leader of a group they had no way of knowing the scope of. 

They had tried to take him and his mysterious resistance down for years now, but by some feat of the gods they had managed to avoid detection, as well as capture, the entire time. Even now, it is unknown just how large his resistance is, or the names of those who operate within it, making it difficult to do anything in opposition to the group. They had only a few names for certain they could connect to him, but they have all been as untraceable as he. Every tip and clue that came Gem's way only led to empty houses and cellars with nothing but clearly fake plans and documents within them that led her and her men right back to where they had started; with nothing at all. 

All of this to say that he and his group are dangerous, effective people who should not be taken lightly, and his presence at The Festival of Good Tides bore nothing but ill tidings. 

The avian sighed in an overly dramatic, fake manner, no doubt playing it up to get a rise out of her. She was ashamed to admit that it worked.

“Fine, I suppose there is no point in hiding it from you,” He said, his face once again breaking into a wide smile, “I was looking for you, actually. I knew if I showed up to the festival you would find me within seconds and pursue me until you had me in your grasp.”

“And, why, in god's name, were you seeking to put yourself right into my hands? A bit of a foolish thing to do, if you ask me. You know as well as I do that you are no match for me, birdy.” She taunted. 

She swiftly pulled her sword from its sheath and put the tip of the blade to his unprotected neck. It was just long enough for her to close the distance between them without having to take so much as a step closer. His expression remained unbothered and playful, despite the obvious threats to his life.

“I wanted to give you a fair warning,” He replied cryptically.

“What in the hells does that mean?” She questioned, hackles once again rising.

“Something big is coming, Gem.” He answered. His eyes were wide and excited, almost manic even, as he said this. She had never seen him like this before in all her years knowing him.

“Something big? What in the blazes are you on about?” She asked, unease settling in her stomach like a heavy stone at the words

“You would do well to prepare yourself while you still can.” He said instead of giving her a real answer, “For all of our back and forth, I do not hate you. It would sure be a shame if something were to happen to you that could have been avoided.”

“Your mad rambles make little sense. Explain yourself before I have your head!” She threatened, pushing the tip of the sword against his throat further.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you anymore than I already have, but you’ll find out in due time, believe in that. The end might be closer than you think.” He said, and her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. 

He took advantage of her brief shock to sweep his leg out faster than she could react. The hard, scaly part of his taloned foot grabbed a hold of her sword’s blade and wrenched the weapon out of her hands, sending it to the ground with a metallic clatter. She shouted in alarm and leaped towards the fallen sword in an attempt to regain control of the situation, but before she could even get close, Grian pulled a bottle out from somewhere within his cloak and smashed it against the ground at her feet.

There was a flash and a popping noise following the shattering of the glass, and thick smoke billowed out around them, obscuring her vision and filling her nose with the overbearing smell of sulfur. Her eyes burned, watering fiercely as she coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the smoke.

She waved the air in front of her, looking around frantically for the avian but seeing not a single sign of him. There wasn’t so much as a feather on the ground, nor where there any footprints in the grime showing where he’d taken off to. All there was in the now vacant cobble alley was her sword, flat against the ground where it had fallen. 

“Gem!” She heard someone call out to her from behind.

She turned to find Impulse rushing towards her. He looked frantic, out of breath. A few other soldiers trailed behind him, visibly on edge as they looked around the smokey alley. Her old friend hurried to her side, grabbing her face and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes as he turned her side to side to check for injuries. 

She pulled away from him, wordlessly moving over to her abandoned sword and picking it up from the ground. She examined the blade before turning her eyes up to the sky, where the smoke was still spiraling up towards the clear blue expanse. 

“The men that were stationed with you came to me in a frenzy and said you took off in a rush. They said may be in need of some help, and the thought of you of all people needing help against something on its own is a frightening, so I came as soon as I could.” Impulse said from behind her. “What happened?

“It was Grian.” She said, turning towards him. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on, “And I didn’t need any help. You know me.”

“It hardly matters to me how strong you are, I will always worry for you regardless. It is in my nature.” He said with a smile, which dropped into a more serious look, “But, Grian, you say? Has he not been off the radar for months now? What’s he doing back in the capital on today of all day? Surely he is up to no good.”

She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to wonder if she should share the cryptid warning that the avian had given her. Her eyes flickered over to the nervous knights standing behind her friend. They were clearly new, fresh out of being squires if she had to take a guess. It was highly probable that they would panic upon hearing information such as this. Besides, anything pertaining to Grian and his resistance was more classified than what she was willing to share with just anyone. She would prefer to inform the king of the news, as well, and it was almost nightfall anyway so his arrival to the festival site was fast approaching. It was best she not have to repeat herself when handling such delicate information. You never know who may be listening.

“I think it would be wiser if I don’t share that with so many ears around. This is information better shared to a smaller group.” She informed him. He glanced back at the soldiers behind him and nodded in understanding.

“Let us return to the festival, this time with eyes and ears more focused.” She said, "If he shows his face again, he will not be getting away so easily a second time."

She turned on her heels and deftly made her way back towards the crowded square, the others following after all. She held her head high, posture straight and professional, but underneath the facade was a twisting feeling of unease that she couldn’t get rid of, and which threatened to force her lunch to make a second appearance. 

Her mind was racing, her chest was tight. What could her longtime rival have meant with that threat? No, that had been more of a promise than it had been a threat. But a promise of what, she didn’t know, and that is what scared her. Whatever it was that he had in store for the kingdom of Wintertide, he was so incredibly certain of its success that he was willing to seek her out to personally tell her of its existence. 

Either he was a fool, or there was something to truly worry about afoot, and something told her it was the latter since she had never known Grian to be a stupid man.

In fact he was quite the dangerous person. 

A harmless person could not gain the following and influence that he had over people in such a short time as he had. Even when the people above her had thought of him as little more than a fly buzzing in their ear, she had always taken every move he made seriously. She would be a fool herself not to treat him as the treat he really was. 

If anything, she was surprised it had taken so long for him to make his move. With the reach and numbers he seemed to have within the capital it was a wonder something “big” had yet to happen. Why now of all times? What was his game?

She looked over her shoulder at the abandoned alley one last time, her expression hardening into a determined glare. Even with her worry, she knew one thing for certain; whatever it may be that he was planning, she would put an end to it. 

He would not succeed. 

                                                ❀     ❀     ❀

“Was it necessary to toy with her like that?” His hooded companion asked from beside him, tone high and amused.

Grian stood upon the roof, the smoke bomb having given him just enough time to escape out of view. His cloak fluttered in the wind behind him and his hands clenched into fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms. His expression was blank, his black eyes watching as the commander of the royal army grew smaller the further she got from them. She’d almost seen him when she glanced back. Almost, but not quiet. 

“Not that I am complaining,” His companion pushed further upon not receiving a response, “It is rather funny, I must admit.”

“I am not toying with her,” He stated, not daring to take his eyes off of the commander until she was well out of view, “It was a real warning.”

“Even worse,” Was the reply, which was then followed by a laugh, “Now she’ll be wary, more prepared than she would have had you said nothing at all. I have to agree with the Commander on this one, Grian, this seems an odd move to make so early into the plan. After all of the work we put into this, it seems entirely counterproductive. Are you not worried she could put an end to this all before it has even begun?”

“Let her try and interfere,” He said, a smile spreading across his face as the wind picked up speed, “There will be no stopping what is to come.”

[hopepetal]

Part One | Part Two | Part Three (you are here!)

Read on ao3!

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

Impulse had never really had any trouble getting to sleep.

Sure, it was a different story during the occasional “sleepover” with the rest of the knights, when they talked for hours and then passed out under the stars, but for the most part, Impulse was a good sleeper. A light one, but he had no trouble getting to sleep at all. Spending most of his day out and exercising consistently had its perks, after all. 

Over the past week or so, however, Impulse had been having a bit of trouble. Not with falling asleep, or even staying asleep as he sometimes did. He found himself falling asleep and waking up at the same times as he always did, but with one issue.

Impulse was exhausted. 

He would wake up from a long rest and feel as though he’d hardly slept a wink. The exhaustion would continue throughout the day, clouding his mind and pulling at his limbs like a lead weight. At first, he just chalked it up to overdoing it in his training, or maybe not going to sleep early enough. But as the days went by and the exhaustion got worse and worse, Impulse found that he was beginning to fray at the edges, breaking down bit by bit. 

Finally, after nearly falling asleep during lunch time, Impulse asked the rest of the knights for help. 

“I just…” He gestured helplessly at nothing in particular. “I don’t know what to do. Nothing seems to fix this.”

Pearl shared a concerned glance with Grian, who had actually woken up early for once. Not that he had been very happy about it, but nonetheless, here he was. “And you’ve tried going to bed earlier, yeah?” Pearl asked, to which Impulse nodded. “Hmm… this could be a real issue, mate. That’s not good.”

“Do you think it’s insomnia?” Grian asked, and Impulse shrugged.

“I’ve been falling asleep perfectly fine,” he explained, “and I’ve had no trouble at all staying asleep. It’s just… my sleep isn’t good.”

Scar leaned forward. “I was gonna go visit Cub today, if you’d like to come with me,” he offered, “he’ll probably know what’s going on, and have something for you.”

Impulse let out a shaky sigh, and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good. Thank you, Scar.” It had been a while since he had seen Cub, as well. It would be nice to say hi, maybe catch up a little. “When were you thinking of heading out?”

Scar smiled. “Just after lunch! Not that we have to rush, of course, but I’d like to get there before the night falls,” he joked, “we all know that you and I would be defenseless– defenseless, I say!– against the big baddies of the night.”

Mumbo looked very concerned for a moment. “Don’t you have a bow, Scar?”

“Of course he does,” Grian piped up, “he’s just being silly.” 

Pearl sighed, though she was smiling. “I hope everything goes well, Impulse. Sleep is very important, y’know.”

“Well you would know that, wouldn’t you,” Grian muttered, squawking when Pearl smacked him with one of her wings. “Oh, you–!” 

Pearl jumped back from the table and took off into the air, Grian following close behind. Impulse watched them with raised eyebrows and a smile, before glancing over at Scar. “I think that’s our cue to head out.” 

Scar giggled, nodding in agreement. “Take her out, Grian!” he shouted up to the two, before Impulse decided now was probably a good time to drag him away before he got involved as well. 

They left Mumbo, who looked rather terrified to be in this whole situation, to keep watch over camp and make sure Grian and Pearl didn’t accidentally destroy everything. It probably wasn’t going to happen, but better safe than sorry.

The horses were unusually vocal as Impulse and Scar approached the stables, and Impulse’s horse even backed away from him before he was able to calm it down. 

“Maybe the storm last night got them spooked,” Scar pointed out, “or maybe there were mobs around last night.” He sounded a little more unconvinced on the second one, and Impulse didn’t blame him. Not only were the stables a well lit area, but Grian and Pearl seemed to have a secret sixth sense when it came to knowing when mobs were around. 

With that little setback out of the way, Impulse and Scar set off to Cub’s house. He wasn’t very far away from them– far enough to warrant needing a horse, especially when one was exhausted, but not far enough to make the trip unbearably long. Still, Impulse wasn’t exactly feeling the best, and his responses to Scar’s idle chatter weren’t very interesting.

Finally, they made it to their destination, and left their horses in the same place they always did. Scar didn’t even bother knocking, announcing his arrival by throwing the door open and calling out, “honey, I’m home!”

Impulse followed Scar in, making sure to carefully shut the door behind him. As soon as he walked into the small, cottage-esque type building, he was hit with the smell of drying herbs and greenery. It always managed to astound him how Cub lived in such a dry environment but kept his house and the area around it so lush and vibrant. 

Everything looked to be relatively the same to how it had been when Impulse had last visited Cub. The wall where he kept his dried herbs was plastered with even more recipes than the last time, with notes scribbled on the papers in unintelligible handwriting. The desks were just a little messy as always– Cub was never one to leave his work for long, so he really never saw the point in putting it away. The only area that was truly immaculate was the area where he made his potions, and the cozy spot he always kept available for patients, should the need arise.

Cub appeared from around the corner, holding some books. “Hello, Scar– oh, Impulse, too. What’s happening?” he asked almost immediately after, suspicious. 

Impulse laughed wearily. “Hi, Cub. Can’t a man say hello without needing anything?”

Cub sighed, placing down his books on the desk. “Mm, not when it comes to you knights.” His small smile told Impulse he was only teasing, and he leaned against the desk. “Also, you look terrible, man.” He looked Impulse up and down, his smile dropping slightly. There was something akin to concern in his eyes, but something deeper there as well.

“Thanks,” Impulse muttered, before glancing over at Scar. “Is it really that bad?”

Scar grimaced slightly. “Let’s just say you didn’t always have bags under your eyes.”

Cub hummed softly, already looking through some of the herbs on his wall and going through the recipes stuck on there. “You’ve been experiencing insomnia?” he asked, not even turning back to glance at Impulse.

“Not exactly,” Impulse clarified, “I’ve been getting sleep, but I always wake up feeling exhausted. It’s been happening every night for the past week or so, and I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. Scar suggested coming here for help, so…”

Cub nodded. “Mhm. Okay, I getcha, I getcha. There’s quite a few things that could cause this. High stress, not drinking enough water, a nutrient deficiency… the list goes on.” He began to gather some herbs, having clearly found the recipe he needed. “Say, Scar,” he said casually while placing ingredients into his brewing stand, “would you mind summoning Jellie? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Scar grinned. “Of course, my good man! I’ll bet she’s been missing you, too. C’mere, Jellie!”

As soon as the blue furred familiar was summoned into existence, something in Impulse screamed “danger, danger, get out of there” with such ferocity that he sucked in a breath and stepped back. Clearly, the feeling was mutual for Jellie, because the minute she saw him, she hissed. Something that Impulse was almost certain she had only ever done to those she considered a “threat”.

Scar instantly scooped Jellie up into his arms, scolding her. “Bad girl! Bad Jellie! That is a friend! We don’t hiss at friends!”

Cub said nothing, but Impulse felt his gaze rest on him for a moment before he went back to making the potion. “I’m going to give you enough to last for a week. I want you to take some before you go to sleep every night. Come back after a week, or if things get worse.”

Impulse was still on edge, but hearing that did help to ease his nerves. “Thanks, Cub.” He glanced over at Scar and Jellie, who was still very displeased with his presence. “I’ve just been feeling so awful lately. I really hope this works.”

“Of course man, of course,” Cub responded absentmindedly, finishing up the potion. “Alright. Here it is.” He handed the potion to Impulse, who carefully stored it in his bag. “Scar, has everything been alright?”

“As well as it has been!” Scar answered cheerfully, still holding Jellie close. “I’m doing great, really. Mostly came here just to say hi and help out Impulse over here. And I missed you, of course.”

Cub just gave Scar a smile. “You could visit more often, man.”

“Very good point, very good point…”

Impulse excused himself to step outside while the two chatted, feeling much better once he was outside and away from… whatever had happened, inside that house. He could feel the demon lingering in his mind– it wasn’t speaking, but it was there, and Impulse wasn’t sure if that was something he liked. 

Eventually Scar did come back out of the house, Jellie nowhere in sight. Impulse assumed Scar had dismissed her, but didn’t bring it up. They said goodbye to Cub and then mounted up, beginning the ride home in silence.

“I’m sorry about that whole… Jellie thing,” Scar eventually said, “she’s never… I don’t know why she’s acting like that.”

Impulse shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, really. I promise I’m not taking any offense to it. Cats are finicky, you know.” But Jellie wasn’t a normal cat. Impulse tried to forget about that. “Thanks for coming out with me.”

“Of course!” Scar chirped, “glad to be of service!”

When they got back to camp, Impulse was glad to see that Grian and Pearl hadn’t destroyed anything– though Mumbo was looking a little more frazzled than usual. The sun was just beginning to set, and Impulse and Scar had their dinner together while they caught up on the day’s events with Grian.

Right before bed, as instructed, Impulse took a dose of the medicine Cub had made for him. The exhaustion that had been weighing him down all week came crashing back into focus, and Impulse was hardly able to keep his eyes open long enough for him to put away the bottle and lay down. 

That night, he dreamt of falling from a great height.

–

The medicine did not work.

At first, Impulse thought maybe he hadn’t taken enough. So he took more the next night. And the next. Until finally, the medicine that was supposed to last him a week was emptied in four days. 

It got to the point where he slept in later than Grian after falling asleep earlier than Pearl. When he woke up, feeling as though he hadn’t slept a wink, Impulse could barely stop tears of frustration from welling up in his eyes and spilling over, anxiety and anger sitting tight in his chest and making him gasp for air. 

He had lost the will and the energy to train, just barely able to pull himself out of bed and get something to eat. Not that he could even eat much anymore– food was unappetizing, and Impulse found himself eating less and less.

The other knights were more than a little concerned, particularly Pearl. She’d asked Impulse if he needed any help, or wanted to talk, or if there was anything she could do. Impulse had just shaken his head and told her it wasn’t anything she could help with.

On more than one occasion, Impulse considered going back to Cub. But something about that made every fiber of his being recoil in a mixture of fear and disgust. Impulse wasn’t sure if it was directed toward Cub, or toward himself for being so weak.

He was almost certain it was the latter.

–

Scar was definitely worried.

I mean, who wouldn’t be? His friend was clearly going through something really difficult, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. What he thought was going to work clearly wasn’t helping, and Impulse was just getting worse by the day.

…the fact that Jellie had hissed at Impulse was also cause for concern. She had never done that before– not at Impulse, or any of Scar’s friends. Only at those she deemed untrustworthy and dangerous. Honestly, Scar wouldn’t have been surprised had she hissed at him, even. He was dangerous! 

But still. The fact that Jellie had even hissed at Impulse at all wasn’t something Scar was going to take lightly. Especially not when Impulse had clearly not been himself for the past… however long it had been. Almost two weeks, maybe.

When things got a little too crazy, Scar usually ended up sitting on the ground and staring out at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes he stood up, if he was feeling a little restless. Today was one of those days where he was too restless to sit, and decided that standing was a much better option. 

It was a nice day out. Warm, with a breeze coming from the south that promised rain later that day. Scar liked the rain, but knew Grian and Pearl weren’t all too pleased. Which, fair, wings getting wet was a nightmare, but it wasn’t like they were going to melt! Now that would be scary. 

Caught up in his thoughts, Scar was too busy thinking about whether it was possible for people to melt to pay attention to the world around him. That was, until a visceral feeling of panic shot through him, and Scar tensed up. He could feel the vex magic swirl around inside him, rising up in a reactive response to the pure bloodlust coming from someone, something. 

It was right behind him. He had to– had to run there was no running no running from this you can’t escape you can’t hide– had to fight impossible you stand no chance it’s hopeless you’ve lost the minute it’s seen you you’re dead–

“Hey, Scar?”

Scar whipped around, fear striking like lightning and setting his mind ablaze with panic. Vex magic roared in his ears like a war cry, and Scar felt himself start to shift…

…when he saw Impulse standing there, exhausted and confused and too human to be able to hurt him. 

Impulse frowned, gesturing at his hair. “Uh… are you okay…?” he asked, and Scar looked up to see that his hair had just begun to turn white, though it was slowly fading back to the normal brown. 

Scar carded his fingers through his hair, trying to pull it away from his face and cover the still white strands. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, I… don’t? Know? Why that happened? I guess I just got really spooked.” Liar. And not even a good one at that.

Impulse didn’t believe him. Who would? Scar could deceive and manipulate and swindle, but he crumbled in the face of his friends. “...yeah. Uh. I just– nevermind. I’m…” He took a few steps back. “I’m gonna go.” 

Scar watched Impulse walk away, and was left with the lingering feeling that he messed something up big time. 

Which is why he found himself back at Cub’s house, later that day, as storm clouds gathered over the sky as an omen of rain. 

“I just don’t know what it means,” he complained to Cub over a cup of tea. “I felt some weird awful feeling? But it was just Impulse, and Impulse is like… he’s Impulse!”

Cub hummed softly in thought. “I wouldn’t exactly…” He stood, walking over to his desk and picking up a book. “Do you remember the last time you were here?” he asked, sitting back down and opening the book, flipping through the pages. “I asked you to summon Jellie.”

Scar frowned, nodding. “Yeah. And she hissed at Impulse. I’ve been thinking about that, actually, and I don’t really know what it means.” 

Cub continued flipping through the pages, not looking up. “Can you summon her again?” he asked absentmindedly, “I’d like to see something.”

Scar summoned Jellie, and she curled up in his lap, purring happily. He looked up at Cub, who was staring at Jellie with a contemplative gaze. “She’s perfectly fine now,” he explained, “it’s just…”

“Just around Impulse? Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’ve been seeing.” Cub stopped flipping through the pages of the book, fixing his glasses on his nose before running his finger down the text. “Has Impulse been acting odd recently?” he asked. “How about animals? Have they been reacting poorly to his presence? Nervous, wary…?”

Scar thought back through the past two weeks. “...now that you mention it, yeah. It… the horses, they were pretty spooked when we tried to ride, and obviously Jellie…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Oh! I don’t think we mentioned this, but we kinda figured out why Impulse was feeling so restless? Or, at least, we think something’s the reason?”

Cub’s eyebrows furrowed. “Mmhm?”

“Grian saw Impulse out sleepwalking, and we’re pretty sure this has happened more than once,” Scar explained, gesturing vaguely with his hand as he spoke. “I don’t… think… anyone has mentioned it… to Impulse himself…? Which, now that I’m thinking about it, that’s kinda weird.”

Cub leaned forward. “I see, I see. Perhaps you felt an instinctual push to stay away? Something that told you that there was danger nearby?”

Scar nodded. “Yeah, exactly that!” He paused. “Wait, do you know what’s going on?” 

“Not quite.” Cub closed the book. “But I have an idea. I want you to keep an eye on Impulse for me, alright? Make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt himself. And be careful, alright? I don’t want to see you get hurt again, man.” Not when the scars from last time have just barely healed. 

“Will do, mister!” Scar gave Cub a mock salute. “I promise I will not die!” He paused. “...or let anyone else die!”

Cub laughed softly. “Alright, alright. I trust you. Best get back to camp before the storm sets in.”

Scar mounted up and rode home with the promise of rain lingering on his mind.

–

Impulse was upset. 

And not the kind of upset that came from a slight mishap, or something inconsequential like a match not lighting the first time it was struck against the rough side of the matchbox. It was the kind of upset that began with one thing going wrong, which led to another, which led to another, and became an infinite loop of things not being right.

And he was almost certain of who was to blame, too.

“What are you doing,” he practically spat out through grit teeth and barely held back tears, “why is this happening? You didn’t– I wasn’t told about this. You lied.” 

Impulse, please. Control yourself. I told you that the magic folk don’t mix too well. As I’ve grown stronger, so has my presence. It’s only natural they’d be able to sense me, even if I hadn’t done anything. 

“But you did do something,” Impulse pressed, “that’s the thing. You let them know you were there! You–!” He shuddered at the mental image of Scar, hair streaked with white and eyes glowing ever so slightly blue. “You hurt my friends.”

I did nothing. You decided to stick around them. 

“I…” Impulse trailed off, not knowing how to respond. Glancing around the tent, something caught his eye– the book, left unread and opened, thrown into the corner of the tent and forgotten. “Well, you’re clearly not giving me the answers I need,” he began slowly, “so I guess I have to find them on my own.” He reached for the book. 

Ahhhh. I’m afraid this is where I must draw the line. 

And Impulse

couldn’t

move.

With a voice that swelled loud enough to need to be silenced, the demon spoke. Forgive me, but I am afraid that I can’t let you read that book. 

Impulse could do nothing but watch as his body moved on its own, puppeted by an outside force he had so stupidly allowed inside. He picked up the book and stood, stepping outside and looking around to make sure no one was nearby. With a gait that was not his own, Impulse began walking towards the area where the knights had their occasional campfire.

He couldn’t move. He was completely helpless. There was nothing he could do except watch and he was so scared, he was so scared and he should’ve asked Scar for help he should’ve reached out he–

Impulse– no, this wasn’t him, this was the demon– finally made it to the campfire, and found the box of matches the knights used to light their fires in a small chest. “Perfect,” the demon murmured in his voice, and pulled out a pile of the old newspapers placed in the chest for kindling. 

The first few drops of rain began to fall, and Impulse bitterly thought of how poetic that was. Almost like the sky was crying for him, as if it even cared for him at all. Maybe it was a feeble attempt from the universe at an apology, for forgetting about him all these years.

The demon struck the match, failing to light it on the first strike. It burst into flame on the second attempt, and was tossed into the kindling. The flames took to the paper splendidly, and were soon licking up the wood. Wood that had been used in the past for the campfires all the knights sat around to chat and laugh and be happy.

Impulse could only watch as the demon used him to toss the book into the flames, which burned defiantly against the rain that began to fall more heavily.

And with that, the last of his hope burned away with it.

[foxxology]

You know there are a lot of things to love about the new It Spreads chapter, but it’s all about the details for me.

Everyone freaking out about Ren attacking Grian, only for him to just tilt his head out of the way like it’s nothing (and still losing a sculk thingy)

Pearl straight up getting in front of Grian while Scar pulls his bow. Protective friends!

Ren calling Cleo a Puppet Witch and her face + “What the FUCK did you just say to me” + Scar and Bdubs’ shocked faces in the background (Ren knows he messed up).

Grian also getting hit with the potions by proxy, but shaking it off.

The look at me with the Watcher eyes, I assume they are not aware Grian is a Watcher (or more like were), but even then only X saw (also Pearl immediately figuring out when the Watchers took him.

The entire explaination for code and corruption and how Grian came to take Ren’s code also the blank people not having any code, but Cleo and Joe do.

Bonus points for Scar’s hand trembling in the background and then Scar snapping at Grian about how dangerous it is (backstory 👀?) also, he still does not look happy about it when everyone decides to help Grian fix it.

Just the guilt. It’s good angst.

GRABS YOU AND SHAAAAAAAKES YOU!!!!!!!!!!! /POS

I cannot express how happy it makes me when people look at and understand all the details ive been plopping in this comic <3

I think youre one of the only people who's brought up the thing about Scar in the last page!

This is the look of a man who is far too familiar with this kind of scenario and its bringing up bad memories

[sapphia]

so recently, scar has gotten good at minecraft. like, really good. if you watch his old stuff, it doesn't take much to see that scar's strengths generally used to lie outside of the actual, run-around-without-dying-especially-on-a-pvp-server level of play. and that's fine, it wasn't his jig, and the people he's playing with really are very good and very experienced at this sort of play. so it never needed to be something that scar was good at because his fanbase mostly watched him for other reasons, so that just wasn't something he needed to be able to do.

but for a while now, especially noticeable over the life series, he's been rapidly improving at the sorts of particular skills that the life smp server values (and also certain skillsets involved in MCC, too). The water bucket clutches spring to mind, as well as the hot-guy stuff that make him such a lethal force with a bow. (It's honestly a shame that life smp doesn't have elytra -- he regularly one-shots people from the air on hermitcraft, and it's a fantastic bit.)

And it's just so good to see because like... he didn't have to go and do that! he went and practiced those skills, and got good at them, and then came and showed them off. and it was awesome, but also he made it so creative and entertaining, and he really didn't have to do any of it at all if he hadn't wanted to. people don't play on life smp because they're good at the technical elements of the game. more than anyone else, scar's particular shenanigans and the energy he brings to the server are what make him a great fit for the series. there are plenty of players on life smp who aren't great PVPers but who get by on politicking, or scheming, or storytelling, or just generally being a good time to be around, and each of them makes the smp tick and are valuable in their own way.

not to mention that life smp is made up of such a wonderful group of human beings that they'll do whatever it takes for you to fit in. to make your thing, and your particular energy and abilities, a part of of the series. to make it that you aren't hampered by your abilities and handicaps, whatever they may be. when skizz dies early on to some early misfortune in limited life, people are pretty clearly aware that he's one of the weaker players and it might impede his ability to have a full series. but don't worry, because half the server are tripping over themselves to give him their time and lives and totems and to swear undying oaths of fealty to protect him at all costs. grian, martyn, tango, literally every one of the ties - not to mention everyone who stood around and watched as skizz killed tango - all are working together and giving up things, valuable things, to make sure this one player gets to keep time on the server, and therefore time on the series, just because that's who they are. that's what the server is. friends, playing together.

i'm sure that's also why grain stuck with scar in the first series: to make it fair. they want everyone to have a good time. To be able to do their own thing, whatever that thing is you bring to the server, be it your insane PVP skills or trying to scam players by selling them magic crystals.

which is a long way of saying: scar was under no obligation whatsoever to get good at these player-skill-based elements of minecraft. but it's wonderful that he did! he really said, "look, i know you all think i'm a walking disaster, but i need you to know, it's not because i'm bad at the game. it's because i'm me." and then he went and got crazy good at archery (well, okay, crazy good at one very specific archery move, but also pretty damn good at shooting things overall! and at flying!) and he started parkouring around a bunch and now he's mastered waterbucket clutches (and what a fucking display he got to show off in double life, too) and just all around Got Good at the things that he wasn't previously that good at.

and the best thing was that he's still such an irreverent force of chaos that it hasn't even mattered. he's still just as lethal to himself through his own terrible decisions and random lack of awareness or foresight. or even just his own desire to fun, no matter what. the man really went into a hardcore server and said alright, i'm gonna build my base up high enough to definitely kill me, and also make it out of trap doors, and oh grians here, oops i'm sure that won't go wrong. and then he went and died to his elytra failing. that's just the most scar thing I've ever seen. you can't even fault him because grain also died on that server. only joel properly made 100 hours and there's no surprises there, joel is insanely good. so its no mark against scar that he died. but how he plays it, it's just so him.

and you wouldn't have it any other way because this is why we watch him. he's entertaining because he's totally unpredictable and also predictable and good and bad and competent and incompetent all at the same time. he will waterbucket-clutch INTO an impossible situation to save a bunch of useless pandas that were almost definitely going to die and he'll get away with it. and then also he will die by setting off a trap he's trying to very obviously lure others into. yes also he fell into a pit of zombies, what of it? it's just scar and his wacky hijinks. will he die? lets find out!

scar really said the only thing holding me back is me, and then proved it.

[theminecraftbee]

also i think i'm going to make the final lineup for the school rescue committee as follows (with the actual mythological/legendary/literary figures for each persona being a thing i'm willing to take suggestions on; they're all meant to be famous lovers/members of pairs, though, to fit with the theme of this persona game being 'bonds between people'):

joel: our protagonist and wildcard, he is whatever the party needs him to be, as is typical for a persona protagonist. his first persona, however, is still pygmalion (and is the only one i have strong design opinions on; if there's ANY opportunity to make empires references...) uses knives.

skizzleman: physical damager. also has agi skills but he's in the vein of like, chie junpei or ryoji, in that he mostly just gets those to make battles a little easier early on, and he REALLY should only be doing damage with heavy physical skills. i'm sure this doesn't have a self-sacrifice metaphor in it at all. has enkidu as his persona. uses brass knuckles.

scar: early-game magic user, largely focused on magic and status ailments, although he gets some healing too (largely because he had to when it was just him and grian, is the implication; once another healer joins the team it becomes abundantly clear that the correct tactical move with scar is to use him as a magical nuke and ailment setter). leaning towards majnun for his persona. uses bows.

grian: dark and light skills, with a particular focus on instakills. i think he's the "balanced" earlygame party member, with an equal spread of physical and magic skills and fairly even stats... which ironically makes him good earlygame, but much worse lategame. he's probably a little fine with that, though. his persona is signy. uses lances.

impulse: our party healer! gets zio skills. not too much to say about him, his stat spread is "party healer", just mentioning its a little unusual he joins late as the party healer. i am REALLY UNCERTAIN with him for what his persona should be; for some reason my brain is offering "odette" but i'm not sure i can justify it. uses axes.

mumbo: NAVIGATOR! mumbo is the navigator. he's like, trying his best, man. also not much to say here, a navigator is a navigator. his persona is ariadne.

gem: a late-game powerhouse and bufu user, as well as the late-game guy who comes in and gets almighty skills. she's focused on pure damage i think, but also gets a number of interesting buff skills maybe? i'm picturing her in the same general combat archetype as like, naoto, for the record. her persona is atalanta. uses swords.

and i THINK that makes the entire magical mountain crew, for the entirety of the school rescue association!

[definitelynotshouting]

so a while ago i had planned to rewrite my fic everything i loved and feared for stylistic purposes, but ended up deciding to leave it as is and never went through with that beyond the first scene. Since i dont plan on doing anything else with this, here is the scene i did rewrite!! Hope you guys like it :]

CWs: graphic violence, graphic injury, suicide, temporary major character death

Love, Scar finds, is the exact shade of blood in the water.

A thin line of it beads from his shoulder down to his wrist, clouding as it sluices past the surface tension of the pond he stands in. Inky ribbons trail from each drop; they ripple outward to form a slinking barrier between him and the honed edge of Grian's sword, coiling thin and wispy around their ankles. Love is what saturates the smears of that diamond blade, the tattered edges of Grian's sweater, the final life pulsing bright and sacred in Scar's chest; love is the heady fog billowing through his veins as he kneels, one bare knee sinking into the silt, and bows his head to the oncoming storm.

But Grian's scarlet eyes, scorching and incensed, eclipse it all.

They pulse with the brazen fire of a solar prominence; the color has molded to his irises, slotting into place with such clean precision that it hemorrhages over Scar's memories, staining the echo-impression of Grian's gaze. Gorgeous is too pale a word to raise against the righteous, trembling fury he vibrates with now. The urge to reach past that diamond line, reel Grian in by the collar, and kiss him until nothing remains of them except one tangled corpse is a siren's song that howls inside Scar's chest.

Here, lying in the fractures of his calculated betrayal, the die is cast, and Scar comes out smiling.

"You can kill me," he says. The syllables tangle in his throat, too disjointed with the rolling, frothing tension boiling inside him. "Grian. You can kill me.”

Above him, an avenging angel falters. Grian's sword, still streaked with the proof of Scar's adoration, lowers by a single fraction. "What? No—"

“For everything you did to me,” Scar continues past him, lungs shivering with the cost of this victory, “to keep me alive this long— you may slay me, and take the enchanter.”

Gold flakes splay across the surface of the pond, scintillating outward as Scar bends at the waist; water brushes his forehead in cool benediction, in cruel, unrelenting curse. This baptism is Scar's holy scourge: Grian will win. It is both the most and least Scar can do for him.

When Grian speaks, his voice is small. “No— no, I can’t. I literally can’t. Scar—”

"Do it," Scar urges into the water. Between scattered refractions his own face peers back at him, a wavering mirror to manic triumph— all the love in the world has led to this crescendoing melody in his gut: the braying war horns, the bark of crashing cymbals, the bellow of ancient pipes. Strung at the seams within this orchestra, he teeters with bated breath on the edge of one final encore.

Instead, all that reigns around them is miserable silence.

A sharp inhale, cracking through the clearing with firework-precision. "I'm not—" Grian starts, and chokes on it, the words stumbling to an abrupt halt in his throat. Scar's neck snaps up; Grian's sword-grip has loosened, fingers lax around the hilt as his free hand flinches to one temple. It hovers there, pale and trembling, his eyes trained on the middle-distance.

A beat. Clarity is a stark, cold glow unspooling in Grian's pupils. “The spectators want a fight,” he says. His voice rings hollow.

Scar gentles his in turn, snaking it around Grian's shoulders with careful, insistent pressure. “It’s okay, G," he breathes. "You can kill me. You can be the winner.”

Grian's expression is a severed nerve, flayed open to the rising sun. Around them, liquid honey dribbles between boughs, landing dizzy and sincere at their feet. They brush the tips of Grian's hair, set fire to the thin, damp strands curling around his ears. Checkmate is the process of capturing your opponent's king with no hope of escape; shadowed in Grian's glowing silhouette, Scar bows, and offers his defeat with both hands self-shackled.

Check, and mate.

Slow— so slow he can track each individual movement— Grian shakes his head. A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Scar, they want blood." New waves bloom out from his shaking stance; adrenaline has retracted its claws, leaving nothing but the thin garrote between passion, violence, and mourning.

Scar is shaking as well. Even in this, they are together.

Grian's lips twist in an abrupt, fragile smile. "Scar," he says, sword once again rising in its clean, prismatic arc. Scar tracks the way light sparkles off it, throwing pale blue echoes against the trunks of nearby trees. "No matter what happens, we can claim this as a double victory. Right?”

The words are a cool balm against fevered skin. Scar sinks into them, eyes drifting shut; even now, through the mounting, cacophonic thrum in his veins, past the shivering gooseflesh of soaked skin, to look Grian in the eyes when he kills him would be blasphemy. "Yeah," he breathes, bracing for the blow, the diamond cut against his carotid. "We're good."

Air whistles with the surge of a starving blade—

— and the sharp, heavy schlck of pierced flesh not his own reverberates through the clearing instead. Grian's choked-off cry ends in an ugly, gurgling yelp; Scar's eyes fly open just in time for Grian's knees to meet the water, scattering a thousand, dazzling droplets in every direction.

Between Grian's hands is the glittering diamond of his own sword, buried inches at an upward angle into the soft meat above his belly. Rivulets of blood bubble from cuts in his palms where they clench halfway up that razor edge; even as dark stains spread to saturate his sweater, Grian's lips peel back in a feral snarl, and he shoves the wobbling blade in deeper.

"You—" Grian's gasps are ragged, hands slipping along the edges as the sword sinks another wet, squelching inch— "win, Scar. You win."

And with the same, ponderous sway of a toppling tower, Grian collapses into the bloody water.

Hazy exultation cleaves itself from Scar's mind in one savage swoop, submerging his entire body in ice. If he screams, the sound fails to breach his ears– one moment he's kneeling, dumb and shell-shocked, and the next he's scrabbling forward on hands and knees through the shallows between them, catching Grian by the arm before his head can plunge below water.

Scar hauls him sideways into his arms. A strangled noise punches out of Grian in response— the high, staticked whine of a wounded animal, shivering through Scar's chest. The blade buried in his gut jars with the motion, carving another, ragged line into the pallid flesh beneath. Fresh copper blooms in a cloud around them, swelling in Scar's nose.

“Grian— Grian, no." Scar's hand stretches of its own volition, hovering over the keen edges of Grian's sword. Halts just shy of ripping it back out— that will only kill him faster. "Wait, wait, wait— no. No, no, no, no, no. Grian.”

This isn't right— the bright, earnest rays of the sun have missed their mark, slipping past Scar's death to gild Grian in stunning, flagrant gold. “What are you doing?” he chokes, heart a helpless stutter in the back of his throat.

Grian was meant to win. Not this.

Never this.

“They never said what kind of blood,” Grian rasps, lips wobbling. Each breath is a bubbling wheeze as he struggles for air. “I can’t— I couldn’t, Scar. I couldn’t kill you.” When he coughs, his stomach convulses; Grian's voice cuts off into a breathless scream before falling back into muted pants. Eyes squeezed shut, Grian grits out: "Sorry."

Scar's fingers catch in the soaked strands of Grian's hair, petting it down with clumsy, panicked motions. “No you’re not,” he whispers. Beneath his chest an abscessed, answering wound unravels, howling in tune to Grian's shallow gasps. “You did that on purpose. Grian, you were supposed to win.”

Every card had been folded for this. Each die weighed in the well of his palm, every trick tugged out from beneath his sleeve; a barren world with no one in it isn't a world Scar can survive, and he'd pieced that together between sheets and shared pulses, windswept sky and sunburnt sand. Maybe it had been selfish… but Scar is selfish— with the last, grasping selfishness of a man devoted, his loyalty a warm, gushing sacrifice caught between grit teeth.

“You weren’t supposed to die,” Scar wails, shifting until his spine bows, forehead brushing Grian's. Stocky fingers spasm under his own; Grian's short breaths puff against the chapped skin of his lips, fanning over his cheeks. “Grian— how could you?”

Beneath him, Grian's lips twist in a wry grin. This close, Scar can make out the faded remnants of freckles marching across his face; counting them had always been a fantasy. Now he'll never have the chance. “Guess I’m just not cut out to be a winner,” Grian murmurs, winces, and drags one bloodied hand up to rest against Scar's jaw.

He doesn't bother saying I love you. Instead, he guides Scar to close the gap between them, fingers fumbling at the nape of Scar's neck. Grian's lips are bitten raw, trembling as he capture Scar's own, and for a moment they are two jagged breaths; the slide of salt on Scar's tongue; copper-stained fingers falling limp–

Scar bolts upright, choking on his own anguished scream.

[autisticmao]

GENRE: neutral - zombie apocalypse hinted au

FEATURED: joel

WARNINGS: mentions of death, ooc, indefinite ending

PROMPT: etho stays with joel in his lasting moments before turning. (spoilers: he doesn't actually turn here... sad sigh. if only i could complete this-)

WORD COUNT: unknown, this is a tumblr only oneshot, so- (id say around 300-500 if estimated though.)

"You know there's no turning back, right?"

"Do you mean that literally or-"

"You know what I mean, Joel." Etho frowns from where he sat on the other side of the wooden cabin, eyes casting in a shadow of worry as he reeled his focus onto the other, interrupting the other male from his jokes. Usually, he wouldn't mind his jokes. Joel's jokes were like a sparkling star across the infinite sky, but with the situation that the two of them were both in right now... Etho just couldn't quite handle it.

To put it quite simply, a zombie apocalypse broke out, and death mauled most of the population of humanity to the grounds. No one knew how the situation came to be or why the apocalypse is such a thing to happen right then. It was a literal moment of expecting the unexpected. There's no such thing as impossible moments in the world.

"Geez... I miss the others." Joel bows his head for a moment.

Etho's ears perk with attention, brows furrowing with. "Now you say that? After laughing and calling everybody 'weak' from dying? What made you change your mind, Joel?"

"Not like that! My mind is still settled in the same way as before! I... miss... the chaos."

"Of course you do." Etho bows his head down for a moment with a sigh.

"Well, I mean... the way that Grian died was kind of funny, don't you think? I mean the way he-"

"Joel!" His voice echoes beyond the cabin, Joel stops in the middle of his sentence and winces at Etho's shout as he whispered out a quick apology not long after.

Silence covers the duo in the cabin with slow paced time. Invisible ticking was made, and every second was wasted on useless breaths.

"Can you at least remind me why I am tied up to this chair, then?" Joel suddenly asked after a minute had gone by, his figure writhed at the uncomfortable wooden chair he was forced to sit on, rope that still had some strength within itself wrapped tightly around him, latching him to the chairs surface. He wanted to get up and walk about, maybe kill some zombies, he doesn't know. Just anything that could get him moving.

Etho peeked. "You... don't remember?" They were just talking about precautions ten minutes previously, Etho tuts silently to himself.

A noise of confusion emits from Joel's lips as he then knocks his head to the side, "not exactly. Am I supposed to?"

The ashen haired male frowns at the one with umber eyes, now realising the details of his state. His skin was turning a horrid colour. Joel's umber shaded glance was dulling within quick minutes, and he seemed to be fidgeting more and more as time went. He really wished, for just once, that time would stop pushing the days forward. He's already lost plenty of his friends. He can't lose Joel, too.

Maybe his state is the reason why he's so hyper, wishing for fun upon those who are dead, Etho thought sharply to himself in his mind.

Hesitancy stringed his tongue to the bottom of his mouth, unsure whether he should tell Joel the truth or not. If he said the words out loud, it would only bring the reality closer to his heart than Etho wanted.

But with the glance he was being given by Joel... it was like as though lying was never an option for him. Lying wasn't a meaning of words to use by him. Only the truth existed.

His lips part as he spoke, letting his empty mind take control as his vocal cords worked along with it.

"You're infected, Joel."

//that line isn't the ending, i am just not sure how to end this oneshot, and i want this out of my drafts already. please take it with kindness. i am so drained of life right now, heh... ♡