#he feels like he should be doing more to ‘save’ etho and bring him back even though he was to

[shepscapades]

Hey! i’m really into the dbch story and i was wondering if doc and xisuma ever tell bdubs the specifics of why etho lost his memories, cause if they do that is prime self blaming angst for bdubs

I’m inclined to believe they don’t. Actually (and maybe I should do a small comic for this so more people see it) I imagine, once a month or a few pass and they finally return etho to bdubs as reset, I imagine they are VERY serious about warning bdubs not to try to force Etho to re-deviate— they don’t go into specifics, but they probably tell bdubs that whatever happened had to do with something that was emotionally overwhelming, and that forcing him to redeviate/not letting it happen naturally could trigger the same error. They have no idea what could happen so bdubs needs to be very careful and let Etho find himself again on his own.

Whether or not bdubs gets impatient or can only go so long before he doubts it would be that bad if he tried pushing Etho in the right direction is another story.

But yeah. I don’t think Xisuma or Doc really… tell anyone that this happened. Etho’s error seemed like a very specific one-off scenario, so it’s not something the other hermits should be trying to avoid or be careful about happening to their own android friends, and the only thing telling people would do is make them worried about the situation. All they need to know is that etho was broken and that they need to be careful with him. I don’t agree with their decision to keep what happened to themselves but I understand it I think. Xisuma “i don’t want to worry the hermits” Void and Docm “eh this isn’t the first time I’ve replaced this arm, people won’t question it” 77

[hmshermitcraft]

Etho isn't fae. Like actually, no tricks or puzzles or anything, he's a human guy just trying to get through this semester. Unfortunately his college is by The Woods and fae hunters and paranormal experts keep trying to Track Him Down or something. He can't get any peace!!

So no, he's not fae, what he is, is autistic and homeless. So all the strange social rules that fae follow and adhere to and the "lurking in the woods past any time people should be out" are explained with supernatural bullshit and not explained with the failure of the economic system and disability. He's got some weird texture stuff too, wind on his skin feels like knives and pins and needles so he wears a mask and covers up even when it's hot just to avoid the hell that is Air Movement.

He's currently squatting in an old abandoned bomb shelter from the ww2 days in the woods behind campus, he showers at the gym and eats for free with his meal voucher, it's honestly not too terrible. Yes the temperature control is shit but he'd rather be here than in a shelter somewhere, another failure of society he thinks.

Anyway, one day he's followed "home". The man's got a camera and is hell bent on "exposing the fae of the woods" or whatever. Etho didn't realize he was being followed, the man was sneaky and Etho had been on the edge of completely melting down for about 6 hours so he didn't think to check his back.

Bdubs kicks down the door to the shelter, not finding something unknown to the human eye and instead finding Etho, sat on the ratty couch that came with the place, shoveling plain crackers down his gullet by the light of a battery powered camping lamp.

Bdubs screams, Etho screams, Bdubs tries to run and instead smacks face first into the concrete doorframe, Etho laughs at him, they make introductions over a bloody nose and stale crackers, bdubs puts the camera away.

"what do you know about the fae of the woods?" Bdubs asks after a minute

"I am the fae of the woods, people are more comfortable with the thought of a supernatural being than the crisis of homelessness"

"dude."

Bdubs starts visiting after that, they explore the deeper areas of the bunker with a flashlight more powerful than Etho's lamp, he's stayed in the main room this whole time so the inner areas of his house are unknown to both of them. Bdubs can't solve Etho's problems but he can keep him company and bring him apple juice and a new pillow.

Bdubs clears his name at school too, saying that the "fae" was just a hungry raccoon or something. Without the rumors floating around school gets better and he and Bdubs get closer over the summer.

Junior year Bdubs gets a double with someone who dropped out the first week, it's already paid for and nobody else is gonna use it so Etho moves in. Bdubs gets him a bedspread and toiletries and even a stuffed bear full of beans, the weight is nice after a long day. With a stable housing situation Etho is able to get a job on campus, they go shopping together and Bdubs calls it a date more than once. Etho, now equipped with comfortable clothes, climate control and lots of feelings about his friend, asks Bdubs if he wants to go to Panera bread with him, as a date. You know, like boyfriends would.

They push their beds together a few months later and by graduation they move into a little apartment. Being the Fae of the Woods was horrible but it did end up getting Etho his husband, so. Upsides, y'know?

-s (who is so sick and tired of being Othered and seen and something to be avoided cause of disability. i'm projecting, can u tell?)

Bdubs likes to joke that he did expose the Fae of the woods... Just as a big softie that blushes every time Bdubs holds his hands! Etho whacks him, before hiding his face in Bdubs' shoulder like that'll save him.

There was a point that Etho didn't think he'd have his own space to decorate - nevermind somebody to share it with. Now, he can make it perfect. Acoustic cork panels on the walls, a weighted blanket at the bottom of the bed. Temperature that he's able to control! And surrounded by all of Bdubs' plants, and Bdubs himself. He doesn't think he could ask for anything more.

[fremedon]

Brickclub 5.15.4, “Five Less, One More”

Oh god this chapter.

Okay. Taking things in no good order:

I love Enjolras so much here, even though he doesn’t do a lot in this chapter. His original order to leave is given “with an almost angry tremor,” which is I think the most displeasure we ever see him express verbally.

And it’s not obeyed. When he advised sleep, we were told his advice was an order and yet was not obeyed; here, we get

Enjolras, the man of principle, had over his coreligionists the sort of omnipotence that emanates from the absolute. Still, notwithstanding this omnipotence, there was a murmur.

Leader to the tips of his fingers, Enjolras, seeing that they murmured, insisted.

To no avail. Enjolras is the leader of the barricade, but he is arguing from reason and not authority; it takes his logos, Marius’s ethos--the appeal to authority as the barricade’s savior--and Combeferre’s considerable pathos to make the insurgents willing to accept the plea to save who can be saved. But at that point, when the only question left is deciding who will go--

“Citizens,” continued Enjolras, “this is the Republic, and universal suffrage reigns. You yourselves choose who ought to go.”

They obeyed. In a few minutes five were unanimously designated and left the ranks.

The one order of Enjolras’s that’s ever obeyed, and of course it’s the one to adopt universal suffrage.

There is a short moment, while Enjolras and Combeferre are fetching the uniforms, where he might have told Combeferre about the old woman in the Rue de Cygne. Combeferre says Enjolras told him “just now.” If he actually did--if he’d noticed and thought to bring it up--it certainly does underscore an evolution towards valuing human connection, which after all is his personal arc and this scene is where we see that.

And yet.

It’s such a weird a random detail, and I can only make sense of it in three ways:

1.) Enjolras is more shaken than he can let on in public, hasn’t had time to process any of the feelings we just saw him stuff back inside last chapter, and alone with his second-in-command has babbled randomly in the way we saw Combeferre doing while he was gone. I would like to this explored in a fic, but it doesn’t feel hugely likely.

2.) The old woman was the mother of one of them--possibly/probably Combeferre himself--and he knew that and brought it up for that reason. I have seen this explored in fic, but it also doesn’t feel all that likely.

3.) Combeferre is just lying. Which seems likeliest.

Combeferre’s last speech was all over the place, and the rest of his dialog at the barricade will be equally scattershot--rhetorically and morally. But here, embodying some of the the book’s hardest questions, he finds its moral center and his, and the result is one of the best-crafted pieces of rhetoric in the entire book. It’s believable as an off-the-cuff speech--emotional, circular, picking a topic and spiraling. He describes the plight of their bereaved elders in affecting but not graphic terms; zooms back to general principles and spirals in deeper on the fates of young women, describing prostitution in specific but not graphic details; zooms back out and spirals back in on the plight of children with the story of the young orphan that just. keeps. going, through want, through sickness, through death, and ends on the dissection table. It’s a tour de force. (Do people do this as an audition piece? Someone should do this as an audition piece.)

In the middle of it, there’s that jarring line, “My friends, there is a tomorrow--you won’t be here for that tomorrow, but your families will.” Hearing Combeferre’s certain faith in the future turned into a warning, or a threat, always gives me shivers. There will be a tomorrow; what we do today has consequences.

This is the moment at which Combeferre has his greatest moral clarity, both at the barricade and in the book--as @everyonewasabird has pointed out, he’s looking through to the book’s beginning and seeing Fantine here. But it’s also his moment of greatest hypocrisy--he’s been a hypocrite since he picked up a weapon, but the text specifically reminds us, at the end of his speech, that his own mother is living, and he is choosing to abandon her. Like Enjolras, like all of them, his mother is the republic--but he’s not about to let anyone forget their mortal mothers, either, or the consequences for them.

Or for their children. Prouvaire’s last words were “long live the future,” and Combeferre reminds us of what that means, in practical terms, and how useless it is to die for the abstract future while damning the embodied one. He equates a chosen death at the barricade, for those insurgents with children and the ability to leave for their sakes, with abandonment:

"Suicides like the one that is about to take place here are sublime, but suicide has a narrow compass that is not to be broadened. And as soon as it affects your family, suicide is murder.” 

We’ve been arguing over whether Marius would have taken Cosette with him in his search for death. It seems like the barricade has already burnt that capacity out of him:

Despair, too, has its ecstasy. Marius had reached that stage. It was as if he were watching everything from the outside. As we said, things happening right in front of him seemed to him far away. He could get a sense of the overall picture but he could not see any details. He saw people coming and going through a blazing brightness. He heard voices speaking as if from the bottom of a pit.

However, he was moved by this. This scene had a point to it that pierced even him and roused him. He had only one thought now, to die, and he did not want to be distracted from it. But in his morbid somnambulism he thought that in going to his doom there was no ban on saving someone else.

Good for Marius. I mean that unironically, good for him--that is literally not something that might have occurred to him earlier, and now it has. (And also, hoo boy Hugo is sure writing from experience there about the somatic experience of traumatic dissociation.)

Because, in the race to the bottom between him and Valjean of who can be the most utterly oblivious--Valjean has listened to at least the end of this speech, possibly the entire thing. And he appears, and gives his uniform to save the fifth man--averting that fatal number four--without having so much as left Cosette a note.

Valjean’s self-destruction has swerved enough that he’s here to save Marius, even if he doesn’t know it yet. And by a miracle, he will--but he could so, so easily have left Cosette entirely alone, with no idea how to retrieve her fortune and knowing no one else in the world except one servant and maybe the portress.

[redorich]

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them. 

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

[its-rael]

I was going to wait until I had finished doing all the concept sketches for this but uh, I’m lazy so here take it as it is I’ll keep adding surely surely.

-LONG POST-

AU where the hermits fall into the boatem hole with no way to fly out because of some event that happens - maybe an apocalypse, maybe everyone just goes apeshit, who knows - and they all get messed up heads from falling in the void and passing out n fun stuff like that. They ‘land’ - idk how this would work without them dying lol - in a semi futuristic city which for now let’s just call it Boateqm (silent q). The hermit crabs would also fall at different rates therefore appear in the city at different times. So where do they end up?

Hospital gang:

Etho wakes up in a hospital bed with no memories - most of them will wake up with no memories btw - his doctor/nurse (this hospital may be understaffed) Tango asks him a bunch of questions then has to go see another patient. Etho is seen by a certain Bdubs who had just finished visiting his buddy Scar -will get to him next- in the bed next door. Bdubs walks back to notify Scar, a fashion designer, that the guy in the bed across would make a great model, just look at the striking hair! And the red eye! He opens the curtains on the side and Scar gets a look. He asks if Etho would like to be hired. Etho is to say the least very confused and on the verge of a panic attack that never quite seems to happen so he’s in a weird kind of limbo anyway it is now that his doctor/nurse Tango comes back and having overheard the conversation suggests it would be a good idea. The hospital can only take custody of Etho for so long, might as well start earning money now so he doesn’t become homeless. Etho is still very confused. So Tango just agrees to the job for him as his caretaker lol, and besides Scar comes here kinda often so Tango trusts him. Anyway Etho’s true passions he discovers are synthesisers, breeding horses with Bdubs and finding elaborate ways to do tax evasion. A simple man.

Scar is in the hospital because he got SCAR (hehe) from walking into a glass door in his super fancy house, which he owns because he’s a super fucking rich fashion designer of his own label Scara (this is not the first time he’s walked into a glass door). Scar refuses to go to a rich people hospital tho cause 1) he cares about healthcare and wants more funds to go to lower grade hospitals 2) Tango is his mate, and needs a goddam raise. But yeah, very successful, ran for mayor once but someone really didn’t like that which resulted in another hospital visit. Mans in the wars. One hospital visit he got really inspired by the fabric and stuff there so he had a line of clothes that were hospital inspired one time, in turn making hospital inspired garb very trendy for a bit. What a mad lad. Ideas man. Some would call him a genius if he didn’t keep on walking into glass doors n shit. Scar woke up in the back room of a small tailoring shop owned by a nice old couple who took him under their wing. He thanks them in every award speech, and whenever he’s in the area make sure to stop by and give them presents. His side hobby is gardening.

When Tango came to, he was lying on the footpath of a quiet street in the suburbs just out from the main city. Gorgeous day, golden hour, pretty houses, very aesthetic. He also had a leg injury, fuck. So Tango did what anyone would do: hobbled to the nearest house, asked in the nicest way he could under a lot of stress (so he kinda yelled) for a first aid kit, and performed surgery on himself atop the nice families dinner table. The nice family turned out to have called the police and an ambulance, who showed up just as Tango was wrapping up his leg with a bandage and took him away to the police on a stretcher. This debacle got him a leading story on the local newspaper: ‘Man performs surgery on himself after waking up with no memories and a leg injury’. After being questioned by the police, they decide they can’t really charge someone with amnesia and no money with anything like breaking and entering (he did knock and they did let him in) or property damage (blood on the carpet). The paramedics are stunned at his surgery, so they tell the police to take him to the nearest hospital and get him hired there, he could save so many lives. He gets hired by the head doctor after an examination of the surgery. The head doctor doesn’t really care that Tango doesn’t have any records or anything, the hospital is understaffed and Tango seems like an Angel sent down from the heavens to him. Tango is very very good at his job. So good that he gets offered a job at a far better paying hospital which he takes, then soon drops because he prefers the chaos of his old job much better.

Tango found Impulse extremely dehydrated, looking like death, wandering outside his flat one night, so he carried the man inside and saved his life. Now they are flat mates, and Impulse works in a tech store - an upgrade from working at a service station previously.

Bdubs woke up in an inner city park at night, homeless, broke, and in the company of other homeless and broke people. He built his way to success, got luckily hired by some rich asshole to mow their lawns plural - the rich asshole didn’t ask much questions, he just saw a poor man criticising the way a park had been landscaped to an old guy in a caravan and though it was good enough, seeing as the last one quit - and Bdubs didn’t mind too much, because the rich assholes property was really gorgeous. Once Bdubs was able to say he had work experience and wasn’t homeless he started babysitting the kids in the neighbourhood, pretty good money. Plus the kids love him, and everyone he meets loves him, he's just a nice guy. He met Scar because he had to purchase a suit for a kids birthday party, so he went to the cute little tailors shop he always walked past on the way to his favourite cute little gardening supplies shop. By now Bdubs had been promoted to part time gardener - the job is shared - and started working on and off at a building firm. They become besties, turns out Scar is also really into gardening etc etc. Eventually Bdubs becomes an architect, mainly designing for city contractors n such but occasionally designer homes, like the one he did for Scar.

Mumbo and Grian wake up in the hospital around the same time that Etho is still there, however Etho has been awake longer, and should really find a place to stay soon now that he’s got a steady job. Since - ok plot point here - the two are in the exact situation that Etho found himself in, he starts to feel like something weird is going on. Mumbo and Grian take a lot longer to recover than Etho did, and the two become hospital bed neighbor buddies. When they finally recover Scar offers them a temporary place to stay at his house while they find work. Tango gets Impulse to put in a good word for Mumbo at his work.

Nomads:

TFC is an old man who lives in a caravan off the money he made being a very successful miner, he now collects pretty shiny rocks and gems and stuff to give to kids. He’s like an all year round caravan Santa and wise old mystical figure. Dope.

Joe is a humble man who likes to wander. He’s never had a home, but if he needs anything he’ll go to TFC’s caravan or a homeless shelter or something. But he isn’t sad or anything, he really likes the freedom of being a simple wanderer.

Others:

Keralis is a business partner of Bdubs. Kerlalis is mega stonks. He was one of the first to land, had a big diamond in his pocket, bought shares in a company that blew up soon after and now he is really fucking rich.

Doc and Ren are the only ones who remember anything, and they arrive at the same time. Doc manages to keep his cool, but Ren loses his shit and gets thrown in a mental institution. Doc spends some time trying to get Ren out, and after a final success and laying low for a bit the two seek to bring all the hermits together.

Pearl ends up working in Bdubs building company.

Beef works in a music shop -sells records and instruments- and he starts up a record label out back after his boss retires and passes the shop onto him.

And yeah I don’t really know the other Hermits that well was hoping some of ya’ll could help me find places for them in this city :) don’t really know how to format this either so maybe some input would be nice, just wanted to get the idea out hehehe

[lord-explosion-baku]

Compromise

Yandere Alpha!Aizawa x omega!reader

Warnings: omegaverse fuckery, yandere, dark themes, very slight daddy kink, very slight breeding kink, PiNk NiPpLeS

A/N: I wrote this for a friend and that friend is me. Entirely self indulgent which is wack because usually when I write AOB shit I have the shield of it being a request up. Usually I try to stray away from describing things about skin and bodies for self-inserts, but I did a little bit for this one. Anyways, have some nasty trash

(DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT ASKING FOR MY PERMISSION)

Aizawa was a patient and experienced man. He was no stranger to having a cat he rescued off the street become reclusive in his domain— only making appearances when they needed to eat, drink, and relieve themselves, so it was not too alarming when he brought you, a criminal vigilante, back to his home and you had reacted similarly. He wasn’t worried. He figured that as an omega, he’d find you deprived and wanton sooner or later.

He understood that you needed your space. It surely had to be a bit of a culture shock to you for the first couple of days or weeks, and he certainly knew that you’d need your time to cool off after being plucked so suddenly off the streets like you were. The last thing Aizawa wanted was for you to hate him, so at first he had repressed his need to claim you immediately in order to help you acclimate to your new environment. He was fervently against forcing himself on you, even if his nature told him that it was his right.

Before you became a suitable partner, you had to be his pet. You had to be his comfortable pet.

So he left you alone in the room he’d set up for you, only hoping that you’d come out to visit him on your own accord before you fell into your first heat in your new home. Your stubborn heart never showed its face, but that wasn’t a dealbreaker for the erasure hero. If anything, your petulance stirred him. It beckoned him.

The day finally came when you had your first heat, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to it. It was only natural for Aizawa to be drawn to your room when he caught a whiff of that delectable scent, that musty aroma that was so indisputably you, that it got him hard as a rock instantaneously. Like a moth to a flame, he found and rescued you from your own aching turmoil. The alpha claimed you, and marked you, and fucked you, and loved you, until you were nothing but a messy pile of satisfied lust melded into the guest room sheets, panting and writhing and thanking him for taking very good care of you. You were soft and warm and you fit around him perfectly. You were heaven on earth, crying into his shoulder, clawing at his back, begging for him to give more, more, more, and he did, and you wailed and came for him over and over until you inevitably passed out— splayed on the bed all cute and tuckered out and his. He had been elated.

He had hoped that after the first time he mated with you, you’d be more personable. However, after the fifth heat, Aizawa had to admit that your indomitability would not be broken so easily. He figured that he was spoiling you— letting you stay hidden and alone for as long as you wanted until your heat broke and you could use him for the one thing you’d value him for as an omega. That was the thing. He was letting you use him, and though that may have made you his comfortable pet, that didn’t further your advancement into becoming a suitable partner; it just made you a spoiled princess. He just had to let you know that though a princess you may be, you were his. He’d spoil you on his own terms, and that was only after you learned who held the reigns under his roof.

Six hours had passed since he first caught your scent. You were early this month, which was a pleasant surprise. That could’ve been because of your change in diet; Aizawa had been feeding you lean meat rather than packaged protein in hopes of getting you to act a little more congenial, but that hadn’t changed your mood much. You still glared and recoiled whenever he entered the room, which was nothing compared to the storm of swears you had whirled at him while trying to claw his eyes out when he first brought you to the condo. Still, he’d prefer that you at least thanked him for feeding you and making sure you had plenty of blankets to sleep with at night.

But now that you were in heat— now that you were needy, and desperate, and hungry for an alpha, Aizawa knew that dealing with your less-than-pleasant mood would be worth it. However, this month, he would not come to your aid when he caught the first signs of you torture. He’d have you wait for however long he could stomach it

Aizawa was surprised when you finally came out to the living room.

What Aizawa was expecting was an insolent omega with a potent glower on her face— that consistent brat’s disposition. What he wasn’t expecting was that the brat was going to be wearing one of his long sleeved shirts with nothing but her panties underneath, and he didn’t expect it to be so fucking cute. Did you miss his scent? Was his shirt some sort of comfort object to you?

You were becoming such a good girl.

A sheen of your own need coated your thighs and your potent aroma wafted around the living room. It was nearly unbearable. Aizawa didn’t bother to hide the raging tent in his pants. He wanted you to know that he smelled you, that he wanted you, and that it was no mistake that you had been neglected for hours. You were being punished and you should know. He lifted a singular brow, prompting you to speak.

Instead of begging for him immediately like he expected you to, you surprised him for the second time with an accusation:

“You are being cruel.”

Your voice was hoarse, as if you’d been crying, or moaning, or both, and Aizawa loved it. The corner of his mouth twitched up and he extended his arm out, beckoning you to climb into his lap, and like an obedient little bitch, you did.

Your knees were on either side of one of his thick thighs, one of your hands were pulling pathetically at the shoulder of his shirt while the other pressed lightly to his neck. Shouta felt a shudder climb up his spine when you squeezed your legs together and he gave his own leg and experimental bump, just to watch you clench your teeth together and hiss.

You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck. Aizawa took you in, pressing his nose to your hair, relishing the mixed aroma of your shampoo, your sweat, and your pheromone. You gave out a wanton little whimper when he pressed his hand lightly to the small of your back. Aizawa bumped his leg again, and you shuddered against him, letting out the smallest sigh. Noisy baby girl.

You were everything lovely in this world— his little rose.

“Sadist,” you accused, slowly rolling your hips as you began riding his thigh. Your nails dug into his shoulder when he gave you another bump. You growled, but it was no more threatening than a hiss of a kitten.

Aizawa smirked against your hair. Even the loveliest of roses had their thorns.

“How do you figure?” He asked in a slightly mocking tone, because his true nature when he got intimate was no secret to him nor you— not that you objected to it… in the moment. “I haven’t laid a finger on you.”

He slid his large hands down your waist to your smooth, bare thighs. Your body flushed with warmth, and Aizawa could tell that you felt his cock pulsate against your leg by how your cheeks burned a deeper shade of lustful red.

“You’re… neglecting me,” you murmured into his chest.

Aizawa tutted at you and you hummed against him. It was baffling how similar you were to an actual pampered cat.

“Neglecting,” he echoed, baleful and bemused while still oddly roused by how you were trying to appeal to his alpha ethos. “Do I not bring you food when you are hungry? Water when you’re thirsty? Have I not invited you to stay with me in a loving home that you’re free to roam on your own accord only to leave you be when you choose to stay shut away in the lonely room?”

You peeled your head away and scowled down at him. Your plush lips pursed in a way that thrilled Aizawa. His eyelids grew heavy as he imagined pushing his fingers between your them while his cock plunged deep into your soaking, needy, little omega cunt. God, how he missed feeling your walls tighten around him. He thought about what it was like being inside you all the damn time, and it was torture knowing that you were a only a room away from him, and that he could have you at any time so easily, but you’d never be able to love him like he wanted you to if he commanded you to fuck him. Even now, waiting this long while he knew you’d let him in easily, but knowing he had a point to prove, was absolute torture. If patience was a virtue, Aizawa was a goddamn saint.

Trembling, you said, “you kidnapped me, actually. That’s not as loving as you might think, Eraser.”

“No, sweetheart.” Aizawa brought his hand up to your face. His thumb caressed your lips, and they parted readily for him. Your mouth wrapped around him as you hummed tentatively around his thumb. You suckled on him with buzzing warmth, trying to sway him away from having a serious conversation, because it was obvious that right now, you did not want to talk about your ‘kidnapping’; you wanted Aizawa to rut you. “I saved you.”

Aizawa pulled his thumb out of your mouth with a pop! and with the same hand, he proceeded to squeeze your cheeks together. “And you’ve not been very gracious.”

Aizawa could see a fire building up in your eyes. The carnal side of him wanted you to lash out, just so he could push you onto the floor, head down, ass up, and teach you some goddamn manners, but he had to tell himself that you needed to learn. This thought waged war against the sudden realization that his thigh was warm and wet with your lust, and that was quickly pushing the limits of his resolve. He didn’t think that you even knew you were scenting him, which might’ve made that all the more hot.

You’re hurting, he thought to himself. You’re hurting and you want him. You want to be pumped full of his seed, to be bred like a blue ribbon bitch. You want him to use you.

Aizawa could feel his blood rushing while you reached around his head to pull his hair tie out, letting his messy black mop drape over his face. Your lovely hands softly grasped his wrist and with a voice too damn sweet for your own damn good, you asked, “what do you want?”

“For you to be a good girl.”

“I— I’m here, aren’t I?” You asked, as if that would suffice. In retrospect, it would, but Aizawa wanted to be greedy with you. He wanted much more.

So he lied. “That’s not enough, princess.”

“God, please, tell me what I need to do for you to… to fuck me. This is excruciating!”

“Oh. Is my little kitten in heat?” Aizawa moved his hand from your cheeks, down to your warm neck and squeezed. “Is that why she’s finally crawled out of her hideaway?”

Aizawa grabbed the back of your head and you gasped. Your hands slid down to below your stomach, but Aizawa yanked on your hair, causing you to cry out and grasp at his arms before you could dip your treacherous hands into your ptanties. He watched as your nipples hardened harshly through his shirt that really did fit you well.

You whispered out a cute little, “yes,” as Aizawa pushed the shirt up to reveal the tender, pink tits he’d been missing for weeks. Licking his lips, Aizawa experimentally pinched one of your swollen buds between his middle and index fingers as he palmed your sore, swollen breasts. You moaned as you rubbed yourself harder onto his thigh, as if that would be enough to get you off, though it clearly wasn’t by your hushed pleas for any kind of relief. Aizawa ached. He could feel his own pre-cum dribbling out of his cock every time you barely brushed against him.

“Poor baby,” Aizawa cooed before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. Your body shook while his tongue swirled around you. You placed your hands on the top of his head and began kneading your fingertips through your hair. Aizawa groaned, the reverberations in his chest deepening, the edges of his teeth teasing your sensitive bud.

“Eraser,” you mewled, because you were a vigilante criminal first and foremost, then with another tug, you warbled out a, “daddy,” because you wanted to stir him on a crueler, more personal level, and to tip the bucket over, you knitted your fingers into the back of his head, and pleaded, “alphaahhah.”

Aizawa pulled back and growled, ripping his shirt up and off your shoulders. In nothing but your panties, your entire body flushed in either embarrassment or asoursal— possibly both. Aizawa wanted to worship every inch of you.

You tried to kiss him then, but Aizawa wasn’t having it— jerking his head away just enough so your lips were a hair away from his. You groaned defiantly, then pushed your face past his so his nose was lodged against your neck, below your scent glands. Since Aizawa was having a fine time teasing you, he rolled his tongue up your neck, just to hear your voice catch in a pathetic squeak that set every single nerve ending in his entire body aflame. This was sadomasochism in its prime. Aizawa enjoyed it immensely.

“I’ll come out more— a couple times a week.” You promised desperately, catching that Aizawa wanted to bargain with you.

“Not enough,” his gruff whisper against your skin sent ripples of goosebumps across your arms. “Though I love looking at my little pet, I want to be able to touch her, to hold her, to hear about her day. I’m going to need more from her. Do you understand?”

You paused. Mirthless. Shaken. His. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He asked, before giving you another long lick.

“Yes-“ of all the names he’d like to hear from you— sir, alpha, Shouta, Eraserhead, you chose, “- daddy.” While in this state, your lustful, breathy sighs was the only air he needed for his lungs and hearing you call him daddy woke up something covertly instinctual in him. Your name was his heartbeat.

Baby girl. Baby girl.

“I can… join you for breakfast or dinner on the weekends… when you have time.”

“-I can make the time,” Aizawa cut in, murmuring against your skin. “Go on.”

You groaned in frustration. “I don’t know what the hell you want, Eraser! I can’t be your little housewife!”

Aizawa didn’t miss a beat. He was used to your outbursts, even when they were a bit too sudden. He also knew that when he bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulders, you would moan and pull in his hair. When you did, all he had to do was grab your wrists, hold them above your shoulders, and watch you become a panting mess.

Housewife? As if Aizawa wanted you to be so tame. Someone to cook and clean for him? The concept was cute, but that wasn’t on brand with the woman he loved. Aizawa knew who you were, and that was not a doting slave, although the thought of you in an apron and nothing else besides that apron was an exciting concept.

“I don’t want a housewife, kitten. I want a mate.”

Your face flushed. Aizawa’s cock throbbed between your wet thighs. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you, and you kept pushing yourself against him, and god could he not wait another agonizing second of not being inside of you. He was about to let up— give in, give you what you both wanted, and then try again the next time you were desperate for him. He was about to, but then you hit him with a deal.

A myriad of promises escaped your lips, each richer than the last. Some of them were cute, domesticated bullshit that tickled Aizawa’s interest: movie nights, a kiss in the morning, brushing teeth together. Others tickled Aizawa in a different way: massages, surprise blowjobs, something concerning a collar and a leash.

Before he knew it, Aizawa was grinning. He couldn’t say that any of the ideas you spouted in your time of need, but in all honesty, the promise to try was really all he needed.

“I think we might be in business,” he said, and his grin turned into a kiss, and that kiss turned into his tongue brushing against yours, and his enjoying the taste of your moan turned into him ridding himself of the sweats that kept him from you.

The head of Aizawa’s cock twitched and glistened, wet with urgent desire. His stomach tightened when he grasped his throbbing base. You gave him a hungry look. “You wanna prove to me you'll be my good girl?” he purred, appraising you. You bit your lip and nodded attentively, ready to take any request he sent your way. “Then why don’t you ride daddy’s cock?.”

You laughed then. It was a sort of short, relieved kind of laugh that was more of a thank you than anything else— a yes, sir, anything you say, grateful for this opportunity, sir sort of noise.

You pulled your soaking panties to the side and formed a gyre with your hips, moving in circles, coating Aizawa’s cock in your slick. You licked your lips as his cock head teased your saturated slit. You hummed, practically quivering from the idea of having his cock push into you and it took everything out of Aizawa not to grab on to your hips and force you down on him. He needed to enjoy the show before being brute.

You dipped down onto him. Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. Aizawa flexed his jaw, trying hard to hold onto the last remaining thread of his restraint. You locked your hand onto the back of his neck and eased yourself off of him— you hadn’t gotten even half of his length inside of you, but still your face tensed in pained pleasure as you rolled back down his shaft.

“Fuck. Sho. I can’t-!”

“What is it, baby girl? Is daddy’s cock too big for you to work with on your own?”

You gave him a withering look. You locked your fingers into his hair and forced your lips back on his. He chuckled lowly against your kiss, palming your breasts as you began to ride him.

Aizawa groaned inwardly because fuck, you felt so good rhythmically sliding up and down his cock— so warm, so sloppy, so tight— fuck, so tight that you couldn’t fit all of him in you. You moved your ass so well that Aizawa was surprised he hadn’t made you ride him before. Of course, every time the two of you had gotten intimate (intimate being being Aizawa’s word of choice because he loved you too damn much) in the past, it's always been rushed, carnal, and desperate. It didn’t help that Aizawa liked to take the reigns, and that fact battled with Aizawa’s desire to watch you move so fluently, so sensuously on top of him. You were a marvel to witness, and if he could, he’d savor this moment forever, but his corporal instincts took over.

Aizawa gripped onto your hips. Your pupils dilated.

Aizawa pulled you down onto him and when your mouth fell open this time, a high yip rang out from the back of your throat. He bucked his hips up, hitting you hard and deep each time you came down on him. You whimpered and mewled, digging your nails into his skin as your lust and need rolled down onto his thighs.

“Such pretty noises, kitten.“ he pulled your head back to him so his lips were against your ear. “I’m gonna ruin your little cunt, baby girl. How do you like that idea?”

“Hnngggg. Yes, daddy, please, please.”

Aizawa smirked. Good girl.

He bit your neck and you squeezed around him. He wrapped his arms around your body and stood up, moving you to the arm of the couch. You wrapped your legs around him, locking them around his hips with a grin Aizawa didn’t think you knew you had on. Fingers pulled on skin as he pistoned his hips, slapping into your fast and hard, filling the room with slaps and squelching and the sounds of you hissing and moaning and pleading for more. His skin turned red where you scraped your nails across, hopelessly trying to pull him more into you, and so he did.

He pushed himself to his hilt and watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape and Jesus Christ if you weren’t the most enchanting fucking creature on this plain earth. Aizawa pushed your shoulders back so you laid flat on your back with your legs hanging off the couch. He admired your stomach as his cock pressed against it, hitting your spot again and again, eliciting sweet music from his precious fucktoy.

Your pussy fluttered as your sputtered out nonsensensical praises for your alpha— the only man that could take care of you, the only man that would ever touch you again.

“Feel good, baby?” Aizawa hissed through gritted teeth as the base of his cock began to inflate. “You like it when I take care of you?”

You were lost to your words, only able to whimper back at him, clutching at the couch cushions with trembling fingers.

“C’mon girl, I know you can handle much more than this.”

“Shooutah,” you managed, squeezing your eyes shut as two thick tears rolled off your cheeks. “Pleaaase.”

“What is it, little kitty? Use your words.”

“I wanna make you a daddy,” you cried, your toes curling, your body shaking. Aizawa growled, his vision sharpening, his cock pulsating. You crooned, “I wanna have your baby. Please— please! ”

Aizawa couldn’t believe his ears. His perfect little mate playing with his instincts like that, just for a good fuck? Naughty kitten. He hunched over the couch, hand wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly, forcing you to look at your mate. You squeaked, brows furrowing, breath faltering. You were giving him such a pretty and pathetic look. He couldn’t stand it.

Aizawa felt his knot swell all the way up when his lips once again collided with yours. You spasmed around him, and the added sensation of the sweet reverberations of your moans against his lips blew him away.

Aizawa could forgive you for making empty promises every now and again, but if you were going to say something so dangerous while he rutted into you, he might have to teach you to choose your worlds a little more carefully his way.

His knot locked you into place. His cock throbbed intensely as ropes of thick, hot cum lined your quivering cunt walls. Aizawa groaned when you howled, the two of you harmonized and synced, bonded to each other once again. Elation coursed through his veins, and he could tell by the beautiful euphoric look on your face, he could tell you were feeling the same way.

Trapped in each other’s daze, Aizawa couldn’t be happier stuck to you like this. He wove his fingers through your sweaty hair and kissed your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, and your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, because he couldn’t lie to you like this. You said nothing back, because you couldn’t lie either. It bothered Aizawa, but not enough to ruin his good mood. You didn’t love him yet because you didn’t know him. If you were true to your word and spent more time with him, letting him show you that the two of you were each other’s perfect mates, that could change. It would change.

At least when the swelling went down, and Aizawa could lay back on the couch, you curled against him and let him play with your hair. The two of you laid entwined together for a long while. Aizawa was content having you in his arms, but when your breathing grew heavier and he knew you were asleep, he was glad to be carrying you back to bed, his bed, where you’d be sleeping in from now on.

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[i-ship-therefore-i-am]

my kingdom come undone

I wrote a thing. Inspired by this post by @lanzhanshands about an AU where Lan Zhan is forced to kill Wei Wuxian. (Ugh, how DARE) 2500 words, wangxian

Warnings: self-harm, suicide, violence, death, blood

my kingdom come undone

if I am doomed to death, then at least I could be killed by you

Wei Ying has lost control.

The buildings themselves are starting to crumble, the very earth beneath their feet screaming with rage, as if to shake them all off, to free itself completely of the living. Cultivator or servant, old or young.

Even the Jiang clan is no longer being protected, just swarms and swarms of puppets lashing and tearing them all to pieces.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji barks, voice booming above the fray. There is no way he has not heard it, and yet there is no reaction, no pause in his playing, not the tiniest flicker.

There’s nothing in his eyes anymore, nothing left but the resentment, leaving them dull and flat and lifeless. His skin pale and deathly, the telltale black lines crawling up over his neck. It’s clear he doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, that he’s not Wei Ying anymore. That his control is gone.

Lan Wangji’s greatest fear unfurling right in front of him.

Wei Ying is the eye of the storm, the relentless, rotting resentful energy is thicker and more violent the closer Lan Wangji comes, pressing through and grunting slightly at the impact against his chest, his thigh—the burning, mournful screech of it. He does not stop.

Does not dare stop.

Once close enough, he pulls Bichen free and attacks. “Wei Ying! Stop this now!”

They fight, Wei Ying with just his flute to counter and parry, slipping under and away from Lan Wangji’s strikes, and for a while it seems their same endless draw, but Lan Wangji knows himself to be the superior swordsman. Especially now.

He has been holding back.

“Wei Ying,” he tries one more time, ignoring the curl and burn of resentful energy whipping against his body. “Stop this.”

Please.

The spread of Wei Ying’s lips reveals blood-stained teeth, and when next his flute lifts to his lips, the shrill, shrieking note is for Lan Wangji.

Meant to kill.

He barely dodges and deflects the resentful energy made solid and lifts his sword with deadly intention. There is no more time to hold back.

Lan Wangji’s strike hits home, Bichen sliding relentlessly into Wei Ying’s chest, going all the way through, and Lan Wangji’s wrist is twisting on instinct, muscle memory of endless practice brutally finishing the move. Blood immediately gushes from Wei Ying’s mouth, his entire body jerking.

The dark energy pulses and screams with rage, the wind and dust picking up, stinging Lan Wangji’s eyes and cheeks.

They have seen Wei Ying pull an arrow straight from his chest and continue on as if nothing, but this time he will not. Wei Ying’s limbs are already twitching, muscles spasming erratically.

Yet his empty hand lifts, striking out, latching onto Lan Wangji’s wrist, the skin so cold and cracked against his own. It isn’t an attack though, but something much worse.

“Lan Zhan,” he breathes, soft and garbled, and for that tiny moment, his eyes are once again his own. So warm and full even as they are red-rimmed and pained.

Everything seems to freeze, everything else dropping away. For Lan Wangji there is nothing but Wei Ying.

He thinks there must be tears on his face, but he doesn’t care, hasn’t let it make him hesitate.

There is the slightest smile curving Wei Ying’s lips as he looks back at Lan Wangji, his face impossibly pale, blood gushing down to the ground. He nods once, as if to accept his fate, Lan Wangji’s judgment, and then his eyes drift shut, leaving him looking almost peaceful.

“Lan Zhan,” he mumbles one more time, a faint echo like a distant ghost.

He slumps, his fingers falling away from the back of Lan Wangji’s hand, but before Lan Wangji can even think to reach for him or pull back his sword, or save him, save him, save him—the world explodes, the Stygian Tiger Amulet shattering into countless pieces, a single name a piercing shriek in the wind.

Wei Wuxian! Wei WUXIAN!

Resentful energy bursts outwards, a solid, punishing wind, knocking people to the ground. Lan Wangji stumbles back, leaning hard into it, arm lifting.

Behind and around him, the puppets fall quickly, docile now without anyone to command them, cut down quickly by survivors or merely melting back into the ground with a mournful wail that shudders the earth.

Moorless. Uncontrolled. Their master dead.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

The blast knocked Lan Wangji back, far enough for Bichen to slide free of Wei Ying’s chest. When Lan Wangji recovers enough to look, Wei Ying is crumpled to the ground, boneless and ungainly.

His eyes are open again, now unfocused, inert.

Empty.

There is cheering, somewhere in the distance, which makes no sense, rattles irritatingly against Lan Wangji’s skin, but he can’t really focus on that, instead staring at the body at his feet, the slow drip of blood off the end of Bichen where he still holds it.

He’s waiting, maybe. To feel something?

Waiting for Wei Ying to rise and smile and do one more impossible thing?

But the stillness and the silence only grow and grow and grow and the waiting is now a writhing, furious thing, something cracking in half inside of him, withering and decaying.

No. No. No. No.

It slowly grows, the wail that wants to rip out of his throat. The furious rage at the world that led them to this. Every misstep, every wasted moment, every missed opportunity.

He wonders what his own eyes look like, if there is anything but emptiness to see. If he can possibly survive one more moment of the inescapable, sheering pain.

Lan Wangji does the only thing he can think to do to make it stop and lifts Bichen, the blood and metal catching the light.

“Wangji, no!”

But his brother’s voice is soft and distant where the blade is blessedly sharp and close to his neck. One quick motion is all it takes.

He falls to his knees, sword tumbling from numb fingers as he reaches for Wei Ying and death.  

Refusing to let Wei Ying again go where he cannot follow.

***

Xichen must flood his body with every fleck of spiritual power he has to keep his gaping neck together, to keep blood flowing in Lan Wangji’s body and not out. There are others too, maybe. Outnumbering him.

He does not want to be saved. Fights against it. Rages with what little strength he has.

“Wangji, stop it!”

He doesn’t want to.

But it is the one time Lan Wangji’s strength fails him. He has done, as always, what is necessary. Denying himself all else. He has always been strong. But not in this.

Even in this one final wish is he denied.

But there will be moments. Opportunities. No one can be watched at all times.

The first time he truly wakes, now in a bed in Cloud Recesses, there are small arms wrapped tight around his thigh, a child’s body curled trustingly against his.

A-Yuan.

Lan Wangji lifts his eyes to his brother, sitting calming nearby, but eyes sharp. He has played a dirty trick and knows it, watches to see what will come of it.

Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut, feeling tears streaming down his face, soaking into his hair and the bandage still wrapped around his neck.

He puts his hand down on the small child’s head and nods.

Perhaps living will be the true punishment deserved.

***

The scar is a rippled, monstrous thing. Bichen’s blade is sharp and efficient, but Lan Wangji’s fight against being saved has warped and stretched the wound, his refusal ripping it open time and again. It takes most of his voice with it.

He can speak, but his words are rough and incomplete, each syllable a painful struggle. He’s always had little use for words, now he will have even less. He saves whatever words he has all for A-Yuan, who never flinches at the bruising sound. Who never stares at the scar, who touches him freely without fear.

A constant reminder of the only other person ever to do so.

“Body?” is one of the first words Lan Wangji manages to force out to his brother.

He braces himself to hear of a callus punishment, Wei Ying’s body burned and cremains spread recklessly, giving his soul no place to find peace, no place to tether it.

“There was no body,” Xichen says.

Lan Wangji gives him a sharp look.

“The resentful energy…it seemed to rebound back. It devoured him.”

When he is able, Lan Wangji drags himself upright behind his guqin and sends his questions out into the ethos.

Are you there?

Are you at peace?

Do you hate me?

Inquiry has no answer for him, year after year, and he begins to understand that Wei Ying is not just gone from this world, but gone from existence.

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

***

Lan Wangji walks the world, first to share it with A-Yuan, to let him see things for himself and not as described in books and lectures through others’ agendas. To let him learn his own judgment and beliefs. And later to bring whatever justice and order he can to the forgotten, the people the sects either do not see or do not wish to see.

He wears the scar unflinchingly. Refusing to hide it from sight. Not proud, not embarrassed. Just another part of him.  

People learn not to call him a hero if they don’t wish a sword drawn against them.

They fear him now too.

As they should. He is a ghost. Just one more corpse at Wei Ying’s disposal. And perhaps this transformation is the Yiling Patriarch’s one last great feat.

***

When Wei Ying is born back into the world, Lan Wangji is there to stand by his side, to keep this world from destroying him yet again.

Lan Wangji had never known what to say to him before, how to speak to him, and now even less, so his silence seems right. Wei Ying never asks about the injury that took his voice, just gives him long looks, his eyes lingering on the scar. It is hard to know what he remembers and what he doesn’t.

Lan Wangji keeps him safe, helps him unravel the mystery of a sword ghost that becomes a blade that becomes a murder and spilled secrets of using the Yiling Patriarch as a scapegoat for power grabs and petty revenge. Of each manipulated step that dragged Lan Wangji’s blade into Wei Ying’s heart.

He stays by his side and keeps him safe, always knowing it is not his space to occupy. That he does not have the right to it. He is a shield and nothing more.

Meaning he does not deserve to feel anything like pain when Jin Guanyao holds Wei Ying by the throat, Bichen gleaming a mere inch from the throb of Wei Ying’s pulse in a failed attempt to free him. When Jin Guanyao laughs and strikes out mercilessly.

“I always knew it would end here again, Lan Wangji, with your sword buried deep in Master Wei’s chest. How I look forward to seeing that again.”

“Never,” Lan Wangji whispers and seals his spiritual power without daring to look at Wei Ying.

When it is done, each bitter truth dragged out and unfurled and Wei Ying finally free, Lan Wangji follows him out onto the road.

He stops at the first curve.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, looking back to see why he hasn’t followed.

He unsheathes Bichen, closing the distance between them, watching for alarm in Wei Ying’s eyes, but there is only curiosity and trust.

It cuts worse than anything else.

Reaching out, Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying’s hands and carefully wraps them around Bichen’s hilt.

“Lan Zhan, what are you—”

Lifting the blade towards himself, Lan Wangji falls to his knees in front of him. Sizhui is grown and safe. Wei Ying is free. He has paid as much debt as he can without this.

Wei Ying looks between him and the blade, his face paling. “Lan Zhan, you can’t be serious.”

“Wei Ying,” he rasps, leaning towards the blade. Yearning for it. “Please.”

“No!” Wei Ying says, not dropping Bichen in the dirt, but swinging the blade away, tucked safely behind him. “Why would I—Do you really want to die this badly?”

He feels himself sway. “It is what I deserve.”

It’s what I did to you.

“No, it’s not,” he says hotly. “How could you ever deserve that!”

Lan Wangji lowers his face, staring down at the ground.  

“Lan Zhan. You think I—? I don’t blame you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying drops to the dirt in front of him, his hands taking his. “Deep down, I always knew I could count on you to stop me if I went too far. I don’t remember much, I really don’t. But I don’t doubt that I needed to be stopped. That you did the right thing.”

Lan Wangji squeezes his eyes shut, throat burning from too many words, stretching him to his very limit. “I failed you.”

“No, Lan Zhan, no.”

There’s a long, protracted silence and Lan Wangji forces himself to just wait. He feels like he’s been waiting forever. Like this is all he has ever done.

Wei Ying’s fingers on his throat make him flinch, but if he wishes to strangle him instead, he will take that as well. But the fingers are gentle instead of rough. Far too gentle.

“Tell me how this happened, Lan Zhan,” he says, voice so soft.

Lan Wangji presses his lips together, shaking his head.

“If you will give me something, give me that.”

Everything inside him revolts against it. But what right does he have to deny Wei Ying anything? “I tried to follow you,” he says, each word a struggle, like he might soon feel blood on his tongue, his vocal chords screaming in agony. “But you are always going where I cannot follow.”

On his wrist, Wei Ying’s hand trembles. “Lan Zhan,” he says, voice nearly broken as his own. “Lan Zhan.”

He forces his eyes up, and Wei Ying is crying.

“It wasn’t fair to ask it of you. I see that now. I never thought…”

That killing him would be as good as killing himself?

“I didn’t know what I was asking of you.”

And then Wei Ying’s arms are wrapping around him, pulling him in close, relentlessly drawing him into the eye of his storm.

Lan Wangji grabs him back immediately, burying his face in his shoulder, so weak, so unable to resist. “Wei Ying,” he says in his garbled, bruised voice.

He is alive, he is alive, he is alive.

“I’m sorry,” Wei Ying says, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

Something inside Lan Wangji is cracking wide open, when he thought there was nothing solid left to begin with. Just ruins and shards.

Wei Ying does not stop, words endlessly tumbling. “You must know, you must know, that I cannot live in a world without you in it, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji’s body trembles, the soft roundness of longing he has denied himself for so long struggling to be free, to pour over the sharp edges.

“Stay. Stay. Stay,” he begs.

Slowly, Lan Wangji lifts his hand to the back of Wei Ying’s head, fingers burying in his hair.

He nods.

***

He dreams of it always. Waking sweating and crying, Wei Ying’s name ripping from his ruined throat. The phantom feel of dust in his eyes and blood slick on his hands.

Wei Ying is always there, gathering him close, lips pressing to his cheeks, his forehead, his throat. Arms and legs wrapped around him as he murmurs quietly to him in the dark, his bright heat burning everything else away.

“I love you, Lan Zhan. I love you. I’m here and I will never go where you cannot follow.”  

Each time Lan Zhan lets out a shuddering breath, and digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s back, pulling him impossibly close. Focuses on the steady thud of Wei Ying’s heart against his chest.

And chooses life all over again.

.fin.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

person who left the "Impulse & Skizz as the final 2 in 3rd life or Impulse kills Skizz for knowing too much" prompt here. Just read your latest fic so could you do the one where the final 2 are Impulse & Skizz? Thx ^^

thank u so much for asking for this. it became quite self-indulgent but i hope it’s still good :D

cw blood, suicide

…

“Martyn!” cries Skizz, seeing his friend and only remaining ally stumble into Dogwarts, a bloody wound in his chest.

He dashes forwards just in time to catch Martyn as he stumbles. As he lowers his friend down, he inspects the wound. It’s clearly a stab wound, and it’s been bleeding for a while.

“Martyn, oh my gosh…!” Skizz’s voice cracks as he cradles Martyn in his arms. “Stay with me, Martyn! Stay with me!”

“I don’t have long,” rasps Martyn, his face pale. “S-Skizz, listen-”

“You gotta stay with me! W-We gotta win this together!”

Martyn weakly shakes his head. “I’m d-done for. Skizz, please… Impulse is on his w-way here. You gotta kill him. End this.”

Tears spring to Skizz’s eyes. “I… I can’t lose you, Martyn…”

“I’ll b-be okay,” Martyn whispers. “I’ll be with R-Ren again. G-Good luck, Skizz. Thanks for e-everything.”

“No…”

Martyn’s head falls back, his eyes closing. But it’s the buzz of Skizz’s communicator that confirms what he already knows.

InTheLittleWood was slain by impulseSV

His only remaining friend and ally is gone.

Skizz hangs his head and cries, hugging Martyn’s body close to him. They were so close to winning this. Two vs one; it should’ve been so easy. They could have won this together. They SHOULD have won this together.

They were so close…

Finally, Skizz gently lays Martyn’s body down and shakily stands up, his hands and armour smeared with blood. He takes a moment to wash them clean in the pond, before collecting everything he could need for the final fight.

There’s only two people left now. Just two. Skizz…

…and the friend who betrayed him.

After enchanting some fresh diamond armour, using the Renchanting table for the last time, he climbs the ladder onto the wall of Dogwarts, equipped with Martyn’s shield, Ren’s axe, and Etho’s bow. It helps to have a part of them with him as he enters the endgame. He can feel their presence, their strength, cheering him on. With the prospect of either killing or being killed by his best friend looming over him, it makes him feel a little braver to have this extra strength.

After several excruciating minutes of waiting, Skizz spots a figure coming towards him from the direction of BigB’s house, down the mountain. Its pathing is too specific to be a mob.

This is it.

Skizz nocks an arrow and aims it at the figure. If he can get a shot on Impulse here, he might be able to gain an advantage.

Impulse gets closer.

Skizz doesn’t shoot.

Impulse gets closer.

Skizz can’t bring himself to shoot.

“Hey, Skizz,” says Impulse, stopping close enough to the wall that a shot from here would kill him. “How’s it going?”

“You here to collect the full set?” snarls Skizz. “Killing Ren and Etho wasn’t enough for you, huh? You just had to take Martyn from me too.”

“I’m not gonna back down now, Skizz. Not after everything I’ve done to get here.”

Skizz’s grip tightens on the bow, causing Impulse to let out a laugh. “C’mon, do you really want to fight me?”

“Of course I don’t, you jerk,” whispers Skizz shakily. Louder, he says, “I’m not gonna back down either. I’m gonna beat you for Dogwarts.”

“Dogwarts is meaningless,” scoffs Impulse. “A fake kingdom with a fake king that’ll die as soon as this world does.”

“Ren was more of a king than you were of a friend!” Skizz snarls back. “Ren, Martyn, Etho — they’re all better people than you!”

“Really? Then why are they not here now?”

“BECAUSE YOU MURDERED THEM!!!!”

Skizz’s roar shatters the otherwise quiet air and he lets his arrow fly. It glances off Impulse’s armour and does no damage, but Impulse stumbles back anyway, clearly taken by surprise by Skizz’s unexpected attack.

While Impulse is distracted, Skizz leaps down from the wall and charges at him with his — Ren’s — axe. Impulse only just manages to raise his shield to block the attack, but he’s off-balance and Skizz’s strike shoves him backwards.

Impulse’s cry throws Skizz off guard. For a brief moment, he feels the urge to rush over to his best friend and make sure he’s okay.

But then Impulse recovers and charges at him. In his haste to get away, Skizz forgets his shield and simply dodges to the left, but Impulse’s own shield catches him in the jaw, causing him to taste blood in his mouth.

“You’re so annoying!” Skizz growls.

“Good. So are you.”

Remembering his shield this time, Skizz blocks Impulse’s next blow and lashes out blindly with the axe.

Impulse screams as the blade digs into the exposed part of his arm. It’s not a deep cut but it’s enough to throw him off.

“The Red Winter Axe finally tastes enemy blood,” says Skizz triumphantly, as if the spirit of Ren is giving him the words.

“You’re so PATHETIC,” Impulse snarls, clutching his arm.

“GOOD!” Skizz screeches back. “SO ARE YOU!”

Clearly now infuriated, Impulse resumes his attacks.

Normally, Impulse would be much better at PVP than Skizz. But 3rd Life has changed something in both of them. They’re both exhausted, but it’s more than that. Their motivations have changed. Impulse has done so many bad things; he’s lost himself, and it reflects in his fighting style. Whereas Skizz has improved, and he has something to fight for. So now they’re on more equal footing.

Finally, Skizz finds himself fighting extremely close to the edge of the hill, at the bottom of which a river flows at its deepest part.

But as Skizz tries to move out of the way, Impulse charges again and in his haste to dodge, Skizz loses his balance. He grabs hold of Impulse’s wrist as he topples backwards, bringing his former friend with him. The two both lose hold of their weapons as they tumble down the hill towards the river.

Skizz lands heavily but cleanly in the water and sinks rapidly. The shock of the impact stuns him — not for long but long enough. He struggles to swim upwards but his strength is almost gone. The utter exhaustion is finally catching up to him.

As Skizz sinks further down under the water, he can’t help thinking that this is it. This is how he’ll die. The coldness of the water grips him and pulls him down, weakening him. He’s about to run out of air. This is the end…

…

No.

It can’t end like this.

It won’t end like this.

Pushing off against the bottom of the riverbank, Skizz breaks the surface of the water with a loud gasp, taking in a gulp of oxygen. He manages to swim to the edge of the river and climb out. His chest and limbs are aching but he knows he can’t afford to stop now. He crawls away up the hill, choking and gasping for air, not daring to even look back. Every bone in his body is telling him that Impulse is right behind him, about to kill him in one shot. The bloodlust, the drive to win, it’s all coming to a head.

But just as Skizz reaches the top of the hill, his communicator buzzes.

impulseSV drowned

Skizz has to read the message no fewer than a dozen times before he properly realises what it says.

Impulse is… dead. He’s gone. He must have hit his head when they landed in the river, knocking him out.

After a while, Skizz lies down on the ground, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He doesn’t know whether to cry hysterically or be relieved. Impulse’s death was indirectly his fault, considering he’s the one who caused the two of them to fall into the river. If he had noticed his former friend’s predicament sooner, maybe he could have saved him. Should he have tried to save him…?

But then he remembers the way Etho’s voice cracked when he talked about how Impulse had betrayed him. Ren’s scream as Impulse buried his axe blade in his chest. The sight of Martyn bleeding out in Skizz’s arms.

He pushes himself up off the floor and, exhausted and almost completely out of energy, limps over to his cracked shield, lying where he had dropped it. Picking it up, he turns his face upwards and lifts the shield to the sky. A triumphant gesture devoid of triumph.

“For Dogwarts,” he rasps.

This gesture drains the rest of his strength and he drops to his knees, head spinning, the shield falling to the ground beside him. He’s fought so hard for so long. All he wants now is to rest.

He manages to pull himself to the edge of the hill that has no water at the bottom. It’s time to finally end this, once and for all.

Skizz straightens up and takes a final deep breath. Holding the Dogwarts banner tightly in his hand, he leans forward and lets himself fall.

Skizzleman fell from a high place

And with the final death notification, broadcast to a world of ghosts and memories, the 3rd Life journey comes to an end.

[biinaberry]

Potion Parasite Story

Wow, there are a lot of you. I might be writing two fics for this story so I’m going to give the basic premise. However underneath the read more I will provide the entire plot, so if you want to see it, go-ahead.

The base premise starts in S6 during the civil war between Team Star and the G-Team. Team Star, finding themselves on the losing side, realizes they need an advantage to push themselves to victory. False and Wels brainstorm together, as co-leaders in arms, and suggest the idea of stronger potions. Pitching the idea to the rest of the team, and with approval, the group forms a cohesive plan to try and create a super potion that has the effects of instant health, regeneration, swiftness, and night vision all in one. Xisuma is originally against the idea and through some gentle persuasion, and peer pressure, allows the potion to be created.   The potion is a success! At the meeting table, the team comes together in the joy of the team's success and after lifting their glasses; downs their potions to victory.  The effects are instant as they instantly feel rejuvenated and ready for the next fight as they grab their weapons and gear. However, as time goes on the other hermits start to notice something is wrong with their fellow companions. Xisuma’s visor has a more magenta shade along with Doc’s eye, but it all comes ahead at the next fight. Stress slices False’s arm and for a few moments she sees; her blood is pink. 

From then on the Team Star members also start changing personality wise, they still have the same core traits but something has... shifted. They are more driven on healing and making sure the other hermits are okay to an uncomfortable degree. Before, the hermits would trust the others to take care of themselves, but now whenever someone takes a few hearts of damage the members will start questioning them on if they really are okay. They are never without the pink potion.  See the potion is a parasite, slowly overriding their mentality to constantly have 3 things in mind: Heal others, Heal yourself, and Spread the Potion. Often combining with the team’s need to protect their friends and making sure they’re alright; what started out as a simple advantage turns into manipulation as it uses their love for their fellow hermits for its gain. Wels is still as level headed as ever and Impulse still has the joy that seeps out of every word he says, but now they feel off. And the infected know they can’t just force the potion onto others, no no no. They just create situations a little more... dangerous, for their friends. Pushing others off of ledges and guided traps for the hermits, they slowly wait their time until their prey to be too hurt to deny some help. I mean, that’s how they got Zedaph anyways. Alongside TFC and a few others. The others hermits aren’t oblivious to whats going on around them, they know that there is a major problem, but what are they suppose to do when they are fighting against superhumans that can take 3 creepers to the face and walk it off like its nothing. And they cant take too many risks because one wrong move and they will make you drink that parasite. Everyone is tense and Tango had to drop out of the war because he was too busy with being the replacement admin because of Xisuma using his powers. Alongside losing his other support pillar to the thing that took his friend. Eventually the war comes to a close because G-team simply can’t beat their opponent and its better to take a loss than to risk getting infected. People can heal from war but not like this, so caution would be their best friend right now.  Eventually however, a light was found at the end of the tunnel, because in the chat a simple message read, [Zedaph blew up] And miraculously instead of coming back with pink freckles, Zedaph came back.. as his normal self. The entity was gone, driven from his body once he awoke again in bed. And as Zed shook his head with fuzzy memories surfacing he knew, Tango and the others needed to know this.   After some planning, a gamble was taken and as Grian put the finishing touches on the treasure pile, Demise was in effect. And everyone hoped that this would turn out in their favor, for there was only two ways this could go: Success or Failure. But you and I know how this story turned out, the hermits won in the end and the infected was defeated however that sadly enough isn’t the end of our story for one person was left in their sleep, Welsknight. Alone in his house, abandoned by the rest, the parasite started to get more attached to the player. The bright pink filling his veins and gave a pink hue to them in the light. The parasite fused deeper into his body, into his muscles and bones the influence the creature has grew steadily over time as the other players moved onto season 7.  When he finally awoke his eyes were different, reflecting a bright pink sheen when light was reflected off of them, but he didn’t mind. He never did in the first place. And as Cub rescued him from his confinements in the dead world he realized that he needed to get his old team back. Needing to stay low to get rid of suspicion he build his base and bought from the cow-mercial district and eventually when everyone was situated with him being back, he flew over to False in search of his co-leader. Instead of meeting a fellow infected he was met with someone cured and no matter his tries as subtle persuasion with the builder, she didn’t seem to take any of his bait. He waved her goodbye and left disappointed but didn’t lose his hopes in bringing protection to the other hermits.  Those who were saved from the infection knew how it controlled them and made them lose themselves. With the promise of protection and safety however they later realized how wrong that statement is, but Wels never got that message. Stuck in a mentality that to him seems beneficial but to others it’s a restriction and erasure of individuality. Wels stays undercover until the arena fight with Xb and all hell breaks loose. As one of his opponents drops an anvil on him, that should have killed him, he simply brushes it off and gets back up to continue fighting, but the damage has already been done and Joe witnessed the whole thing. Joe knows how that infection works, seeing it in action right in front of him during the war, and in that one moment he realize how badly they fucked up, because they forgot to account for him too. Joe confronts Wels and tries to reason with the other on how the infection wont help, but Wels is stuck in his ways believing he is helping. A verbal fight happens between the two in hushed whispers between Wels’s exclamation that the hermits will be kept safe with the potion and Joe’s firm stance that the parasite will eliminate individuality and that it cares more about keeping itself safe rather than its host. Wels eventually leaves, knowing he can’t win this one.  When Wels’s persuasion with a few other hermits doesn’t go to plan he finally decided to try something new. Go for those who were gone during S6 and the plan was a success. With a new crew of Beef, Etho, Hypno, Xb, the infected decide to bring some more trouble for the rest to deal with. The Hermits, now prepared, work together to slay the new infected and it’s a success. However when they lay the final blow on Wels and he wakes up in bed, they are met with bright pink eyes. It didn’t work.  

[fireinmywoods]

the heart of the matter (is Leonard McCoy)

Followers...friends. I come to you today, hat in hand, to ask for your support in a certain fandom matter, a trifling concern of little real consequence which nevertheless has been driving me absolutely cross-eyed bonkers for some years now.

Simply put: can we please all agree that Bones is the heart of the Enterprise???

In AOS, I mean. I’m not aware of any debate over this when it comes to TOS, where the roles of the triumvirate have always been explicit, though there are a few different ways to identify them:

Spock = logos = superego = head

Bones = pathos = id = heart

Kirk = ethos = ego = soul

So clear! So clean! So universally accepted by Trek fandom at large!

Oh, but things get murkier in AOS, and there are plenty of posts floating around which suggest that it’s Kirk, not McCoy, who serves as the heart in the Kelvin timeline. Even the writers of the first two AOS films have outright stated that their interpretation of the triumvirate had the original roles switched, with Kirk as the highly emotional one and McCoy as the arbiter between Kirk’s passion and Spock’s logic. It’s true that this technically counts as a Word of God pronouncement by the actual creators of 2/3 of the series thus far, which some would argue renders it canon. However, it’s equally true that those same creators also felt that Kirk was a fuckboi and that Benedict Cumberbatch wonderfully embodied their vision for Khan Noonien Singh, so honestly, who gives a hot hollerin’ fuck what those dingdongs think. This seems as justified a time as any to invoke Death of the Author, and in fact, it’s my firm belief that despite the writers’ intentions, Star Trek and Into Darkness both support the original triumvirate breakdown.

Under the cut you’ll find a long-winded and self-indulgent ~*~character analysis~*~ of the Kelvin-timeline incarnations of Jim Kirk and Leonard “Bones” McCoy, reviewing why Leonard is still unmistakably the heart, unpacking what the hell Jim’s deal is, and finally taking a look at some key examples from canon, because ya girl believes in showing her work.

Let’s get down to business.

[A quick warning, as this is starting to spread beyond my own followers: if you don’t like McKirk as a romantic pairing, you ain’t gonna like part IV, so I’d bow out before then or just take your leave now.]

i. Leonard

Independent of Jim’s characterization, it should be blindingly obvious that Leonard is the heart. He’s by far the most nakedly emotional of our seven core crew members, a trait we see writ large and small throughout the films. He’s reactive; he’s passionate; he’s humane. He cares, first and foremost.

Not about Starfleet, of course. Leonard doesn’t give a damn about playing the game or advancing his career, or even really about the Enterprise’s mission - he has no desire to explore strange new worlds, he’ll pass on seeking out new life and new civilizations, and he spends half his time trying to convince everyone else that boldly going where no man has gone before is a great way to die horribly. Fuck exploration, fuck space, and fuck the Federation while we’re at it. Leonard is perhaps the most improbable of the Enterprise’s senior officers for the simple reason that he seems to resent everything about the job.

Well. Almost everything.

See, what Leonard cares about is people. He cares about their lives, about their stories, about their hopes and dreams, about their suffering. That’s why he entered and has stayed in an extremely taxing caring profession, and it’s why he’s still on the Enterprise despite his incessant bitching about everything they do. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of the crew he’s become so attached to, and he finds fulfillment in helping the people they encounter out there in the nightmare of space.

In every timeline, Leonard McCoy defines himself by what he can do for others: the pain he can ameliorate, the wounds he can heal, the diseases he can cure, the small amounts of good he can bring to a galaxy filled with so much absolute horseshit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he’s not motivated by curiosity or an adventurer’s spirit or a burning desire to make sense of the universe. (Fuck the universe, too, as a matter of fact.) Instead, he’s driven by the incredible depths of his compassion and empathy and concern for the people he serves alongside and those they meet along the way.

Sure sounds like the heart to me.

ii. Jim

I actually totally get why some people characterize Kelvin-timeline Jim as the heart. He’s quite literally a different man than the original timeline’s Kirk, and he definitely has more of the pathos qualities to him. Early on, he’s a total spitfire, fierce and hot-blooded, quick to anger and other sharp-edged emotions we’re not used to associating with James T. Kirk. Even as he grows into himself and leaves some of those traits behind, he remains spontaneous, passionate, protective, and self-sacrificing - easy enough to mistake for the heart if you squint.

But let’s not confuse having a heart for being the heart. Sure, Jim is more openly emotional and reactive than his TOS counterpart, but there’s still a marked difference between the way he and Leonard express and act on their emotions.

AOS Jim definitely has a lot of feelings - big ones - but at the end of the day, he’s not driven by his heart. He’s driven by his gut.

Whenever there’s trouble, Jim makes a beeline right for the center of it. He’s impulsive as hell, rarely pausing to think past his first instinct, because he just wants to be doing something, no matter the odds, no matter what it costs him. He explicitly calls himself out on this in ST:ID when arguing with Spock: “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I only know what I can do.” He doesn’t have the patience or the constitution to sit and debate all the options, either internally or with his crew. If there’s a path forward from where he is, even a bad one, Jim’s gonna take it.

[Sidebar: One could make the case that the roots of Jim’s instinct to act reach back to his childhood traumas - canonically ignored abuse and neglect on the one hand, and the Tarsus IV famine and massacre on the other - but that’s a whole post on its own and we ain’t got all day here.]

Jim can’t not act, and while that gets him into a lot of trouble, it also saves lives. Sulu probably appreciated that Jim’s gut drove him to leap off Nero’s drilling platform without a moment’s hesitation after a man he’d only just met. He may have been a real shithead about it, but Jim’s impassioned insistence on going after the Narada and not wasting time on the possibility of a better option was key to saving Pike and Earth itself. And I don’t know why Spock was so surprised that Jim intervened to save him on Nibiru, considering that the reason they were there in the first place was because Jim couldn’t sit back and watch the Nibirans die when there was something his crew could do to help them, even if it meant risking a violation of the Prime Directive.

Jim is a good man with a big heart, and he cares about people, absolutely. But he cares most of all about Doing The Right Thing - which in the heat of the moment often translates to Doing Something, Anything, Hold My Beer.

iii. heart vs. gut (i.e., time for some receipts)

I think one of the main reasons Leonard and Jim’s characterizations get confused is because they both tend to act on instinct, only lightly informed by higher reasoning. However, I’d argue that their motivations and the nature of those actions are super distinct, and those distinctions remain relatively consistent throughout all three films. (And y’all know I really mean this shit if I’m out here calling ST:ID consistent.)

Jim is a big picture guy, figuratively and often literally heaving himself full-body into the mix of whatever problem the crew has encountered for lack of any better alternative. That energy propels the plots of all three films: the chaotic path he carves through the events of Star Trek and ST:ID, and the slightly calmer but still undeniably bananas course he charts for himself and his crew in the second half of Beyond.

As the heart, Leonard operates on a more micro level. His concern invariably lies with the individual people caught up in those grand events Captain Chaos is busy dragging them all through. While Jim’s zooming around flipping plot switches, Leonard can always be counted on to bring it back to the personal.

We frequently see this juxtaposed right there on film. Think of that slow pan through medbay in the first movie after the Narada’s ambush and the destruction of Vulcan: while Jim is stewing over what to do about the Big Bad, Leonard has stepped into the CMO role without fuss or fanfare to care for the wounded crew and traumatized survivors.

Or jump ahead to Beyond: during Krall’s attack on the Enterprise, there’s a gorgeous cinematic shot of Jim sprinting down the corridor with two crew members to take on the invaders - and then we cut to Leonard moving slowly through those same ghastly red-lit corridors, searching for casualties in need of help, visibly affected by what his scanner is telling him about the downed crewman he tries to save.

Actually, Beyond as a whole does terrific justice to each of their roles. (Perhaps because it was not written by dingdongs.) The first act finds Jim flailing around for a sense of purpose and forward momentum - an understandable consequence of a gut-driven character having stalled out for too long - and he ultimately gets his mojo back by spending the rest of the film careening through one insane seat-of-his-pants ploy after another. Meanwhile, in the quieter moments between all the mayhem, Leonard serves as the empathetic sounding board for both Jim and Spock as they struggle with deep emotionally charged secrets and Big Life Questions, helping them untangle their feelings and reminding them of the emotional attachments which are ultimately key to their respective decisions to stay on the Enterprise.

More examples, you say? Don’t mind if I do!

Star Trek

GUT: Jim hurtles around the Narada, improvising almost every step of the way and paying the price for his and Spock’s scheme in bodily harm, and ultimately succeeds in rescuing Pike. HEART: Leonard calls out for Jim as he runs into the transporter room, overwhelmed with relief that he’s made it back, and takes Chris Pike’s weight literally and figuratively onto his own shoulders to begin healing him while Jim runs back off to the center of the action.

Star Trek: Into Darkness

GUT: Jim argues with Leonard, Spock, and Scotty in quick succession as he’s preparing to drag them all off to Qo’noS, immune to their attempts to reason with him because, unraveled as he is by grief and pain, he can only focus on his visceral drive to Do Something. HEART: Unlike the others, Leonard is upset not about the larger moral questions of whether it’s right to go after John Harrison or bring torpedoes aboard the ship, but about the fact that Jim himself is hurt and hurting and won’t accept help.

GUT: Jim makes a snap decision to sacrifice himself by hurling his body against the warp core to realign it and save his crew. HEART: Shellshocked by the emotional grenade of his best friend’s death, Leonard suddenly realizes, through the haze of his own numbness and upswelling grief, that he might still be able to do something for this lonely radiation-ravaged body he’s been brought and the life it represents.

Star Trek Beyond

GUT: At the tail end of an improvised plan to out-maneuver Kalara, Jim quite literally shoots first and asks questions later, igniting a fuel tank and setting off an explosive series of events which he and Chekov just barely escape. HEART: The next time we see Leonard, Spock is opening up to him about Ambassador Spock’s death and his own plan to leave Starfleet for New Vulcan - and while he’s empathetic toward Spock (I can’t imagine what that must feel like), Leonard’s thoughts go immediately to the emotional impact of Spock’s plan on the other people he’s closest with. (I can see how that would upset [Nyota]. / I can tell you, [Jim]’s not gonna like that.)

GUT: Jim frantically strains to reach the final switch in the life support hub, believing that he’s going to die either way since the vent has already opened, but spurred on by the knowledge that his ability to move that switch is the only thing standing between Yorktown and annihilation. HEART: Knowing exactly what’s at stake, with the fate of the station and millions of lives hanging in the balance, Leonard’s greatest concern is that Jim won’t make it out in time.

iv. never bet against the heart

Let’s wrap this up with a deep dive on one of the absolute best examples of Leonard as the heart: his decision to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise in the first movie.

As relentlessly as I drag him for the, you know, poisoning and kidnapping aspects of that whole deal, there’s no denying that it is a god-tier heart move. Is it logical? Absolutely not. Is it really the right thing to do for either himself or Jim, as far as he knows at the time? Nope. It’s 100% the wrong choice for his own job security, reputation, and relationships with his fellow crew, and it’s almost guaranteed to get Jim into even worse trouble. Leonard is a smart dude who must understand that this course of action will likely end up coming back on them both in a real bad way. For someone who argues loudly and often in defense of self-preservation, this is a shockingly bad idea.

But none of that matters, because Jim shakes his hand and tells him to be safe with that horrible empty-eyed smile, and it gets him right in the heart, one-two-three.

One: sympathy, worry, and affection for Jim - his best friend, his wild and troublesome stray, his only family.

Two: guilt over adding onto Jim’s pain, and the instinctive urge to fix whatever‘s hurting him.

Three: fear of heading out into the unknown by himself, the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing what’s coming, craving for the security and reassurance Jim’s presence would give him.

“Dammit,” Leonard says, as his heart wins out over his brain. He knows this is a garbage plan, and he doesn’t care. His heart chooses Jim. That’s all that matters.

So he goes back for Jim, and to his own surprise it turns out that this Very Bad Idea was actually a Very Good Idea because Jim’s impulsive instincts end up saving Earth, and Leonard’s not in the habit of fixing what ain’t broke so he figures he may as well keep on chasing Jim’s crazy ass around the galaxy for a while, through jungles and off cliffs and into the goddamn afterlife when need be, until finally one day Jim’s gut drives him right into Leonard’s arms and he suddenly realizes that this is what his heart was choosing all those years ago: Jim’s wide terrified eyes, Jim’s voice breaking over his name, Jim’s hand pressing hard against his chest, reaching out for what’s his.

But that’s another story.

[wisteria-lodge]

Character Analysis: Sorting The Old Guard

@sortinghatchats has a brilliant personality/character analysis system based on the four Hogwarts houses. At this point it’s become much more interesting and nuanced, which is part of why I’m moving away from using the names of the houses.

Here’s how it works. Everyone gets two houses – a Primary House and a Secondary House

YOUR PRIMARY IS YOUR MOTIVE. IT’S WHY YOU DO THINGS.

LION Primary’s sense of morality and ethics comes from inside. Things just feel right or they feel wrong.

BIRD Primary gets their morality and ethics from the world outside them. They decide what they think is right.

BADGER Primary is focused on the good of the group. Who cares if something is technically “moral” if people are getting hurt?

SNAKE Primary is a lot like Badger, but instead of protecting the group, their highest law is the well-being of the individual people they love.

YOUR SECONDARY IS YOUR METHOD. IT’S HOW YOU DO THINGS.

LION Secondary gets their power from being direct, honest, completely themselves. Their “plan” is just keep going until someone stops them. If they see a locked door, they kick it in.

BIRD Secondary collects tools and skills. They build things, find things, learn things. If they see a locked door, they go through their box of keys until they find the right one.

BADGER Secondary is fair, hardworking, and shows up. They’re good at getting people to trust them, and good at getting people to help them. If they see a locked door, they knock.

SNAKE Secondary knows the right mask to wear for each situation. They’re adaptive. They go in the back way. They find the third option.  They’re the ones who know how to pick the locks.

And now let’s talk about The Old Guard. Also, SPOILERS.

***

Nile Freeman is a bright Badger primary, defined by her groups. “I’ve got people who love me,” is the first thing she tells the team. And follows that up with, “I’m a Marine.” We meet her in uniform, part of a squad. Getting back to her family is her main motivation. (And it’s a “my family” thing - not a “my mom” or “my brother” thing.) Family continuity and family history mean everything to Nile, and that’s so Badger. Religion is also used as visual shorthand for “Badger” a lot, and Nile’s got her cross necklace. And she doesn’t want to kill people. Doesn’t matter if they’re the bad people who killed her, they’re still people. Badgers can’t ignore that.

Nile’s challenge is figuring out a way to separate from her family (and become an immortal commando) while still keeping her healthy, shining Badger intact. And she does it by expanding. It’s not just about protecting America and her family anymore. She looks at the wall outlining all the good the Old Guard has done, and her community expands to include them, and all of humanity.

She’s definitely got a Lion secondary. Yes, she’s willing to run into the villain’s stronghold with a bag of guns and not much plan - but this is an action movie, that stuff is kinda a given. I’m thinking more about when she has to lie and say her miraculous healing factor is an experimental skin graft – she hates doing it, she’s so bad at it, you can see her skin crawl. Nile is powerful when she is able to just lay out what she believes. People like Agent Copley and the Afghani women just feel the honesty and conviction bleeding off her, and come around to her way of thinking. 

Nile also has a Bird secondary model. Smashing down walls isn’t appropriate all the time, so a lot of Lion secondaries learn to use one of the mellower secondaries as backup. Nile’s Bird is subtle, but it’s there. She applies her anti-militant training to the situation, and thinks they should “follow the money.” She can identify a Rodin sculpture across a dark cave. And she spends a while trying to reason away the fact that she’s immortal (considering hypnosis, drug trips, all that fun stuff.)

Andromache the Scythian aka “Andy” is also a Badger primary. But a very old, very tired, very burnt one. She’s been protecting humanity for about ten thousand years, and she feels all the people she wasn’t able to save. Andy starts off the film doubting whether any of it mattered, if she was actually able to protect her community at all. Because she can’t protect everyone, she is forced to shrink that community down. She can protect Nile, Joe, Nicky, and Booker – and that has to be enough.

The situation with Quyhn is a good look at the sort of darkness that can live inside a Badger Primary. Because Andy stopped looking. She could have spent hundreds of years pouring money and time into finding Quyhn - and neglected the rest of her team, and by extension humanity. But Andy’s a Badger primary. That’s not a thing she can do.

(A Snake primary would never have stopped. Someone like Nicky would burn the world, if that’s what it took to get Joe back.)

If your preferred weapon is an ax or a hammer, then you’re a Lion secondary. That’s just how it works. You are too direct and too smashy to be anything else. Ms. “I always go first” Andy, leader of the group she thinks of as an army? Even when she’s discouraged and exhausted, her Lion secondary is still so loud. She has a bit of a Bird secondary model: she sets up rules like “we don’t do repeats, it’s too risky,” and establishes code words linked to specific maneuvers. But you can tell she’s a little uncomfortable with that kind of thinking. She wants to hit things with an ax and give inspirational speeches. And also threaten people.

Which means that Andy and Nile match perfectly. They are both Badger Lions with Bird secondary models. And that makes perfect sense. Nile was “born” at the same time Andy lost her immortality. They are both warriors. Nile is the one who will “go first,” when Andy isn’t able to anymore. She’s the one who gets Andy’s ax at the end. She’s the new Andy. Andy’s redemption comes with waking her Badger primary up, and training a replacement. Or as she puts it, “I think you showed up when I lost my immortality so I could remember what it was like (…) that there are people still worth fighting for.”

Nicolò di Genova aka “Nicky” fights for Joe. It really is that simple. His backstory tells you everything you need to know: he fought in the Crusades until he fell in love with a Muslim, and had to choose. On one hand - religion, country, job, society, security. On the other hand - the man he loves. For Nicky the answer is obvious. Because he is such a Snake primary.

As long as he’s with Joe, he’s fine. Agent Copley is trying to explain himself, Nicky doesn’t care. “I’m sure you’re bringing us to the person who paid for your betrayal. There’s a TV [on this plane] Joe!” The villains can talk all they want about the greater good and moral imperatives and changing the world. Nicky is just bored. “A fine justification. I’ve heard it so many times before.” None of that stuff matters to him.

His secondary is harder to spot, underneath the really loud primary and the really loud Lion secondary model. But I think I see a Badger secondary. Nicky’s a caretaker. He brings Andy her favorite candy, sets up Nile for the night and shows her where to sleep. Joe says that Nicky’s heart “overflows with a kindness of which this world is not worthy,” and I get that they’re in love, but that’s still some serious character testimony. I’m also going to throw in the fact that Nicky’s a sniper. Being a sniper is not like hitting things with an ax. It’s all about getting in place and being careful and patient. Badger secondary traits.

Yusuf Al-Kaysani aka “Joe” actually takes the time to lay out rules he lives by. Which is interesting, because the only other people in this film who do that are the villains. Those guys are not motivated by personal loyalty: they’re either Lion or Bird primaries motivated by “the greater good.” The Old Guard is a very Loyalist movie. When we get our big Theme Scene, the French shopgirl tells us, “Today I put this on your wound. Tomorrow you help someone up when they fall. We’re not meant to be alone.” That’s the ethos of the movie. It’s very Badger.

Joe gets how Badger Primaries work. He gets Andy, and the best example of this is when he comforts her by saying Quyhn “would be insane” by now. He’s basically saying, “you don’t have a responsibility to her the way you have to the rest of us, because she’s not really a person anymore.” It’s dark, but so is Andy, and that line of reasoning would make sense to a Badger primary.

Joe also understands Nicky’s Snake primary. He  knows he’s Nicky’s world, and he never stops demonstrating that. He has Nicky’s back when they fight (Nicky passes things over his shoulder without looking). He has Nicky’s back when they sleep (as the big spoon). He learned Italian for Nicky, and when Nicky is freaked, Joe just shows up with that “his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia” speech. But that speech is also him explaining his worldview to the guards, the same way he bothers to tell them, “You shot Nicky. You shouldn’t have done that.”

When Nile asks, “Are you good guys or bad guys?” Joe responds, “Depends on the century.” He is interested in those large moral questions, and the answer he has decided on is a combination of Andy’s Badger morality, and Nicky’s Snake morality.

And to go with that really complicated Primary, I think Joe really is just a straightforward Lion secondary (another reason he gets Andy). I mean... he literally headbutts people. 

Sebastian “Booker” Le Livre, whose nickname is a very silly pun, is the most vaguely drawn character. I’m not sure if he turns Nicky and Joe over to Merrick because he wants to die, or because he wants to find a way to help Andy die. Or both. But either way, he is a very burnt Snake primary.

Booker seems to be the only one who kept up contact with his family after learning he was immortal. As a result, he got to watch his son die painfully with “hate and despair in [his] eyes,” blaming his father for not loving him enough to save him. It’s been about 150 years, but Booker is not over this.

That is a very Snake primary love, and when it comes down to it, Booker is a Snake with no people he can throw himself into loving the way he loved his son. (No wonder he drinks). He wants more emotional intimacy from Andy than she is able to give him - not in a romantic way, they have more of a sibling dynamic. But look at the betrayal in his eyes when he learns she’s lost her immortality: “Andy, look at me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

This is the exchange right after Booker betrays the team:

JOE: You selfish piece of shit. NICKY: Joe, leave it, please… BOOKER: What would you know of the weight of all these years alone? JOE: You’re a very pathetic man Booker. NICKY: Joe, stop. BOOKER: You and Nicky always had each other, right?

Nicky is sympathetic. He’s a Snake primary like Booker, he knows what living without a Person must be like, he knows exactly why Booker did what he did. Joe doesn’t. He only sees how Booker has failed to look at the big picture (like Joe would have, because he’s a Bird, that’s how he thinks) and that he made an objectively dumb call. Joe is angry at him for the rest of the movie. But the others, who know what it’s like motivated only by personal loyalty… they kind of get it.

To round things off, Booker is a Bird secondary. You can tell by the way he collects skills. He’s the operation coordinator, the quartermaster, the driver, and the tech guy. He’s also not afraid of a plan with steps. Nile calls him, “the brains of the operation” (although she’s probably being nice). Still, Booker is a good example of the way Bird secondaries aren’t always smart. His plan was pretty objectively terrible, but that was because his primary was so compromised.

tl;dr

Nile – Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Andy – Burnt Badger/Lion (Bird model)

Nicky – Snake/Badger (Lion model for fighting)

Joe – Bird who has built Nicky’s Snake morality, and Andy’s Badger morality into himself/Lion

Booker – Burnt Snake/Bird

[hmshermitcraft]

I thought the "x goes to the life server to see what's up" ask was going to end with, "x went to the death games and had a great time bc hes doomguy"

The vast majority of the time the hermits have known x, he's been a very friendly, goofy, mild mannered admin. He takes care of them, protects them, and loves them with all his heart. What they don't know about x, is that he has not always been this way.

X is a man born of divine violence, he has fought to be kind, clawed his way out of hell for another chance more than twice and defeated the final sin. All in a metaphorical past life, it's been hundreds of thousands of years since he's done anything like that, and he has no desire to go back.

But...he will say that the life server feels familiar in a way he nearly can't remember. Nearly.

Once he goes red, all bets are off the table. His diamond sword feels like the crucible in his hands and his friends and lovers smell like hellwalkers. Xisuma has so. much. fun. Cutting them down, spilling their blood, it's refreshing, he's present for every second of it and in the back of his mind he knows the regret and shame of his actions will crush him to dust, he knows that his hermits won't ever see him in the same way, but he's busy right now.

He wins, and is sent back to hermicraft where he begins his tour of regaining the trust of his family. Etho is the easiest to win over again, saying that everything that happened is forgiven and forgotten as long as x tells him where the hell he learned to use a sword like that. And grian is the hardest. It takes some coaxing from the rafters, lots of soft kisses, hours of explanation and apologies for how he acted.

X doesn't wear his armor anymore and never brings out any weaponry around anyone. grian still isn't totally comfortable and Cleo won't turn her back to him. He understands and hopes that he can leave his last behind for good someday.

That day finally comes years later. Grian knocks on his door in the dead of night and asks him to help preen. Xisuma welcomes him in and coaxes new pinfeathers out of their protective casings with gentle ease. Grian falls asleep as x holds him close, stroking through his hair.

Cleos gone back to playfully punching his arm and sprawling over his work when they want attention, unafraid to bare their neck, to be vulnerable.

Pearl perches on his shoulders and leans down for a kiss, scar asks him out on dates, Bdubs curls up with him in the dark.

Things are good, and the games have never come back, apparently satisfied with his debut performance enough to leave them all alone.

Ough this got so much longer than I wanted it to be cause I need everything to work out and be ok in the end. Sorry lads

-s

Xisuma knows the road in life isn't always a straightforward one, but he's still disgusted with himself for his actions. He scared nobody more than himself.

That bloodlust should be reserved for threats, not the hermits he loves so dearly. He would've gone his entire life without them seeing that side of him if he could.

He acquiesces to any request asked of him for a while, hoping to earn back that trust. He announces himself when walking into a room, pays attention to his footsteps, keeps his weapon tucked away.

It's Cleo who calls him out on it eventually. X had spent most of his week grinding because Impulse just so happened to mention needing a resource. Just like any dressing down, it's a good one. And it ends with them knocking the back of his head and telling him, "We don't care who you were before this. We don't really care for you moping around like this, though Scar probably enjoys it. We just want our stupid admin that listens to metal too loud and can't read a book to save his life back."

Xisuma... He can do that. With time, but he can do it.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

*sigh* I love him... oh, hey there tumblr! It’s been awhile, sorry about that. Been drinking a big ol’ glass of Loving Kiryu juice tho so it’s time for some Kiryu Opinions with Lemon. Sit’ya down and gather close. 

I’ve recently been informed that writing Kiryu is hard. This came as a surprise to me because Kiryu is very intuitive for me to wield. Like, there’s a certain amount of pressure with writing any protag, especially one who so defines a series and a universe, even now. But I just... don’t struggle with him. All of his decisions are intuitively relatable for me. 

But hearing that Kiryu was deceptively complicated made me stop and thinking about what about him appeals to me, what I find easy to move with him. I don’t know about any of you, but when I struggle to write a character, it’s because I struggle to understand their motivations. (Note that I said understand, which doesn’t necessarily mean agree with.) If I can’t explain to myself why a character is Like That, how the hell am I going to explain it to anyone else? How will I move them believably if I don’t know why they’re moving? 

So this got me thinking about... why Kiryu is Like That. 

One of the important things for me, whenever I have Kiryu in a scene, is that Kiryu is always in the Present. This is not true for many, many characters. Many people are reliving the past or hoping for the future. But in any given scene, even if Kiryu should be thinking about other things, what he responds to is the present, the here and now. That is first and foremost what motivates him. Whatever is happening right in front of him takes precedence. Both past events and future consequences mean very little to him compared to that. 

This is drastically different, as I said, from characters like Majima, who is nearly always living in the past. A strange thing for me to say about a character as self-aware as him, but being self-aware and being in the Present are two different things. But I’m not here to talk about him today. 

This is not to say that Kiryu is ignorant or foolhardy or callous. Kiryu does not deny the past its meaning or charge in blindly without an awareness of the consequences. He knows consequences will come, he simply accepts them faster than you might expect. And Kiryu is deeply affected by the past and does spend a great deal of time thinking about the past. But that’s not how his decisions get made. Many people are so afraid of or so hurt by the past, that all of their present decisions are predetermined by what has happened to them before. And that makes sense, we all learn from experience and react to it. It’s just a matter of which pieces of information any one of us is choosing to evaluate per decision. And rather than looking to past pain and past failures, or past successes, Kiryu gives deference to the most recent information. Part of the reason for this is that the only pattern Kiryu sees in the past is his failures. If everything he did before failed, why the hell would he do that again? And part of the reason is because the past is dead to Kiryu. 

I said before some people live in the past. They play it out every day, trying to redeem themselves, hoping for a different ending. If they just do it right this time, things will be different, things will be better. Other people believe in do-overs. Kiryu doesn’t. Kiryu internalized when he was young that there are no do-overs. Sometimes you get one shot and you live with the consequences. That’s what Kiryu believes. When he entered the yakuza, that was the ethos instilled in him. If you make a call, you stand by it and you live with it, good, bad, or break even. Kiryu believes that, even to this day. And in his defense, many of the decisions he’s had to make were like that. Any time he made a bad call, the consequences were permanent. Any mistake he made, he could lose a friend, he could lose a war. And when he made that decision, he had to be ready for those consequences. That’s what he learned. So for him there are no do-overs. The past is dead. It’s not an active, dynamic thing that he could change, even if he wanted to. He can’t bring Nishiki back to life, he can’t save Tachibana, he can’t un-orphan Haruka. Those decisions are made and gone. 

He’s not a fool and he won’t torture himself thinking about what he could have done differently. He accepts that these are the consequences. Sometimes you’re wrong and sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it. In some ways, this helps Kiryu let go. It means he’s never trying to save someone who’s already dead. It means he doesn’t dwell in regret. This gives him the ability to move forward. If he couldn’t do this, he never would have gotten up from the end of Kiwami 1. But Nishiki’s dead and there’s nothing he can do about it. So he doesn’t try. That’s the downside. Kiryu never goes back. He never tries to make it better, even for himself. Because he doesn’t think there is a way. It’s too painful to even consider that. Who is there to forgive him? Who is there to let him try again? The dead don’t talk. Kiryu accepts that he cannot change the past. Instead he flees from it. 

This is an opposite defensive maneuver from trying to relive the past, he’s trying to outrun it. If he never has to make those decisions again, then he can never fuck up like that again. It’s why he refuses to be chairman, it’s why he hates being in Kamurocho. It’s all a constant reminder of his mistakes and how much they cost. And Kiryu’s defensive strategy is sometimes overactive, deciding that he can’t fix situations that haven’t yet burnt to the ground. He always assumes people won’t forgive him, that they don’t want him to try. He always assumes his failure is enough to ruin all the relationships he has. Why would you forgive someone who ruined your life? Kiryu doesn’t know why you would and doesn’t think you should. He’s paranoid about failing the people he loves and he believes that if he has failed you, you rightfully don’t love him anymore and wouldn’t want to see him. He sees his mistakes too big to know how small they are to you. So he runs from good relationships because he thinks he’s already failed them, he thinks he’s already made too many mistakes and he doesn’t deserve that relationship anymore. Maybe he never did. 

And the more faith people put in him the worse this is. People treat Kiryu like he’s a god, a savior. And every time it makes Kiryu’s heart sore. He’s not afraid of his own power; he’s actually fairly confident in his abilities and has a good grasp of their reach. But seeing how much people trust him... it makes every mistake cost more. Kiryu worries because he knows he is human. No matter what anyone else thinks, he’s still just a guy. He sees himself as just a guy, maybe better trained or more gifted than some, but just a normal, mortal, flawed human being like anyone else. He knows he makes mistakes. He knows he will make mistakes again. And what if he makes a mistake that affects you? What if he’s wrong and it fucks you over? And how betrayed your trust is, how your faith in him falters... then you’ll finally see he was never worthy of it to begin with. Then you’ll feel deceived because he couldn’t live up to your expectations. 

Kiryu doesn’t want to hurt you like that, hurt anyone like that. He takes the expectations on him very seriously. He knows you’re only asking because you do need help. He knows you’re very sincere. And he badly wants to do right by you. But if he... if he fucks up, that doesn’t hurt him, it hurts you. And sometimes he can’t bear that. He can’t bear failing people, being responsible for their disappointment and hurt and ruined situation. 

It’s not that Kiryu wants to be reassured that he’s doing okay. People who want reassurance want to do the job they have. Kiryu hates this job. He hates being in the position to save or damn people. He hates the potential of getting it wrong and it mattering so much. And he would rather not help than risk it sometimes. His heart aches every time he’s asked again because that means... there’s no one else. It means he’s still the best you’ve got. And you deserve better, you deserve more than what he is. He’s just some guy and he’s not sure he can be what you need. He doesn’t trust himself to do it right. He wants you to have someone who WILL be there every time, who CAN weather it all. He doesn’t think he can. 

He will still help, because there’s no one else, because he does understand that if he doesn’t worse things will happen. And he’ll become responsible by not having stepped in. But this is why he’s inconsistent, he doesn’t think he can do more, he doesn’t trust himself. And he gets scared of how much people believe in him. 

He really doesn’t think that people could still love him, knowing he’s just some guy. He’s scared that if he isn’t perfect, like he’s supposed to be, like everyone wants him to be... everyone will feel betrayed. So he runs away to Okinawa to do something entirely different. But even then he’s scared of fucking up. He’s taken on all these young lives who depend on him and he’s waiting, he’s just waiting, to have someone tell him he’s a bad father, that he’s failed them, that he’s fucking up. And when that happens, he runs away again, so he won’t hurt them anymore. And because he doesn’t deserve to have relationships that bring him comfort and joy, he doesn’t deserve to feel useful and good, because he isn’t. He’s always been a failure. 

Kiryu carries the pressure on him EXCEEDINGLY well. He almost never breaks down. But he has those break downs. He has anxiety. He worries about fucking up. His confidence curves towards stables, but when he hits a rocky point... he’s unmoored. He’s left without any reassurance that he does know what he’s doing, that he is doing okay, that he hasn’t failed every relationship he’s ever had. People still love him and forgive him and want to be with him. Want to help him try again. 

I might even go so far to say that Kiryu has Imposter Syndrome. He has ex-gifted kid syndrome. Brought up with high expectations and high standards, more talented than his peers, launched into the stratosphere when he was still young, all of his personality moorings ripped away... He’s constantly just trying to be a good person, the best he knows how. And he takes it very, very hard when he falls short of what he was told all his life he could be. He doesn’t believe he ever achieved it.

I love Kiryu. I hope this helped show why.

[ruskinbondstories]

Why Ruskin Bond will always remain our favorite

From our early school days to the age of stepping into our respective career paths - we all grow up undergoing many changes. But only the writings of Ruskin Bond remain our constant companion. The close relationship between Ruskin Bond and us emerged slowly. The first introduction happened through textbooks, mostly after which people regularly saw a curious kid sitting at the corner of a bookstore with amazement in his eyes. And this amazement continued to appear on our faces every time we opened a book by Ruskin Bond. Unknowingly, we formed a strong bond with our favorite, Ruskin Bond. 

It's pretty impossible not to smell the hills, our childhood, winter breezes, the old and rusty cottages in his words. Ruskin Bond's stories feel like a legit time machine that never fails to transport us into a newer world or the world of the past. His stories made us enjoy natural affection, subtleties, and the lucid pleasures of life without delving into the materialistic way of living. So, let's try to get lost in the world of Bond and relive our sweetest memories again to remind ourselves why he will always be our most favourite.

Nature as its best

"Never mind. Men come and go. The mountains remain." - "Our trees still grow in Dehra."

Due to his intimate understanding of nature, Ruskin Bond successfully presents how nature could actively become a significant part of a person's well-being. We can't help feeling the solitude and the peaceful purity of being amidst the forlorn mountains, the Magpies, the beautiful forest birds, and the freshness of trees while reading his stories. Nature in his reports does not only provide background, but it becomes a character itself. He allows the free-flowing river, the little birds, the wildflowers, the sky, and every aspect of nature to convey their own messages to the readers.

That's why we perceive nature as a catalyst for healing our minds and making us transcend in the spiritual world. So, in most of his stories, he tries to convey the message of preserving nature. For example, in "The Coral Tree," Ruskin Bond has painted an essential aspect of teaching children the importance of planting and nurturing trees, thus, making a lasting partnership with man and nature.

Many great critics of our generation have declared the significant presence of the pantheistic nature approach in Bond's writings. He profoundly portrays both the nurturing and the destructive sides of Nature in his stories like "The Blue Umbrella," "Time Stops at Shamli," "The Angry River," "Rain in the Mountains," "Roads to Mussoorie," "The Room on the Roof" and many others. It's evidently clear that nature is the Muse of Ruskin Bond, and he will continue to strengthen the friendship between us and nature.

Bond's Art of Characterization

One of the most captivating qualities of Bond's stories that make them so relatable is his art of characterization. He amazingly creates a fellowship between the reader and the characters by presenting various characters and showing every character's development through the thick and thin of life. The most amazing part is that his feelings are rooted in reality and possess a breadth of genuineness without pretensions.

Ruskin Bond is the master of creating various characters who fall into every social and economic background of the vast spectrum of our society. He beautifully paints the difference between the characters belonging to both the backward and underprivileged class and the flourishing upper-class. But most surprisingly, each character's life becomes significantly inspiring to the readers because of their physical and mental struggles, their realization and acceptance, and their close connection with their conscience. Our eyes suddenly get wet whenever we go through the brief encounter of the two potential lovers in "The Eyes are not Here." Similarly, we feel the same adrenaline rush while witnessing Binya's adventurous journey down the stream to save her most precious possession in "The Blue Umbrella."

Ruskin Bond's excellent insight into human psychology makes the readers understand exactly what the character is going through. That's what makes it way easier to discover the characters' reasons, hesitations, dilemmas, joy, anxiety, happiness, and all sorts of emotions. We somehow get attached to the characters without consciously knowing it and start to fascinate them most realistically.

Accurate Representation of the Indian Society

Bond's literary works serve a great purpose of expressing the social, economic, and political issues concerning the public and the country at large. He conveys the different opinions of the differently brought up characters in society in the most effective way. The state of India when it was under British rule, the bloodshed during partition, the ruins made by corruption, the conservative approach of the society, the superstitions, and the prevailing problems of dowry and child marriage - all have become an integral part of his writings. That's why his stories are considered proofs that aptly documented the then Indian society comprehensively.

Ruskin Bond's excellence also prevails in enriching the native language, bringing forth ethos and culture, and portraying the existing complexity of the socio-political scenario. At the grass-root level, his stories present a great insight into the ongoing social stigma without being a complete rant about problems only. His characters depict juxtaposition by making readers experience the constant tension that goes on within themselves between their rural and old values and the new urban moral code that they are exposed to.

Although Ruskin Bond Books is majorly known as one of the best writers of children's books, his adult and adolescent novels deal with the aspects we all go through in adulthood. For example, his "The Room on the Roof" brings up issues faced by the protagonist Rusty that had never been the table talk back in the 1950s. The life of Rusty resonates with us because we all have witnessed the problems like identity formation, wanting financial independence, emerging sexuality at some point in our lives. On the other hand, "The Room on the Roof" and its sequel, "The Young Vagrants," also successfully bring out the pain and loneliness of the orphan protagonist while depicting the prevailing social concerns such as racial and cultural differences, narrow-mindedness, and the social pretensions.

A Master of Stealing Children's Hearts

Risking Bond's fantastic insight into child psychology has contributed to making him our most favorite writer. The most incredible element found in his children's books is that he shows immense respect to a child's emotions, a thing which is not openly discussed or even given much value to. He captures the innocence of children in the best possible way while providing the utmost importance to the adventures, the hidden complexity, tragedies, and determination of the little minds. The self-seeking attitude of children is beautifully painted in the subtle yet strong words of Bond. "The Blue Umbrella" and "The Angry River" are perhaps the most outstanding examples for showing the strength and abilities children inherit along with the intricacies of life- all presented with a mesmerizing touch of simplicity. Through these stories, Ruskin Bond successfully raises a very pertinent question on the conviction of getting attached to trivial materialistic things of life, which exposes the futility of the entire concept.

Ruskin Bond is a master of depicting the innocence and simple pleasures of children, which contrasts with the cunning, shrewd, and envious nature of the adults in his children's books. It inspires the readers worldwide to adhere to the old pleasure-seeking and joyful spirit we have left in the past. The children's stories highlight the lessons of sympathy, kindness, and brotherhood among the readers of every age. 

That's why Bond's significant contribution lies in the fact that Bond's children's stories do not only evoke happiness in kids, but adults also perceive the same amount of gleeful experience while reading them.

Conclusion -

Ruskin Bond's simple style of writing delves deep into our conscience. It is a potent weapon of his that beautifully depicts both the complexities and the ease of life. Bond never wants to "make readers toil and sweat" because he never believed in the concept of putting complex and unconventional words to sound more serious. In "It's a Wonderful Life," he shared why he always chooses to write simply. He also shared his views on social media regarding his writing style by saying, "I have always tried to achieve proses that are simple and conversational. Those who think this is easy should try it for themselves." It is always astonishing to see how the subject matters of Bond's writings are given such high importance without presenting them in a twisted form by using complex words. That's why his stories can be read repeatedly regardless of the reader's age, as the Ruskin Bond Stories have something interesting to offer you each time you turn the pages. 

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Zombie Apocalypse AU Masterpost 2 Electric Boogaloo

Previous Post: https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/618314308275863552/zombie-apocalypse-au-masterpost

-Bdubs is slowly going feral because he has the virus, it just doesn't show itself physically.

-Cub was tempted to purposefully get the virus to try and help find a cure, (they probably don't have lab rats given the circumstances,) by Scar talked him out of it.

-The timeline of events with DocM is that he started in the NHO group, they ended up dispersing (Etho turned and then left to ensure the safety of his friends, Beef ended up going separate due to Doc and Bdubs' constant fighting and Bdubs stormed off after an argument.) He ends up getting taken in by TFC, (he's the first to arrive,) and eventually captures Rendog.

-Stressmonster and Iskall originally lived in a cabin in the mountains. After Iskall got swept away in a snow storm and Joe and Cleo stopped by, Stress had no idea there was a Zombie outbreak.

-Hypnotizd and XB ended up trespassing in Jevin's property and Jevin shot Hypno. XB pleaded to Jevin that they weren't zombies and to not hurt them further and Jevin begrudgingly went, 'okay, fine. You aren't taking my food though.'

-Impulse's weapon of choice was a shovel.

-Grian can't fly in this AU. Let's be real, if he could, it would be pretty OP.

-Keralis most definetly gave a larger share of his rations to Xisuma while he was sick.

-TangoTek entirely blames himself for Impulse leaving and Zedaph getting bit. He feels especially conflicted because he wants to leave because he's convinced they both hate him and blame him but he can't because 'what if they go looking for him?' 'What if someone worse comes from that?'

-The location of Etho's bite is right on the front of the neck. He actually passed out from blood loss initially and he very nearly died. (Luckily for him the zombie didn't pull away, ripping out anything important (like a windpipe of an oesophagus,) giving Doc time to carefully unhinge the zombie's jaw and save Etho.) Nobody was quite sure how Etho was even alive with a big chunk out of his neck until he started displaying some strange behaviour.

-False is usually the one who stays up late to stand guard and protect her group.

-Mumbo accidentally caught Hypno in one of his traps at one point but let him go.

-Hay here’s a dumb idea, The reason ren is immune to the zombie virus is because he has like an anti-zombie virus in his body it behaves just like a normal zombie virus but it doesn’t turn you into a zombie, so how the hermits turn the zombie hermits human again is by making ren bite them.

-I have an angst ending and a no-angst ending so first here's the not-angst one: Doc and Ren team up with Cub and Scar to make a cure (so Ren doesn't have to bite everyone personally). They travel around finding every bitten survivor and salvageable zombie they can, using the weapons and resources from the NHO for protection. They find ways of producing and distributing enough cure for everyone, and during that process all of the Hermits decide to stay friends and in touch afterward.

-For the Zombie AU, if Scar doesn't already have like a different role in this au, he could've possibly been the first human infected because *someone's* pet cat ate a weird looking mouse and bit their owner.

-This is very angsty and gory, so fair warning: How fast does the virus spread through the body from the bite? If slow, you can cut the bitten part off before it spreads out through the body. To doc having a robot arm, what if he got bit and out of fear, they amputated his arm to stop the spread. I know y'all probably don't wanna go with body horror, but that's something to consider in this AU.

-Lowkey I feel zombie Etho doesnt do justice to his epic PVP skillz, but!! I do see Etho to be something SIMILAR to it! Idk if you've ever played Telltale's The Walking Dead game, but Etho could a zombie whisperer, a human who wears zombie skin and lives amongst the zombies for protection. So when Etho got bit, they THOUGHt he turned but actually just decided, hey I live here now and just vibin.

-You know how ren being a werewolf is popular in the fandom(from what I've seen) maybe that's why is immune to being a zombie and getting bitten by him if your infected cures it because the zombie infection and werewolf infection cancel eachother out.

-A more jokey Zombie!Au thing: The first episode of Llamas with hats but it's Zombie!Etho and Beef.

-I feel like if Wels could get to some of his friends he would try his hardest to protect them and if he ever managed to get bit it would be to save someone else.

-There is just always so much angst potential in any scenario or AU where it involves the possibility of Wels sacrificing himself in some way to protect his friends from something poor bb 😔

-Would infected hermits be able to like recognize people after the infection zombified them or whatever it is? Because if so oh my god imagine the angst.

(All those above in red are from our community's lovely anons!)

-About the anti-zombie Ren bite thing: Doc has the idea suddenly in the middle of an argument so the conversation goes a little like this:

Ren: "So what I'm trying to say, my dude, is that would never work because -"

Doc: "Ren. Bite me."

Ren: "Oh yeah, real mature way to end a disagreement there -"

Doc: *facepalming* "No, Ren, I mean actually.... Just do it, I'll explain later."

-Angst ending: They could never produce enough cure to stem the tide of undeath. They all choose to band together and take shelter underground, hoping to wait it out. They use X's tunnel, but that many people that close together smells irresistible to a horde. The zombies flood after them into the tunnel. X says he'll buy them some time, even though he is terrified. He collapses the tunnel on himself and the zombies so the others can escape. His last thought: At least I get to die as myself.

-Thinking about Etho's bite location (you said it was on his neck): Most bites are on the shoulder or leg (bit from behind while running away) or on the arm (bit while raised to defend). To be bitten on the neck he would have to have his arms and shoulders lowered. Etho, being a good fighter, would have only done this if it was absolutely necessary. Conclusion: he was bitten with his arms stretched out to protect someone behind him, and he knew the consequence that his choice would have.

-(@shadeswiftdraws.)

-The NHO are all strangely dressed (Etho is kakashi, Doc is green, Bdubs has a bandana,) because they were all at a cosplay convention. (-@tomcatacaphe.)

-When Etho left The nHo, he brings a Journal with him. Every Night he'll write a Journal entry. He'll write just about anything, there even some random lyrics and some pretty flowers he pick up along his travels. But as the Journal goes on, the words slowly became wobbly. Inconsistent. until finally, Unreadable chicken skrach. His final (at least readable) entry is: "-I hoPE yoU GUyZ ArE DoInG bETThEr ThAn I Am" As some point in time, Etho lost his Journal and Joe hills found it.

-Speaking of Joe Hill, he made it his personal mission to collect every literature and entertament media he can possibly carry on him. From Dnd Book, poetry, Documentary DVD's, to random journal He think would be usefull. Stress is happy to help Joe but Cleo is a little annoyed because it's will only slow them down, but Joe Argued that "If there's no knowledge left, then what will the future be? Just staying alive and surviving?" Cleo begrudgingly agrees.

-I can totally see Joe and Cleo Rocking an actual Sword and Dnd Cosplay (Joe got is a gift while Cleo Commissions her's after seeing Joe whip out his sword one time in a one shot DnD session) they keep the swords, but they ditch the Costume pretty early on tho.

-Mumbo's next Job Interview would be schedule at Concorp. But then the Zombie apocalypse happened on his way there.

(-@tearosepedall.)

-I don’t want this au to end but here’s my take: most of them get to the bunker where they don’t develop a cure, but do create a vaccine. Occasionally they will venture out to hand out the vaccine to survivors. Still, they all decide to stay into stay together. But because they were unable to develop a cure, even though they really try, there are some how have been lost such as etho, zed, and mumbo. Still the rest of them morn and try their best to survive without modern society. (-@lookitsspacekween.)

https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/618587883366957056/tw-very-brief-mention-of-vomit-general-warnings (-@carpe-shovelem.)

-Funny/happy ending to the Zombie AU: The hermits set up a zombie funneling system where the ones that didn't die from infection get bit by Ren to get turned back and they return the dead and give them proper burials. (-@my-cat-is-a-bastard.)

-I just remembered the thought post with Tuartis sleeping through things, Bdubs sleeping through the apocalypse, but now we've got Wels on the sleep team too! Wonder if he'd have slept through the apocalypse as well... (-@853dragons.)

TW: Mentions of dead animals:

I've got one last bit for the zombie au, it ties into my parasite one: With the rumors that the outbreak started in the Convex cancer research facility, and Scar feeling guilt because he Should Have Been Able To Stop This... It really was their fault. As a company. It wasn't intentional, of course, but Convex created the parasite. It was during research into a cure for certain conditions that are notoriously risky/impossible to perform surgery on, like brain tumors or lukemia-type cancer. The hope was to utilize the parasites as something that could harmlessly go in, eat or destroy all the cancerous cells, then die off, leaving a perfectly healthy human. The research project was abandoned after a several years, when every single attempt ended with either dead or, in later years, extremely sickly rats. Although the final round seemed promising, the rats weren't showing obvious signs of a decline in health after two weeks, Convex was convinced to just give it up and that the utilization of parasitic worms was asking for more trouble than it was worth. Plus, PETA was getting dangerous with their choices in protest against the tests, which was the main reason it was called off. Cub and the board of directors didn't want to risk bodily harm to their researchers, and it truly was getting so beyond ridiculous that a few bodyguards weren't enough protection.

Some researchers took some of the test rats home as pets, including our Patient Zero, because they really were quite cute. Patient Zero got bit by his rat, and nobody really thought anything of it for a couple weeks until his behavior took a bad turn. He was picking fights and throwing verbal abuse, and no amount of warnings and write-ups were giving any hint of stopping him. It all finally resulted in him viciously biting fellow labworkers, which sent two of them and himself to the ER. Upon arrival he had to be restrained and isolated lest he bite more people. He was fired from the company, his bodyguards pulled, but Scar had been friends and continued to visit him regularly, wondering where the change had come from, and saddened by his old friend's obvious decline in health. Nurses told him he was refusing to eat or drink, and too violent to reason with nor release to anywhere but the police or psychiatric hospital. Soon, there were more reports of uncharacteristicly aggressive actions from PZ's victims. And from there.... Well, it's your choice where the story goes, but it didn't take long for Scar to put the puzzle together.

-(@basaltdragon.)

More to be added!

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 6- Of Guilds and Gems

Master Post

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Rejected and told to disband, the hermits can only lament their losses and try to figure out where to go from here. Luckily, a message gives them all they need to know.

---------------------------------------

The hermits sit at the canal’s wall, feet dangling over the slow moving water. Watching letters sail by, flags flutter in the wind, and waterfalls fill the ever-moving marsh. Most of the hermits can’t manage to touch their ice cream, their stomach sick just thinking about what happened. For once, Grian’s foolproof pick-me-up isn’t working. 

But ice cream always works. It’s how he got to know Mumbo, after saving him from a violent robbery. He remembers Mumbo’s alarmed expression as he simply wiped away the blood and asked what his favorite flavor was. When Etho failed his S-Class trials, it was ice cream that brought back a smile on the shadow ninja’s face. Grian was sure ice cream would ease the painful rejection they just received. 

The frozen treats are all melted by the time someone speaks up. Everyone expected to hear Xisuma, wise counseling from their substitute guildmaster, or an angry tirade from Doc. But it’s Zedaph who’s voice rises up. “I didn’t like his office. It had...a bad feeling in there. The feeling of death.” 

“Probably because of all his taxidermy animals, bro.” Iskall sighs, flopping onto his back and staring at the sky. Watching the white clouds move across the blue sky with one crystal eye. “Trust me, that was weird for everyone.” 

“No, beyond that. It wasn’t just the heads. It felt like everything in there was… was screaming. I don’t know, my shepherd magic just told me that all those souls were in agony or something.” Zedaph bites his lip. His magic was always so hard to describe. It was more than just a feeling. It was nauseating, overwhelming. 

“Maybe it was just the sound of all our souls being betrayed at once.” Jevin grumbles, playing with a ball of slime in his hand, movement lackluster and slow. 

“He had our crest.” Impulse’s voice is gruff, husky and low. Twenty something heads turn to face the member of team ZIT, but he doesn’t look up from the water. His fists clench, leather of his fingerless gloves rippling. “He had the crest of a murdered guild hung up on his wall like some trophy.” 

“Maybe it was in memory?” Stress whispers. “Or he had a friend who died in the massacre? As rude as that whole burning contract thing was, I don’t think he’s anything more than a jackass.” A ripple of agreement washes across the other hermits. Tango looks at his friends, and does his best to console them. They’re all thinking about their old guild, the only three survivors left to remember them. The only legal guild that wanted a shepherd mage and his talking animal abilities, a wizard that can summon hell magic and has fire for hair, and a sorcerer who only deals with destruction. 

Keralis’s eyes follow two wizards, walking by in dark grey robes, blue tassled belts denoting their position within a legal guild. Uniforms of notoriety, of power and presence. Respect, easily won as they just walk down the streets of Milliara.  “Maybe we can ask one of the Council guilds to help. Surely if they hear what we saw, they will want to help the people of Lairyon, no?” 

“Those pompous bastards?” Iskall snorts, leaning back to rest on his elbows. “They only care about their seat on the council and being the richest guild in Lairyon. If Gildara doesn’t pay up, they won’t do a damned thing.” The Council seats are filled by the six strongest guilds, and the elected magistrate. Unlike Dolios, they aren’t chosen. The guildmasters take up the seat, and they are picked solely based on their guild’s bylaws. Many are nobles, gaining even more power in law as well as class. The guilds are elite, licensed and powerful enough to sway not just the populace but the government as well.

Keralis whimpers, watching the two guildmembers walk by. They must be strong, well trained to be a member of a Council guild. And all that is being wasted, put on display by their guilds and waltzing around Milliara. When the entire nation needs them. 

“What about King Sor?” Stress breathes. “He has some say in the ruling of Lairyon. These are his people.”

“No one has heard anything from the king in years. Apart from his festival appearances and other civil duties, he just passes any law that appears on his throne.” Mumbo remembers the last time he saw King Sor. Just a few days before he attempted the exam for the Stoneforge guild- the last guild that would even think to take him. It was a joyous day of celebration, a festival of art and creativity- something he remembers King Sor used to love when he was but a prince. 

But when the king appeared at his promenade, there was a hint of fear in his eyes the entire time he spoke. As soon as he was done, he scrambled back to his royal advisor and let Magistrate Dolios return to his part of the speeches. There was no one in the government they could ask, no one they could think to turn to.

Etho nudges Xisuma on the shoulder. “There’s one person we could ask. What about your-” 

“No, absolutely not.” Xisuma stands, brushing off the dirt from his robes. “Come on gang, let’s get back to our home.” He glances over his shoulder, the hermits following his gaze to an arcane guard, just a few meters away and easily visible as the crowd breaks around him, like water splitting at a boulder in the stream.. “We need to get to work packing up.” 

Mumbo’s lip trembles. No, this can’t be happening. He finally has a guild, a place he feels he belongs. His magic may be weak, uncontrollable at best, but they don’t care. They just like having him around. Years of being denied entry into guild after guild, abandoned by his family as a failure, and turning to an illegal guild. And finding more than he ever had in the gilded halls of noble high life. All gone, taken from him again. But then he notices Xisuma wink from within the mask, as well as Grian’s sly grin on his face, and he realizes his mistake. 

“Whoa, what the hell?” A cacophony ripples down the street, people ducking out of the way and chagrining at the flying flame that banks and bows under the many flags and pennants. “Who is stupid enough to use a phoenix for a mail carrier?”

Grian gasps, bouncing into the sky with his wings unfolding. “Phoebe!” 

“Still needs a better name.” Doc grumbles, watching as the firebird lands on Grian’s arm. Feathers like tongues of flame ruffle, brushing up against Grian as she nuzzles against the wizard. His cheeks turn pink, but don’t burn. Her chirps are the sound of wood breaking and embers sizzling, but each hermit welcomes the sight of their unusual mail carrier. 

“I bet it’s TFC. He’s probably asking how things went.” Grian grimaces, letting Xisuma open the scroll strapped in an enchanted carrier. 

“Nope, actually. Wels is back,” A loud cheer follows the announcement. He’d been gone for months, on a solo mission in Alphasgard. The guild was starting to worry when he wasn’t responding to their correspondences. X peers at the letter, ignoring Grian as he digs into Xisuma’s backpack. Searching for charcoal to treat Phoebe. “He’s writing to… he wants us to come home as soon as possible.” 

Xisuma sighs, feeling the pressure of the entire guild peeking over his shoulder and clambering over him to see what the letter says. Impatient buggers, the lot of them. He tosses the paper for them all to see. Elegant handwriting, sharp as a blade and shiny as armor, pens out the message to them all- 

To my fellow hermits, 

Please come home IMMEDIATELY. TFC is scaring me- he’s not acting right. He spends all day pestering with one tiny crystal, he’s been acting irritated and irrational. Just yesterday he yelled at me for bringing him baklava. He loves my baklava! 

What is going on? Is there something I missed? 

                     -Wels, Paladin Wizard, sworn Knight of Lairyon

“Does he always have to sign it like it’s an official document?” Cub shrugs. 

“What does he mean, TFC isn’t acting right?” Mumbo bites his lip, brows knitting together. TFC never yells at anyone, he’s more of a father to Mumbo than his own ever was. 

“We missed Wels’s baklava!” Zedaph whines. The day just keeps getting worse and worse. 

“If it’s something that has Wels so worried, we should get back as soon as possible. Either way, there’s nothing for us here.” Xisuma rolls up the parchment, and the entire guild continues with a heightened pace to the western gate- the gate of determination. Set on getting back to the sea as fast as possible.