#Mianite fan fiction

[dollar-store-sparklez]

heres my take of the day i dont think ccs should read fanfiction on stream or for videos. 

usually what happens is young inexperienced writers get put on blast and end up harassed by other fans of the creator for writing fanfic, and lord knows fans often take things extremely far. yeah ok maybe the fanfic was ‘cringe’ or ‘weird’ but that doesnt mean its ok to put them on blast to hundreds or thousands of other people to laugh at yknow? its really fucked up honestly, and its usually never funny, its just really shitty and embarrassing. 

i understand that its weird to ccs to hand fanfic written about them (and real person fiction is just. im not supportive. those are real people) but if its a character (even if the character shares your name) you shouldnt yknow. place a creative work made by a fan in front of your other fans who will absolutely start harassing them regardless of your personal opinion on the work or if you told them not to. if you absolutely cannot stop yourself from reading fanfic from your fans, do it privately with your friends where no one can get harassed. idk i just think its really fucked up

#pandora speaks #this said heres a reminder that fanfic about dsmp or mianite characters are about CHARACTERS and is not real person fiction #there is a difference and imo rpf is crossing boundaries we shouldnt cross #it still doesnt mean i would like sparklez to check out the mianite stuff on ao3 on stream yknow #AND there is a difference if the fanfic author tells the streamer they can read it (either directly in dms or w a disclaimer on the work) #but most authors either dont do that or explicitly dont want the ccs they like to read their stuff #cause they know its kinda awkward for the ccs yknow? #fanfic is for fans #sorry this came outta nowhere #also this is a difference when like #a cc is reading it for themself and just like comments on the fic or maybe shares it if the fandom is real small and chill #but again for like dsmp or smth fanfic streams are just never a good idea #yeah this is cause i remember big q read fanfic for a stream once i thought it was a bad idea then too

[traitorsinsalem]

remember when x33n went on a reddit rant about people who really liked mianite and saying that people "have clung to this romanticized, fictional idea of what Mianite was" and now mianitian isles happened, the anniversary build event happened, tom and jordan talked about it in their hardcore games this summer...like why was he being a cunt for no reason. he didn't even talk about people who harassed the streamers or spam season 3 jokes, (in fact, he specified that he's NOT talking about "repeat-a-memecomedians,") and specified people with an "emotional investment" in mianite. as if those who participated in the series don't still have some very clear emotional investment in the series even though it's over. as if madspy doesn't have "Network Administrator of Mianite" in his discord and as if the "making of mianite" video from 2016 isn't his pinned post on twitter right now. as if declan himself didn't casually hang out with me and other random mianite fans for a while simply because that was something we had in common. literally what was his problem.

#succ speaks #it felt like he was making up an imaginary mianite fan to get mad at just for....enjoying the streams and the series??? #i found the post again today and yeah. that's exactly what he did

[syndianites]

Going, Going, Again

Summary: Ianite watches the heroes fall into the Void, into the next world. She’s joined by an old friend. (Ianitee!Tom)

Content Warning: None that I’m aware of.

The heroes fall down into the deep abyss like feathers in the wind. A start of color against the fuzzy, dark expanse.

Ianite looks down upon them with an impassive face.

Perhaps she should feel something more as she sends them off. Relief? Remorse? Content? Apprehensive? They had just vanquished Dianite to save her, surely she must feel some sort of bond with them?

For Jordan, if nothing else?

But nothing tapped at her heart as they became smaller and smaller. Only the zombie- Tom, looked back up towards her. Looking back to the past, to what he was leaving behind. Ianite didn’t need to read his thoughts to know he was thinking about Dianite.

How ironic.

Slow steps started up from behind her. Redbeard had already wandered off somewhere to think over what had happened. To mourn Capsize. Ianite supposed she should have felt something there, too, for having failed Capsize.

She didn’t.

Part of her wanted to blame the fact that she had been without her heart for so long. It changed someone to have their soul taken and captured. Even with it returned she felt detached from it. She hoped it would get better with time.

The steps stopped on her left side as a figure appeared in her peripheral. They were a familiar presence, an old one. Leaning forward ever so slightly, they stared after the heroes. Ianite wondered if they could see her companion. What they would think if they did.

He let out a contemplative hum. “We look so small down there.” Red eyes flicked over to Ianite. “Did you know what was going to happen when you told us to jump?”

She inclined her head towards him, not taking her eyes off the remaining specks of the heroes. Almost gone. “Yes.”

She received a snort. “Of course you did.”

Silence.

Her companion was dressed similar to the first time she ever saw him, many years ago. Long coat, puffy shirt, dark pants with a deep red belt. He was missing the hat, though, and the eye patch. Despite all this time, he had kept up the pirate look.

“Do y’think that Capsize coulda turned out like me?” He stood back up straight, sparing a glance at the goddess. “It would be cool, I think, to have a zombie friend. Hell, she could be a drowned even. Keep the water motif.”

Ianite smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear and replied, “Tom, we don’t need more of you in this world.”

He made a show of being hurt, but from the smile that flickered in Ianite’s face he knew it was a joke. Of course, that didn’t stop the dramatics.

“I can’t believe I stayed low for years just for this slander! Did you even miss me?” Tom bat his eyes at her in a fake pout.

There was a stir in her chest at that.

Yes, her heart whispered from somewhere distant, more than I thought I would.

Her mind pushed back, no, you were just one among many followers, you weren’t special.

She opts, then, for a mysterious smile. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Tom turns serious in a blink. “When will I see them again?”

His voice breaks at the end of the question. It was a quiet one, one he was scared of the answer to. Ianite stared resolutely into the Void. The heroes were nowhere to be seen now.

It took her a moment to place Tom’s sudden transition. From her missing him to him missing them. She thought back to how long it’d been since he’d seen any of them in person, talked to them and laughed with them.

With a hollow pang in her chest she realized that it had been since Jordan and Karl had left. Without Tom. Tom who loved his friends more than he cared to say. Tom who had insisted they go, that he’d find a way to follow them even if the portal didn’t hold.

She realized that Tom was desperately lonely.

But she doesn’t have an answer for him. Or, rather, she knows that he will need to lay low for a little while longer once the alternates arrive. So she asks instead, “How did you feel this time when you watched Dianite die?”

Because she knew that Tom couldn’t stop himself from seeing his old god one last time before he was gone. It was a cheap diversion, and a hard one at that. Tom’s mouth twisted into something bitter and guilty.

“Just like it did the first time.”

Neither of them moved from where they stood next to the edge. The all-consuming silence of the End surrounded them. If Ianarea had been where it was supposed to be, in the Overworld, Ianite mused that perhaps a light breeze would have stirred up some life around them.

“Capsize reminded me of me, y’know? It was a shame to see her go,” Tom spoke again, pushing away the quiet.

Ianite wasn’t surprised by the relation. A pirate that was chaotic and followed herself, to an extent?

“I’d rather say you resembled her. She came before you, in your perspective.”

Tom hummed in response.

Ianite wasn’t sure why Tom had chosen to be here, at this point. They weren’t terribly close. Sure, years upon years of immortal passing had brought them together, but not in a way that was significant. If they had been mortals, killable by age and expected to die eventually, they would have been thicker than thieves. But as it stood, time had given them many things to fight over and bond over in equal measure.

But she knew that Tom just wanted comfort in company, and she wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Maybe it was the return of her heart, but Ianite felt sympathy for him. They were almost similar in their recent situations- both trapped as a result of trying to help others. Abandoned by those who only had their best interest at heart.

Neither of them really had hearts, however. Nothing that beat blood through their veins in steady rhythm. For better or worse, that gave them an excuse to act with apathy.

Yet, they never could.

“I did,” Ianite breathed.

Tom looked to her with scrunched eyebrows, confusion in his eyes.

“I missed you.”

A startled expression melted into a small, shy smile. Ianite shook her head and turned to move away. Footsteps followed her. It would take time, but Ianite would return to her full power. She’d have to nudge Tom into acting as Dianite until that one from the other dimension appeared, but he would be able to help keep balance well enough. He had taken over her brother’s power, regardless of how much he tried to forget about it.

As they walked her own footsteps made for a steady, soft beat. Step, step, and step. Forward into what the future held.

It almost sounded like a heartbeat.

#mianite #mianitefa #ianite #ianitee!tom #tom cassell #tom syndicate #mianite fan fiction #mianite fanfiction

[discordantplains]

Criminal

"So what are we doing now?"

Captain Captain eyed the bouncing zombie trying to catch up with his speed. "We aren't doing anything. I'm--"

"I'll follow you. I can help with pranks!" Tom practically begged, linking their arms together. 

Captain Captain pulled his arm out of Tom's and tried to pick up his pace again. Unfortunately his short legs left him at a disadvantage. "--not going home anymore. Yer going back to those phony lookalikes."

"Tucker's all sick and sneezing, Sonja and Wag are gone and Sparklez is probably with SkeleTom." Tom made sure to say his alternate's name with as much disgust as possible. 

Captain Captain raised an amused eyebrow. "That ought to be interesting. I wonder how long my double will last. He looks passive, that shameful duplicate has no chance. SkeleTom took a liking to em though?" Captain Captain fixed his gaze forward. "Hmph," he pondered it.

Tom's eyes lit up, "We can prank them!" Captain Captain went quiet and tried escaping again before Tom grabbed his arm. "You hate your alternate and I hate mine! It's perfect, we'll have so much fun!"

Before saying no Captain Captain glowered at him. The stupid zombie was clinging on to his arm near desperate. Disgusting. He clearly wasn't leaving anytime soon and his pea sized brain had managed to make a decent point. He could shoot him with his crossbow for fun if anything. 

"Alright. Ye can join me for today if ya' listen to me. I'll drown ya' otherwise."

"Yes! Capt you're so much better than Sparklez!" Tom fistbumped the air and grabbed on to Captain Captain trapping him in a tight hug. Captain Captain immediately took his arm and threw him on his back. 

Tom yelped when he hit the ground. He rubbed his arm and checked to make sure it hadn’t been pulled free. He wouldn’t want to go to Sparklez to get his arm restitched with SkeleTom around.

"Captain Captain,” came the correction.

Tom watched in awe as he continued to walk on at a more normal speed, wavy hair flowing behind him as he pulled out a dagger and started sharpening it. Tom scrambled back up, ignoring the pain stretching on his side.  

"Teach me how to do that."

"No."

Tom pouted, "How did you become such a badass?" He scoffed "And I get stuck with Jordan?"

"How’d I get stuck with ye?" Captain Captain mumbled.

"What was that?"

Captain Captain faced him with a fixed glare. "I said how’d I get stuck with ye," He said right to Tom's face making sure he'd hear him. His scar-littered complexion was sunbleached and the malice in his eyes clear.

Tom blinked. He saw Captain Captain's nonchalant expression and he couldn’t help but laugh. Captain Captain's glare didn't waver. 

"Thank gods you have a good sense of humor, gods know Jordan doesn't. You're funny Capt."

"Captain Captain." Captain Captain grumbled.

"So, now that we're best friends--"

"No."

"--what can I call you?" Tom tried to grab his arm again.

Captain Captain yanked it away. "Captain Captain, nothin' else--"

"I could give you a sick nickname!"

"Ye will not unless yer looking to lose a foot--"

Tom continued, "Captain Captain is too long. How about Capt?"

"Captain Captain."

"No, that’s what SkeleTom calls you." Tom said his name mockingly, repeating it in the kiss up way Jordan did. "Cap'n?"

"Captain Captain."

"Nah that's too close to Capt." Tom scratched his chin in thought, "CaptCapt?"

"Captain Captain,” Captain Captain corrected under his breath. The second time Tom incorrectly said his name his eye twitched. “Captain Captain."

"Cappy? Like--’hey Cappy!’" Tom half waved, exampled greeting with the nickname. 

"Captain Captain. Captain Captain,” he tossed his dagger in the air, fingers stilling as if his muscles betray him with their desire to impale it in Tom’s throat.

Tom saluted with a wacky grin. "O’ Captain my-Captain?"

"Captain Captain," he deadpanned.

"Captain Pirate? Pirate Captain? You're more of a captain than Sparklez anyways."

"Captain Captain. Captain Captain." Captain Captain's eye twitched again. He sharpened his dagger loudly, scraping the metal with as much force as he could. His dagger looked ready to cleave through bone. 

"Maybe Captain Crunch? I feel like I heard that somewhere."

"Captain Captain."

"How about Captain SexyPants, huh?" Tom elbowed him and sent a wink that went ignored as he stared ahead, barely containing his anger in a muttered 'Captain Captain.'

"Oh, I know!" Tom exclaimed, even more excitement in his eyes. He turned to Captain Captain like a kid looking to please their new favorite friend. 

Captain Captain clenched his jaw "No, no nicknames--"

"Captain Not-Sparklez" 

Captain Captain gripped his dagger tightly. His knuckles were white and his eyes flickering with murderous intent. "Captain. Captain."

"Better Jordan it is!" Tom exclaimed with petty joy, having completely blocked out everything Captain Captain said while he was thinking of names.  

"Captain Captain." Captain Captain said through his teeth, his dagger shooting straight down, landing besides Tom's foot. He turned around a sharp corner, out of Tom's sight in an instant.

"Hey! It almost hit my foot--wait up! You dropped your--actually, I'm keeping this now." Tom pulled the dagger from the ground and shoved it in a scabbard attached to his belt. He caught up with Captain Captain who managed to get very far down the street in a very short time. 

Out of breath, Tom jogged after him. His bet was on Captain Captain forgetting he had lost the dagger and Tom would keep it. He'd have the best weapon compared to his friends who had little to nothing with how Honey watched them.

Tom already tried and failed to threaten going rogue, but Honey had left him and his threat with a glare. Wordlessly she had dismissed him, turned on her heel and left. Tom had gaped at her empty space. No one had done that--he always got an answer, she just--left! The second time he mentioned it he got a very simple, "I wouldn't advise that sort of behavior." He wasn't scared of her. Not even in the slightest. 

Tom traced a pattern that decorated the dagger's handle. It looked like the ocean in the sea green metal, and Tom could see the mist and fog over grey water and sharp waves leading to an island. A fallen palm tree, small and firmly engraved caught his finger nail as he traced it. All of the designs lead right to the dagger's blade. He slid it back in his scabbard. 

"So how'd you land here anyways? Why didn't you explore the ocean and fight narwhals or some shit? Why'd you stay here?"

"Why’do ye ask so many questions?" Captain Captain asked. Tom had sapped the life from him. It's only been an hour and he's already wearing him down. He should've never let him haggle him.

"Why don't you answer my questions? I am helping you after all." Tom said with nerve Captain Captain couldn’t believe. A gnat batting at him shouldn’t have such gills.

Captain Captain mimicked a blank stare. "The Gods called on me to find a land for them. I was a wee bit late, but I did my duty."

Tom watched as Captain Captain kicked a rock. "Evil Ianite?" He missed Captain Captain's eye roll.

"Yes, Ianite." The rock jumped and rolled, running until it fell into a small ditch and was out of sight. "The lass called upon me, only me. My crew had long died." Tom glanced at the pile of rocks filling the little ditch like bodies. He looked back at Captain Captain and he was lost in his old world of sharp waves and dreary seas. Of crazed nights brought by never ending isolation and the delirious hinge on hysteria and imbalance, of deranged imaginations that would drive one to insanity. 

"That's sick! Can you describe it in like, a pirate-y metal song? Imagine how hardcore of a head-banger that'd be! Gods, Jordan's such a pussy bitch, he just washed up on Mianite but you actually fought on the ocean, for real! That's why you're Captain Not-Sparklez. Better Jordan is simpler though. Meh, I'll just switch between them."

"It's Captain Captain. And ye better shut your trap about my double." Captain Captain stopped abruptly in front of some old backstreet. "Captain Captain, learn it for Ianite's sake."

Tom, who wasn't paying attention, walked straight into Captain Captain's back. Captain Captain looked back at him with a fixed glare before facing the building again. It was exactly like all the rest, painted prim and sharp, and through the ornate window, matching furniture decorating the inside of a cozy living room. But dust layered over the window, dust layered over everything. It was exactly like all the other houses: abandoned. 

Tom didn't linger on it too long. Eyes returning to his new friend. 

How cool was he? Being best friends with the person who’s responsible for the emptiness of the town--and a real professional pirate captain at that. 

"Why are we at this ratty building, I thought we were going to do pranks? Let's go prank people!" Tom whined, leaning on his leg.

Captain Captain kicked the building with enough force to clear a layer of dust off the window and startle a few small spiders building webs. Tom watched in amazement as a trap door opened in front of him. "What's down there?"

"My stuff. Stay up here." Captain Captain got ready to jump down before Tom threw his arm in front of him and leaned close.

"I don't mind being taken home before the first date." Tom waggled his eyebrows with a grin. He hoped to fluster the Captain, as he could easily do with Jordan, but he was sorely disappointed. 

Captain Captain stayed stoic. "Stay 'ere unless you want your dead body to be thrown into a ditch and washed out to sea."

Tom frowned. Geesh, hard audience. He had to appreciate Jordan's inability to respond to half of what Tom threw at him. It was more gratifying to have someone stammer and flush, or get infuriated from mere words, then it was to be ignored. 

As Capt Capt jumped down, hair flowing after him, letting the trap door shut behind him. "Thrown in a ditch and washed out to sea," Tom mocked, staring at the hidden entrance. "Even Sparkly-asshole would've had a better reaction." Tom grinned wickedly, "No one tells me what to do." and kicked the building as hard as he could.

"OW, OW OH SHIT, MY FOOT." Tom clutched his foot, his knee in the air hopping around in pain. The trap door opened. On closer examination--he noticed the “kicking the building” part was really Captain Captain had kicked a button. Tom rubbed his foot.

He eyed the trap door for a moment. Was this a smart decision?

Better question, Tom humored: who cares?

He stretched his foot and looked down. He jumped in-- "YOLO, OH NOO--FUCK" and the trap door closed behind him. 

Tom tumbled onto dirt.

"By gods, yer so loud, Honey could'a heard you from the town hall!"

Tom chuckled dusting himself off as he got up, "I'm not afraid of her."

Captain Captain hummed, wrapping some rope around his arm. Tom scanned the room. It was more of a bunk than a room; it was huge. There was a single light hanging in the center, every so often it swung a little, dirt above trickling down onto his head. He brushed it off. The shelves were lazily stocked with all kinds of ropes and knives. A stash of TNT and weapons lay disorderly across barrels, crates and the ground. The sight entranced Tom, but what really got his attention was a stray flint and steel. It was within grabbing range and he felt his fingers twitch. "Where'd you get all this stuff from?" he asked, inching his way to a crossbow similar to Captain Captain's.

"Didn't I tell you to stay up there?" Captain Captain growled, snatching away the crossbow before Tom could get his hands on it. Captain Captain casually reached into a shelf when he passed by and put a set of pouches into his pirate coat's pockets. Tom followed him, brushing past a stray wooden chair, taking mental note of where the flint and steel was. "I'm not afraid of you either." Tom smirked at Captain Captain.

Captain Captain was fuming. He glanced at Tom trying to steal more weapons. He didn't have any common sense. They--Tom and the doubles--obviously had no idea who they were dealing with. 

"Grab that tripwire from the shelf over there." Tom beamed, pride filling him from the smile Captain Captain gave, rushing for the tripwire nearly tripping over his own feet. To others it may seem wicked, scars ruining what was once careless and ecstatic, or eyes missing light, the light dangling above making shadows over his face covering a half-grin that was cold, empty and fake but to Tom it was what he aspired for. And when the moment ended and Captain Captain turned around and started walking away, Tom rushed after him. 

He followed Captain Captain to a passageway that definitely wasn't there before. He must've opened it when Tom got him the tripwire. The passageway was short, especially for Tom who was just that extra two inches taller than Jordan and Captain Captain, and it only got smaller and smaller. Tripwires and pressure plates he could barely see littered the way and Tom struggled to pass them hunched over. He felt his knees digging into his ribcage, arms scraping against the walls leaving him with a few nicks here and there. He followed Captain Captain's footsteps, trying to match his smooth pace over every trap. Just above Captain Captain he could see light. 

Captain Captain shared Jordan's ability to make traps, and looked to be the better of the two. Just another thing Captain Captain was better at than old Sparklydick. Tom started planning ways to make an even better trap. He'd shove Tucker or Jordan into it. 

He just barely stepped over a tripwire when they got out. Tom squinted in the sun, buildings all alike filling his view once more. He looked at where he exited from. A small storm cellar besides a house was the tunnel's cover. They were on a completely different street and if Tom looked down the block he'd see how decently close it was to SkeleTom's house--just a few streets away. Captain Captain closed the storm cellar's wooden doors and faced Tom with a deadly glare. 

"Ye will not tell anyone about my bunker. No one. Not Honey, farmer boy or baker belly. Ye will not tell any of yer friends, especially my double or ya' wish yer God would spare ye--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I won't tell anyone one, got it! Let’s go!”

The pranks were simple enough in nature, and Tom placed the tripwire as directed just in-time to have Captain Captain pull him out of view as Mericho came walking past. He looked to be about to meet up with SkeleTom when his foot crossed the tripwire and an arrow cut through his rucksack, opening the bottom of the cloth and spilling out all of his contents. 

Immediately, from down the block SkeleTom scurried over to help Mericho pick up his goods and Captain Captain laughed quietly, retreating down the street and leaving Tom to follow after him. Tom was awestruck and he found himself buzzing with energy. “That was so well thought out--and you did it so quick!”

“Aye,” Captain Captain remarked. 

Tom eyed the sky warily. It was getting late. “Can we do this tomorrow?”

Captain Captain fixed him with a look. Barely hidden disgust etched into his features--suddenly the look broke away to a grin. “Tell ye what--I’ll let ye scurvy join me--if ye can pull off a…” Captain Captain gestured grandly with his hands. “An explosive prank, around late noon. Savvy? I’ll point ye to a house and all ye’ll need to do is make it go up in flames” “I can do that easily,” Tom boasted.

“Good, good,” Captain Captain purred. “Then we’ll see, tomorrow.”

…. 

Tom was the last one out of the bed and breakfast--besides the snotty mess that was sniffling from the bed to the right of his. He peered over at the shaking ball of mucus and cringed. Nasty. 

Tom threw his covers off to the side, far from Tucker, and careful inched around his bed, staying far away from any stray blanket or pillow that could've come into contact with his nose. Tom was inches away from freedom, ready to dash past the other empty beds and go straight for Jordan's food chest when he heard Tucker from under his comforter. Tom ignored him and tried to sneak along--he was two steps away from being out of Snot Land. 

"Ah--" Tom froze, feeling his finger tips go numb. "Ah--" He was so close! "AH--" No--Not like this! 

"CHOO!" Tom dove head first to the ground, watching his life flash before his eyes as Tucker's sneeze flew right above him in slow motion. Tucker's little mucus cocoon shifted a bit with a sad groan. 

Tom recoiled in distaste thinking of all the ways he could kick out Tucker so he could get a decent night of sleep--his stupid sniffles, sneezes and snores probably kept everyone up. Not that he was able to sleep well with all the buzzing excitement of burning a house with Captain Captain in the afternoon anyways but Tucker deserved to get booted--no he didn't need a reason to kick him out, already hearing his friends' protest.

Tom sauntered down to the wine cellar, half expecting Jordan to be there working on the portal or at least asleep on it. He found the room empty, a pillow and blanket discarded in a corner, and his shoulders sagged instantly. So much for bragging about his New Best Friend. 

Having no sense of anything or anyone but himself, Tom was unable to see the little change to the blue prints or the lack of progress made to further their plans home. The room was all the same to him save a few baggies he noticed laying idly by stray blueprints. Tom, in his curiosity, snatched one and opened it. A few crumbs and a half eaten cookie fell out. He eyed what was left of the cookie and the empty baggies.

SkeleTom. 

Tom growled, throwing the baggie to the floor and glaring at it with more disdain than he did when Tucker snored. He stomped on the cookie out of pettiness--already seeing them laughing together in the wine cellar over a bag of cookies his alternate had so kindly made--and prowled back to the chests, going through Jordan's. He grabbed the last bit of bread and meat that was left--not that he'd miss it anyways, seeing how SkeleTom's been catering to his hunger, Tom thought spitefully. 

He rubbed his foot on the crushed cookie, a scowl stretched over his face, unaware of the unfinished blueprint he was crushing beneath it. 

With one last kick to Jordan's pillow, Tom ascended back to the room unsatisfied imagining it was SkeleTom's face as each step echoed through the empty BnB. Near empty anyway, the mucus monster upstairs was probably awake now, assuming he was even able to sleep with how clogged his nose was.

Thank gods Tucker wasn't leaving anytime soon, Tom celebrated as he walked into the room. He'd get snot all over CaptCapt and Tom couldn't make a bad second impression. His future best friend forever would not tolerate such disgusting company. Tom would have to kick Tucker out if he came and Captain Not-Sparklez would probably be grateful to have him left behind…

"Tucker! Tucker, get the fuck up" Tom grabbed Jordan's pillow and swung it as hard as he could. Feathers flew into the air. 

"What--Tom, stop it--Tom--"

"Get up!" Tom swung at his face one more time and carefully picked up the cleanest corner with two fingers and threw it on the floor. Better Jordan's pillow than his. "You're hanging out with me and Better Sparklez today. Stop being gross and get dressed." He'll bring Tucker along and kick him out to make himself look better. A perfect plan.

"No, I feel horrible,” Tucker said and with a small cough he rolled over. Tom nudged him. A groan answered. He saw two brown eyes look at him in the huddled mess. “SkeleTom's medication didn't help at all." Tucker shoved his face into his pillow. Tom scowled at the mention of his alternate. He snatched Tucker's pillow from under his head. 

"I don't give a shit, come on."

Tucker uselessly brought up his arms to defend himself from Tom's attacks before giving up and pulling his covers over his head. "I'll get up in ten minutes." Tucker's voice came out even more muffled and congested from under the comforter. "And give my pillow back you jackass."

Tom scoffed and aimed directly for his head. "I can't wait for you; catch up with us. Be extra snotty when you come!" He ignored Tucker's groan and slammed the door behind him. 

Tom squinted in the sun, getting whiplash from the sudden heat and light of midday. The zombie part of him was naturally prone to night, keeping him alert and ravenous for mischief and the part that keep him conscious was used to lurking under the cover of dark.  

Excited for the day ahead of him, Tom was practically skipping his way to Captain Captain's secret dirt basement. He idly tore Jordan's food into bits, anticipation rolling off of him like waves. Focused on breaking up the near stale food, his feet were leading him without thought and he hadn't bothered to make sure he wasn't being followed--forgetting the one rule Captain Captain had gave him the day before. Even though he didn't know it, he was lucky Tucker had decided to hang back instead of going with him straight to Captain Captain's bunker. 

These thoughts hadn't even crossed the back of his mind as he munched on the meat--he was always more of a carnivore who snacked much later during the day and night times--walking in oblivious bliss and collecting bits of the bread he refused to even taste.

Growing steadily bored of walking wherever his feet took him and not having anymore meat to eat, Tom decided to take a good look over the town. It was well kept, neat clean streets and a nice quiet neighborhood were made of isles of empty houses. Tom was ready to wreak havoc on the peacefulness just as he'd done for Mianite and Ruxomar. Out of everything, what did catch his eye was a crow picking at dirt by the street he was strolling on, a small cluster of mushrooms nearby it.

Tom paused to observe it--more like stare it down--until it stared right back at him. Tom tilted his chin up smirking with his height over it--SkeleTom held a few inches over him and it only gave more reason to hate him, especially when he made short jokes and quips at him even though stupid ole Jordan was shorter than both of them. Tom, in a miraculous moment of awareness, threw a piece of bread at the crow.

The crow only stared into his soul, beady eyes looking straight into his black and red ones. Tom glared when the crow poked at the bread only to step over it and give a rattling squawk in disapproval. It's caw was hoarse and empty, seeming near dead as Tom himself. He threw another piece of bread, this time more impatient. 

"Eat it you stupid bird. I'm giving you food."

The crow jumped from the bread and cawed again, sounding just as irritated as the zombie was. Tom hurled the last of the bread pieces back at it, a scowl finding its way back on him. 

The crow gave a set of angry clicks and caws before flying right at Tom. Tom shrieked when it tried to nip at him as it passed. It turned back and swooped a second time, successful in pecking him this time. 

"Ow! What the fuck--get off of me! Shoo!" Tom, with much force, got it to stop grabbing at whatever skin was visible and fly away with more hollow screeches. He watched it fly off towards a fenced off area and out of curiosity he scanned the area for more of them. There were no animals, no clear group of crows waiting to attack except for the few hanging around the area surrounding Mericho's farm by the other side of the town.

Tom's feet carried him on and he looked up to find himself at the building hiding the bunker. It was then that he realized that Captain Captain hadn't told him where to meet with him. He felt a flash of fear--what if he went to the wrong spot? What if he didn't show up?

He perished the thought, let it burn to a charcoal crisp with a sharp crack and let it bleed into an annoyance. He just wants to burn a building and cause mischief with a side of shenanigans. Where was he?

Tom's foot was tapping so impatiently it was a surprise it hadn't just popped off. He started pacing and pacing turned out to be more of a little wiggle.

"I’m waiting, I'm waiting. I'm waiting for my new best friend! Who will be with me...what rhymes with friend--till the end! And I’m waiting, I’m waiting. I'm waiting to set a fire! To Jordan's asshole! And SkeleTom's...asshole, asshole what...SkeleTom's arsehole! Or...house...house with--coal!"

Tom had finished his little dance with a twirl and in a moment of near terror he caught Captain Captain's eyes and froze.

Captain Captain had changed his pirate attire for something a little more...fitting--for a Captain such as himself, Tom thought gawking.

He had kept his badass pirate boots and black jeans but this time he had a white v-neck that rivaled Jordan's--and revealed a lot more chest hair--a navy blue top with no sleeves laid over it. He had his white shirt sleeves rolled up and in his hand was his pirate coat, the really cool one with the silver metallic buttons. What really caught his eye, besides the chest hair, was the loose bun holding up some of his hair, letting the rest of it flow behind him at shoulder length. He could see some stray curls freely shaping his face and a small, single braid among the hair that wasn't in the bun.

Tom nearly fell on his face as he gaped, feeling heat rise up his neck.

Captain Captain glared at him. It was too early in the day to be dealing with him but then again...he was going to help so he settled on a more reasonable answer: "What the fuck are ye doin'?"

Tom blinked. Then he blinked again and forced his mouth closed. Tom could wither under the cool gaze and suave curl of his mouth, a scar running by it drawing the line between a scowl and what Tom saw as a cheeky grin. "What are you doing?"

"Me eyes arr' up 'ere." Captain Captain growled. Tom was swooning now, the pirate accent and low rumbling growl officially capturing the attention of his whole being. 

"Stop drooling, it's disgusting." 

Tom covered his exposed mouth, too dazed to be self conscious. He was still in a state of shocked awe and admiration when Captain Captain pressed a burlap sack into his arms.

"What's--What's this?" Tom poked at the sack, recovering from his stupor.

Captain Captain's smirk made his knees go weak, "For the house."

….

Tom stared up at the up at the house. From a distance it looked like the rest surrounding the square, blurred behind Tom's view, but standing before the little porch he could see every detail.

Every bit of flammable wood plank painted grey, all the uncared for loose planks with chipped paint that would burn away with the rest, the wooden floor and staircase that was going to take down the second story in a flash of blazing flames--he was suddenly hyper aware of it all.

"You want me to burn this one?"

Tom turned to face Captain Captain, who's teasing eyebrow raise and grin made his grip slack, releasing the bag to the ground. He watched star-gazed as Captain Captain strutted over and swooped for the bag with a quick squat, rising right back in Tom's face. 

"Unless ye can't. Ye can, can’t ya?"

Tom's breath hitched at the way Captain Captain dangled the bag lazily between two fingers, his heart skipping a beat at the playful taunt. He snatched the bag.

"Of course I can. I've done worse before" Tom exclaimed with his own lopsided smile, already going through the contents it held. Captain Captain didn't wait a beat.

"I’m sure ye have." He razzed Tom, his voice grating, and it almost made Tom drop the flint and steel he took out--taking the compliment straight to his heart. 

'Your friends never compliment you. You don't do anything good.’ A voice that sounded like his with a hint of the original Dianite's voice underneath crowed at him smugly and Tom buried it again, pushed it far away, as deep as he could. He murmured to himself, 'Captain Captain thinks you're good. He likes spending time with you. Don't disappoint him. He's your best friend.’ He dug deeper into the bag. 

"TNT?" Tom asked, "Capt you shouldn't have." He gushed with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he held it up. Tom would've sworn on his life that Captain Captain had sent him a wink worth dying for.

"Captain Captain. Obviously, how else ar' ye planin' to get it done?"

Tom eyed over the explosive with hunger. He was the only one who got to do this--stand besides Captain Captain, hold the fate of a whole house in his hands. None of his friends could dream of being in his position, not Wag, Tucker or Sonja. Not Jordan. No one.

"Ye better not wussy out." Captain Captain ribbed.

"Not even the Gods could stop me." 

Captain Captain raised an eyebrow, eyeing the zombie and the TNT. His eyes drifted over the area before taking a step off to the side. "I'll be back."

Tom turned immediately, his focus back on Captain Captain. "Where are you going? You aren't going to watch?"

Captain Captain pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I’m gonna get some stuff." Tom pouted and before he could speak he continued, "Might even bring mor' TNT for ya."

Tom's face lit up, greedy for more. "Be back soon! Wait--don't you want to watch? We're the dynamic duo, Tom and Better Jordan!"

Captain Captain's mouth flickered before curling again, and Tom felt pride flood his veins, “I'll be watching." Tom followed his sauntering figure for a moment, watching as he put on his coat, eyes drifting over his hair before he turned back to face the building.

The building stood tall and empty before Tom but he felt taller, bigger. The TNT was weighted in his hands and the flint and steel pressed deep into his palm. He hadn't felt this strong since he became MechaDianite for a few hours. Every prank, every scandalous night of shenanigans, every escape, it all felt the same. It was intoxicating.

He swaggered up to the building and took another good look at it. It was empty and wooden--why would anyone make their house wooden? They were just asking for it to catch fire.

Tom put down the TNT in the doorway. He fiddled with the flint and steel in his fingers. All it took was one click and the grey house would turn into colorful bursts of red and orange. 

"Captain Captain." Captain Captain murmed bitterly as he turned straight into an alleyway. He had tried to hold his breath tightly for a good moment, refusing to repeat his name, but it took him over regardless. He swiftly jumped, grabbing on to a decorative trim and he climbed onto the terrace of a building opposite to the one the nitwit zombie was in. He watched from the shadows as Tom put down the TNT. 

His eye twitched again recalling Toms stupid remark “TNT? Capt you shouldn’t have.” What else would it be? How did the idiot think he was gonna bring the house down? He nearly reintroduced his name on instinct his head replaying the way Tom said Capt like a broken, squeaky record player—his eye twitched again. 

Every time he thought he could handle the somehow-sentient-zombie he found he could barely contain his annoyance. Captain Captain hummed a low note, his low oaky voice echoing in the alleyway behind him. Not a single soul heard him and not a single soul still alive had heard the entrancing pirate shanty. It was familiar, one he made himself and used while he did this and that. The words came out on their own as he watched the idiot below.

“I'm sick in the head and I haven't gone to bed, since I first came ashore from me slumber, For I spent all me dough on the lassies, don't you know, Far across the western ocean I must wander” 

Tom felt the tips of his fingers tingle with anticipation. A grin covered his whole face.

He brought up the flint and steel. Excitement was in every fiber of his being. 

A loud click and snap echoed through the house.

Tom was right in front of the porch when the staircase was destroyed and watched as fire spread through the first floor. 

The flames licked at his sides, stray embers making their way in the open air. He could see ash starting to fall on his suit. Thrill overtook him as he stood before his creation, right on the line of safe and danger. 

He felt exhilaration and happiness overflowing in his face and he had to giggle. Captain Captain must be so impressed--Tom was! And then the giggles turned into laughter, feeling heat on his cheeks.

The fire twisted, popping and crackling and then Tom couldn't tell what was louder--the fire or his cackling? 

Tom was free, he was powerful, he had the confidence of a god, he was uncontainable. No rules, no consequences, no worries. And he raised his arms, flint and steel in either hand, letting the fire warm him, laughing with pure happiness. 

Captain Captain watched the fire eat the building alive, Tom laughing like a madman before it, near catching fire. He was just asking to be caught.  Normally the explosive and fire would've brought a smile to his face, but he wasn't waiting for that. 

"'And it's all for me grog, me jolly, jolly grog', we sing, 'All for me beer and tobacco,’ Well I spent all me tin on the lads n lassies drinking gin, Across the tempting ocean I must wander, they sang as we sail."

Nothing could make this better, Tom thought, except burning another building--Better Jordan! Tom scanned the area looking for Captain Captain, he said he was going to be watching--or was he getting TNT. Instead when he turned to his left, towards the square, and saw Tucker running up to him. He looked tired--not that he didn't before--and scared. Served him right.

"What took you so long--" Tom was cut off when he felt his breath escape him, his throat caving in painfully and he was on his back, a knee pressing hard into his solar plexus.

Captain Captain felt a tug at the corners of his lips. ‘Blow a man down, bring a spring upon her cable. Aye, no men run a shot across the bow, at me face, I sail, I sail, wander I must I sail.’

Tom floundered underneath Honey Badger, desperate for air. What the hell was she doing! She pressed her knee deeper into his stomach, trapping him. His chest seized from the pain, he could feel the ghost of his heart hammering a hole to escape it in his chest. Undead--more like he wished he was, Dianite take pity.

The pirate leaning on the railing of the terrace smiled, watching Tom choke, his eyes begging for air--his precious breaths being taken from the flames and the Honey Badger above him.

Said Honey Badger locked eyes with the Captain. He grinned. Then the farmer's alternate caught his gaze. Captain Captain's eyebrows furrowed and his chin tilted up further looking down upon him, before he broke out another smirk, looking right back. 

"My name is Captain Captain, my God's laws I did forsake, Upon my name a curse I take, as I sailed, as I sailed."

He shook his head and turned the corner of the terrace and dropped back into the alleyway, out of sight.

Tom flailed desperately, his eyes catching sight of the dagger he stole from Captain Captain. Where was Capt?

A squeak escaped him when Honey increased her pressure.

"Get off me lady!" Tom kicked the air helplessly, "I didn't do nothing! What the fuck have I ever done to you! I ain't done shit! Let me go! Captain will come back and make you pay! I'll burn every fucking house down to the ground, then you'll regret this! I'll kill you!"

Tom screeched with all the breath he had, listening to Tucker's weak defenses for him. 

Tom felt air flood back into his lungs and for a second he wondered how Tucker had done it. He rolled to his stomach to get up, until he felt a sharp yank, his hair feeling as though it was being ripped free, and with a sudden painful impact he saw blood on the cobblestone. His mouth had that funny copper taste to it and he knew it was his blood. Tom lay stunned. Who the fuck did she think she was?

He tried to escape again, ready to fight till death and after--and then he found himself digging into the ground completely. His fingers clawed at any free dirt as a her knee dug into his kidneys. She ruined everything!  His thoughts and fight were getting dimmer, his chest was heaving now, his eyes brimming with unwelcome tears and his jaw aching against the cobblestone. 

"I'm taking him in."

Tom cursed her out left and right, demanding he be released. They couldn't throw him in jail for this!

"...Griefing was against the law in our dimension as well, I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation that would…" He heard Tucker continue to fail to bring his freedom. What happened to the trials? The oh so fair trials he could escape and make a run for it?

"How many times will you have to defend the actions of your friend, preemptively or in response to his misdeeds, before you take a critical eye to his moral character."

Tom growled, searching his face wildly from its place pressed into the ground, threatening as much as he could for help. Tucker you better think of something or so help me Dianite--

"I’ve known him long enough to make my judgements.” Tucker argued. "You aren’t the only Mianite champion around anymore.”

“Reconsider that statement.” 

Tom could feel the poison in her words, the cold threat freezing his core. For a moment Tom wondered if they were going to fight--not that Tucker stood a chance, but Tom could use the opportunity to bolt.

Captain Captain listened with contempt as Tom got dragged away to the town's jail, his back against the building on a ledge opposite of the porch, strong words and spit flying left and right out of the zombie's ugly yap.

Captain Captain's song layered over Tom's pathetic cries like waves.

"And being cruel still my gunner I did kill, I was sick and nigh to death, as I sailed."

"Let go of me! Tucker!"

"And his precious blood did spill, as I sailed, as I sailed." 

"Tucker, help me! She can't fucking take me to jail! Tucker? Tucker, you bitch, help get her off of me!"

"I was sick and nigh to death and I vowed with every breath."

"Tucker! Sonja? Wag..? Someone, help me! Captain Captain?"

"To walk in wisdom's ways when I sailed, when I sailed."

"Help me!"

….

A light breeze swept over Ihatchu, golden wheat fluttering lightly under the early morning sun. 

It was...quiet. Peaceful, one might say. Tranquil, even. The crows certainly thought so.

A murder of crows perched themselves carefully on fences, not a worry on any of their minds despite their food sources starting to become more moribund. 

Speaking of crow-like meals in Ihatchu...

A rather dead-eyed crow watched as someone stumbled onto the cobblestone path that connected the town jail to the city square. It fluttered its wings and sprung forward a little, bouncing. 

It cawed, head tilted to the side, eyes trained on the person as they scrambled off of the ground in a haste, crying out an ugly noise as it held its hand close to its chest. 

In a quick misstep and tumble, the thing fell to the ground. The crow decided it looked oddly like a monster--not ones that limp at night but the ones they've seen. The ones that lay still and rot beneath the plains.

Yet this one was moving, and moving quickly too. The crow was able to recognize its movements and watched the man collect himself and stand again. 

No one had rescued Tom that night. 

...

"Tucker, Sonja, Wag--Tucker! Tucker get the fuck back here! Tell this bitch to let me go! Tucker!"

Tom squeaked as Honey twisted his arm further behind his back. Any further and she'd pop his arm off. He could see the jail right ahead of them.

"Be quiet."

...

The crow was very surprised when it saw no one following after. The monster was looking behind itself though, the man's red pupils constricting from the sudden light and pure fear, walking as fast as it could away from the jail it had been dumped from. It had been let go...and was still running too. How odd.

...

Tom tried his best to turn his head, Honey's hold on him leaving no room for movement.

She wasn't actually going to jail him. No one was stupid enough to try and contain him. He started thrashing his legs when it finally occurred to him that they weren't stopping, hoping he could find an escape. Her grip was making his arm go numb, stinging pins and needles were being pulled and twisted into a painful flare of fire that spread through his whole arm.

"Sonja! Drag Tucker's ass back here! Sonja--Sonja, I know you can hear me! Sonja!" Tom couldn't see anyone, but one of them had to be nearby. 

...

The sun was barely touching the horizon when Tom had been dragged from his sniveling heap in the jail cell and thrown onto the ground outside. Honey gave him a tired look, and said, “Go on then--step out of line again and it’ll be your wrist I’ll break.”

Tom went as fast as his legs could carry him--running proved to be difficult when he kept turning to look over his shoulder and his legs shook. 

That bitch is insane! They never had such punishments in Mianite--yeah the gods could smite you or your stuff could be stolen but they never broke hands in retaliation. He held his hand tenderly to his chest.

...

"Stop moving."

Honey's iron grip only got stronger as they entered and Tom's shriek could've shattered the jail's windows.

"Sonja! What the fuck--Wag! Can one of you--Waglington! Let go of me! You can't--"

"You're going to get yourself more injured."

Tom could feel his arms start to twitch, tensing and freezing in panic. Honey's tone had made the warning a threat and left no room for argument. What is she going to do to him?

....

Tom's frantic feet had brought him inside a random house. He clutched his hand, tears started to sting at the corners of his eyes. His fingers were twisted in a horrid way and were starting to swell, tips turning a sickening purple.

All of this because of a stupid house?

...

"Wag!" Tom frooze, stopping his wiggling when they stopped in front of a cell. One of Honey's hands moved to hold his shoulder. She wouldn't. She can't!

The cell was old. Like, really old. Disgustingly so. Tom suddenly wished he was back at the BnB next to Tucker and his snot infested bed. The cell was made of stone bricks. Cold and miserable stone bricks with mold growing in the corners. It was dark. There was only one window and not only did it have bars blocking out a potential escape but it was too high for anyone to look through. 

...

Tom leaned against a wall by the door, head dipping low as he sunk down. His breaths were shallow and ragged. He's fine, he's safe, she's gone, he's safe, she's not coming. He's okay.

It had to be a curse, Tom sniveled, a sick and twisted, inhumane curse to hear a heart that wouldn't ever beat again hammer in his chest and ears. 

...

Tom couldn't stop his panic from rising, breath shallow and ragged from just looking at the cell. Honey was speaking, her voice was stern and as cold as the cell. He couldn't hear anything she was saying over the pressure building in his head. 

She can't do anything to him. A chilly square of stone can't contain him!

No one--no, nothing could stop him! He's broken out of trials before. He's snuck his way into vaults. He took what he wanted and didn't give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. Tom had gone rogue! He started a rebellion! He broke out Steve from a jail! He challenged a king! He didn't give a single ass wipe to anyone who stood in his way! 

For fuck's sake, he burned down a house! He killed a God! He killed Dianite of all the Gods! He killed Dianite--his God.

He killed his God...for his friends. He killed his God for Jordan's...

"--You haven't been listening? Have you? You will be released in the morning--I will not prolong this for either of our sakes. Remember this, Thomas--the law will find you--and you will be punished accordingly.” She took a step towards him, her tall figure and broad shoulders casting an imposing shadow. “I cannot force your interests elsewhere, but I can make you fear the law. Rethink your decisions."

Honey had only moved ever so slightly, when Tom cracked. He didn’t get it? Why was no one jumping in to save him? 

Only one tear had made it to the wooden floor before Tom clawed his hands up to his eyes, fingers and palms trying to stop wet from escaping. He had drifted over his exposed mouth with trembling fingers. Tom can barely think of times when he had wished to be normal more than this moment.

And when an awfully wretched sound found it's way from his pounding, shriveled dead heart to his throat and into the empty air Tom pulled at his hair.

"Jordan!" Tom kicked and floundered with as much energy as fear and anger could give. He hadn't wanted to call for that bastard, but he would as a last resort.

He killed his God. For his friends. He betrayed Him. He failed Him. For his friends. 

Tom rambled aimlessly--he shouted aimlessly over Honey’s shoulder--someone had to be out. His friends wouldn’t just leave him to be jailed. They would come and explain it all and Honey would have to release him. He was just the bad guy--he always did this!

"Jordan! Don't let them take me unfairly! You're an Ianitee--they can't--I didn't--Sparkly-asshole, I'm your friend! You owe me! I--You--I'll burn your house down again! Your house and Jerry's tree and SkeleTom and his house. I'll destroy everything! Jordan! I--He's not more important than--"

Tom's voice cracked at the end when he hit the stone bricks. His hip colliding with the ground and his hand scraping against a jagged edge. Honey’s glare fell upon him.

For this? 

“You shouldn’t keep shouting,” Honey said, “you’re giving me a migraine. Everyone’s asleep.” Tom just stared at her. “They’re not coming.”

“They always do--you can’t do shit to me,” Tom yelled hoarsely. 

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, moving his arm to cover his eyes. He clenched his hand into a fist, numbing the pain of his hand as he forced himself with much effort to hold his breath. Something inside of him--maybe it was anger, fear, pain or trapped air or whatever--wanted to explode, to destroy or set ruin and destruction to.

A dangerous inferno was burning inside of him.

Tom flinched as the cell door slammed shut. He scrambled and limped to the bars, hands clutching them just above his head. Honey was walking away, the sharp clicks of her boots echoing through the empty jail. 

She imprisoned him. She did it.

Tom felt his grip slacken, hands trailing down the bars as his shoulders sank.

His friends...they had to be coming for him...someone, at least one…

Tom's brain fried before one thought had made it through. A light in the dark. Tom's savior, how could he have forgotten? He'd get out of here in no time, he was sure of it. Tom's one and only true friend.

"CAPTAIN CAPTAIN!"

The clicks stopped. For a moment, it felt like everything stopped. Like a standstill was found as time froze. Ihatchu knew silence. Pure silence...almost.

Tom's grip tightened again. He held his breath.

A voice drifted from the hall, the smallest trace of amusement and pity bounced off the walls as reality came crashing down like the second floor of a burning house. 

"How could you be so ignorant?"

...

A deep growl burst out of the flames as Tom stood and unsteadily rushed to a dusty chest. Four chests and one drawer later, Tom found what he was looking for.

With a trembling hand he wrapped the injured one and made a makeshift splint, avoiding looking at it as much as he could. This would have to do. Tom wiped away the wet that had trailed down his face.

...

It was in this moment that Tom's lungs decided he didn't get nearly enough air. His knees trembled before giving out and Tom found himself holding the bars like a lifeline. 

Honey's voice cut through his heaves.

"Unfortunately, I've gotten more than a fair share of time to figure out his erratic behavior. Anyone in this town who's dealt with him would tell you not to bother. And any living soul with a working brain wouldn't try. No one's coming. Especially not him."

...

Tom slammed the door behind him as he stepped back into the morning sun. There was a health potion he needed back at the BnB.

He let his feet find his way back, choosing to ignore the cobblestone paths. His legs had stopped shaking but his hand hadn't. He squinted in the sun. Even in its heat there was something cold and empty inside him. Just like a zombie.

Tom didn't spare a glance behind his shoulder as he rushed back on quick feet. And if he noticed the crow following a ways behind he didn't bother to yell at it.

...

Tom spent an agonizingly long night yelling and cursing until he couldn't stand up anymore. For a while he refused to give up. As far as he was told, not a single living soul had heard him. What a horrible idea to think that at least one had...and hadn't bothered to do anything about it but listen.

After a while that feeling of gut wrenching betrayal solidified into a festering anger. 

He spent the rest of his time in the corner, head on his knees and arms around himself. Honey would come for him sometime in the morning. 

And when she did.

...

Tom reached the door of their lodging and leaned heavily against it. He composed himself best he could. Breathing deep and slow.

...

"Thomas?" Honey had prompted. She had at some point changed clothes. She waited for him to look at her. "You'll be free to go in a moment."

"Finally," Tom muttered. His mood darkened as he stewed and he was about to give her hell. If she opened that door he'd come back with a sword and show her the true fury of a Dianitee. "Bitch," he added.

Honey's hand stilled on the lock, the keys dangling from her fingers. She looked at Tom with tepid eyes. A warning. "Would you like to repeat that?"

"Yeah, I would," Tom stood. "What did this accomplish? Locking me in here is going to make me a saint? You think I'm scared. This will be the only time you put me behind bars," Tom rambled, feeling his courage and anger bubbling. He gripped the bars and drew himself up as much as he could. He stared her down, red pupils blazing. 

"Mayhaps, you're right," Honey allotted. Tom grinned and he lifted a hand outside the bars and flipped her off. 

Her hand caught his wrist and she kept him from pulling it back. She hung the keys back at her waist and then, looking at Tom, grabbed his finger. 

"Lady, let go--" Tom started.

She bent it backwards, her eyes on Tom's he looked at her, confused. He looked at the finger. He felt the faint pain, the warning even his undead body had about bending it. He briefly felt his finger grace his wrist, the obliterating pain made his vision go white. 

Not like the sword cuts and violent deaths muted by the respawn but a pain new and fresh, aching and spreading up his arm. He tried to yank his wrist away, but she held tight. Tom was gritting his teeth. He nearly cursed at her, but held his tongue. 

"Do you think you've learned anything?" 

"Bite me," Tom bared his teeth. His menacing teeth were sharp and crooked. She bared hers back and bent his pointer-finger to the point of pain and waited. She watched Tom's snarl turn into a grimace. He tried to yank his arm away. She hadn't budged. Tom shot his other hand through the bars and tried to grab her hand and pull it away.

She drew his hand further from the bars, causing a burning in Tom's shoulder. He couldn't reach his own hand! He gripped the bar instead. 

"Do you think you've learned anything?" She repeated.

"Fuck you," Tom said through gritted teeth. This time the break was felt in his chest. He seized against the bars, clenching his teeth to avoid hollering in pain.

She had grabbed his thumb and this time when she bent it back Tom couldn't take it. The cold grimy bar burned against his hand as he gripped it, his knuckles went white.

"Do you think you've learned anything?"

Tom didn't answer. She bent his thumb further back. Slowly pushing it towards his wrist. She held it again, hearing Tom hiss. "Yes."

She kept pushing. "What did you learn?"

"Not to break the law--let go, let go--" 

She didn't right away. Tom was tearing at the eyes before she let go of his hand, but not his wrist. She watched him slack against the bars, his remaining fingers curling up and his thumb tucking itself inward to avoid the pain. 

"Mayhaps, you've learned. Next time it'll be your wrist." She let go of his wrist and Tom dragged his hand back into the cell, clutching it to his chest. He curled inward on himself, sagging to his knees and Honey opened the cell, her keys jingling.

"Get out of my sight."

...

Tom opened the door to the BnB, wrapping his good hand and arm around himself and locking the door behind him, listening to the sound of a beating heart that should've been his. 

PLOT | ABOUT | CHARACTERS

#discordant plains #mianite #mianite fan fiction #mianite fan art #SynHD #captain captain #Honey Badger

[patronsaintsofnothing]

when are we going to stop pretending mianitian isles is good

#once the season is finally ill probably write my thoughts on this and how i feel about the writing and the characters and everything #its just not #good #literally im trying to watch the m-rder mystery episode and its SO boring #like i genuinely cant pay attention to this because nothing makes any sense #the only reason why im watching is just so ill at least have context for future episodes #im not even excited for the olympics because they brought it up twice and never mention it again #assuming that the olympics is the end of the season #ok ill save all my criticism for the actual MI post ill make #it just upsets me because mianite was an extremely huge deal to me and is one of my biggest comfort series and then MI just kinda #ruined it #who wants to join me in declaring that MI isnt canon its actually just extremely bad fan fiction #and if somehow the bts team is stalking the tags/sub-posts: #sorry

[d-d-d-dianite]

I’m so sick but I want to write more AU

#mianite #minecraft #mianite au #mianite heathers au #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #wattpad

[mairontheabhorred]

Lord Dianite!! Part of a fan fiction in writing nyehehehehe

#mianite #thesyndicateproject #dianite #ianite #syndianite #fanart #fan fiction

[someone-called-efg]

Machine of a man

Gains sat in his office, the dim lighting of the cinimon scented candle glowing softly on the right side of his face, the sweet scent calming whatever anxieties that dare come.

He had been working on the same project, an "observation bot" as he had called it when explaining to Mianite his newest works. The bot was going to be expensive compared to anything he had made ever before, as most thing he has made only needed materials of the overworld, now however, he needs a few materials from the end.

After thinking back to that meeting, he had to admit, it wasn't the easiest. Mianite seemed stressed and well set on learning as much about these 'sky travelers' as possible. And though the God seemed to be trying to act calm and collected, his new cybernetic eye was looking every which way every other second, his normal eye following on the occasion he would see someone pass by the one way windows.

Gains tapped his pencil on his desk, realizing he had distracted himself with memories. Silently scolding himself, he went back to work.

The following days were difficult. Gains found himself becoming progressively more absent minded, drifting off into day dreams about his home, and how that world could've progressed. He did his best to not let his mind picture home as a newly created distopia, but the worry nagging at his mind, no matter how much he wished to push it down.

One particular Sunday, Gains began work as usual. And today he was going to test the bots camera to double check if he had installed the color implant correctly.

He set the spare goggles he used to distinguish where the camera was on his head and went to work. When the goggles began sliding down over his eyes, he thought nothing of it and let them fall.

This. This was a mistake.

As soon as the goggles fell perfectly over his eyes, tiny robotic arms stretched to his eyes. Panic rushed through his vains as he rushed to take the goggles off, but they wouldn't budge, he pushed and pulled but all he could see was the slim strans of metal moving to his eyes.

"Mianite!" His voice sounded choked up as he called for his God, he called again, but his voice only sounded worse.

The metal was holding his eyes wide open at this point, threatening to force itself in under his eyelids. Try to blink as he may, the machinery was stronger and kept his eyes open.

He began to cry in fear. Screaming the Gods name so desperately and forcefully, it sounded like bloody murder. 'Where is he when I need him?!' Gains panicked, fearing he was being ignored for some reason or another.

He didn't want to move now. The metal had successful squeezed itself between his eye and its lid, and fearing something worse could happen with too much movement, he did his best to stay still. Hyperventilating was the only movement his body made, his heart was beating in his ears louder than a cave filled with echos and his stomach felt like it weighed a metric ton.

He bit his cheek trying to keep his mouth shut. But once the tiny bots began attacking their way into his brain, he couldn't hold back his screams of terror and fear. The pain in his skull out weighing any and all self declared standards.

The machinery impaled itself into Gains's brain, as soon as it had, Gains lost all feeling in anything, starting with the tips of his fingers and toes and this loss of feeling spread like wild fire. Before he knew it, he felt nothing.

Looking around, Gains saw his body sitting at his desk 'what the-' he wondered to himself, moving to touch his shoulder.

His body sat up and turned to face him. The goggles began to show sliding numbers in binary. They were fast, but Gains realized what had happened without needing to translate.

Someone or something had altered with his machienes, and now, his body is being controlled by machinery while he is to stay a spirit out of his body.

#mianite #devisor gains #fan fiction #my art #spooky time means scary story :p

[lostonehero]

I like wanna write rvb fan fiction

But like my writing is so bad that I'm pretty scared to throw my hat into the ring

Ya feel

#red vs blue #rvb #asexual mumbles #Mianite awakening kind of ruined writing Mianite fan fiction for me #also screw you #this is why mostly all the fans left and why you get like zero fan work #And I was working on several wip that you'll never see #Because a fuck you #And b you ruined any sort of self worth I had with writing

[insane-weasel]

I guarantee you I'm 18 and a smart college student and an okay writer...

But I just realized after 5 years of writing and using the words "sucking in a breath" there was a word for that.

Inhale.

INHALE.

#writing #mianite #no one gonna call me out on never using inhale in every single work #fan fiction #ashamed #what other words have i forgotten #is there other words that would like to betray me

[ainelane]

Do you guys understand how much of an amazing thing it is that SparkPlug earned the respect of all the champions and even the gods. Hell most people who talk about spark at least have a favorable view of them. He built a city for ianite made it a kingdom and a trade hub that dianite would be proud of. And one day he's gone his son has to take his place and everything falls apart. I need a mianite fan fiction about helgrind called something like 'In the Shadows of a Giant' about how having to fill the shoes of his father while being abandoned by his mother pushed him to this point and resentment of both. So imagine you're from s2 world and you see sparklez. Who looks like spark young and youthful and the guy who seemed like he would have the ability to fix everything immediately starts stealing and killing and pretending he has no idea what he did wrong

#mianite #team cryatnite #Spark #the fact that countrybat even looked up to him #despite his wife ruining her life is crazy #Jeremiah didnt even respect mianite #but he respected sparkplug #somehow in an au where none of the heroes are feral #sparklez is still the babysitter #helgrind is a demigod but doesnt have the #inate powers of andor or Martha #probably because his lack of balance within

[coolcattime]

For the fan fiction title

A step in the wrong direction.

And its follow up story

Falling head first

A Step in the Wrong Direction

I think I'd write this as as Sonja turning to the shadows, with Sonja/Capsize.

Sonja is frustrated, feeling like she doesn't get respect from the other champions and she knows that she doesn't get respect from Mianite. While she'll some reassurance from her friends that they don't feel that way, that Mianite ignores everyone, she can't get the idea out of her head. Within her dreams she's started to hear from other "god", one that hides in the darkness, and this gods claims they want her as a champion.

She does her best to not accept the offer, espeically as she and the rest of the champions are told of the god killer that is there to try and tempt them. Then the pirates arrive, and Sonja falls for the Captain. Capsize is smart, capable, pretty, and (for reasons Sonja can't figure out) likes her too. Though Sonja is happy with their relationship, she still feels inadequate. So the next time the darkness speaks to her in her dreams, she accepts their offer.

The next morning she feels different, though she goes about day as normal and when the others decide to have some duels for training, Sonja wins. It's odd, she isn't quite sure how she does it, but she wins almost effortlessly. Capsize comes over and congraulates her, making Sonja sure she made the right decision even if the question Capsize asks about the fur on her fox features looking darker lingers in the back of her mind.

Falling Head First

"Capsize has been captured by Dianite." That's what the others tell Sonja when they come back from the Nether without her. She can't believe it, she can't believe they let that happen to her. She runs, prays to her new god begging to help her get girlfriend back. To her surpise, they appear, a figure created from the shadows around her, and they give her a choice.

They can retrieve Capsize, they can safe her before her soul is consumed by the void, but they can't do it without an equal exchange, someone needs to be sacrificed to the void. They hand their new champion a dagger. Sonja hesistants, desperately wanted to save Capsize, but staring at the weapon in hand she worries if she can really kill one of her friends.

That night she dreams of the others, mocking her for being weak, for being unable to help anyone. She dreams of her old god telling her she was never good enough. She dreams of Capsize, alone and in pain. Then she wakes up, the night still not over, and she asks her god a final question: if she sacrifices someone else, can they take her and Capsize somewhere else, somewhere away from the gods and their champions. Her new god agrees and so she heads outside.

The next day, the champion of Mianite is found with a dagger in his throat, and Sonja is no where to be found. Those remaining attempt to put together what happened, no wanting to leap to the obvious truth.

Someone else, Capsize wakes up on a house with the view of the ocean. She's confused, looking around for the trick, expecting to wake up again in the prison. Instead she finds Sonja on a balcony, rushing upto her and embracing, asking what happened and why they're here. Sonja merely smiles, "I saved you."

When she asks her what that means, Sonja tells her she doesn't want to know, and it doesn't matter now anyway because they're safe. Capsize nods, smiling, and biting down the questions she has, noticing once again that the fox ears' fur has gotten darker and wondering what might have caused that.

I hope you like!! Sorry it got a bit long, I got really into this ^-^

#fanfic title ask game #anon ask #mianite

[matthewstiles]

The tone of this post doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if I’m capable of writing something that sounds like a genuine apology, but please try to read it that way if you want to believe it.

One of the worst things about making poor decisions is that their effects will spread forever. I might never be able to apologize to all the people I’ve hurt and I’ll certainly never be able to heal all of the hurt I’ve caused. I’ve lost count of the apologies I’ve given and the ones I’ve yet to give. If anyone who remembers the way I acted in the Mianite days wants an apology from me personally, please seek it out, or at least try and take this message to heart. I don’t want to keep bad relationships with anyone. On the other hand, I don’t expect everything to work itself out. I realize there are some things we have to let go. I finally apologized to X33N a few months back, but I still haven’t done it properly. The way we ended our Mianite days wasn’t good. I was envious of him moving into the streaming world and threw some bitter darts thinly disguised as advice. From the bottom of my heart, I’m so happy for him and so glad that he’s been able to get the message of positivity out there through his streams. There were other conflicts in the Season Two team that have become known to the community. I’m sorry that I didn’t bring myself to love my teammates better as we did our work. I’ve always struggled with impulse control, sensitivity, and self-esteem. Cutting people off, using them for what they have to offer, and inflicting pain through words are all things I’m tempted to do when I feel like I’ve been betrayed, deserve better, and deserve to make someone else feel my pain. My late teens and twenties have been marked by incident after incident in which I realize that I haven’t mentally equipped myself for what life is gonna throw at me.  Now I’m in a place where a good number of people might never accept anything I do in the future because of things I’ve done in the past.  Admittedly, I’ve forgotten a number of those things. While I’ve tried to resolve many of the issues I do remember, a few in particular could use another look. Some of the choices I made in the writing of the Mianite series and its after-lore were awful.  The way I played pre-Krys Martha was weirdly lascivious and I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea. I don’t recall my reasoning for it, aside from tasteless fun, but it doesn’t sit well with me anymore and that’s not how I want anyone to see Martha. As I’ve said countless times, I’m grateful that Krys took control. As a note, I would never suggest that the characters I played were somehow more important than the ones played by the rest of the cast. Krys, X33N, MadSpy, Ral, and others played amazing, heartfelt, and widely loved characters. A lot of what they did was either loosely connected with stuff I was doing or totally free rein. They – not I – made Season Two come to life. It would’ve been a dreary and skeletal tale with no NPC’s apart from the handful I controlled. Back in the vein of bad taste, the Ianite tree story had some sexual themes and I regret a few of the descriptions. They weren’t necessary for the portrayal of Ianite’s wanderlust and lovesickness. Someone thought that my line about the diameter of the tree increasing with age was an innuendo, and I can see what they mean but it actually wasn’t meant to be one. I’m sorry if that worsened their impression of an already flawed story. Andor should never have gone back to my brain at the end of the Clear Sky Hermit. I should’ve left it open-ended. I don’t think that was a huge issue for a lot of people as much as it was boring and predictable, but nonetheless, it’s something I regret. If I haven’t addressed the Andor fan art and fan fiction issue enough, here’s another stab at it. When people were making certain interpretations of Andor, I was upset about Mianite winding down, my spotlight narrowing, and my control over that amazing universe diminishing. I took it out on the beautiful creations of beautiful people, and that’s one of the things I might never be able to forgive myself for. I hope that anyone who was hurt by my attacks has either been able to read my previous apologies or find healing of some other kind. Within bounds of legality and acceptability, anyone can make any interpretation of any character they want. If I ever try to go against that statement again, please smack the living daylights out of me.  This isn’t an apology – just an explanation – but my interest in Sparklez was purely a narrative one. He interacted well with my NPC’s. I had never watched his content before Mianite and I rarely watched it afterward. I never developed any kind of obsession with Sparklez. The behaviors of Andor and Ianite weren’t expressions of any such obsession. I’ve said some things outside of Mianite that need resolving too. I never tried to convince anyone that incest was okay and I certainly never tried to suggest that it was “on the same level as homosexuality.” I can’t find the old posts, but all I meant to say was that in fiction, and ONLY in fiction, a very shallow exploration of something like genetic sexual attraction might be okay. It’s a thing that can happen to people who lose contact with a family member, remove the association of family from that person, suddenly see them again, and experience strange feelings. Even in fiction, I never want to read about such feelings acted upon in any way, shape, or form and I’ve never written about such feelings being acted upon. I’m not interested in incest in fiction or in real life. If you’re gonna read or write incest, don’t let it leak into real life, don’t show it to me, don’t show it to other people who shouldn’t see it, and stay healthy. That’s all. Case closed. As for “on the same level as homosexuality,” no. Just no. I’m pretty sure I was trying to draw some kind of strange parallel between the way my bigoted father viewed gay people and the way some people viewed FICTIONAL incest, but thinking back on it, I can’t imagine how a single word of what I said made sense, and if I said anything more than what I remember, I wholeheartedly throw it in the trash. It was ridiculous. I’m sorry. That was one of those cases when I wrote something and awhile later looked back and said, “Wait, what? I don’t even know what I was trying to say there and I certainly don’t believe it. I think I just wanted to assert myself.” I don’t support Notch’s political views and I agree with the removal of his name from the Minecraft credits, but I do thank him for what he’s done, wish the best for him generally, and hope he lets a little more love into his heart. I don’t wish him dead. I’m not apologizing for that, lol. The past two years hanging out in a subsect of the old Mianite fandom have given me a lot of healing. One of the big things I’ve taken away from that group is that forgiveness is astonishing. I could never have believed that anyone would accept me so fully in spite of such flaws. It’s made me want to extend the same kindness to others. I don’t think I’m very good at being kind.  If you’re reading this and still have some beef with me, I just want you to know that I love you a lot and will continue to do my best to be the type of person you would accept an apology from. If you can’t meet me in that place or don’t think I can meet you there, I’ll understand. People have their own journeys and need to keep themselves safe.  Again, I’m really sorry. 

[syndianites]

Horns

PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE READING

CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Self-Mutilation, Blood, Dismemberment

If you continue to read on you have been warned!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It always happened when he let himself relax too much. He’d be enjoying the moment, having a good laugh, just feeling free now that there wasn’t a big something to worry about. Always when he felt good, when he felt like things weren’t collapsing around him.

Then there would the tale-tell itch in his head. The discomfort in his mouth. A push in his clothes. The feeling for growing, unfurling.

The cracking of bone jutting from his skull, moving out in stuttered movements. A push with a crack, pause, another push of pain, pause, another. Each symbolized a curve, the rough formation of a wave, a wiggle back in forth of bone. It felt like someone was trying to rip it from his body, as though someone were gleefully pulling at an arm, listening to the person scream and cry, bone splintering and disconnecting with each tug, a splatter of blood hitting your cheek-

Horns, blood red at the tips, falling into a gradient of bone white at the base. That was his blood smeared along the growth. His head throbbed, and if he looked at the horns, eyes drifting along their length, he could almost see the blood pulse in time with the pain. Thump, pain, thump, pain.

But this growth wasn’t alone. More bone- always more bone- pushed from his gums. Teeth, fangs, sharp like daggers and meant to kill. They came in the sort of way you pushed a syringe into flesh: a smooth glide accompanied with a stiff discomfort. Just on the edge of painful, but only really for that first prick.

It was when they dug into the rest of his mouth. They grew from both the bottom and the top set of canines, crowding his mouth. They dug into his gums, tore into the inside of his mouth, and tore up his mouth. They’d grow crooked more often than not. Not sideways, but out, like they were trying to escape the confines of his jaws.

They made it awkward and difficult to close his mouth, even if he ignored how the top pair couldn’t fit back into his mouth at all. The bottom he could squeeze in if he held his jaw open and delicately put his lips together- making it look like an idiot put a big chunk of food in his mouth that he couldn’t chew.

There was the complimentary tail, of course. It was more of a prick than anything painful. Uncomfortable as hell, though. Like having your veins pulled out, a long tube that felt slimy and squishy. Not that he knew what that was like, to pull out someone’s veins, or what the rubbery feeling they have from how they bounce in your fingers whenever you pinch them. Like how you’d bounce off slime.

But no, the only part that hurt was the sting of the tip pushing out and the way the spade shaped end forced its way through a far too small hole made just above his tail bone.

The real pain were the wings that always tried to break free from his suit jacket. It was by far the longest transition, the most jerky and unorthodox way of growing wings.

It started not unlike how the tail came out: there would be a prick as the tips began to push past skin. Then a shove, forcing flesh to split open. With a crack, a length of bone would jut out, ripping into his shirt, then his suit jacket. It would pause, wet and gleaming, then just out again. Length of bone after length of bone, the wings would start to form in halting motions, stained red from drying blood.

There would be no feathers, or skin, or leather-y covering until the bone had found its full way out. This would go on for minutes, agony ripping through his back as his muscles squeezed and contracted in response. His body wasn’t made for this.

And when wings of bone were out fully in the daylight, made of segments and points, his divine healing factor would kick in. Skin would stitch its way up the stained bone, growing with slick, slimy sounds. Underneath the skin a thin layer of flesh and blood would work up, nerve endings running along his new appendages.

They would ache, then. If he turned to look at them he would see dark, reddish leathery skin. Like a bat’s wing.

After that he would barely notice the tingle of his fingernails growing into claws. They would turn dark as well, almost black.

Then there would be a moment of euphoria, of pure, pulsing power in his veins. He felt like a god. No, he was a god. Fire and strength and control buzzing at his fingertips.

But then it’d crash. Reality would body check him, steal the breath from his lungs. He wasn’t supposed to be a god. Wasn’t supposed to be his own god.

He was a traitor, hands made filthy and red. There was death to his name and power in his veins and something so wrong about both of those facts. His heart anchored him, drug him down with guilt, with fear, with regret.

What would Dianite think, seeing him now?

Which Dianite, his mind would whisper, The one you killed or the one you brought back to life?

Both. Neither. The one that mattered to him was dead. That should have been his only solace in his pain- no matter what happened his god would never be able to judge him again. But he could judge himself. He could feel a distant feeling of shame when looking at the Other Dianite. The one who wasn’t killed by his follower, whose champion was a loyal, loving presence by his side. Who had a whole world to come back to with people who trusted him, even those who belonged to other gods.

What did Tom have, as a forsaken, forgotten god?

Wasn’t he meant to replace Dianite, the old Dianite, the dead Dianite? Shouldn’t he have taken up the mantle, reinstated his brand of chaos and scheming, caused more trouble? What was he doing here, wallowing away in his own self pity and shame?

So he’d reach up to his horns.

False god

He’d clench tight, feeling the ridges underneath his palms.

Weak

With a crack and a cry, he’d wrench the horns from his head. They’d dissolve into fire in his hands but the pain wouldn’t touch him there. Instead, it radiated from his head. The rest of the horns would follow, dissolving, melting into his scalp.

The fangs would follow in a similar fashion. They were easy enough to snap off, but they didn’t leave as smoothly. There would be a tingle in his gums as his teeth- his actual teeth- would try to remember what they looked like, how they were supposed to function.

Pathetic 

His tail would be hard, but all he had to do was pull, pull, pull. It’d hurt. By then it had seamlessly connected to his spine and it would be a miracle if he didn’t pull his own spine out in his desperation to remove the tail. There would be a long ripping sound, muscles getting torn and bone groaning under the stress.

Tears pricked at his eyes, hot and unnaturally bright, and the tail would jerk free leaving a hole behind. It wouldn’t last for long, but it’d bleed steadily and leave a stain against his dress shirt.

Then his wings. He’d hesitate. They were painful enough on entry, stitched with flesh and bone and nerves and blood. Tearing them off was worse. Blinding and white hot and wretched.

So he’d take his time, flex them out, stretch them. He’d pick off his claws- which were hardened but otherwise not painful to remove. His heart would stutter at the thought of ripping them out.

But he couldn’t just leave them there.

You could

So he’d do it one at a time. Not because it’d hurt less, but because it was easier. They were resilient, built to take stress and strain. But so was he. He’d tug, then yank on a wing, use all the godly force he had left in him.

The first one was always easier. Despite the tear of muscle and snapping of bone, he could get it off. The skin would rip away like fabric, like his suit jacket, followed by a burst of blood and a stretch of muscle.

Then he’d cut a muscle. Pain would shoot down his spine, scream at his head. Nerves would start to fray and the bones would creak and groan. Then they’d break, tear into the rest of his muscles, take apart his wings from the inside.

He’d forget to breathe.

The worst part would be if he was too slow. His body would try to heal as fast as it could, pulling skin back together and repairing bone. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be rid of all the shit that reminded him that he killed Dianite. Not to be stuck with it.

So he had to work fast, faster. Break bone from bone, tear muscle from muscle. It was agony, it was fire running along his skin, a cold sweat on his brow.

And then one wing would be gone.

Followed by pure, shuddering anguish. He’d dry heave, gasping for air. The wing itself would dissolve slowly beside him, still try to heal itself as the last of life bled from it. His back would give out, forcing him to slump forward onto his knees.

And he’d sit there, one-winged, chest heaving for air. If anyone saw him now, they’d think he was useless. Can’t even remove wings.

By pure instinct, his hands would resist moving to tear off the next. But he had to. It must go, he must be rid of it. So he’d grip the remaining one, hands shaking. He’d be slower, this time, which was worse. But his mind fought him, screamed at him to let go, to stop.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

It hurt more the second time, but less. He was already so far deep in pain that it just… didn’t faze him. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them over the snapping of bone, the ripping of muscle, the-

The same old thing, over and over. He’d done this before. Ripping half his back off and laid on the floor to let it heal over. Had to cut cloth from his wounds before it got trapped under his skin.

With a sob, the last wing dropped to the floor. And with it, so did he. He watched it dissolve in front of his eyes with a sort of detached apathy. It was pretty, almost. Like a fire struggling to light, to stay alive. Flickering about before being snuffed out.

Maybe that was him. A fire trying to survive until he, too, was snuffed out.

#mianite #tom syndicate #body horror #blood #violence #graphic violence #self harm #self-harm #self-mutilation #broken bones #dismemberment #angst #hurt #hurt no comfort #mianitefanfiction #mianite fanfiction #mianite fan fiction

[discordantplains]

Dear Lord

Tucker was in hell. Not the nether--no that would be preferable over the itching sneezing congestion filled purgatory he’d landed himself in. He hadn’t even been blessed enough to find the meager amount of obsidian necessary to construct a portal there during their supervised mining sessions. There was no escape and he figured he must be really desperate if he was considering the stifling dimension of Dianite’s domain a reprieve.

He sniffled, wiping at his already tender nose, and pressed his face into his pillow. He was the only one currently in the bed and breakfast they were using as a base of operations. Sonja and Waglington had gone out to explore the town, Tom left to do who knows what--probably get in trouble with Captain Captain--and Jordan had already turned hermit and was down in the basement tinkering with a portal to get them home.

The hope Jordan’s portal was bringing happened to be the only thing keeping him from bashing his head open on the nearest hard surface. Though, to be fair, it already felt like his head was being bashed open.

He’d never had allergies this bad, not in the savanna in Mianite or the fields around his home in Ruxomar. Whatever grass grew in this gods-forsaken plane was seriously nasty stuff. Both inside and outside he was suffering, hell even underground was bad. His head pounded and felt full of cotton, his sinuses felt fit to burst, and his eyes were throbbing. He was constantly adjusting his jaw, hoping that his ears would pop and relieve some of the terrible pressure in his skull but he hadn’t been lucky thus far. His mouth didn’t feel much better--his tongue was slightly swollen and his throat felt like it was grating against sandpaper every time he swallowed. 

He had already gotten medication from SkeleTom and it didn’t seem to be doing anything. The alternate swore up and down that it should have done something at least, but Tucker wasn’t seeing a difference. Sleeping didn’t help either. He woke up this morning feeling worse than the previous days and mining had been pretty miserable to begin with. The alternate alternates, who Sonja had dubbed the “Alts Squared”, followed every move they made. Even Tom, who had made threats of going off the grid, hadn’t managed to escape Honey’s watchful gaze. If he didn’t feel so sick Tucker would have been impressed. He’d never been able to control Tom like that.

Speaking of, the grating zombie champion had woken him about thirty minutes ago, jabbering on about spending time with Captain Captain. Not only did he not feel up to spending extended periods of time outside, but he didn’t exactly trust Jordan’s alternate not to go crazy and murder them all. Mianite knows he’d already tried. Or maybe that was his version of playfulness. Honestly, he was worse than the Modesteps and the Ianite pirates put together. 

After only a few moments of lying face down in his pillow the pillowcase was wet with snot from his constantly dribbling nose. He sat back in disgust, sighing frustratedly. He needed out--and he didn’t know if he could wait on Jordan to build his portal.

With an appropriate amount of sniffling and groaning he put on the simple armor he had managed to craft the day prior and stepped outside.

It was midday and the sun beat down on the city in the plains relentlessly. As soon as he took his first congested breath of fresh air he sneezed and regretted leaving the safety of the bed and breakfast. But sitting inside all day was driving him madder than his allergies, especially when everyone else was being productive. He had already wasted yesterday in a drowsy haze of SkeleTom’s defective medication.

He still wasn’t going to hang out with Tom and his evil pirate fixation though. 

The walk from the bed and breakfast to the town square was a short one and Tucker wasted no time gazing at the sights. He was a man on a mission. As he rounded the side of a building and the Mianite temple came into view he quickened his pace, stepping over Captain Captain’s tripwire, and slipped inside.

It was cool and dim in the temple, the only light source being a few long burning candles on the quartz altar at the front. All of the windows were shuttered with heavy wooden blinds, likely to keep the elaborate tapestries hanging from the rafters from fading in the sunlight. They were brilliantly colored, depicting Mianite enacting various forms of justice while golden wheat shone behind him. Tucker wasn’t impressed with the artistry. Compared to the temple in the land of Mianite this was nothing. Honey may seem like the picture perfect Mianite champion but her temple sucked and Tucker took pleasure in besting her on that front. 

He approached the altar and swiped the book laid open on the center of it. All pages prior to the one it was open to had been ripped out. The tears were neat and close to the binding--clearly Honey’s work. There was a dropper behind the altar, shimmering with a godlike enchantment, and Tucker figured that’s where he should drop prayers. It was interesting how similar communication with the gods was here in comparison with his home dimension. He was hoping this god would be a bit more responsive than his own, however. 

He grabbed the quill on the altar as well, noting the beautiful golden feather and plopped down on the front pew preparing to write until the god responded. It’s not like there was anything else to do in this city without getting penalized anyway. Honey had made that very clear.

He started out eloquently, introducing himself, because he had to remember that this wasn’t his Mianite, and explaining the circumstances. He made note to mention that he was the Mianite champion in his own universe and give a flowery overview of his deeds and accomplishments. Tucker figured that the higher this Mianite thought of him the more he would be willing to help him out. He definitely wanted to speed run this experience-- no waiting around on world ending calamities to open up the void. And no waiting for Jordan to figure out what even Deviser Gaines struggled with either. 

He had just gotten to the part where he heroically slayed Dianite to rescue Ianite and save his dimension when the solid oak doors swung open behind him and heavy footfalls approached. He stifled a cough and looked over his shoulder, expecting Sonja.

Honey was marching towards him instead. Immediately Tucker straightened up, trying his best to look the part of a proper champion despite feeling like Tom on a sunny day. Which was to say--bad.

“You’re quite devoted.” She intoned, coming to a stop at the end of his pew.

“Yeah well, I try.” He chuckled awkwardly, before pausing and running a hand through his hair. 

He felt he had made a rocky first impression with Honey courtesy of a few too many snarky remarks. She was also kind of scary and her rapier and armor was well above what he had managed to craft the few days prior. Not to mention he could barely read her. She was perfectly stone faced aside from her ears.

“I’ve been praying so we can get out of your hair. Figured if anyone can get me out of this gods-forsake- erm... if anyone can get us home it’d be Lord Mianite.”

“A shame. I was rather hoping you’d decide to stay.”

Though her words were passive her tone suggested that he strongly reconsider is bid to leave.

“Not a chance.” He laughed, “No offense, this is a nice town and all but I’d rather die than stay here. Actually, scratch that- I probably will die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He believed her.

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude here, but nothing short of an ancient prophecy from Mianite himself is going to get me to stay.”

“I take it that’s happened before.”

“Yeah, it was a whole big deal in the last dimension we were in. Don’t think it made much of a difference though, we sort of caused the end of the world on our way out.”

He balked under her observant turned piercing stare.

“Uh, that’s not going to happen here, though.”

“I should hope not. I’ve labored too many years here to have it all destroyed because of some unexpected guests. That being said, you’re still welcomed despite your apparent track record.”

“Gee, thanks.”

He sighed and closed the prayer book, before standing and placing it back on the altar. 

“Speaking of track record,” he began tredeptatiously, “and you’re smart so I’m sure you’ve picked up on this-”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“-that’s not what I- I’m taken. Um, look Tom isn’t exactly the most rule abiding person. He's been pretty good so far, and you've been doing a good job keeping track of him, but he won't stay so placated for long.” Honey’s stern eyes didn’t leave him the whole time he spoke. Tucker ended up choking on his cough in the back of his throat--unwilling to show weakness. 

“Yes, Sonja made that clear during the initial tour, and his conduct during your allotted mining hours affirmed it. You need not remind me, I am keeping an eye on it. We are well versed in dealing with troublemakers.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Captain Captain. I just figured I’d warn you, Mianite champion to Mianite champion and all.”

He placed his hands on his hips in a very self important sort of way but Honey didn’t react beyond blinking. Tucker pressed his lips together in a firm line, never missing how the inhabitants of Ruxomar had thought him hot shit more than now. 

“He doesn’t care if you kill him by the way,” he added, moving swiftly on from that embarrassing floundering, “he’ll just keep popping up like nothing happened, it doesn’t work on him.”

It was strange that that was the statement to wring a reaction out of her. To Tucker it seemed she would have been able to infer something like that, but the tilt of her head and squint of her eyes indicated otherwise. He felt something tighten in his chest. The implications of the source of her confusion were less than ideal.

“What’s that look for.”

She continued to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion and the blatant telegraphing of her emotions made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t follow.” She finally said.

“What part.”

“Is he immortal? A god?” she asked and the bad feeling in Tucker’s chest grew heavier.

“I mean technically yes, he’s Dianite-”

And he didn’t miss the way she flinched, the muscles jumping in her forearms and biceps as she tensed. 

“-but not in this dimension. Okay, I’m about to ask a potentially stupid question, um-- do you guys not come back to life when you die?”

“No.”

Fuck.

“Oh gods- I need to-” and he took a few unsteady steps back to the pew before sinking down into it like all the breath had been driven from his lungs. It felt like it. Or maybe he was about to have a panic attack.

Of course this dimension had no respawn, why would it. There’s apparently a pattern to keep, after all. 

Unwittingly, his mind flashed back to a small dark cave, with holes and crevices in the rock stretching up above him, shrouded in shadow. It felt like the world had dimmed around him, and he could feel the grit of cobblestone and coal under his fingernails. The air tasted stale and dank. He felt claustrophobic. 

He pushed his hands through his hair, gripping tightly and knocking the cap from his head. 

This was just like the island, although he had no intention of dying here. He was going to live and escape. He didn’t want to die again, not like that. Not without being able to come back. 

Honey was taking his mini breakdown rather well, just standing impassively and letting him work it out of his system. Maybe later he would scream into his pillow until he went hoarse, but for now he needed to make sure Sonja’s alt² didn’t think he was too much of a crazy person. 

“I’m fine, that’s fine--normal even, sorry, I said it would be a stupid question.” He paused to breathe, finding it a little hard and not entirely because of his allergies. 

“If you need some time I’ll be on my way.” Honey started, motioning to the doors. And though he realized she probably didn’t get what was happening, he appreciated her discretion.

Tucker sighed and breathed in and out a few more times before sitting up and placing his hat back on his head. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to sit down and think about tight cave spaces and hissing monsters that were always just out of his line of sight.

“No, I have more questions.” He wheezed before snapping his fingers, “A priest, do you have a priest? Declan?”

“We do not.”

Right, of course not. That would be too easy. What’s the point of a world where death is permanent if it isn’t inescapable?

He also thought it odd, because even on Trinity Island Declan had a way of reaching them. Tucker just assumed he was a universal constant. Though if anything he learned about Ihatchu so far was to be believed, it was that Captain Captain was a murderous maniac and probably killed him. 

Thinking about that now and knowing that those who died stayed dead set him on edge.

“Tell me about Mianite, how do I get in contact. What’s the fastest way.” 

He might've been losing his cool a bit.

“Writing prayers is the most assured way to-”

She cut herself off mid sentence, Tucker hanging on her words like the end of a rope, holding his breath. 

“Honey-”

“Silence.”

He shut his jaw with a clack, frustrated energy thrumming under his skin. He wasn’t a particularly patient person on most days but right now it felt as though if he didn’t get answers from Mianite himself right this second he would explode. Or scream. Or both. 

Honey was statue still. Her ears were twitching continuously and he could hear her quick inhales in the silence of the temple. He didn’t miss how her hand had drifted to the hilt of her rapier. She seemed to be waiting for something that only she had noticed.

He stilled as well, but couldn’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary. Before he even had a chance to open his mouth and ask what she was paying attention to she was storming down the aisle and out of the doors at a furious pace.

He followed, scrambling up out of the pew and dashing out after her into the evening air. 

The first thing he noticed was that he had spent much longer inside the temple than he thought, and the second thing was a large column of black smoke rising up into the golden sky a few blocks away.

Honey was already disappearing down a street in that direction. 

Tucker had a bad feeling about this. 

He followed suit, boots pounding against clean cobblestone streets. 

It was clear what had happened before he even rounded the final corner. Tucker could hear the roaring crackle and feel the heat of flames before actually seeing the fire. But as soon as he did it was obvious who had started it.

Standing an unsafe distance from the inferno was Tom, cackling like mad and looking entirely like Dianite incarnate. Reflections of the flames glittered madly in his dark, undead eyes and his suit was smoldering slightly as rogue embers sizzled against the cloth.

It was only then did Tucker realize that the structure currently on fire was an entire fucking house.

“Oh, you fucking idiot.”

Tom spotted Tucker and lifted his hand to wave at the same moment Honey rushed and clotheslined him. She swung wide, her heavy forearm bracer catching him in the throat and sending him flat on his back in a singular movement. Tom’s shriek of surprise was cut short as his back hit the street and the breath was driven from his lungs.

 Honey pinned him with her knee and immediately straightened, scanning the surrounding streets with her hawklike gaze. Tom writhed beneath her, horrid choking sobs adding to the roaring of the flames as he struggled to take in air.

Tucker didn’t quite get what she was looking for until he saw a glint of something metallic and spotted Captain Captain leaning on the railing of a porch across the street. The pirate and lawmaker locked eyes across the way. The Ianite champion grinned before shaking his head and turning to head out of sight.

“You’re not going to go after him?” Tucker asked, nodding to the side alley where Captain Captain had disappeared.

Tom had started squirming more purposefully under Honey’s weight, reaching for a wicked looking dagger that had been knocked free of his belt and was lying a few feet away. She increased pressure on his sternum and he let out an undignified squeak.

“Get off of me, lady!” Tom whined, legs thrashing.

Honey ignored Tom’s protests, turning to Tucker. Her expression was so fearsome he noticeably stiffened, taking half a step back.

“He’ll get what’s his.” She growled. 

Normally, Tucker would've offered his assistance in apprehending him, but recently learning he was a very mortal man had him acting with caution. He didn't want to test his luck when the outcome could very well be a crossbow bolt between the eyes. 

 “And Tom?” He asked above the flurry of foul words the Dianite champion was now spitting at Honey.

“Tom will receive punishment fitting the crime.”

Tucker did a double take, “What? No trial?”

“Have you any doubt of his responsibility for this?”

Tucker looked at the blazing inferno and then back at Tom, still struggling beneath Honey and looking like he would kill if he could.

His answer was an unfortunate, “No…”

With a deft movement, Honey let up the pressure on Tom’s chest and fisted her hand in his hair at the nape of his neck. She yanked hard, twisting his head so his face was pressed harshly into the street. Tom sputtered as his teeth hit cobblestone, lips splitting and staining the ground red. 

He thrashed, kicking with his legs, but Honey held fast and flipped the rest of his body stomach down with a sharp knee to his kidneys. 

“I’m taking him in.” She decided, then inclined her head towards a narrow line of grates bordering the street. “Use the city’s waterline to put out the fire, I won’t have it spreading.”

Tucker hesitated. He couldn’t just let Honey take Tom away, what if she killed him? Rationally, he knew she wouldn’t, that would be absurd but…

“Hey now, shouldn’t I tag along to see how you do things? Not that I don’t trust you but we’re used to a more democratic system when it comes to doling out punishment.”

He inhaled sharply before continuing, “Griefing was against the law in our dimension as well, I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation that would…” Tucker trailed off. Was he really about to say there might be a reason that justified Tom burning a house down? He hoped for the zombie’s sake there was one. What the hell had gotten into him. 

Honey was unmoved by his pleas.

“How many times will you have to defend the actions of your friend, preemptively or in response to his misdeeds, before you take a critical eye to his moral character.”

She had a point. They were making an awful lot of excuses on Tom’s behalf. But the alts² didn’t know Tom. He was an obnoxious Dianitee who liked to play with fire but damn it, he was Tucker’s friend too. 

“I’ve known him long enough to make my judgments.” He retorted. “I’ll put out the fire, just don’t do anything permanent. You aren’t the only Mianite champion around anymore.”

Honey’s dark eyes narrowed, the fire flickering dangerously in the reflection of her pupils.

“Reconsider that statement.” She said coldly, standing and hauling Tom with her.

Tucker stood his ground, likely foolishly. He doubted she’d kill him, that wasn’t exactly just and she seemed to pride herself on that sort of thing, but she was stronger than him, more geared than him, and had very sharp teeth and big muscles. In a one on one he would decidedly lose, but if he backed down here than what sort of a man was he, no less what sort of champion. 

Honey didn’t back down so much as brush him aside. Wrenching Tom’s right arm up and behind his back, still gripping his hair, she shoved him down the street in the direction that Tucker knew was the jail. 

The zombie was cursing loudly, and Tucker caught his wild gaze as he was marched past. 

“Tucker! Dude back me up! No one was living there what’s the big deal!”

“He will be released in the morning.” Honey said as a final goodbye, leaving Tucker to deal with the house fire himself.

Tucker coughed, the acrid taste of smoke hitting the back of his throat. Perfect.

In the end, he did a very half-assed job of putting out the fire. He made sure it wouldn’t spread to any other buildings and then bailed, figuring the structure would be a lost cause anyway. 

There were much more important things to attend to, like making sure everyone else knew there was no respawn. It was then that he realized that Tom had no idea and had burned down a building with the confidence of someone who could never die. 

And Captain Captain had probably egged him on to boot. He was totally trying to get Tom killed!

The sun was well on its way to dipping below the horizon now, and the sky was tinged a dusky purple. Streetlights began to flicker on as Tucker turned and sprinted back towards the bed and breakfast, flames still crackling at his back. The shadows on porches and down alleyways began to seem more sinister as he ran and he had to focus on the rhythm of his feet and breath to keep his brain from conjuring up creeper hissing. Thank Mianite for intuitive city layouts because he was back on the doorstep of their shared living space within a few minutes, if horrendously out of breath. 

As he leant heavily on the doorframe catching his breath, feeling the congestion crackle in his chest alongside the smoke inhalation, a familiar soothing voice piped up behind him. 

“Hey Tucker, there’s like a big fire over there or something. Wonder what that’s all about.”

Tucker whipped around, only looking mildly crazed, to find Waglington staring placidly back at him.

“Get inside, we need to have a meeting.” He ordered hoarsely, pulling open the door and shoving the wizard inside. 

“Ah, is it about the fire?” Waglington asked, not in any hurry at all despite Tucker’s urging.

“No- well yes, that’s part of it.” They entered the bedroom, and Sonja was already present, lounging on her bed and scrawling crossly into a journal.

“Where’s Sparklez.” Tucker badgered.

“Downstairs.” Sonja answered without looking up, and Waglington shuffled over to peer at her notes. 

“What’s got you so peeved.” The wizard inquired, flicking the tips of her ears which were lying flat against her head in displeasure.

She sighed heavily. 

“I’ve been trying to investigate some lights out of town, but Mericho’s dogs won’t let me out.”

“Hmm that is a predicament indeed.” He murmured, and Tucker tuned them out, hurrying down the steps to the basement.

“Jordan!” He barked, startling the Ianite champion into dropping a component he was holding. It broke in half upon hitting the ground and a piece of it skittered somewhere out of sight.

“Oh gods-” He turned around blue eyes blazing angrily, “Tucker!”

“Worry about that later, I have news.” And he grabbed the shorter man by the wrist, tugging him back up into their shared living space. He stumbled crossly after Tucker, fixing his askew sunglasses as he was yanked along.

“Okay, stop.” Jordan grumbled, snatching his hand back from Tucker with a scowl, “what’s this about.”

“We’re missing Tom.” Waglinton observed.

“You smell like smoke.” Sonja commented.

Tucker muffled a cough in his elbow. “I’ll get to that.” He paused to make sure he had their full attention before continuing. Jordan cast a mournful glance down at the cellar and Tucker snapped his fingers to bring his focus back around.

“I was talking to Honey today and to make a long and awkward conversation short,” he inhaled sharply,  “we have no respawn.”

“Well, that sucks.” Jordan said eloquently. 

Sonja frowned, looking back at her notepad. “That makes a lot of sense actually.”

Waglington looked confused.

“What so like, if we die, we die?”

"Yeah, pretty much." Tucker confirmed, "And I have no idea what happens when we do die. Dec isn't here, no idea if the gods will pop up any time soon, so-"

"Wait, no Declan?" Jordan piped up, "I thought he was like- a universal constant."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, and if I'm honest here I think he straight up died."

“That’s troubling.” Waglington muttered, sitting down on his bed.

“Right. So we should all just keep our heads down, no dangerous shit.” He crossed his arms. “Speaking of-- Tom decided to burn down a house tonight and got himself caught by Honey.”

Waglington laughed, Jordan sighed heavily, and Sonja put her head in her hands. 

“She wouldn’t kill him, right?” Jordan worried.

Tucker shrugged, “She said she’d release him in the morning so that implies not.”

That seemed to be enough for Jordan, who tentatively stretched with a yawn, spine audibly popping.

“Alright, well, I guess that’s fine…”

Sonja’s face wrinkled, “Not really. I can easily picture him pissing her off even more.”

Tucker huffed. “Not much we can do about it, trust me, I tried.”

In truth, he probably could have tried harder, but no one else was there and therefore couldn’t challenge him on it. 

Tom would be fine.

"Look just-" he sighed, taking a shaky step backwards until the backs of his knees hit his bedside, and he sunk into the mattress with a quiet huff.

"-we had instructions on Trinity Island. Beat all the bosses and be the last one standing. But here we don't have a guaranteed revival, even if one of us makes it out. We can't just fuck around like on Ruxomar."

Waglington looked the most troubled of all, and Tucker was reminded that the wizard had never gone without respawn before. Tucker could practically see the gears turning in his head as he likely parsed out the quickest way to become invincible via local magic.

"Well, this place doesn't seem so bad." Jordan pitched in, "All I have to do is finish the portal and it'll be okay."

Tucker didn't miss the way Jordan had clipped his sentences, his tone rife with his trademark subtle passive aggression. He winced, recalling the intricate looking portal component Jordan had dropped.

The Ianite champion didn't spare him another glance, slipping back downstairs.

Tucker was busy feeling sorry for himself. 

Sonja shot him a sympathetic look from where she was curled up against her headboard. 

"What a world, huh?”

He frowned, sniffling as his allergies tickled the back of his nose again.

"It's a crap one, that's what it is."

...

Tucker woke in the morning to the sound of a door slamming open. He jerked awake, not that he had been in that deep of a sleep to begin with, to see Tom’s ugly mug stomping through the bedroom towards the stairs to the basement. He would’ve gotten up to stop him--Tom needed to learn about their mortality like yesterday-- but as soon as he sat up he felt the phlegm in his lungs and hacked and coughed to regain his breath.

The mucus he spit out was thick and disgustingly yellow. His mouth tasted like smoke.

By the time he had pulled enough air into his lungs and recovered, Tom was already in the basement and Tucker could hear the indistinct rumble of Jordan’s voice.

Tucker swiped an unused notebook from Sonja’s bed and began his prayers to Mianite anew, keeping an eye on the cellar stairs for Tom’s return. He’d go down himself but he had a feeling if Jordan broke another portal component because of him he’d probably get a lot more than passive aggressive.

It wasn’t long before he could hear Tom’s voice rising in volume from the basement anyway. Jordan marched up the stairs soon after, Tom hot on his heels, gesticulating wildly.

“You admit to wanting me to suffer!”

Jordan ignored him and nodded at Tucker before exiting the bed and breakfast. It looked like Tom was fixing to go after him and so Tucker stood, taking a step forward to grab the zombie’s shoulder and prevent him from pursuing the Ianite champion. 

Tom attempted to shrug out of his grip, hurling one last sentence at Jordan’s back.

“SkeleTom’s a limp dicked pushover, when you get bored of being his bitch let me know!”

“Tom, quit it.” Tucker grumbled, pulling him back from the doorway.

The zombie rounded on him and Tucker noticed he was cradling an injured hand to his chest.

“You can’t seriously be chill with this, can’t you see Sparklez is traitoring us?”

“Look man, I don’t give a shit about SkeleTom, but what I do care about is the fact that we have no respawn and you’re acting like a maniac.” 

Tom paused, looking confused. Tucker could see the gears turning in his head before his eyes sparked with understanding.

“No shit?”

“Yeah man, so I’m pretty sure Captain Captain was trying to get you killed.”

Tucker waited with a patience he reserved just for Tom and saw the zombie still and go silent. His eyes unfocused and the red light in them dimmed slightly.  He absently flexed his broken hand tentatively and looked at the ground, then Tucker. "That can't be it," he said more in a pleading tone to himself than Tucker. 

Tucker held to that patience like a man drowning in the sea clutching driftwood as he was carried into a torturous storm. "Tom, I'm serious. Go help Wag or Sonja--lay off on the pranking and shit until we're home."

"No!" Tom immediately defended. He crossed his arms. "I'll just be more careful. That was just a slip-up. If Captain MoreFun meant to kill me he would have." The zombie sighed and deflated, looking at the door Jordan had long left.  "I just…"

"Yeah, Tom?" Tucker asked gently. If his allergy drained brain was interpreting things correctly, Tom was upset.

"We don't hang out," Tom said to Tucker, eyes still dim. "First you got busy in Ruxomar, then Jordan found everything to do but hang out and Wag always is off building. I just want someone I can go do pranks with--someone who finally won't get bored of me." 

It hurt. Tucker had got consumed with Blood Magic and Mianite knows what tech Jordan had been doing. "Tom, we're your friends. I'd hug you but I'm starting to feel like vomiting."

Tom wrinkled his nose and then shook his head quickly. He looked at Tucker and genuinely smiled, but let it drop. "What am I saying? That's just the healing potion talking." Tucker sighed as Tom spun on his heels to the door, giving him a middle finger. "Fuck you, I can do whatever; you're all losers and Captain Fun is a lot more entertaining." 

Tucker let him go, he had a list of things to accomplish and at the end of the day it was clear that not even Honey Badger could reign Tom in.

| ABOUT | CHARACTERS | PLOT |

#discordant plains #mianite #iijeriichoii #mianitefa #Honey Badger #mianite fan fiction #mianite fan art

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Tagged!

I was tagged by the amazing @shabadad00 even though I've been kinda dead, oops. Rules: answer the 20 question and tag people to get to know you better name: Sasha nicknames: Sash, that's it... people don't give me nicknames zodiac sign: Pisces height: 5′3 roughly orientation: Biromantic, Asexual ethnicity: White English favourite fruit: Strawberries favourite season: Spring or Autumn favourite book: Ahhhh probably either Carry On by Rainbow Rowell or Ready Player One by Ernest Cline favourite flower: I don't really know flowers at all but Peonys are nice and one of their meanings is Gay Life so there's that lol favourite scent: Freshly cut grass even though it makes me sneeze because of my hay fever favourite colour: Green! favourite animal(s): Tree Kangaroos, they're really cute coffee, tea, or cocoa: Cocoa! average sleep hours: Ha! What's that? About 3-5 depends though favourite fictional character: Either Bucky Barnes or Tony Stark from Marvel since I threw myself head first in the fandom and I love them, or Mot from Mianite as well dream trip: I'd love to go to Japan, but I'd also love to meet my Internet friends so going to America would be awesome too blog created: Roughly 2011/2012 but it basically inactive until Season 2 of Mianite whenever that was, bad fan right here I tag @jordyshortys and @sheldonatory, also anyone who sees this and wants to join in too :D

#tagged #thank you for tagging me