#edolas impulse

[kilannad]

As the Stars Burn On Chapter 20

Masterlist. Ao3.

New Dawn

With all eleven of them--even with Lily and Chopper in their smaller forms--the galley was packed to the brim. Outside, rain started splattering against Merry, but even if it was a clear day, Lucy doubted any of them would want to leave the cramped quarters. Robin and Nami were pressed tightly together on one side of the bench, Chopper huddled next to them. Zoro and Luffy were across from them. Usopp sat leaned against the counter near where Sanji was working, and Lucy was in between Laxus and Gajeel on the ground, Lily in her lap.

For a long time, they were all quiet, Sanji passing out hot cocoa and tea, setting platters of warm bread, and sliced meat on the table for them to pick at.

“So,” Usopp said, clearing his throat. “That happened.”

Lucy gave a hysterical little laugh. “That's an understatemeant.”

“Not to push where it isn't wanted,” Robin murmured, warming her hands against her tea. “But...?”

Gajeel tensed behind Lucy, his hands clenching at his side. “Short version? I was part of an enemy guild of Fairy Tail called Phantom Lord. Lucy's shit father hired us to capture her, then Master Jose ordered me--he told me to rough her up so we could get more money from him.”

“Sweet seas,” Nami muttered. “Your old master sounds like an ass.”

“You have no idea,” the three mages all said at once.

“Gramps let me join afterward,” Gajeel offered quietly. “Me 'n Juvia, even though we'd done our best to try and kill his guild. Been with them since.”

“Can't exactly judge for that,” Zoro pointed out. “I think half this crew tried to kill Luffy at least once.”

“Once?” Lucy teased. “Nami tries to strangle him every day.”

“He deserves it,” she declared.

“For the sake of transperancy,” Lily put in, “I should mention I was also an enemy.”

“So was I, at one point,” Laxus added.

“Wait,” Usopp started, “But I thought your granfather was the guildmaster.”

Laxus grimaced, nodding his head. “I...was a member at the time.” Zoro's eyes narrowed, cold fury descending. “It was the lowest point of my life, if that's any explanation.”

“Glad to know you guys are all as fucked as the rest of us,” Sanji said. “But if I might back up...what's this about Lady Lucy's father hiring you?”

“Ah.” It was Lucy's turn to shift uncomfortably. She didn't mind telling them, but after the last time she saw her father, she wasn't particularly fond of ruminating on him for long. “I'm the only daughter and heiress of--what was once--a new money business tycoon. I ran away at 16 but my father needed me back for an arranged marriage.”

“He was trying to marry you off?” Gajeel demanded. She'd forgotten she hadn't told anyone, not even her team, of the real reason her father had wanted her back so bad.

“I didn't know that,” Laxus agreed. “To who?”

Lucy hesitated, knowing that it was likely Laxus and Gajeel had at least heard of her fiance to be. And his reputation. “Duke Sawarr Junelle,” she finally muttered.

Both of them went rigid, even Lily's fur standing on end as he cursed.

“Who is he?” Chopper asked.

“A dead man,” Gajeel promised.

It probably said bad things about Lucy that she found his and Laxus's murderous impulses comforting.

“Setting that aside,” Lucy hurried on, not wanting to linger on Junelle or the horrifying possibility of her actually marrying him. “I think I just figured out why some of us were affected and others weren't.”

“I've been considering that,” Robin agreed. “But I don't know enough aboout everyone's pasts to know if my conclusion is correct.”

“To be honest, I'm in the same boat, and this is mostly a guess but...I think the reason you five weren't affected is because you've already faced your fears.”

Nami was the first to understand what she meant. “Arlong. My worst fear has always been Arlong reneging on our deal but that's already happened.”

“Mine was seeing Edolas run out of magic,” Lily concluded. “But we handled that.”

“Zoro's would be loosing to Mihawk, Chopper being an unwanted monster, and mine was failing at protecting Kaya and my village,” Usopp finished. “It holds up.”

“Then the rest of your fears?” Chopper asked.

“Being indirectly responsible for all of your deaths,” Robin told him.

“My father,” Laxus said.

“Ditto,” Sanji agreed.

“Loneliness,” Lucy said. “And I think Luffy was the same.”

“Phantom shit,” Gajeel finished.

“It doesn't matter,” Luffy interrupted, speaking for the first time. Lucy wondered what he was thinking about all this; for someone who cared so deeply about his crew and fought to be so strong so he could protect them, he must have hated being faced with a problem he couldn't fight his way out of. “Whatever happened in the past, it's done. We handled the bounty hunter.” He grinned, as bright as any sun. “So let's set sail.”

Nami slammed his head down. “Idiot! It's storming and the middle of the night. We're not going anywhere until tomorrow.”

“Oh. Right. Oops.”

Lucy couldn't help dissolving into giggles. Though none of them slept besides slight dozing through the night, no one complained in the morning. They were all too glad to be together and out of their nightmares.

☉

Vice Admiral Jonathan leaned back in his chair, eyeing the open letter on his desk like a viper. Not an impossible comparison, he considered. One never knew what crazy new inventions the Government had access to.

“You could always say no,” Jessica suggested quietly, though she knew it was a death sentence. Being the wife of a Vice Admiral, she knew just as well as him what refusing a summoning could cost.

Outside his office, the loud cacaphony of repairs painted a bright orchestra; while G-8 had lost the Straw Hats, all the soldiers were coming together with a new vigor to ensure it didn't happen again. For them, at least, he had to try and maintain his position. He was in check, but that didn't mean the game was over yet.

“No isn't an option,” Jonathan finally sighed. “I want you to stay here, though.”

“Jonathan-”

“I know, Jess. I'll take a few trusted men, and leave you and Drake here to run the base.” He looked out the window, into the wide, bright sea beyond. “I better pack,” he mused. “Enies Lobby waits for no man.”

☉

Lucy waved as Loke vanished, chewing at her lip. It was the morning after they'd escaped their nightmares, and the crew had set sail early in the morning. It was still cold, and likely would be until they entered the next island's climate. Lucy had taken over the back deck to do some summonings. She wasn't strong enough to have Loke and Shé out at the same time, so she'd settled with starting with Loke, hoping to calm what worry she'd caused.

Turned out, she had a few more things to be worried about.

While all her Spirits had been terrified about her being trapped in a pocket dimention, unable to answer any of her summons due to the nature of the Dream-Dream fruit, they'd had something of a discovery.

They couldn't open their own gates. Not Loke or Virgo, not Horologium or Aquarius, not even Mă. It wasn't that they didn't have the power, Loke had stressed. Lucy was a strong enough mage that her strongest Spirits should have no problem coming through on their own. They'd done it before. They just...couldn't. Like the door was locked and they didn't have the key. According to Loke, Shé, if he knew anything about it, wasn't talking, so Lucy had to conclude it had something to do with the Void Century and/or her ancestor. How, she didn't know, but it went on the pile of things she needed to look into. A pile that got longer by the day.

The deck creaked, pulling her out of her thoughts and to Laxus, who had joined her.

She didn't know how to talk to him. He'd stayed by her side all night, since the crew had piled into the galley for some semblance of sleep, and didn't seem to be ignoring her any more. Yet it felt strange to be around him; she didn't know if he was still upset by the scars, or if she should apologize. For what, stars only knew, but she had the urge all the same.

“Newspaper came,” Laxus told her, proffering the wraped bundle of paper. It didn't look like even Robin had gotten to it yet, which was sort of impressive; she usually woke up first and left it for Lucy to find later.

“Thank you.” She clutched the paper to her chest, shifting from foot to foot. Laxus leaned against the railing, not far but also not close, not the way he used to; he didn't look at her.

The sails snapped in the wind impatiently, Merry rocking with the force of the waves. The ocean was rough, and normally Lucy might be worried, but so long as Nami didn't say anything, she had confidence that they'd be fine. Though if there was ever a time for a typhoon to hit, it'd be now; Lucy would take anything to get out of the growing awkwardness.

Did he want an apology? Did she? She wasn't really mad--sad, maybe, that Laxus had found it so easy to cut her off--and she honestly just wanted to go back to how things used to be. On the main deck, Usopp cursed colourfully, something delicate shattering against the hard planks. Gajeel laughed, getting a Tabasco Star down his throat for the offence; Chopper rushed to get him a glass of milk. All around them, the ship was alive with noise and anticts, yet their bubble went untouched.

Sweet Mavis, she hated it.

“I'm sorry,” they both blurted.

“Why are you-”

“There's nothing to be-”

They both paused, Lucy biting her lip, Laxus wide eyed.

He chuckled, dragging a hand through his hair. “There's nothing for you to be sorry for. I was the one being an ass.”

“I won't say you weren't an ass,” Lucy agreed, smiling at his exasperated look. “But I'm sorry for not...trying to clear the air, I guess. I thought you needed space.”

“I did,” Laxus admitted. “But that was for my own shit. I didn't need to put that on you.” His eyes flicked down to where her sweater covered her arms. “I...I fucking hate that I'm the one that put scars on you.”

She rubbed her arms, contemplating. She'd spent a lot of the months in Alabasta considering her time in Fairy Tail. She'd been a member for almost a full year, but had never really had the time to stop and truly think about what it all meant. But there had been something about the sands of Alabasta that had invited reflection and through the months there she'd come to a few realizations.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled up a sleeve, taking a step closer when Laxus looked away. “You know,” she started, keeping her voice low and contemplative. “I used to hate all of my scars. I know I'm attractive and I like to take pride in it; it was the one part of growing up an heiress that I actually liked. Dressing up, doing my makeup, being pretty; it makes me feel good. The first scar I got was from Galuna Island and I refused to show my stomach for weeks.”

“I'm going to guess this is going somewhere,” Laxus murmured.

“Yeah. I realized something, in Alabasta. Every scar I have reminds me of an adventure we went through, people we saved, battles that I won.” She used the hand with the bared scar to turn his head until he met her eyes. She smiled, making sure he could read her sincerity. “I like my scars. Especially these ones; it means I helped you and we saved Skypiea. What more could I want?”

Laxus turned his head into her palm, breathing deeply as he ran a gentle finger, lightning nowhere to be seen, over her arm. “I'll try to keep that in mind,” he murmured. “Just...sometimes shit is hard.” He slitted his eyes open, watching her closely. “Gaj feels the same, you know.”

There was a weird weight behind those words, one she wasn't quite ready to face head on. Not yet, when she still couldn't put her own desires into words. She decided to respond to the more obvious message. “Yeah, well, he has a guilt complex almost as big as yours.”

“Only almost?”

“Yours is pretty big,” she pointed out. He smirked, eyes sparking with playfullness; her face went red, realizing the inuendo.

Laxus laughed, long and loud, and everything seemed a little better. Even if he was an ass.

☉

Usopp stumbled into the galley, juggling various lumps of clay and porcelain, muttering insults to Gajeel. Sanji looked up from the stove, raising a brow as Usopp settled at the table. Unlike the deck, which was full of the crew, the galley was quiet and peaceful, just the two of them present.

“Dare I ask?” Sanji sighed, pulling out one of their chipped mugs and pouring from a pot he'd been keeping warm on the stove. He slid it over, and Usopp gladly wrapped his hands around it, taking a greedy gulp. Chai, with milk and maple syrup; his favorite.

“You may, good sir,” Usopp began, gesturing grandly at his supplies. One of the prototypes fell over with a sad little clink. “For I have had a realization!”

“Sweet Blues,” Sanji hung his head, but wiped his hands on a dishtowel and leaned against the counter. Exasperately, he said, “What realization?”

“Often, we all pile into the galley, nice and cozy where Merry can protect us from the rain and wind and hail the size of Lily. Usually this involves beverages of some delicious form.” Sanji smiled a little, relaxing at the praise, and Usopp made a mental note to tell him how appreciated he was more often. “So I thought to myself, 'Great Sniper Usopp, what could make these moments even better?' and I answered, 'Well! Individual teacups, of course!'”

Sanji tilted his head, looking more closely at the odds and ends. “You're making a teacup set?”

Usopp dropped the dramatic voice, tilting his hand from side to side. “Well, more like individual cups. It'll be teacups for the girls, since they usually prefer them, a sake cup for Zoro since it's the only thing he'll drink from--even tea can you believe him?--and various types of mugs for the rest of us. Oh, and little ones for Lily and Chopper that will be specially designed to make them easier to hold.”

“That's a really good idea,” Sanji offered honestly; Usopp flushed, though he wasn't really sure why. It was nice though, getting Sanji to talk to him instead of just when they were arguing. They never really spent much time together, but after the nightmare fiasco, Usopp was glad for it.

“Thanks.” He fiddled with a broken piece of porcelain, quietly adding, “My mom did it for us when I was young. Even made one for my dad in case he came back.”

Sanji turned away, pulling out ingredients and pans. Usopp barely made out what he said. “I get that. I used to cook for Mom when she was sick. Tried to make her feel better, y'know?”

For once, words failed Usopp, though he didn't think Sanji minded. They were quiet while they both worked, but it was a comfortable kind of quiet, the sort that comes when two people know a secret and don't have to worry about hiding. A good quiet, Usopp decided.

He took to working in the galley more often.

☉

“You're sure Nico Robin joined their crew?”

“Yeah. Jonathan confirmed.”

Fleet Admiral Sengoku 'The Buddha' sighed, steepling his fingers as he stared down Admiral 'Aokiji'. Kuzan didn't flinch, far too used to being judged. “This is going to be a problem,” Sengoku summarized.

Privately, Kuzan thought this had been a problem for twenty years, but he'd long since learned not to question orders. It wasn't worth the energy.

The whole room shook as, with the oft heard sound of crumbling plaster, Garp burst through the wall. He paused, mid-munch of a rice cracker, when Sengoku didn't yell at him for the property damage.

“What's crawled into your uniform, Senny?”

“Your grandson.”

“Bwahahaha!” Garp dropped down onto the couch, his thick set frame sinking into his usual well worn spot. “What'd he do this time? Break into another base?”

“Worse,” Sengoku told him. “His crew now numbers eleven, one of which is Nico Robin.”

“Eh? You're all twisted up about her? She's been quiet since she turned on Crocodile.”

“That's because she's a Straw Hat!”

Kuzan opted to ease his way to the side of the room, wary of being caught up in one of Sengoku's and Garp's legendary tiffs. He considered just going for the door, but that would require passing through their line of sight. Maybe if he busted the window and made an ice slide down?

“So what? Luffy will get his head on straight eventually and calm down.” Garp shoved a few crackers into his mouth, as if he had to wash down the taste of the lies he told himself.

“Nico Robin. Laxus Dreyar. Gajeel Redfox. Whatever that cat with a Devil Fruit is named. His crew is getting too big, too fast.”

“You don't even know about the Thunder God and Blacksteel. They probably just have weird Devil Fruits.”

Sengoku's fist slammed down, his desk too well crafted to crumble. “Damnit, Garp. Take this seriously. Straw Hat has four persons of interest on his crew and has shown he isn't afraid of the Warlords. We have to do something.”

“He's a green nosed rookie,” Garp argued.

“So was Roger once upon a time.”

For a moment, even Kuzan had to gape. While concern was warranted with Nico Robin, he thought comparing a rookie--even a supernova--to Roger was going a little far.

Something passed between Garp and Sengoku, an unsaid message between what few remained of Roger's Era. It made his hair prickle.

“Intelligence puts their likely port of call as Water 7,” Sengoku announced. He turned to stare down Aokiji. “Since it was your failure to capture the Devil Child that originally led to this, you can be the one to go to Enies and pass your golden den-den to Chief Spandam.”

Kuzan thought that was a terrible idea, but no one ever asked him. And if it got Robin out of the way... wasn't it worth it? Saul would've hated it, but Saul was a dead traitor and Kuzan was Admiral. “We're giving CP9 permission to activate the Buster Call?”

“Tell him that his mission perameters have spread to encompass the capture of Nico Robin, level Platinum.” Sengoku waved a hand, clearly deciding the meeting was over. Kuzan took the escape, ignoring the furious voices that started up in his wake.

Platinum was the highest directive there was, going above even the Fleet Admiral's head. A Platinum level order came from one place, and one place only; the Five Elder Stars. Kuzan didn't know what CP9's current mission was, but he assumed it was nasty; adding Nico Robin into the mix could only end in pain.

The question was who would be bleeding when the dust cleared.

☉

Lucy finished shooing Laxus away, trying to cool off her face. For all that she felt better now that they'd talked, she was still caught up in how to act around him. She had felt attraction before--and Fairy Tail was filled with attractive people--but Lucy had never cared for anybody the way she cared for Laxus. It left her buzzing and anxious, always dancing to the wrong beat.

Stars, maybe she should ask Aquarius for advice.

...

Actually, after considering it for a moment, Lucy decided that was the worst idea she'd ever had.

Not quite ready to summon Shé just yet, Lucy opted to settle against Merry's rails, snapping open the newspaper. She was glad she didn't have anything to drink, or she would've done a spittake at the front page.

In big, bold letters all the way across the top was; Straw Hat Menaces! How Terrible is the New Generation?

She couldn't understand why they were running such an article now; they hadn't done anything since G-8 four days ago, and they'd already written an article about that. In a hurry, she scanned the article, and quickly realized the source.

She didn't know much about 'Big News' Morgan, but she knew enough to guess that he'd been paid by the World Government to write this piece. It reeked of propaganda, though for the life of her she couldn't figure out what had set it off. Surely them breaking out of G-8 hadn't earned them this level of disdain?

The article sketched the outline of the Straw Hats journey, from their inception in the East Blue all the way to their escape from G-8, but did so in the most needlessly antagonistic way Lucy had ever seen. Reading the article gave the impression that they'd picked the fight with all the East Blue's top pirates--which might be true, knowing Luffy—but only because Luffy was power hungry. It even implied they'd been the ones helping Crocodile take over Alabasta. To tie it all together, it even reprinted the bounties for their crew members--Robin included. It mentioned, briefly, that several other new pirates were making names for themselves in equally horrific ways; besides mentioning the Surgeon of Death and 'Captain' Kid, an ex-Rear Admiral named 'Red Flag' X Drake had just turned traitor and been slapped with a 70 million starting bounty in response. This was also, somehow, the Straw Hats fault, though why wasn't clarified.

Lucy had to admit that as infuriating as it was, it was well written and evocative. In short, the government had just ensured that any island the Straw Hats landed on would be immediately suspicious of them.

“Why can't propaganda ever be on my side for once?” Lucy bemoaned.

“'Cause that would make things too easy,” Gajeel responded, joining her on the back deck. He jerked his head towards the paper. “Something 'bout us again?”

She nodded, offering it to him. He shook his head, leaning against the railing not far from where she sat. The wind gave a howling push, chilling her even through her thick layer of clothes. She leaned against Gajeel's legs, hoping to suck up the warmth that all dragon slayers radiated. With a chuckle, he dropped down next to her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. She was immediately ten times warmer.

She settled comfortably and slapped the paper. “Government is going for slander, now. We'll have to be careful of how we act around civilians.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “The idiots who believe shit printed in the papers are the same idiots who'd give us shit for being pirates anyway.”

“True,” she allowed. “But if anyone was on the fence...”

“Then we'll deal.”

She smiled, pressing her face into his shoulder to warm her nose. She wished she could have his confidence; she felt like every time she got her feet under her, the world got ripped away.

“You know-”

Lucy never got to finish her thought. The Going Merry gave a shuttering groan, something splintering with a great crack as, in the middle of the Grandline, they started taking on water.

#as the stars burn on #one piece fanfic #laxus dreyar #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail fanfic #gajeel redfox #laxus x lucy x gajeel

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 6

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Impulse wakes up in strange places, but surrounded by familiar faces. Not all of them welcome. But these people are not like the villains and heroes he knows from Hermitland. They’re different, and he can’t tell what’s real and what’s false.

_______________________________________

I know a lot of you can’t wait to see Impulse, Tango, and Zed meet, but I just have to make the tension a little higher before we get that wonderful reunion! 

Also, if you like my writing check out my story Wandering Stars! It’s a novel sized story with D&D like action and a few wayward trips to the world of the Hermits by our three adventurers! Check out Chapter 1 Here!

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language. Blood and needle warning for this part. 

________________________________________

Impulse gasps to reality, finally escaping the inky darkness of sleep. He’s been trying to wake up for...well, he can’t tell how long. Hours? Days? Weeks? But it felt like he was walking through sludge, worse than wading across water to get to where he is now. Impulse’s eyes dart around the room, taking everything in. Every sense is wild and alive. 

The room is small, only a few beds lined against the wall. Pure white walls, white sheets, white everything nearly blinds Impulse against the harsh fluorescent lights. It smells just as sterile as it looks, a hint of cleaning supplies and saline in the air. Beside Impulse, he can hear the steady, but rising beeps of his own heartbeat. A screen shows the constant rise and fall, each peak and trough growing in frequency as Impulse gathers more information about the world around him. He follows the grey cord from the heart rate monitor, down to his right arm. 

It’s there he also sees the other line tying him down. A thin needle beneath his skin, clear liquid dripping from a bag held above his head. The beeping of the monitor rises to frenzied pace, Impulse grabbing at the IV tube in his arm and ripping it free of his skin. He holds down the bloody pinprick, leaping from his bed. His right foot becomes entangled in the cords all around his bed, tugging on the white bandages that match the ones wrapped securely around his arms. He collapses, finding that the floor is becoming quite familiar to him. Impulse finally rips the heart rate monitor off his finger, the incessant beeping filling his head even after it stops. 

Impulse needs to get out of here. Wherever here is, nothing is good about it. It looks too much like Bastion Towers. Where he was held, put through that horrible rehabilitation. Wounded and weak, Impulse struggles to his feet and limps to the doorway. He needs to get out of here, figure out where the hell he is. Is this the End? Or...has he met his own end? Is the afterlife supposed to be this painful? 

He reaches a bloody hand for the door’s handle, but it moves before he can touch it. Bursting open, he sees two faces he never wanted to see ever again. 

Doc and Cub. Their foreheads are creased with wrinkles, eyes glimmering with worry until they rest on Impulse. Cub steps forward. “Thank goodness you’re finally awake, kidd-” 

Cub narrowly dodges as a metal tray is flung at his head. The stranger collapses backwards, grabbing anything within his reach and flinging it at Cub and Doc. The latter yelps, taking cover behind a filing cabinet. Cub dares to press forward, despite the screaming and projectiles. “No! No, I won’t let you take me back! Get away from me!” 

“Wha- hold on kid what are you talking about?” Cub pauses, confused. Just short enough time for the stranger to get his hands on a thin scalpel. He shakes as he brandishes the medical tool, blood pouring from where he had ripped the IV drip out. The white bandages on his other arm are stained with bright red blood, new bruises already beginning to appear. It was the crashing noise that alerted them to the trouble within the infirmary. 

Cub steps forward, but Impulse swings the sharp knife, and he immediately backs off. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Impulse knows it. Cub is playing with him, pretending to be his friend. Lull him into a false sense of security. This is the man that chased him through that damned forest, tracked him down like a wild animal. There’s a lapse of silence between the two, neither moving in the stalemate. 

Until Doc peeks his head out from behind the cabinets. “Is everything safe to-” 

He ducks back in as the stranger cries out, throwing the scalpel in Doc’s direction and retreating. He starts to clamber onto the beds like a feral cat, jumping for the high windows of the guild’s infirmary. Doc covers his ears at the sound of glass shattering, and Cub grunting from beyond his hiding spot. “Xisuma! Help!”

Xisuma careens into the room, crashing into the doorframe to reach the cry for help as soon as possible. He looks across the infirmary, at the scene before him. Doc is hiding behind a cabinet, and the room looks like a tornado has blown through it. Cub and the stranger are in the center of the room, surrounded by shards of broken glass. Cub is yelling, begging for the stranger to stop, that he’s only going to hurt himself more. But the patient won’t listen. 

“Xisuma! We need to sedate him before he hurts himself more!” Cub calls, holding down the kid’s arms before yelping as the frenzied stranger bites him. Xisuma slides across the floor, pulling out a syringe filled with green liquid. Cub notices the neon sedative as Xisuma flicks bubbles free of it. “Not the experimental one you made on the way here!”

The mad scientist pouts, but puts the fun syringe aside for a more mundane, more boring method. Cub holds down the stranger, his face creased with worry and even a few tears in his eyes. Why is this kid so terrified that he was willing to jump out a window to make an escape? Xisuma lends his free hand, holding the struggling patient still and letting the syringe pinch into his skin. 

Impulse’s screams seem to fall on deaf ears, trying to escape the grasp that Cub and Xisuma have on him. Holding him down, preventing him from escape. They did it. They finally caught him, pressing his shoulders and arms against the cold tile floors. Impulse feels hot tears sting at his eyes, watching as he grabs at the labcoat on Xisuma. Trying to rip his hand off the syringe in Impulse’s shoulder. But it does nothing, and he feels his mind grow cloudy as the needle is pulled away from his body. 

His hand, bloody from glass and the IV drip, slips away from Xisuma’s white coat. It leaves a red stain down the burnt and tattered fabric. The weight of his limbs feel like ten tons of rock, and the voices around him drift in and out of clarity. “I don’t know what’s going on...he hurt himself trying to get…what is going on?”

What is going on? 

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

Ren sips his tea, much quieter than the slurping noise that his friend Grian makes as he chugs the last of his warm drink. Ren sighs, closing his book and stretching out his arms on the bed in front of him. He kneads the warm white blanket before standing. “I’ll get us another mug.” 

“Can you get a new one for him?” Grian picks up the mug, completely full with now lukewarm tea. If he were this stranger in the bed, he’d want a warm cup of tea when he woke up. 

Ren smiles, taking all three cups out of the infirmary and to a kettle of boiling water. He quietly dumps the cold tea down the drain, watching the tea extract flush away. What a waste of tea, but he understands Grian’s concern. He hums to himself as he lets the warm drinks steep, adding in the honey and sugar to an exact amount that both he and Grian enjoy. He can only guess for the stranger.

When Ren returns with three full mugs of steaming hot tea, Grian is talking. Not to himself- the stranger is awake. Grian’s soft voice and even softer attitude has managed to keep the patient in bed, though Ren can read his body language well enough. The stranger is tense, about ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. He makes his presence known to both of them, walking over slowly and setting down the drinks. Ren flicks his tail to the side, taking a seat next to Grian. 

“Would you like some tea?” Grian whispers, offering the warm mug to the kid. He’s hardly even able to sit up, reattached to an IV but pale from all his wounds. For a second, the stranger only looks at the mug with a withering gaze, but eventually takes the hot drink. He holds it close, watching the drink for a minute. He finally drinks. “I’m Grian, and my feline friend here is Ren.” 

Ren nods, picking up his notebook and scribbling down in the paper. He’s been keeping a ledger of notes since the stranger appeared, promising to give it to Cub later on. The first thing that Ren noted was that the patient has a trigger with certain people- specifically, the very person who rescued him, as well as Doc and X. He can’t help but wonder why. “What’s your name, stranger?” 

“I-” Impulse pauses, looking down at his drink. Should he be trusting these two people? When he woke up, Grian was immediately pressing him back into  bed. For such a short stature and seemingly diminutive nature, Grian was strong. But the gentle voice of the man with the bow tie, his calm face and soft touch eased him into a jaded calm. He’s not even sure if he should trust the tea the two gave him. It could be drugged- it could have tiny robots from Cub to reinstate the redstone tracking with him. But the tea felt good on his lips, warming his cold, pale body. “I’m Impulse.” 

Saying his name aloud felt like he was signing his own arrest warrant. Surely now Xisuma and Cub would come barging in, dragging him back to rehabilitation- or somewhere much worse. But Grian and Ren glance at each other, sharing some silent conversation with only their eyes. Glimmers of words, facial twitches as sentences. Grian turns back, and lifts a tub of cookies. “Are you hungry? You look like you could use some sugar.” 

“Wh-where am I?” Impulse questions, carefully plucking a cookie and nibbling on it. 

“Well...you’re in our guild’s infirmary.” Grian taps his finger, setting a few cookies aside for some of the others. Cub and Xisuma really deserve a treat, they’ve been moping since the last time Impulse woke up. 

Speak of the devil, Xisuma quietly opens the door to check in. Holding a clipboard of notes, he immediately cringes upon seeing Impulse awake. Impulse also reacts to Xisuma’s arrival, his heart rate monitor skyrocketing as he scrambles in his bed to get as far away from the new arrival as possible. Ren rests a firm but soft hand on Impulse’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Impulse, he won’t hurt you. He’s our friend, he’s here to help.” 

“But...but General X…” Impulse stutters out, eyes never wavering from Xisuma as he carefully walks closer. 

Xisuma sits down a few feet away, offering space for the stranger. He immediately starts scribbling notes, chicken scratch handwriting noting what Ren called the patient. Impulse. Xisuma’s head runs at a thousand kilometers per hour, before he finally realizes what is happening. An ecstatic spark gleams in Xisuma’s eyes, the mad in ‘mad scientist’ bubbling forward. “You aren’t from this world.” 

Both Ren and Grian give Xisuma a confused look. What the hell is he talking about? Different worlds? He’s completely lost it. But Impulse seems to catch on, and offers a short nod. If Ren remembers something about the Impulse they had before, he was quick to catch onto just about everything put in front of him. “What are you talking about, X?”

Xisuma pushes his hair back, giving an excited grin. Impulse doesn’t rest from his coiled perch, eyes never leaving Xisuma in the chair nearby. He looks just like General Xisuma- but also nothing like him. His eyes show no sign of malice, though they are a bit wild. In fact, both of his eyes are still in working order. “Wha-what is this world called?” 

“Edolas. I can’t believe it- you are true proof that other worlds exist!” Impulse squeaks as Xisuma hops his chair closer, putting more distance between himself and the strange version of Xisuma before him. “What is your world called? Are there other versions of us there as well? What about-” 

“Whoa, too much man.” Ren pats Xisuma on the back, pushing him back to his seat with a flick of his bushy brown cat tail. Xisuma realizes he’s scaring Impulse, and shrinks back himself. He hated seeing the fear in the stranger’s eyes when they had to sedate him. He felt like a horrible person, a villain. But Impulse was only going to hurt himself more if he and Cub didn’t do something. 

Ren pulls Xisuma away, handing off a folded note with a whisper in his ear. Impulse can only watch as Xisuma reads the note, glancing back up his way. There’s hurt in X’s eyes, the wild mop of brown hair tugged on by a scarred hand. But Xisuma nods to Ren, and creeps closer. Much slower, as calm as the mad scientist can be. “I just want to help, Impulse. Can I replace your IV drip?”

“What’s in there?” Impulse snaps, looking at the saline bag hanging above him. Is it some sort of sedative? A mind altering drug? 

“It’s okay, Impulse.” Grian whispers, placing a warm and gentle hand on Impulse’s shaking fingers. “I promise, our friend here is a really nice guy.” He bites his lip, before adding on. “Once you get past his...ah, erratic behavior.” 

Impulse glances at Xisuma, noting the crooked smile this Edolas Xisuma offers him. Erratic is the last thing he could call General Xisuma. But he nods, his eyes never wavering from X as he exchanges the nearly empty bag for a full one. Grian and Ren smile, their calm auras putting both Xisuma and Impulse at ease. 

Ren hands off a cookie to Xisuma as he leaves, a note scribbled on the napkin that it sits on. Grian stays near Impulse, helping him relax and fall back to a healing sleep. What this time has shown Ren is one thing- this Impulse from another world fears three people above all. Doc, Xisuma, and Cub. 

He can’t help but wonder why them? Doc and Cub are two of the sweetest people in their guild, and while Xisuma is a little strange his heart is always in the right place. They’re some of the best people in the guild. 

So what were these backwards, villainous versions of their friends like? How was it so bad that even just seeing their faces could bring such terror, no matter how irrational such a thought is? What has this strange new Impulse been through?

#keep checking in #next chapter we'll finally get the reunion #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #dystopia au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas cub #cubfan135 #hermitcraft cub #edolas doc #docm77 #hermitcraft doc #edolas xisuma #xisumavoid #hermitcraft xisuma #edolas ren #rendog #hermitcraft ren #edolas grian #grianmc #hermitcraft grian

[theguardiansofredland]

It’s propaganda prop-propaganda. Don’t believe anything you see or hear.

Song and lyrics: Propaganda by Crusher-P

What if Edolas Impulse wasn’t originally from Edolas?

#hermitcraft #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #ooo spoopy dystopia

[star-captain]

So Much Better

Angst? Yes please! I’ve had the honor to give Red’s au life, to create a story around his amazing artwork. And I can’t help but latch onto the dramatic scene of Edolas Mumbo meeting his Hermit self. 

The Edolas team has found themselves in the Hermit world, and are meeting people with the same face, but different personality. Edolas Mumbo’s insecurities rise and boil over when he comes face to face with a better version of himself.

Edolas AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: Alcoholism, Violence, drug mention

It’s been some time since the hermits have been open to visitors from other worlds. A new world can be stressful, and it’s best just to keep to themselves while they sort it all out. Better to deal with their own chaos before adding in someone else’s. But eventually, trouble finds them. 

From the Edolas world, it was just natural to explore what’s beyond. Xisuma makes it impossible not to be curious about what’s on the other side of his crazy portals he macgyvers together. And when Scar ultimately pushes Mumbo in, Grian has to jump after. Everyone else follows in after, with Impulse being dragged in last by an overzealous Zedaph. Black ground bursts out from the portal, massive stone pillars capturing the energy of floating crystals between the tongs. Purple mist swirls beneath the glass at their feet, every so often lightning snapping across the cloudy air. 

“Oh, that definitely didn’t take long.” Scar chuckles, peering over the nether portal. “Though I definitely was expecting visitors of the more...pig variety.” 

“Scar?” Edolas Grian coos, tilting his head and looking at the man above the crowd. He has the exact same face, the same voice as Scar, but he acts completely different. He’s...well, he’s cheery, friendly. 

“That’s not me man.” Edolas Scar growls, looking at the dopey version of himself before him. 

“Aha! I knew it! Alternate Universes! Worlds with the same people, experiencing different choices!” Edolas Xisuma scrabbles up the smooth obsidian monument, practically hopping onto Scar and scaring the daylights out of him. “They are obviously nothing like us! I mean, this Scar here is in his underwear!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault the infinity portal forgot my pants!” Scar whines. He looks across the group, pushing the feral scientist off his perch. They all look like his friends, and yet nothing like the other hermits. It’s creepy. It’s cool. It’s magical. “You should definitely check out the other hermits, then. They’re a pretty awesome bunch, if I do say so myself.” 

“If they’re anything like you, they’re bound to be strange.” Mumbo grumbles, keeping close to Grian. He’d rather just go back to his world. He doesn’t want to meet with whatever there is out in this world. And he definitely doesn’t want to see what his alternate self is like. If he’s nothing like Mumbo, then he’s obviously not cool. He’s obviously a dork, a baby. He’s probably...Mumbo shakes the thoughts away from his head. He’s not letting those thoughts give themselves credence. If only he had some vodka on him, there’s no faster way to get rid of such thoughts. 

So of course the first person Scar offers for them to see is this world’s Mumbo. “I think him and the other Architechs are doing some sort of get together. I know Iskall and Mumbo are partners, but I don’t know what Grian has to offer. Cactus maybe?” 

“Why would this place’s Iskall want to partner with Mumbo? I can hardly stand this jackass.” Edolas Iskall sneers, glaring at Mumbo. Mumbo flips the bird back, hiding it from Grian. He knows Grian doesn’t like getting into arguments, but Mumbo thrives off conflict. He tries to keep it hidden from his friend. To keep him from getting anxiety from the tension. 

“Mumbo is a really cool dude. Trust me, his work is amazin. “ Scar cheers, guiding the crew into the depths of the jungle, heading westward. “He’s super smart, he makes these machines that just blow my mind with all kinds of redstone.” 

“Definitely the opposite of our Mumbo. I don’t think he can count to ten...unless it’s ten shots.” Edolas Scar hisses, stepping way too close to Mumbo’s personal space for his liking. Mumbo shoves him away, muscles tightening as he listens to Scar talk. Both Scars are beyond annoying, for different reasons. The Scar Mumbo knows is annoying because he’s a prick, a jackass who can’t shut his mouth unless it’s broken for him. This ‘hermit’ Scar is annoying because he won’t be quiet about things. He won’t stop talking about all the amazing achievements that his Mumbo has done. An entire company with automated delivery, walking houses and hands-free machines. 

The more Scar talks about Hermit Mumbo, the more Edolas Mumbo hates him. He’s smart, and popular. Even this Scar likes him. Mumbo, on the other hand, struggles to even keep Grian around. Why would Grian want to stay around him? He’s not smart, or popular. He’s not jubilant or silly like this one seems to be. No, Edolas Mumbo is a piece of shit with nothing good to his name. The only thing he’s smart on is the best kind of drinks and drugs, he’s only popular when it comes to seducing people. 

The group arrives at the quiet river, the potatoes growing before the circular hovel nestled in the hillside. Across the river, a series of machines are running at lightning pace. Xisuma can’t help being drawn to the inventions, optimized to give the best products in the shortest amount of time. Iron farms working nonstop, sugarcane growing as fast as possible, and a smelter cooking without a single coal wasted. 

“Hey Mumbo! I have some friends that would love to meet you!” Scar yells, poking his head through where a door should be. It seems Scar isn’t the only one to fall victim of the Jungle Bandit. 

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’.” Mumbo hisses. He winces as Grian slaps his shoulder lightly. 

“Be kind, Mumbo. We’re guests, and you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Grian whispers. 

Three familiar faces peer out the massive glass window. All three are easy to identify, though some more than others. Iskall still has his emerald eye, but rather than an eternal frown on his face, his cheeks are creased with dimples. Grian has an evil glint in his eye, practically rushing down the ladder to meet the strangers at the doorstep. 

The two Mumbo’s simply stare at one another. The same face, same black hair and smooth mustache, on completely different people. Hermit Mumbo’s hair is slicked back, neat and tidy. His mustache is well trimmed, and he wears a well tailored suit. Edolas Mumbo’s hair sticks out in every direction, like he just woke up from a drunken stupor. Probably because he did. Piercings litter his face, cool metal brushing against his frazzled mustache and hair. Mumbo looks at his clothes, dirty and stained with alcohol and...well, other things. He just grabbed whatever was the least dirty, wore it out to party last night then fell asleep in it. 

Hermit Grian flies up, locking in on his counterpart. Edolas Grian squeaks, hiding behind Mumbo. “Whoa, I look good in every world.” 

Grian tugs on his bowtie, gulping as he dares to look closer at himself. Hermit Grian can barely keep still, bouncing from foot to foot and even fluttering the elytra wings on his back. Mumbo steps back between the two, seeing the mischievous glitter in Hermit Grian’s eyes. He’s seen that kind of trouble before. This one is a little shit. A gremlin. Nothing like the ball of anxiety behind him. Edolas Grian couldn’t even knock over a punching bag without apologizing. 

Hermit Grian looks up, surprised by the angry face. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Mumbo make that kind of a stare. Daggers cutting through him, like some terrifying biker or punk rocker. “I don’t know if I like Mumbo with ear piercings however.” 

“Tough, because they’re staying.” If anything, now he wants to get more. Just to spite the gremlin in front of him. 

“You’re me?” Mumbo questions, appearing from his hobbit hole. “Wow...I look...I look…” Mumbo is at a loss of words, glancing over his Edolas counterpart. He looks badass, like some guy who knows how to find trouble and win. He’d make a better mole than Hermit Mumbo. 

But under the gaze of Hermit Mumbo, Edolas Mumbo can feel every part of him being scrutinized. His sloppy dress, the alcohol on his breath. Every insecurity, every vice and weakness is under a microscope. 

“This is the man of the hour, let me just say. I mean, look at this awesome iron farm he just built!” Scar waves the group over to Mumbo’s work. “How many iron ingots does it make?” 

Hermit Mumbo scuffles his feet, blushing. “Oh, something like 3,000 ingots and hour. It’s not the fastest, but it’s more than enough for me.” 

Mumbo rolls his eyes as the others gasp in awe. What a waste of energy. Who even needs 3,000 ingots? Mumbo can think of a thousand better things to waste his time on than making such ridiculous contraptions. Hermit Mumbo is just lazy. Smart, smarter than Edolas Mumbo, but surely he’s lazy. 

At least, until he starts to show his current project. Edolas Grian gravitates towards Hermit Mumbo, enjoying the calm and funny personality. And that infuriates Mumbo. Even his best friend things this useless brainiac is better than him? Grian points at the half-finished machine, in awe with wide eyes. Wrapped into the conversation. “What does this do, Mumbo?” 

Hermit Mumbo goes into some long winded explanation, and the second Mumbo hears his own voice, he tunes out. But he can’t help but watch as his own friends are rapt with Mumbo’s words. Xisuma is taking notes at a feverish pace, and even Scar is listening to the suited version of Mumbo. 

No one is better than me. Mumbo reminds himself. He may not be as smart, or as popular, or as funny, or as kind as Hermit Mumbo. But he’s cooler. He’s sly, he’s independent, he’s the life of the fucking party. This guy… this guy can’t stop talking about t-flops or whatever. 

Edolas Mumbo sneers as Edolas Scar looms close, resting his arm on Mumbo’s jacket. “Would you look at that. Even your best friend prefers this version to you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo steps back, letting Scar fall flat on his face. But Mumbo looks at Grian, both Grians listening intently to Mumbo show off his spectacular knowledge. The machine starts to fire, turning the farm on and beginning it’s collection. 

Even he is better than me. Mumbo can’t build incredible designs, machines that make life easier, that astonish and astound. Machines that Mumbo could never even begin to imagine, much less build himself. He can hardly even get the key of his own apartment into the lock most days. Mumbo can’t make friends, even the people he hangs out with most would rather eat fermented spider eye than call him an ally. He’s not funny unless he’s got a cocktail of drugs mixing up his mind and body. And the last thing anyone, even Grian, would call Mumbo is kind. He’s an asshole, a bastard. A rubbish friend and an even more rubbish person. A waste of space. A waste of time, a waste of effort.

Mumbo rolls his eyes, but he hears Edolas Grian’s bright voice over the amazement of the others. “You’re so cool, Mumbo! You can make all this incredible stuff, and you’re smart enough to explain it all. And kind enough to show us it all, I can’t imagine thinking of all this. This has to be why so many people ask you for help!” 

Edolas Mumbo can hear something snap, like a bone breaking in his own mind. His own heart. Grian never called him smart, or kind. No one has ever called him anything except a bastard, or a fucker, or an asshole. He hardly feels his fists clench, looking at his own face. How long has Mumbo wanted to punch himself, to beat himself up? To give him what he deserves? How often has he looked in the mirror, drunk and high, and just wanted to knock himself out? 

“Oh, it’s nothing really, mate. I’m honestly not that good, you should see something like Impulse.” Hermit Mumbo overs a shy smile, eyes closed as he smooths back his hair. His awkward chuckle is cut short as a rough grip wraps around his neck. Hermit Mumbo’s legs kick out as the raging grip raises him from the grass. He forces his eyes open, hand grabbing at the tattooed arm- of himself. 

“Stop being better than me!” Edolas Mumbo shouts, fists shaking and a prick of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Mumbo looks down the arm holding him up, head tipped high but eyes glancing down to see his own face. He gasps for air, holding onto the arm suspending him in the air. And despite being physically in peril, he can see that he’s not the one suffering as much as Edolas Mumbo. In shared grey eyes, he can see the pain, the fear. 

Edolas Mumbo is terrified. Everyone thinks this Mumbo is so much better- because they’re right. He is a thousand times better than him. Scar prefers him, Xisuma prefers him. Even his best friend, Grian, prefers this Mumbo to him. They’ll ditch Mumbo in no time, in lieu of so much better a version. He’s nothing compared to the amazing, perfect person he has grasped in his hand. He’s just a bastard, someone that everyone hates. Someone that everyone wants gone. 

“Mumbo! Stop it, what are you thinking?” Both Mumbos look over, seeing Edolas Grian with tears streaking down his face. Torn between wanting to tell his friend off for being so aggressive, and wanting to calm him down. But for Edolas Mumbo, seeing his best friend crying because of him lets him know that he’s done it again. He’s fucked it all up again, because he can’t handle his own emotions. He can’t control himself, he can’t be anything except a piece of shit and a walking disaster. 

Mumbo let’s go of his own neck, lightly setting Hermit Mumbo onto his feet. The tiny tears have grown to full floods, guilt and regret and hatred all boiling over. Despite the soft landing, Mumbo still falls to his knees, trying to regain control of his heartbeat and body. He looks up, wanting to ask himself what the problem was. Why he was more afraid than Hermit Mumbo. 

But he’s gone, a cavity bored through the crowd that surrounded him. Hermit Grian steps in, looking at Mumbo’s neck. It’s red, but not bruised. Despite the anger in Edolas Mumbo’s grip, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hurt another person for no reason other than wanting to bring pain to himself. Grian looks at the shaking Grian. “I think he needs some help.” 

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

“Mumbo?” Grian whispers, peeking his head into the empty bar. It’s midday, but he knew that if Mumbo was going to go anywhere, it was here. This is his favorite haunt, where he can get the cheapest prices on drinks, find the best new addictions, and hit up the next morning’s mistake. 

There’s only two people in the dark, smoky bar. The bartender, who nods to the end of the line of stools. The darkest corner. Mumbo is surrounded by an assortment of bottles, shots, and whiskey glasses. Mumbo’s head is against the glistening and sticky counter, hand still clutching the current bottle. Grian creeps closer, clambering onto the stool next to Mumbo. 

“I thought you’d rather be with that perfect version of me.” Mumbo growls, turning his gaze away from his friend. “And why wouldn’t you, huh?” 

“Mumbo, I-” Grian flinches back as Mumbo snaps at him, cutting him off. He can smell the alcohol on his breath. This may not be the first time Grian has had to help Mumbo through a bout of alcohol poisoning. Hopefully he won’t need the hospital this time. 

“Just leave me, get something better than this piece of shit. Someone smarter than me, kinder than me. Someone who can actually do something useful with their life. Who’s good at so many things. Redstone, being nice, being funny and friendly and smart and such a great person!” Mumbo grasps the bottle in his hand until the glass shatters, shards digging into his skin. Grian has never seen his best friend so low. He’s afraid, not for his own safety. For Mumbo’s. “And what am I good at? Nothing. Nothing except overdosing in an alley outside a bar.” 

Mumbo’s head snaps to the side, cheek stinging and burning red. His eyesight is set straight, free from the drunken stupor for just a moment. Just enough to look back, and see Grian. With his hand still up, and his face creased with sorrow and tears. Deep valleys as he holds back his own cries. Not because he’s sad for himself. But sad for Mumbo. “How could you say such a thing? How could you honestly think that any of us would want you any different than who you are?” 

“Because he’s-” 

“Because he’s you? He’s not you, Mumbo. He’s got a different world, a different life. A different place that he grew up in. A different set of vices and worries than you.” Grian scoots the stool closer, forcing Mumbo to listen. “He’s smart, and kind. But that doesn’t make us ever want to get rid of you! You are wild, and clever, and there’s not another person in this world that would step into a fight for any one of us. Even for Scar, if it came down to it.” 

“Great, so I’m just you guys’s bodyguard.” Mumbo hisses, looking at the glass buried in his fingers. 

“No, Mumbo! Just...for once listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” The sharp curse that crosses over Grian’s lips is enough to snap Mumbo back to his words. Grian never swears, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for that. “We are your friends because we want to be! We hang out with you because we enjoy it! Just because one person is different than you doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse!” 

Mumbo’s voice is gone from his lips, and all he can do is breathe in and out. He can’t think of any retort for Grian’s words. Just one thing. “I messed up, Grian.” 

“We all mess up. But the important thing is learning from it. Learning from our mistakes, and being better from it. Maybe...one day we can go back and smooth things over with Hermit Mumbo. But...for now, let’s get you some help.”

#edolas au #edolas hermits #edolas mumbo #edolas grian #edolas xisuma #edolas scar #edolas zedaph #edolas impulse #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft scar #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #hermitcraft grian #grianmc #grian #hermitcraft iskall #iskall85 #hermitcraft mumbo #mumbo jumbo #violence cw #cw drugs #drugs cw #cw alcohol #tw violence #cw violence #violence tw #cw choking #tw choking

[stormjay0]

Exodus Part 4

A lil piece on Dystopian Impulse from @star-captain’s amazing fic Exodus! The incredible AU was made by @theguardiansofredland!

(Psst go read it and Wandering Stars if you haven’t already and go check Avon and Red out)

#exodus #dystopian au #edolas au #impulse #hermitcraft #hermitblr #my art #piece

[warlordgab]

Fairy Tail Chapter 417: A NaLu moment?

“Use a picture. It’s worth a thousand words.”

- Arthur Brisbane

This theoretical analysis is a request from some fellow NaLu fans...

Several readers assume the conversation between Gildartz and Natsu in the chapter 417 is something relevant to NaLu. What does the FT story tells us about it?

To answer that question we can take a look at what happens before and after that chapter. I could use the anime adaptation as a source of information, but I couldn't find a confirmation of Mashima working on that episode so I cannot use it as part of this analysis

What were the circumstances before Natsu's encounter with Gildartz? The Fairy Tail guild with some help of Sabretooth members managed to pull off a victory against a really powerful dark guild composed of Etherias created by Zeref

But, it was a battle with several close calls...

Some moments after meeting Zeref himself, who left a cryptic message to Natsu, nearly the entire guild gets trapped by Tartaros' Alegria. After Lucy saved the guild, Natsu/Lucy and co. almost get drowned/killed by an enemy's ability. And then we have anti-magic bombs nearly depowering everyone in the continent, which thankfully didn't happen thanks to another unexpected intervension.

You probably get the idea...

But, the thing that affected Natsu the most during that battle was seeing his "father," the person he sought for so long, getting mutilated by Acnologia as he bid his farewell to his son Natsu. Losing a parent is already a pretty painful experience, and seeing a father die while being powerless to help him is quite a traumatic experience

After the whole ordeal, Natsu decides to go to a 1-year training trip only accompanied by Happy. He doesn't say goodbye to any of his guildmates before going, but he felt the need to leave a letter to Lucy telling her about this trip.

We already know how that went from Lucy's side, who tried and failed to reach Natsu, and even though she said she felt alone, she didn't leave with any other guildmate or friends after Fairy Tail got temporarily disbanded. We could talk about how the one person she wanted to be with the most was Natsu, but that's not the point of this analysis/theory (I'd wish it was lol).

During his trip, he ran into Gildartz...

...and some crazy shenanigans ensue

Some time later, Gildartz finds Natsu not being able to get any sleep that night. Which led to the panels that we’ll discuss in this post.

Which we’ll do after going over what happened after this chapter...

To make things short, Natsu, Lucy, and Happy reunite. But then Natsu gets the new that the guild disbanded shortly after his leave, and eventually takes a look at Lucy’s efforts to track their guildmates...

...without realizing it, Lucy’s actions motivated Natsu to bring back Fairy Tail.

He reassured Lucy along the way, doing his best to ease her fears and dispel her concerns. (There are some underrated moments there)

Now that we have context, we can finally get to the meat and potatoes of this post: “enigmatic” scene from Chapter 417

The scene has no dialogue, the storytelling for this chapter relies solely on visuals.

That makes it difficult to determine what they were talking about. But, we can only use the context the story gave us, and read Natsu’s reaction to get an idea of what he was saying.

We know that Gildartz realizes Natsu couldn’t sleep that night, he walks to him, and then we have this moment. At first, Natsu seems troubled, like he’s starting to get something out of his chest.

At the second panel we see a mix of emotions, he seems sad, flustered, and somewhat self-conscious.

Would it have something to do with the death of his father? Maybe, people deal with loss and grief in different manners. Even the smallest of detailes reminding them of their dead loved ones is enough to make a man (or a woman) crumble

Still, Natsu dealing with mixed feelings is also consistent with his reluctance when deciding to leave a goodbye letter to Lucy.

More often than not, Natsu drags Lucy to his crazy adventures, a trend that occurs so often that Lucy eventually felt bount to Natsu. They even earned the title of the most compatible team from Fairy Tail.

But, this time, instead of getting Lucy to come, he decided to go without her. Are we seeing in his face shame, guilt, and/or regret due to this choice? It’s possible, and it would fit nicely as well.

But, what argument could we make to support all of this? The unique “war” they experienced against Tartaros... let me elaborate on that:

What did Fairy Tail went through so far?

They repelled attacks from enemy guilds. Prevailed against the likes of Oración Seis. Team Natsu survived Edolas. They bested Grimoire Heart, a guild led by a former master of Fairy Tail. They dominated several parts of GMGs until getting their rep back after 7-years of absence. And even survived a multiple dragon attacks.

They managed to win and/or survive most of these encounters with minimal loses along the way. But, the conflict against Tartaros pushed some Fairy Tail members to the edge magically, physically, and emotionally. And as explained earlier had several close calls

Natsu not only saw how his father got killed, he also saw Zeref as a threat, but somewhat understood there was a large gap he had to overcome if he wanted to protect his loved ones from Zeref.

The narrative of the story implies Natsu’s decision of that 1-year training was to avoid losing the people he held dear. And we already saw what happened when he thought he lost Lucy...

However, even with this narrative on our side, it’s difficult to establish a connection between Natsu’s scene at chapter 417 and any possible grief or regret for Igneel or Lucy.

What about what happened right after the 1-year training?

We know Natsu was delighted for spending time with Lucy, and a little frustrated at the fact Fairy Tail’s got disbanded. And we also know he only took action to reunite the guild after Lucy inadvertently gave him the impulse to do so. But, making a connection between these developments and chapter 417 is even harder, even if we factor how Natsu played the role of emotional support for Lucy.

It’s easier to consider what happened before that scene as a potential cause for Natsu’s reactions.

The ambiguity of the moment makes it hard offering a clear-cut answer about it, but the context at least reduces the matter to two choices that are not mutually exclusive, and one of them implies NaLu.

In conclusion, is the chapter 417 scene a NaLu hint? It’s possible, but not certain. The panels convey several feelings and emotions, and the context helps us limit the cause, but we don’t have enough evidence to provide a more concrete answer.

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #igneel #theoretical analysis #theory? #chapter 417

[farklelucas]

this is so annoying so you do not have to answer this but. mutuals as ambition characters FMJDKSLJFLSJGKLSG

okay so im not gonna do our gc bc... i don’t feel like i can handle being wrong right now lol BUT i will expand on why i picked each of my friends for the spots i did pick them for and also ofc i will tag you. i will shift things around so everybody has one character, and im doing purely the front 9 (+1).

me - still farkle ASJDKFLKD and ik no one wants to hear what i think about me BUT briefly, im dramatic as all fuck, unsure of myself, batshit but also Fragile, emotionally unstable, impulsive but TRYING real hard

you - asher because i know you say you’re a mix of maya and asher (which, trust, you are and i see you) i feel like the asher side wins out most of the time. my lawful good, parenting energy, anxious, resident talented legend who works Hard at everything. like truly the asher energies of it all... you pop off sister

anna (@rainbowannabeth) - still riley and i will explain Why. she may seem too soft to be riley at first (and that’s saying something considering riley is pretty damn soft) but what y’all don’t know about anna is that the bitch can be scrappy! she tries not to hate anyone and always bridge the gap when she can but when she gets mad ooh sister! i’ve only seen it a few times but wig. baby who HAS power!!! that’s right bitch. i wuv you anna MWAH

nicole (@loveallthatjazz) - still charlie kjfklkdfjkk. there are a ton of reasons tbh. the religious undertones, first of all... religion major queen. the Hyper Gay Energy? yah! the friends to lovers? the pining? the absolute uncertainty but drive to be Good to Appease to be Better in everything you do? yah! she is very much Dedicated to what she does but like also always wanting to Do Better and figure herself out by doing that. sorry nicole didn’t mean to read you but here’s my powerpoint on why you are charlie gardner -

saraid (@queen-of-edolas) - okay i literally have NO idea why i made her dylan last time when she’s absolutely a zay like??? i’m a mixture of zay/farkle imho and the zay traits i have she definitely shares. everyone be like “oh we love saraid she’s the sweetest!” and while she does have so many friends that love and adore her she literally always responds with “dude im a bitch” sndkfdjkf bc she and i do for sure bitch about other people all the time. also the ambition and drive to Do Your Best to the point of self-destruction is very saraid, as is that last minute bit of doubt zay can have that like leads to destruction. anyway faves.

julie (@scarlettmaximoffs​) - still isadora because... truly the attitude. the energy. the iconnery. the AMBITION (pun not intended). like isa has that DRIVE to make it you know, she knows what she wants and she’s gonna get it! also like... introverted is not necessarily the right word (although that Too!), more like selective you know? like very very careful about who she puts her time and energy into, and if she picks you it means you’re worth it! then like. afraid of things shifting. like if you pull some rancid shit expect to be cut tf out at least for a little while. and definitely willing to back her friends tf up like if we don’t like somebody we don’t like em! no ifs ands or buts! okay im not gonna get too deep here but yah julie is DEFINITELY isadora.

ian (@squidarms) - still lucas and i know you think that’s batshit but lemme tell you why. like OBVIOUSLY trauma aside bc... wack. but like... the leadership but the very Exclusive nature of his leadership (these are my people, i am set in my ways, back the Fuck off). the Aggression (i love my baby brother but he is like. always willing to beat tf down. like you insulted his friend? fight. you talked shit about his girl? fight.). the dedication to his personal beliefs and values is super strong, he’s always willing to fight for what he thinks is right, and if life were a musical he would be the one to be like. “the fuck y’all singin for.”

maryellen (@mirio-enthusiast) - okay i must’ve been on crack because this bitch is DEFINITELY dylan. head empty, heart full! the most important thing in this world is love! sunshine baby! wants to take care of everyone all the time! super fun and relaxing to be around, friends with or friendly with everyone, would probably set off bottle rockets in an empty parking lot if one of us asked her to come along. Loud about It (what is it you ask? everything!). SO dedicated to enjoying life that she can sometimes be blindsided as to why that’s not always a great idea.

mauricio (@ashergarcias) - i literally don’t have to explain this one, you get it you understand, but for everyone else reading mauricio is clearly maya. the dramatics, the theatrics, the aspiration, the iconnery, the dedication. very much That Bitch. thinks he has the brain cell but isn’t sure quite where he put it, does things on a whim, petty, one of the BEST friends to have back you up. and like yes the drama but drama is FUN like i enjoy his level of batshit craziness!!! i don’t think i need to expand any more. plus he and i... markle energies. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again.

sofia (@myusernameisamistake) - okay so sofia is actually eric. she very much puts her best foot forward with the best intentions, absolutely keen on helping everyone in any way that she possibly can. definitely wants to maintain the peace/keep the order and is resolutely Trying Her Best. would definitely pine and/or notice that one of her closest friends is pining after her. if any one of us were gonna be a teacher/leader character (besides maybe nicole sjdkflkjdk) it would be her. i would come to her for counseling advice. maybe.

send me mutuals as ______!

#maggie #ambition #maggie this makes us garminkus #anyway hope that soothed your brain sjkdflkndmkfj #quincywillows #what kind of woman doesnt have an ask

[pyropsychiccollector]

Grand Magic Wedding

           “How about a Blushing Bride Challenge?! So, ladies, grab a lucky guy and squeeze into some wedding dresses!"

            There was a flurry of activity around Erza as all the girls donned dresses as white as the pure driven snow and scrambled to snatch up men that they found appealing. Erza herself was way ahead of those amateurs and had Requipped into the wedding dress she always had on hand the moment Chapati got through saying the name of the challenge.

            She was not desperate to get married. SHE WAS NOT.

            That said, Erza smirked as she paid particular attention to who her Guildmates gravitated to… or in Mira’s case, Master instantly volunteered to be her partner. Jet and Droy were fighting over Levy, while Gajeel ‘played coy’ and pretended to be disinterested in who paired up with her (Erza could read between the lines). Alzack and Bisca were naturally paired off… Erza sighed dreamily at the sight of them – it must have been so nice to relive such a wonderful memory. Gray unexpectedly broke up Lyon’s proposal to Juvia… very interesting. Loke literally swept Lucy off her feet, which was adorable, and Lisanna…

            Lisanna…

            “Remember when we were kids, and we played husband and wife?” Lisanna asked cutely as Natsu suddenly found himself in a very dashing white tux… Erza had to admit, Lisanna worked fast in snatching up the Dragon Slayer. She had to have mastered a variant of Requip Magic for Erza to miss her dressing Natsu up for the occasion.

            The scarlet knight kindly ignored the tug at her heart strings at the sight. It wasn’t right to disrupt someone else’s wedding. Erza turned around when she felt someone tap her shoulder, and she had to do a double-take at seeing ‘Mystogan’ wearing a white tuxedo under his typical cloak.

            “Mind if I be your partner?” He asked chivalrously, and Erza hated to admit the innate impulse to scream yes to the proposal… But…

            “I’m sorry, but you already have a fiancé. Even if you are posing as your Edolas counterpart, I couldn’t possibly take away from your future happiness.” Erza smiled sadly before patting him on the shoulder and walking away from him. As tempting as the offer was, she would be strong and move on.

            Jellal, meanwhile, stood there with a miserable dark aura of loneliness around him.

            ‘Did Erza… just put me in the friendzone?’ Jellal clutched at his heart, which was now a vice snapping closed in his chest. Ooouch… He held his hand out pitifully to her retreating figure. ‘Come back…!’

            Alas, his plea fell on deaf ears.

            Erza, meanwhile, found her attention drawn to Natsu and Lisanna once again, as Lucy and Loke crashed into the rose-haired mage from behind. It seemed like a simple case of clumsiness and camaraderie as Lisanna giggled and Lucy got off of Natsu and helped him to his feet, but Erza felt that tug at her heart strings again. Especially when the blonde bim… Lucy shared a sheepish chuckle with a mildly annoyed Natsu.

            ‘Whyyy did I call bimbo a Lucy…?’ Erza thought confusedly to herself as she didn’t even realize she switched the two around. Erza didn’t have much time to think about that, however, as Levy was the next one to stride up to Natsu with rosy cheeks. Apparently, Jet and Droy were still squabbling, and Gajeel was still acting disinterested.

            … And now she was whispering something in Natsu’s ear. Erza couldn’t help narrowing her eyes at how suspicious that was. Veeery suspicious. Moreso when Natsu grinned and nodded his head before encircling his arm in Levy’s and they went off to stroll amongst the other married couples, leaving a very confused Lucy and Lisanna behind.

            Erza entirely missed how she was snorting out steam at this sight and clenching her fists in pent-up frustration.

            Ohhh, but it didn’t stop there. Natsu and Levy got a good stroll in, but Cana – CANA – eventually stopped them and took Natsu to be her partner next DESPITE THE FACT there was a very eligible Bacchus standing right there. At that point Erza had lost all patience and dragged Natsu away from the drunk of Fairy Tail without so much as a word. When they were in a more secluded area of the arena, Natsu tried figuring out what Erza was grumbling incoherently about as she stood there huffing.

            “Err… You okay, Erza? Want me to be your partner?” He asked, genuinely concerned at her apparent uneasiness. He didn’t even bother to ask if Jellal had tried to approach her in this contest; the thought turned his stomach.

            Erza blinked as she realized Natsu had just spoken to her. Shaking her head vigorously to get any planned ‘Punishments’ out of her head for those hussies that dared approach the Dragon Slayer, Erza smiled serenely even as Chapati had all the girls move onto one more swimsuit round.

            “… Yes. That would be nice.”

            Natsu couldn’t help returning her smile. Erza didn’t join in for the last contest; she’d got what she didn’t even know she wanted.

~*~

Note: I figured something felt familiar about my bringing up Jellal's 'fiance' lie. Turns out I had this saved up in my archives of unfinished Natza pieces. Well. This one in particular was 'finished', but it was a part of my PM thread with procellasdracon waaay back in January, and I just didn't want to post it on ff.net because I wasn't completely satisfied with it as its own one-shot or something. But here on the T, well.... Not so out of place here. Bit wacky, turns a little sweet at the end. Eh. I still get a chuckle out of 'bimbo a Lucy', and devastating Jellal is still fun. Hope you enjoyed it a little. ^__^

#Fairy Tail #natsu dragneel #erza scarlet #Natza #grand magic games

[foresthuntermajrach]

Also, since you took your time to tell us about your shit @redrose04​, I’ll take my time to talk a little about Mystine (yup, yup a friend called them this and gosh I just love this name)

Also, @kkazoku​ :>

In year X779, after obtaining an S-Rank, Justine went on a lone S-Ranked mission to defend a small city that had been bullied by a Dark Guild. She met there a 14 year old Mystogan, who stoped a lightning attack before it reachesd Jus and helped her in the battle. She proposed he joinined Fairy Tail, but he rejected the proposition at that time and Justine came back to Magnolia and once again went on missions with Raijinshu (which she was part of at that time). They met for the second time in X782 while they were both a part of FT and it was on an S-class mage exam. Jus was an examiner, being an S-class herself for around three years already and she let Mystogan pass, while at the same time discovering how he looks under that mask and recognising him as the kid, that helped her at that time. They went their own ways at that time and later met some time after Ivan Dreyar was expelled from FT and after Justine left Raijinshu, cause of an argument she got in with Laxus (and there goes the destruction of the area around the "argument"). Justine made Mystogan accompany her on one mission and then they parted again and again went on a mission together and after some time grew close (aka were very rarely going on missions without the other's company, which was rather comfortable for Jus, since her sight was worse and worse and she couldn't anymore pick missions, because she just couldn't read the requests.). And so, the bond was formed. At that time they grew more and more attached to each other and even though they both had the knowledge that it may not work out, their friendship evolved into something bigger. Then the Edolas arc came... and yes. They got separated for quite a long time (aka like 9 years..?) and (thanks to my friend that is such a dearie and is writing a fanfic about Justine in Alvarez arc) they reunite because Justine's enemy accidentally breaks the bareer between Earthland and Edolas with his Break-in Magic. Which is shown on the picture above :>

If I was to describe this pair with one word, it'd surely be "fluffy". They're both usually (well, Jus is very damn fierce but seeks calm sm) quiet people that just enjoy each others' presence at any time and mostly while doing simple things like drinking tea, cuddling, bathing in the sun or reading a book together (usually it happens only when the book has magical letters because if it's a normal book, Justine's sight is too weak to read it and when Jus' 20 she doesn't see a thing and if they want to enjoy such book together, Mystogan has to read it out loud). They don't argue much, although there were some “small” disagreements (mostly about some reckless decisions Justine made, because she’s incredibly impulsive).

#fairy tail #fairy tail oc #mystogan #edolas #oc #my art #original character #fanart #edo jellal #jellal faust #fairy tail fanart

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 1

An Edolas Hermit AU story. 

Impulse has become public enemy no. 1 in Hermitland. Making the impossible escape from General Xisuma and his cohorts Doc and Cub, Impulse and his friends need to do the impossible- escape Hermitland, beyond the walled city. Where will they end up? Who will make it? 

How does Impulse become Edolas Impulse? 

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

I didn’t intend to make an 8 part story of how Impulse found his way to Edolas, how he came to become a part of the guild, but Red’s story is just too good to not tell it all! I’m very proud of this story, I hope you guys love it as well. 

Warning: This story includes general dark elements and language

“It’s only a matter of time before they find you, Impulse.” Tango whispers, watching as Zed presses the last of their medical cream against Impulse’s bruised neck. Impulse flinches at each touch, even though he knows he has no reason to. 

Impulse knows these are his friends. They saved his life, cut him free and fled through the underground tunnels together. But it hurts either way, and any sort of pressure around his neck makes his throat close up all over again, and the tears well at the corners of his eyes. A whisper in the back of his mind says this isn’t real, that he isn’t really alive. He’s still on the noose, and his mind is playing tricks with what he sees, the time he feels passing. Or that he's still in the rehab center, hallucinating it all after the effects of the shots that are forced into his veins. 

He has to quiet that voice, remind himself that it is real. His friends really did save him from the gallows. It’s been a week since they made their great escape, into the long forgotten tunnels of Hermitland. Tango and Zed only took short trips to the city above, just to get food from safehouses littered across the place. Impulse was public enemy number one, he wouldn’t be able to show his face above ground. Not unless he wanted to get captured again. 

In the week that he’s been hiding below ground, the red marks around his neck have turned into horrible black bruises. In a fractured mirror salvaged from an abandoned house, he can see where the noose constricted against his throat. It aches at all hours of the day, and in any reflection, he has to pause to look at the mottled skin. When he gulps, or eats, it stings like someone just struck him in his trachea. He struggles to sleep at night, both from the pain in his neck as well as the nightmares that haunt his dreams. 

“We need to leave.” Impulse breathes out, once Zed’s fingers are away from his neck. “We need to get out of Hermitland.” 

“Where will we go?” Zed questions, bouncing in his shoes at the thought of leaving. Excitement glitters in his eyes, the closest thing to sunshine Impulse has seen all week. 

“Anywhere we want. We’ll be free, we don’t have to listen to anyone. We can go anywhere, do anything.” Impulse sees Tango sit up, determination and hope filling tired eyes. 

“Do you really think we’ll be able to make it out there? How do we know what’s on the other side of the wall?” Tango wrings his hands, unable to not be skeptical about such idealistic beliefs.

“We’ve made it here for this long. Survived all the city had to throw at us, survived living off the grid down here. We’re three smart dudes, we’ll figure it out.” Impulse runs a hand through his hair. They have different skills, different pasts. Impulse knows how to make things last, when he doesn’t know what the future will hold. Zed sees uses for things no one else would think to make use of. And Tango has years and years of private schooling and work in the underground to understand what they’re dealing with. 

“We should leave sooner rather than later.” Tango concedes, a wispy smile starting to appear on his face. They’re really going to escape. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us.” 

“Let’s leave now!” Zed tosses the empty medicine tin over his shoulder, scrambling to his feet. 

Tango grabs Zed by the tail of the white button up shirt they all wear. “We need supplies if we’re going to leave. Food, water, tools.”

“I know that my family has some stone tools at our house.” Zed offers. “And we can get food as well. Pack up what we want to take with us.” 

“Can I come up with you guys?” Impulse wants to go to his apartment. Get his own things, his own clothes. Maybe even say goodbye to his family. He hasn’t been home in so long, not since he was captured by the guards. That was...well, he doesn’t know how long ago it was. He can’t remember how long he was in the rehab facility. 

Even Zed’s face loses the joy, both frowning at him. “It’s too dangerous, mate. They know what you look like. Everyone knows what you look like after the…” 

Zed doesn’t need to say it. Mentioning the public execution by name wasn’t necessary, they all knew what Zed was saying. Tango stands, brushing his black pants clean of the dust and dirt the underground carries. “Besides, the bruises would be a dead giveaway as well. You stay down here, we’ll be back soon enough.” 

Impulse watches Zedaph and Tango disappear down the dimly lit tunnels, wandering down the subway that was half built then forgotten. Leaving Impulse to his own devices, pacing nervously around the small cave they’ve claimed as theirs. His worries of them getting caught start morphing as time goes on. What if they’re wrong, and Cub does know who Zed and Tango are? What if they’re waiting to catch them when they can’t escape? What if they're walking right into a trap, and he can’t do anything from down here? What if Cub has been watching them all this time, and there’s cameras even in the underground? Impulse looks around, trying to find any sort of telltale hint of their little hideout being bugged. 

He peels back maps, careful not to smudge his sloppy handwriting. Handwriting from when they were looking for a break in the wall. He presses the corners of the map back up, noting the empty area surrounding Hermitland. Whoever made this map didn’t even bother to fill in what’s beyond the wall- it might as well be the void, or not exist at all. Hermitland is the entire universe, the entire life of everyone left in this world. 

He digs through chests, shaking bottles of redstone and flicking comparators. Nostalgia whispers across Impulse’s mind, remembering when he first met Zed and Tango. They were all first years in engineering school, having just passed their placement exams. Tango came from a well off family that had adopted him, Zed was a genius that won a competition, but Impulse just got lucky. Lucky to get a scholarship to become a redstone engineer. To help the people and the city. Back then, his idea of helping was developing better redstone lines, fixing old tech. Now, helping the city was freeing it from the corrupt hands that toy with them. Three friends, enjoying school and hassling over tests, turned into three rebels just trying to find their freedom. 

Impulse goes through everything, even their beds, leaving the room a torn up disaster in his wake. He doesn’t find anything, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s being watched. Cub knows everything. He knew things about Impulse that even Tango and Zed didn’t know. But there’s nothing Impulse can do- just sit, waiting and twiddling his thumbs. Hoping for his friends to return. 

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

“Do you think that’s enough food?” Tango whispers, looking at the bag full of apples, baked potatoes, and even some bundles of golden carrots. 

“Once we’re out of the city, we’ll be able to find food no problem.” Zed laughs, putting the stone axe into the bottom of his bag. Hidden in case curfew officers ask what they have. 

“How are you so sure it’s going to be lush and green beyond the wall? How do we know everything still isn’t fucked by the war?” Tango knows that Zed is a glass-half-full kind of guy, but even this surely must give him some pause. No one knows what’s beyond the wall. Not even the most knowledgeable rebels have ever even attempted to leave the city. That fear, that unknowing of what lies beyond. It could be nothing, it could be everything. 

And that’s all they needed, all Impulse and Zed had been banking on. That everything is just beyond the wall. Tango was less sure, but the more that the others would chatter and dream, they would spark hope in him as well. That there was something beyond the wall. His friends gave him the hope that no other member of the underground ever gave Tango. It will be better beyond the wall- it has to be. 

“All those years, and nothing grew back?” Zed giggles. “I know you’re from the inner city, Tango, but I worked in the farming industry. Plants are tricky little buggers. You can’t get them to stop growing when they really wanna. I’m sure there’s stuff out there.”

Tango shrugs the pack onto his shoulder, nodding towards the door. Towards the dark streets, distant figures scurrying towards home before getting in trouble with curfew officers. “Let’s get back. I want to be out of here before sunrise.” 

The pair walk onto the streets, blending in with the other citizens. It’s easier for Zed, he doesn’t look so different as Tango. Tango always gets stopped by officers, questioned as to why he’s out. Lucky for the both of them, their jobs as redstone engineers grants them a certain amount of wiggle room. They can just claim they’re going to a build site that needs emergency maintenance. They slip through the night, unnoticed among the other people on the streets. Exact same clothing, exact same demeanor. They shouldn’t be out past curfew. Zed stops in the middle of the street, scrabbling his fingers against Tango’s arm. “We need to go to Impulse’s house.” 

“What? Why?” That’s a stupid idea. If there’s anywhere they’ll most likely be seen, mostly likely get investigated, it’s Impulse’s apartment. It’s probably bugged to hell and back. Where they first thought to search for Impulse after his escape. 

“We both grabbed things from our homes...it’s only fair he has one thing from his childhood. I know exactly what to get too. Please, Tango. It’ll be quick. No one will notice. You can use that jammer of yours to keep Cub and his drones from seeing.” The two look up into the sky, beyond the dim street lights to see if any of the surveillance drones are listening in. 

Tango sighs. “It’s only a few blocks. Let’s go. But we need to be quick.” 

They take off down the street, creeping down alleys to avoid busy intersections or patrolling drones. Out of the luxurious upper class sector, into the blue-collar apartments and homes. Smaller, looming over one another. Some houses are in disrepair, but still housing families of people. 

And there’s Impulse’s apartment. One of many doors to a long line of apartments, but his is the only one with the door wide open. The hinges nearly off their bolts, thin wood slowly creaking in the wind. Zed pauses at the doorway, looking just to his left. Into the brush and bushes that surround the steps up to Impulse’s apartment.

“Zed?” Tango waves his hand across his friend’s blank stare. They shouldn’t be seen here. 

“I saw it happen, you know. I was here when they took him. Right there.” Zed points out where he hid in the foliage. “Impulse saw them coming, and shoved me out the window. Told me not to move no matter what. They tore the door open, and dragged him out by his hair. Kicking and Screaming, no sense of humanity towards him. I should’ve done something to stop them, but Impulse told me not to move. They disappeared into an unmarked vehicle, off towards Bastion Towers.” 

He takes shaking steps up to the door, each rise up the stairs weakening his knees. All the optimism in Zed is gone, shadowed by memories so much worse than dreams. He should have done something, anything, to stop them. To help his friend.

Inside Impulse’s apartment was a disaster. Drawers flung open and contents spilled out. The sparse furniture broken and scattered. It looks like a horde of monsters came through here. The truth isn’t that far off. It’s a small apartment, really just a living area and a branched off bedroom. For this part of the city, having it’s own bathroom is fancy. Impulse was proud of the hard work he did to get this place. And now it’s all destroyed. 

Zedaph knows exactly where it is. What he knows will be the one thing Impulse would take with him. And lucky for them, it wasn’t harmed. The clock had been knocked off the shelf it sat on, but the arms still clicked along at their steady, equal pace. The brass frame was dented, but it didn’t stop the intricate clockwork from continuing to run. Zed crouches down, picking up the redstone infused clock. 

“His first redstone project. That’s a brilliant idea, Zed.” Tango whispers, looking at the moon continue to rise against the black night sky. Impulse even painted stars onto it. “I remember when he showed us this. Our first time going out to lunch together, all three of us.” 

“Let’s get back to him. I’m sure he’s on the verge of a breakdown.” Zed carefully stows the precious, cobbled together clock into the pocket of his slacks. Just as they slipped out of the underground, they returned. 

None the wiser that they’ve been watched. 

Always watched.

#I swear this story has a happy ending #but you gotta break a geode to get the gem #hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Finale

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU by @theguardiansofredland )

_______________________________

No blurb this time, just enjoy the soft, short finale that this is. Thank you to everyone who came with us on this journey, seeing your reactions and love of the story has made my day and really encouraged me to want to write more. I also can’t thank Red enough for letting me write this tale, all it’s ups and downs and the great ideas that he’s come up with. 

Keep your eyes out for other works of the Edolas Hermits, writings of the hermits, as well as original works like Wandering Stars! 

Thank you...and enjoy.

_____________________________

He’s warm, cozy and at ease. He doesn’t feel pain- only comfort. This must be it. Impulse died. He survived escaping a dystopian city, being chased through the wilderness, and delving into a whole different world to die by hypothermia. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, to face what has to be the truth. 

But the curiosity gets the best of Impulse. He peeks through one eye, before opening both. He’s in the infirmary. Hooked back up to the same heart rate monitor, the same saline bag. But this time, in the morning light tracing across the white floors. Illuminating two faces, resting on the bed right next to him. White wings wrap around both, acting as a blanket. 

Tango and Zedaph. Impulse moves closer, noticing that both their hair is wet. Not like they were in the shower. Like they were caught outside. In the snow. Their shoes squeak as they shift, fast asleep. Tango and Zed found Impulse. They followed him, they found him. They knew him well enough to know where he’d go, long after they lost visual of him. They knew how to find their best friend. 

Tears well in Impulse’s eyes. It really was them. It has to be. Somehow, they’re here. Reincarnated, his friends till the end and beyond. They’re here, with him. They may look different, but he knows it’s them. Their presence is all he has to comfort him, so for once- he lets himself believe a lie. Let that lie become his reality, his conspiracy. These are his friends, not another world’s. 

He is Edolas Impulse. 

A moment later, Impulse realizes that it’s not just his best friends beside him. The constant ticking of a clock, monotone clicks at a rhythmic, steady pace create a soft tune with Impulse’s monitor. The sound of a clock soothes Impulse. Time passes, so it must be real. Each second is another second alive, each moment another to spend with his rediscovered friends. Impulse looks around, trying to find where the sound is coming from. 

Xisuma is standing at the foot of his bed. Impulse leaps out from under the covers, nearly yanking his IV to fall. He grabs it before it can hit Zed, waking up the tired souls. In Xisuma’s hand, he’s holding a clock. 

No, not just any clock. Impulse’s clock. He holds the brass sundial out, fingers unclasping from the sides like a flower in bloom. “It’s very good redstone work. I’ve never seen such a compact system. The gears were a little dented, but I was able to work out the dimples and scratches. Hopefully...hopefully you don’t mind the little bit of gold I used to fix where it broke open.” 

Impulse crawls forward, carefully plucking the clock from Xisuma’s hand. He flinches as his fingers brush along the scientist’s palm. But they aren’t cold and angry like the ones he felt way back in the city. They were warm, and shaking a little. Actually, quite a lot. Impulse can’t help but giggle at how spazzy this Xisuma was. “You fixed it?” 

“Tango found it, and he asked me to see what I could do. I’m...I’m sorry about scaring you. I have the tendency to do that to people…” Impulse draws the clock close, letting the ticking movement of the sun across the face to fall in sync with his heartbeat. This clock, his first invention and his last gift, meant so much more to him now. He has to keep it ticking. 

“Thank you, Xisuma.” Impulse whispers, looking up and smiling. It’s going to take Impulse some time to truly get over the traumas of his past, but he feels he can trust this Xisuma. He fixed his clock, and he can see that same spark in the scientists’ eyes that he feels in his own. He wants to help people, in his own unique way. 

And maybe, in time, he can learn to trust Doc and Cub as well. If Tango and Zed trusts them, then he can at least make an effort.

Tango’s wings shuffle against the hood of Zed’s brown alb, shattering the silence and bringing the erratic, shaking ferality of the mad scientist. He clambers over Impulse’s bed, crouching before the plate of warm breakfast food on the bed stand. “Muffin?” 

It takes Impulse a few seconds to realize what’s happening. “Oh! Oh, yeah...go ahead. Enjoy it.” 

Xisuma cheers, shoving the massive baked good into his mouth and scrabbling along the wall. Sharp nails dig into the paint and concrete, till he clambers to the window. Xisuma crawls through the glass on all fours, the muffin still in his mouth. A very strange man...cryptid thing.. indeed- but with a good heart. 

Impulse turns back to his friends, still well under the spell of sleep. And watching their chests rise and fall, Impulse feels sleep tug him back into it’s clutches. He grabs the pillows from his bed, pulling the monitor and IV drip over to the other occupied bed. He’s careful not to get his bandages caught on Tango’s wings, careful not to jab Zed with his bony limbs as he clambers in between his two best friends. Impulse nestles into their protection, for the first time feeling safe. Safe again with his friends, safe again in this new strange world. For the first time since his exodus, he feels like he has a home. And it’s right here, cuddled with Edolas Tango and Edolas Zed. 

Edolas Impulse drifts off to sleep, for a short time no longer haunted by nightmares and paranoia. He knows it won’t last long, but for now? For now he’s just happy to be with his friends again.

#sorry it's so short #but it's all good things #especially xisuma #i love edolas xisuma #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas tango #tangotek #tango tek #hermitcraft tango #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas xisuma #xisumavoid #hermitcraft xisuma

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 7

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU by @theguardiansofredland )

It’s all too good to be true. The kindness that has welcomed Impulse in this strange Edolas world. How much he wants to believe them, how much he fears being tricked again. How much he fears being alone again, even when he runs from company. 

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I love a good hurt/comfort, but how about we turn that on it’s head, and give comfort/hurt? FINALLY team ZIT is back together! Only one more part after this, one more part to this story that I’m honored to share. All of these ideas are the creation of Red, from the Edolas characters to the bottle scene, he’s really a clever mind! And I love them! 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language.

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Impulse has to get out of here. Despite everything around him, all the people around him only offering kindness and calm, Impulse just knows this isn’t right. This has to be some kind of trick, some sort of ploy by the city. None of this is real- not the gentle nature of Cub and Doc, not the quirky scientist that’s become of Xisuma. It’s all fake, it has to be. 

This time, Impulse is smarter about his escape. He removes the needle as carefully as it had been replaced. He wonders who did that- was it this strange Xisuma? Or someone else he’s yet to meet? Impulse also turns off the monitor before removing the clasp around his finger. It’s nighttime, and Impulse is banking on the fact that no one is keeping watch at his bedside to make his escape. 

He messed up. This isn’t the End. According to this weird version of X, they call their world Edolas. That’s not where he was supposed to be. He wants to be in the End, far away from anything and everyone. Just another lost item among the void. Impulse creeps along the hospital floor, resting his hand on the cold metal door handle. In the darkness, the white of his bandages are like beacons, and the haggard white shirt he still wears practically declares where he is. 

Impulse quietly opens the door, looking down the short hall. There’s a door at the other end, and through that window he can see a waiting room. That’s his escape. Impulse scurries across the hall, opening the door and shutting it quickly. 

He’s not alone in the lounge. In the corner, two forms whisper to one another. The lights are off in the building, making it hard to see who they are. But Impulse doesn’t need to see them to know- he can hear their voices. 

“Our prayers have been answered, it’s really him.” Zedaph whispers, looking up to see his friend’s face. 

Tango flutters his angelic white wings, feathers ruffling together. “As much as I don’t want to believe it… he looks like him. He called himself Impulse. Our wishes actually worked.” 

The two turn their heads as they hear a sniffle, peering into the darkness. A pale, thin form stands at the door into the infirmary, eyes welling with tears. He looks like a ghost, and for a minute Tango really thinks that’s what he is. But the broken voice as Impulse speaks is all too real. “T-tango? Zed?”

Impulse stumbles towards them, his legs giving out beneath him. Tango crosses the distance in a few short strides, grabbing hold of Impulse before he can find himself on the floor all over again. Once he’s regained his strength, Tango steps away. Taking in the sight before him. Zedaph steps between the angel and the stranger, staring at him.

It truly looks like their Impulse. That wisping brown hair, ruled by a cowlick that always makes his hair look like he just woke up from a long slumber. A sharp nose set between inquisitive eyes, thin lips hiding dimples between each cheek. Just a little bit taller than Zedaph, and the palest of the three. 

All three have tears in their eyes, welling and falling across their cheeks. All three, going through the same thought process. Is it really them? They thought they’d never see the other again. The silence prolongs, unspoken questions shared among each face. 

Zed steps forward, daring to break the distance between himself and the ghost before him. He reaches out, placing a shaking hand to rest on Impulse’s cheek. The room goes quiet, Impulse shrinking away from physical contact. But, after a second, he can’t hold back. He leans into the warm, comforting touch of his long lost friend’s hand. 

Tango’s hand reaches up to cover his mouth, agape as all three finally lock eyes, and realize what they see is real. They’re really there, it’s not some horrible nightmare or a ghost. Impulse reaches up, taking a light hold on Zed’s hand as his eyes rove across Tango. Zed’s hand reaches up, grabbing hold of his chest, trying to be still the leaping of his heart. “Impulse?”

Cascading streams streak down their cheeks, all three collapsing into each other’s arms and to the floor. Crying and bundling close. The gang is finally back together, the unstoppable trio, shattered and glued back together through sheer will, prayer, and luck. Massive white wings, plumaged with soft feathers wrap around the other two, holding them into a hug. Whispers of disbelief and relief mutter across the darkness, punctuated by sniffles and short bursts of laughter. 

For Tango and Zedaph, it’s every wish, every prayer finally answered. Impulse has returned to them. Years and years of mourning, of wondering how they could possibly fix what they did wrong, and now he’s finally in their arms again. They can finally see his smile, the warmth of his laughter. They were a set, three pieces. And without the last one, they were incomplete. 

For Impulse, it’s a dream too good to be true. That Tango and Zed also escaped the city, made it to this strange new world like him. After being forced to leave them, to go on when they were separated. To abandon them, they are actually here. He can finally watch Zed’s excitement bubble up from his tapping feet to his bouncing curls, Tango’s cautious but excitable eyes light up with a new idea. He was alone, left without his best friends. 

For a brief moment, everything was right for Impulse. Nothing else but his friends mattered. Until small cracks in his joy began to appear, the voices in his head telling him none of this is true. Its all a lie, a farce. Suddenly the small details become huge. Tango never had angel wings. He was from the nether. Zed wore clothes he’d never be caught dead in, looking more like some prophet or preacher than the fellow engineer. 

This isn’t real. Impulse’s grip loosens, and he pushes away from the hug. This is too good to be true, too wrong to be right. He scrabbles away from the two, leaving their arms reaching out for him as he presses his back against the wall. This is all fake, a farce. A trick, more of the city’s way of messing with his mind. The same way he can’t have escaped- there is no escape. That the Xisuma he’s met isn’t really real, it’s all just another horrible trick, a conspiracy. 

Tango reaches out, palm up and offering for Impulse to take. A pact with a ghost. Impulse stands, swaying as the blood rushes from his head. “You… you’re not real. This isn’t real.” 

“Wait, Impulse!” Zed slips as he tries to stand, falling over on Tango’s wing. But it’s too late- Impulse is gone. 

He escapes through the door, stumbling outside into the moonlight. The full moon is bright, illuminating the dark streets as if floodlights shine from the sky. Impulse hops over a hedge line, taking off towards the hills. Back to running, trying to escape this nightmare. Will he ever stop running?

He’s not sure if he can. He’s already limping, before he’s even made it into the hills. Impulse scrabbles up gravel and stone, trying to ignore the voices calling out for him. Ignoring Zed’s voice, the crack in his cries for him to return. Ignoring the wing beats of Tango’s plumage, until both disappear over the mountains. And it’s just him again. 

Alone again. The adrenaline in Impulse’s body falls away, and the aching pain of his wounds rise up. His sprint turns to a limp, the cold mountain air burning his lungs and the bandages on his ankle and arm starting to fall apart. Far from the town, from the illusions and the tricks played on his mind. But out here, he’s just lept from one danger to another. He may be free from prying eyes and ears, but he’s exposed. Out in the open, the cold wind biting on his skin and the distant sound of monsters shrieking ever closer. 

Impulse stumbles, but catches himself on a rock ledge. He’s not going to fall. Not again. Freezing snow nips at his exposed arms, turning his skin blue and leaving his body shivering. He needs to find shelter. He needs to keep going. He can’t ever stop. He can’t last out in the cold. Each step becomes smaller, slower. He’s just shuffling through the snow, moving forward the only thing on his mind. 

The further away from people he gets, the further away from their tricks. He knew this was all too good to be true. He can’t have escaped, he can’t have found his friends. There was nothing for Impulse anywhere. No place for a mind like his, curiosity beyond what’s natural. Seeing monsters in the shadows, ghosts in the darkness. There was no place he could trust, no one he could trust. Not even the warm, inviting hugs and welcoming tears of his friends. It was too good to be true. 

Impulse staggers into a small cave, hand running along the cold stone outcroppings. He hops down a few levels, until the wind has abated and just the damp cavern air grips at his warmth. Impulse slides down the wall, holding his knees close to try and keep in the last vestiges of warmth. His head tips back, watching his breath turn to a million ice fractals in the air. He knew that wasn’t really Tango and Zed. Not that things were too perfect- no, they were too imperfect. Strange, characterized versions of his friends. It was a trick, another way for General X, Doc, and Cub to play with him. None of this must be real. Not the kind faces of Doc and Cub, not the quirky mad scientist of Xisuma. Not the angelic Tango, or the zealous Zed. 

But how much he wanted it to be true. How much he just wanted to let the lies become real. That these were the same friends he left behind, that somehow they were here. Reincarnated, brought to this world they call Edolas. And he’d be fine with that, letting himself just become a part of this strange Edolas world. To be...Edolas Impulse. 

But he knows he can’t let that happen. He can’t let himself fall from the last ounce of sanity he has left. He can’t let himself be tricked, by anyone else. Even himself. Those aren’t his friends, this isn’t his world. He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t belong anywhere. 

Impulse shivers, head growing light and body suddenly becoming warm. His eyes droop, until he can’t stay awake anymore.

#yay reunion #edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas zedaph #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas tango #tangotek #tango tek #notice how the dystopia au tag disappeared?

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 2

Previous Part

An Edolas Hermit AU story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Impulse, Tango, and Zed are vying for freedom out of Hermitland. But first they must get through the great walls of the city, and whatever waits beyond. What they don’t know is that their plan has already been discovered. 

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Part Two? Part Two! I’m so glad people are enjoying this story, I just can’t wait to share it all with you! Red’s story is so incredible, I don’t think my writing can do it justice.

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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Impulse grabs the nearest thing he could find, a redstone torch, wielding it as he hears footsteps moving down the tunnels. Zed and Tango have been taking way too long. Surely they’ve been caught by Cub, seen leaving the underground. By now, they’re probably in the rehab center, undergoing the same horrible ‘therapy’ that he had to endure. And now? Now Xisuma has sent guards to retrieve Impulse. Or perhaps just to take him out for good. 

So when the two figures round the corner into the team’s hideaway, he swings the torch with all his might. He’s not exactly strong, though, which is why Tango easily grabs hold of the other end, ignoring the electrifying feeling of holding the redstone end of the torch. This isn’t the first time Impulse has freaked himself out to the point of becoming reactionary. “Guess that means you don’t want what we brought you then.” 

Impulse immediately lets go of the torch, relief spreading across his face and body as he sees the cool smile of Tango, the bouncy joy of Zed. They haven’t been captured, they look just fine. “I’m just glad you’re back. How was it above?” 

“We went to your apartment!” Zed pulls something out of his bag, holding it out for Impulse to see. At first, Impulse has to rub his eyes, just to be sure he’s seeing what is in Zed’s hand. His fingertips are just barely able to curl around the brass wall, the moon beginning to rise towards its peak. Almost midnight. The redstone clockwork is shoddy at best, the gears and lines easy to hear within the device. But for Impulse, it’s his most prized possession. 

He built this clock when he decided he wanted to be a redstone engineer. It was his first time using redstone, or any of that sort of material. It sparked his love for inventing, and put him on the path to the man he is now. It’s the start of everything. 

And to have it now, that Tango and Zed thought to get the clock from his apartment, makes tears well in his eyes. It hurts to gulp, but he tries his best to keep from whimpering like a baby at the thought. “Th-thank you guys.” 

“They ransacked your house. Completely torn apart.” Tango whispers, picking up the mess that Impulse had left behind while they were gone. “But luckily it only got dented. Young Impulse was thinking to use brass instead of the usual gold.” 

“Young Impulse definitely didn’t have access to gold. I don’t think current Impulse does either.” He laughs awkwardly, running his finger over the dial on the clock. Xisuma’s guards must’ve been looking for information, evidence against Impulse and the underground. He knows they found nothing. He’s smarter than that. The clock ticks under Impulse’s touch, the moon drawing nearer to its apogee. They need to leave before sunrise. “Where you guys followed?”

“We were fine. Not a soul saw us.” Zed waves off Impulse’s concern, playing catch with an apple then taking a hefty bite from the fruit. 

“Are you sure? They have eyes everywhere, Cub could’ve seen you. He could’ve followed you.” Impulse glances around, as if someone else could suddenly appear in the cave they call their hideout. 

“We were careful.” Tango nods, pulling up his multitool. The same tool that sent the coding to cut Impulse’s noose. “I used the jamming signal you came up with to keep drones from coming near us.” 

Impulse breathes a sigh of relief. He knows that signal works, so he knows his friends are right. They weren’t followed. “Then let's get going. Before someone does start to follow us.” 

“Let’s blow this popstand!” Zed cheers, shoving the apple into his mouth and shrugging his backpack over his shoulder. He bounces in his shoes, blonde hair curling and bouncing across his eyes. “Come on come on come on! No time to waste! The next time we see the sun, it’ll be with the sweet taste of freedom!” 

Tango and Impulse can’t help but smile, Zed’s enthusiasm contagious. They can hear him humming down the tunnels, footsteps skipping and echoing down the road. Tango ruffles Impulse’s hair, forcing his cowlick over his eyes and making it almost impossible to see. When he parts the unruly chocolate hair, Tango is giving him a coy wink. “Last one to the safehouse is a sticky piston!” 

Tango takes off, gilded hair wisping across the horns. Impulse chases after him, grabbing the small bag of his own supplies and stumbling out of their cave. He chases after Zed and Tango, laughing as Zed trips in between skips. He never stops humming, even as he nearly faceplants into the cracked concrete. Tango hardly stops, long lanky legs eloping by and picking Zed up by the scruff like a kitten. Tango was so much taller than others, stood out so much more than any other person in Hermitland. It’s what made him different, it’s what made him awesome. When other people would be nervous with a demon from the nether sitting next to them in class, it was Impulse’s favorite thing. No one dared pick on him and his threadbare clothes at school when Tango’s red eyes would glare them away, his tail flicking menacingly. 

Zed scrabbles up the ladder, into the cool midnight air. The trio can see the wall as they sneak free of the forgotten tunnels, closing the trapdoor hidden beneath a massive, leafy bush. Tango remembers to brush a branch over the mulch, scrambling the chips to clear off the disturbance of the three climbing out. 

The lights of this street have been broken for years, always put to the wayside of maintenance logs in lieu of work for the more affluent neighborhoods. But the people who have claimed this part of the city as home, the farmers and hard working families find joy in the darkness. The freedom that Zed, Tango, and Impulse feel to walk down the streets. Zed and Tango dance and chase after one another, blowing off the steam of excitement. They’re finally escaping. 

But for Impulse, it’s his first time above ground since he was hanged. He’s slower than the others, taking in each deep breath of the cool night air. Fresh, crisp, of the city taking a quiet sigh of relief from the hassle of the day. The moon is in gibbous, nearly full and gazing a single eye down at the world. Stars glitter and shine across the canvas of the night sky. Moonlight wasn’t harsh like the sun. It didn’t burn or scathe against skin the way that electric shocks ran across Impulse’s skin, it didn’t blind him like the harsh lights when he was interrogated. It was a nurturing light, relief from the scathing truth of the day. 

Impulse closes his eyes, stretching his arms out and feeling the night air surrounding him. Lies spoken in the day, illusions under the sun become shadows in the night, transparent and weak. The quiet hush of the night is when truths are whispered, when reasonable voices are able to be heard while the shouting crowd is fast asleep. Impulse always got his best work done at night. Impulse learned the truth at night. 

In the darkness of the night, none of them notice the stealthy drone zooming it’s lense in on the basking boy. They don’t see the antenna rise up, pointing towards Bastion Towers. 

“Come on, mate! You can take a deep breath once we’re beyond the wall!” Zed whispers in Impulse’s ear, tugging him down the silent, open road. All the way to the safehouse. A decrepit little shack, nondescript at best. Even when they enter the toolshed, nothing looks out of the ordinary. Not until Zed picks up a wooden hoe from the racks of stone and iron tools. Beneath their feet, the wood floor slips away to reveal a small tunnel. The boys hop in, dirt falling into their hair as they crawl through the low tunnel. Crawling through the tight quarters, trying not to bump into each other or the wall. Tango has it worst, his horns digging into the tunnel’s soil roof each time he leans back. 

They reach the wall, gazing at all their hard work. The wall wasn’t pure concrete, and with each stratified layer they picked away, they had to figure out a whole different solution to a whole new problem. They picked away at thick concrete, filed down metal rebar, rerouted electrical currents, disarmed alarms, even cut through a whole sheet of metal that sat at the center of the wall. All that, until they reached the other side. Right in front of Impulse, they only needed to dig out a few more shovels full of dirt. Unfortunately, freedom was put on hold when Impulse was captured. 

But now, the boys can finally pick away the last of what separates them from freedom. To finally be able to escape the city, to finally have done what no one else thought was possible. Zed and Tango squeeze on each side of Impulse, pulling the spades they have handy. And together, the three dig the dirt away. Dirt falls and is flung over their shoulders, getting between their teeth and onto their white shirts. But none of them care.

Especially when Zed’s shovel breaks through grass, digging through the roots and pushing into open air. When he pulls it back, the ground crumbles around it. 

They can see the moon on the other side. Unobstructed, save for a distant birch forest across the plains. No buildings, no walls, no streetlights or drones or guards. But there is life. Grass spreads out in all directions, a sea of green visible in the burrow the boys have dug out. Flowers dance quietly in the moonlight, brushed by wind that carries wayward leaves from far away trees. Tango was the first to find his voice. “It’s all real. We did it.” 

Impulse’s mind is tethered to the freedom before him, but gets dragged back to the dystopia behind him when he hears the sound of a door slam. Wooden, hitting something so hard that the lumber cracks and the hinges snap. His stomach and throat tighten up as the sound recalls a not too distant memory. The memory of his door being kicked open, armed guards breaking down his entrance to hunt him down. The sound of footsteps in his mind echoes the footsteps he hears at the entrance to their tunnel. 

The hatch at the other end is opened. “They found us! They're here!” 

“We have to go through now!” Zed keeps digging, trying to open the tunnel. It’s hardly even big enough for one person. 

“We have to use the other tunnel! We’re not going to make it through in time. Not all of us.” Tango points down the even smaller crawl space that they built. It was something none of them thought they’d have to use, but Impulse was insistent on. For a case just like this. 

Zed can hear voices, arguing down the dark tunnel. “Impulse can’t stay here. He can’t stay in the city- he’ll surely get captured sooner or later.” 

Zed and Tango both turn, gazing at Impulse with resolute but despondent eyes. A look that sends chills down his spine and fear through his heart. “What are you two-” 

“Come out now before things get grim. I know you're down there. Impulse, I saw you finally came out of your little hole.” A steady, calm voice hollers down the hall. Cub was here. 

Tango and Zed share a glimpse of each other’s plans within their eyes, and turn to Impulse. Simultaneously, they scoot back. Put distance between themselves and Impulse. Tears begin to form at the corner of both their eyes, and Zed’s lip quivers as Tango picks up his shovel. “We’ll see you on the other side, Impulse.” 

Horrible realization shocks through Impulse. He reaches out for his friends, for them to rethink this decision. But Tango has already struck the dirt above them, yanking it free. Soil collapses between them, and rocks fall soon after. Impulse scrambles back, his arm nearly crushed as the stones fall in. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears hit his hand. He scrabbles against the rocks, digging through the cave in. “No! No, you guys can make it! Don’t leave me!” 

No answer on the other end. Impulse strains to listen. He can hear Zed and Tango retreat, the slow creak of the escape tunnel closing in. They’re already gone, disappearing into the crowd of people. Back into the depths of the city.

But Cub remains. Impulse scurries back as the calm voice speaks through the rocks. “It’s only going to get worse from here, man. We know your every move. We will find you.” 

Panicked breathes escape Impulse’s open lips, his mind a flurry of just about every emotion he can feel. He has to put distance between him and Cub. He needs to run. 

And so he does. Impulse squeezes through the dirt hole, ignoring the grass and mud stains that smear across the white shirt he wears. The ID tag on his arm begins to warm, but he ignores it as he slips into the open field. Impulse clambers to his feet, stumbling into a sprint before he’s even upright. 

But the quiet field isn’t quiet for long. Beneath the red poppies and yellow dandelions, traps have laid in wait. Buried long ago, waiting for the day a foolish hermit decided to try and escape. Impulse vaults free of a snare as it releases, nearly grabbing hold of his leg. A net flings from a buried gun, threatening to weigh Impulse down. 

If the trapped field wasn’t enough, Impulse hears something rise up from the massive blank concrete wall. He knows he shouldn’t look back, but he can’t help his own morbid curiosity. He peeks over his shoulder, and sees something he never even thought existed within Hermitland. 

A door to outside. The concrete walls open up just enough for a black vehicle to slip through. It’s not just Cub that’s after Impulse- Doc stands in the bed of the vehicle,  a thin barrel pointed at Impulse. 

Impulse doesn’t stop running. He can’t outrun Cub or Doc, but he can outmaneuver them. The weapon fires, a dart filled with sloshing liquid burying itself into the ground next to Impulse. It’s not a bullet, thank god, but Impulse knows that if Doc is involved it’s something much worse. The escapee skids to the side, forcing the black vehicle to change direction as he focuses on his goal. 

A forest, just beyond the edge of the plain. Tall, thick birch trees that will be the guardians against the attacking leaders. Barriers for those who wish to keep Impulse from escaping. The hair on Impulse’s head sticks out in all directions, his body electrified as a shock shell detonates beside Impulse. The zapping sound of electricity makes him run all the harder. Flee from what he knows is already awaiting him if Doc gets his hands on Impulse...again. 

Impulse meets the treeline, but he doesn’t stop. When he hears the vehicle screech to a halt, he doesn’t stop. When he hears Doc and Cub yelling, swearing and arguing, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop running until the sound, the sight of the city are long gone. Until his legs give out from under him, and all the emotions spread ruin within him. 

They’re gone. Zed and Tango, they gave up their freedom for him. Forced him to leave them. He’s alone, lost beyond the wall. Everything he’s ever known is now behind him. His entire life, his entire world. Every person he’s ever known, ever seen. 

He’s alone. Lost, on the run. And without the only people he wanted to do this with.

#hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #hermitcraft cub #impulsesv #cubfan135 #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 5

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit Story (AU Belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A stranger has been found in the forests of Edolas, unconscious and unanswering to the questions the Edolas Hermits have. Who is he, and why does he look like a friend they lost long ago? Why is he so badly wounded? Why does he have a broken clock? 

Why has the ocean stopped taking Zed and Tango’s wishes?

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Part five is my favorite part- I’ll tell you that. Finally reaching edolas, and getting to have fun with the wacky characters that Red has come up with! And, since Edolas is a world of opposite hermits, we decided that yes- Jellie is a dog. A good girl. 

Warning: This story contains general dark elements and language

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“Jellie! Come here girl!” Scar whistles, clapping his hands together as he continues along the dirt trail through the forests of Edolas. Tall, cozy spruce trees offer a fresh pine scent, the detritus beneath Scar’s shoes a tangle of soft needles and bark. The dark wood offers a muted, calming sensation for Scar. 

Jellie barks off in the distance, but doesn’t return to her owner’s side. That’s unusual...Jellie almost always comes when called. The only time she doesn’t is when food is on her mind. Scar hops off the path, following the barking through the winding maze of trees. He picks up the pace as Jellie’s barks turn into a whine. 

“What’s wrong, pretty lady?” Scar whispers as soon as he spots the dark coated dog. Scar’s next sentence falters in his throat as he sees the body. Face down in the dirt, surrounded by stones, an unmoving figure lays. White bandages, fraying and bloody, wrap around his arm. Brown, wispy hair is dirty with grass and mud, caking down the remnants of a white buttonup shirt. Black trousers are torn and covered with dirt, one leg bloody both on the fabric and skin. In one hand, a busted clock is still firmly held onto- even with the person obviously not conscious or even alive. Scar sighs. “Xisuma needs to stop dumping bodies in the woods.” 

Scar reaches out to pull Jellie away from the corpse, but she plants her paws into the dirt and refuses to leave the side of the person. It’s not until Scar is forced to get closer that he realizes why- it’s not a corpse. He’s still breathing. Holy shit he’s still alive. Scar begins to panic, unsure who to turn to. This isn’t exactly his expertise, dealing with something like this. Who is? 

Scar calls the only person he can think of at this moment in time. Cub. He starts to pace around the clearing, too afraid to get close to the body. Jellie stays near instead, laying her head gently on the boy’s back. Keeping his body warm, her fur comforting. Finally, after 3 times going to voicemail, Cub picks up the phone. “Is everything alright, buddy?” 

“No, everything isn’t ‘alright’. Things are super fucking weird, Cub.” Scar can’t help but snap, looking back at the form still laying in the dirt. “I...I found something.” 

“Something? What kind of something?” Cub’s voice is calm and soothing, a fatherly tone that Scar has come to rely on so much. 

“I...it’s a person. He’s still alive, but...I dunno, I think this is some sort of cult thing. He’s wearing some really nice trousers and shirt, but they’re torn to hell and back. He’s got bandages, and surrounded by rocks and theres a clock and…” Scar doesn’t know what else to say. This is too odd, too much for him all to take in. 

“Take a deep breath, Scar. I’ll get some others to come out, and we’ll take a look at what you found. Just...make sure he stays alive.” Cub hangs up, leaving Scar to the silence of the forest and the occasional whimper of Jellie. The boy’s chest continues to rise and fall, but Scar doesn’t dare reach out and push him onto his back. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t far from the others. Cub, Keralis, and Bdubs appear in the clearing, all stopping dead as they see the body. Bdubs shrinks behind the others, peeking over Keralis’s shoulder. “Oh my god…” 

Cub stoops low, taking a gentle hold of the boy’s unharmed arm and checking his vitals. His pulse is steady. “Let’s get this kid to the infirmary. Looks like he needs it.”

Keralis helps Cub gather the boy in his arms. Scar can’t help but watch with Bdubs, both a little too shocked as the others roll over the body and see his face. It’s covered in dirt, caked with sweat and a little bit of blood. But it looks exactly like the face of a person they thought was long gone. No, that’s not right. It’s just coincidence, people look the same all the time. Scar won’t entertain that idea any further. They just need to focus on getting to the infirmary.

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

Wind blusters across the sea, white capped waves pounding against Zedaph and Tango’s bare legs. Behind them, sand whips and scratches at anyone who dares to be in it’s path. 

But no amount of wind, not hell or high water will stop the duo from their daily ritual. When even Zed’s beliefs change, this is still constant. A tradition, no matter what else is going on around them. Tango’s elegant, cursive writing is slipped into the clear glass bottle that Zed had brought. Tango opens a single, white feathered wing to protect his friend from the angry sand behind them, daring to blister their skin from the beach. He stays silent as Zed whispers out the same wish every single day. “Please, bring him back.” 

Salty tears fall from Zed’s eyes, mixing with the ocean around them, just another drop in the sea awash with their pain. They’ve been doing this for years, but every time it still feels as fresh as the day they lost him. Zed caps the bottle, and throws it out with all his might. Beyond the angry turmoil of the surf. 

The two remain ankle deep in the ocean, silent and staring. Searching for some sign, any sign that their prayers have been answered. They know it’s impossible, but they still do it. They saw him sink, trapped in the ropes and sails. A gentle smile as he assured them everything would be alright. 

But it’s not alright. Tango and Zed are without their best friend, left with a hole in both their hearts. A bed empty in their shared apartment. Zed rubs his tearstained face into Tango’s shoulder, comforted only by his large white wings as they wrap around Zed. The two are about to return to shore, until Zed feels something brush up against his foot. 

The bottle. It returned to them. Zed picks it back up, and throws the bottle again. Beyond the surf once more. “No, no. You go out to sea.” 

“It’s never done that before.” Tango breathes. He feels sick to his stomach as the bottle returns again, carried on the white waves back to rest at his feet. He stoops low, plucking the bottle as it brushes against his legs. It has to go out to sea. Every single time Impulse showed them this tradition, he said the sea would take their wish. And grant it. He takes off, flying well past the waves, dropping the bottle into the sea. 

But by the time he returns to Zedaph, the bottle is back in his friend’s hands. Zed’s anger grows, grabbing the glass bottle. What was once something the two teased to Impulse, was now their only lifeline, their only way to process and grieve his loss. “Take the fucking wish!” Zed screams, reeling back and throwing the bottle as far as he can. He stumbles into the sea, collapsing to his hands and knees. “Take the god damn wish and give us our friend back!” 

Tango pulls Zed back to his feet, careful to be sure he doesn’t get a mouthful of water and drown. Drown like Impulse did. Zed’s cries turn into quiet prayers, angry curses at the gods who won’t listen and desperate pleas to those that will. Wishing for a miracle they know will never happen, but still desperately beg for. 

The two retreat, grabbing their shoes and rolling their pants back down. Fighting the heavy wind and stinging sand, neither look back. Because they know it’s sitting there again. Spit back out by the ocean. 

It’s a quiet walk back to the guild, back to town. It always is quiet, both lost in thoughts and memories. Of easier days, warmer days. When the sun was warmer and shone through their best friend’s smile. When laughter filled their apartment so loud that their neighbors- even Cleo- would yell back for them to shut up. 

Zed is the first to notice that things are busy with the guild. Joe nearly knocks Tango over, running to the infirmary with a handful of bandages. Zedaph looks at Tango, both sharing confused looks, before following after the mercenary. Inside the infirmary, most of their friends are there too. Talking in small groups, trading information in whispers and passing papers. 

Tango grabs Mumbo as he makes his way towards the exit, fingers wrapping into the leather of Mumbo’s jacket. “Mumbo...what’s going on?” 

Mumbo turns, smoothing out his mustache and hair. He’s the only one that doesn’t seem at all frazzled. “Eh, Scar found a body out in the forest- turns out the body is still working. Now they’re trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. Stuff way beyond my capacity, dude.” 

“A person?” Zed echoes, frowning. 

Mumbo shrugs. “Yeah… though he kinda reminds me of Impulse. Looks exactly like him.” 

Zed and Tango share shocked glances, and Tango immediately lets go of Mumbo as they sprint past the others, ignoring the shouts. Mumbo simply shrugs, walking out and sauntering to the nearest bar. Not the strangest thing to happen to him. 

"Should've known you two would come." Cub states as the two barge into the room. 

"Is it really him?" Zed's voice betrays his disbelief. He wants it to be true, for all those gods he's dedicated himself to finally be answering his prayers. Tango flutters closer, peeking around the blinds to see.

"I...I truly doubt its Impulse. He just looks like him." Cub sighs, watching the hope on the two's faces collapse. They creep closer all the same, getting a good look at the stranger in the hospital bed.

Dark brown hair, wispy and unruly, frames a pale and weak face. Even unconscious, the stranger's brows are furrowed together as if he's thinking through some complex problem. He's wearing a torn up white shirt, the buttons lost or in the wrong hole and the tail of the shirt untucked. His hips and legs disappear under the bed's covers, but one foot has been pulled out. White bandages wrap around his ankle, spots of red slowly growing. 

And then there's his arm. Opposite of the arm that the stranger's IV is protruding from, red and black catch the pair's attention. Underneath a slick coat of medicinal salve, angry red skin and dark burns surround a series of letters and numbers tattooed under the skin. Zed points to the arm opposite of him. "What is all that?"

"We...aren't really sure." Ren whispers, setting his quill down from taking notes. "Scar thinks its some kind of cult thing, Xisuma says maybe an experiment of sorts. But without him awake, we won't be able to tell for sure."

But while Zed is focused on the tattoo, Tango can't take his eyes off of the stranger's neck. Black, blue, and purple marks ring  around the skin, the surrounding area inflamed. The bruises are tight against the person's neck, nestled at the juncture of jaw to spine. Right on his trachea. 

Cub notices Tango’s gaze. "Someone else did that, poor kid. Someone tried to kill him. And nearly succeeded."

For Tango and Zed, its like seeing a ghost. It looks exactly like Impulse, from his hair all the way to the dirt under his fingernails. But it can't be true. This isn't really Impulse. Just someone who looks like him. But how much they both want it to be real.

Tango looks up, seeing fluorescent light glinting off of something on the bed stand. It’s not like anything else in the infirmary- dirty brass against the sterile white and silver of the room. Tango flits over the bed, picking up the item. It’s dented, with the clock face ripped open. Trapped at twilight hour, not quite daylight and not quite nighttime. “Was this with him?” 

Cub nods. “I don’t know why, but he wouldn’t let go of it. Even unconscious, we had to pry his fingers off it.” 

Zed peeks over Tango’s shoulder and wings, violet eyes taking in the damage. It’s quite broken- but not destroyed. The two look at each other, then the stranger, and finally the clock. “We… let’s see if we can do something with this.”

#edolas au #edolas hermits #hermitcraft au #dystopia au #edolas impulse #impulsesv #hermitcraft impulse #edolas scar #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #hermitcraft scar #edolas cub #cubfan135 #hermitcraft cub #edolas mumbo #mumbo jumbo #hermitcraft mumbo #edolas zedaph #edolas zed #zedaph #hermitcraft zedaph #edolas tango #tangotek #hermitcraft tango

[writing-the-end]

Exodus- Part 3

Previous Chapter

An Edolas Hermit story (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Alone and beyond the walls of the city, Impulse is on the run. Trying to find safety from the faces that haunt him, and how they always seem to know where he is. 

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

Part three for everyone to enjoy! I know this isn’t how redstone works, but I’m taking creative liberty here. Chemistry class coming in handy, I guess? 

Warning: this story contains general dark elements and language. Burn wounds also present in this chapter. 

__________________________________-

Impulse doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until a bright light wakes him up. Beside his head, the old brass clock continues to tick away. A steady, calming pace against the silent forest. He blinks the sleep from his eyes, waiting for them to gain vision and correct from the unintentional sleep. He didn’t mean to sleep. He didn’t want to stop running, but he honestly doesn’t remember how he fell asleep. 

The first thing Impulse does is open his mouth to wish Zed and Tango good morning. But he remembers that they aren’t here. They aren’t with him. They’re back in Hermitland, trapped. And he’s out here, on the run. All that time digging that tunnel digging freedom for all of them, and in a single strike Tango brought it all down. Impulse wants to be furious at him for doing that. Making the decision for him, forcing him to continue without them. But every time he thinks of Zed and Tango, he only feels loss. He just wants to see them again. 

He looks around, black eyes against the white birch trees staring back at him. Watching him. Even when the bright light shines in their eyes, they never stop staring. Impulse startles nearly out of his skin at the sound of a loud door slamming shut. Impulse tries to stand, but falls back to his knees. He can’t seem to gain control of his muscles, at least not in his legs. 

When he turns over, he sees he wasn’t really asleep. A bright green dart is sticking out of his legs, the vial empty of it’s contents. He was drugged. Impulse grabs the dart, yanking it free from his skin and trousers. His breath catches in his throat as he hears voices whispering through the trees. He can’t see where they’re coming from, but he knows the voices well enough.

“Doc said he got a hit on him. According to my system, he should be right nearby. Give or take a couple yards or so.” A warm sensation pulsates from Impulse’s arm as he hears Cub speak. Cub’s calm voice slithers through the infinite eyes of the forest, watching Impulse as if they’re speaking about him. As if they are Cub’s eyes. 

Maybe they are. How else would Cub know where he is? Surely Cub would know how to do something like that, set up cameras within the forest. That must be it, the trees are watching him. They have to be. He has to run, he needs to put more distance between himself and the city. He stumbles and crawls, trying to regain a sense of control over his legs. 

“Don’t overwork your tech, Cub. He has to come out of the woodwork at some point.” Xisuma’s voice is unhindered by his mask, and through the leaves Impulse can see the general’s face. He hasn’t seen those eyes, the scars and long ponytail since the gallows. The only time he saw any hint of Xisuma’s resolve slip away, the mention of a brother Impulse never knew the leader even had. But none of that is in his voice now. It’s sharp, like the point of a compass’s needle. Searching for it’s target. 

Searching for Impulse. He manages to get feeling in his toes again, and wastes no time laying on the ground any longer. He doesn’t care if Xisuma or Cub sees him- he takes off running. Dodging and weaving around the birch forest, trying to escape the eyes that follow him in his escape. He hears the two behind him, but he doesn’t dare look back. He has to be faster. 

No. He has to be smarter. That’s what got Impulse into this predicament in the first place, isn’t it? He needs to use his brain one more time, to figure out how to get himself out of this. He can feel the shadow of Hermitland still following him, overshadowing him. The eyes in the sky still watching him. He needs to get underground, where he can’t be seen. 

The next cave that Impulse spots is hardly even a cave, rather just a hole in the dirt beneath a massive birch tree. But it’s dark, and none of the trees’ eyes can see him from within. Impulse wriggles himself in, the roots and rocks ripping at his clothes. He keeps his clock close to his heart, both ticking on and on- one much faster than the other. His shoe gets caught, trapped in the roots as voices grow closer. He yanks and pulls, but the tree has him captured. Can Cub control trees as well? 

Impulse bites back a cry as he wrenches free his foot, the bark and wood cutting into his skin and mangling the mismatched workboot. He lost the other when he was hanged, kicking around for purchase- Zed was kind enough to notice, and find him another one. Despite the pain racking across his body, from his foot to the warm sensation in his arm, right under his tattoo, he keeps silent. 

The footsteps grow closer, staggered by conversation between Xisuma and Cub. The steps stop, but Xisuma’s voice only grows louder. “You can’t run forever, kid. We know where you are. Even if we can’t see you, we know where you are. We always know.” 

The tingling, warm sensation in Impulse’s arm seems to grow, his skin crawling along his tattoo. A silent gasp escapes from his lips, before being clapped shut by one hand. The other presses down on the ID tag, and Impulse closes his eyes to try and ignore the rising fear and pain. The way his skin crawls- at the pain in his arm, or the charismatic voice just above him? 

Impulse turns his arm, looking to see what’s causing the burning, tingling sensation on it. Did he cut himself? Was he hit? He struggles to see in the small hovel, but he can just make out the black markings along his skin. 

Except they’re red. No, that’s not right. He knows that his ID tattoo is black He’s had it since he was a child, he’s looked at it every single day. He’s looked at others, every. Single. Day. Tango, Zed, everyone had a black tattoo. But his is definitely red- not blood red, like the skin has grown angry or he cut himself. It’s a brighter shade. It reminds him of…

Redstone. It all clicks together now. It’s not the trees that are guiding Xisuma and Cub to Impulse. 

It’s himself. The ink must be redstone infused, more of Cub’s brilliant inventions put to bad use. No matter how far Impulse runs, no matter where he hides, they will know where he is. They always knew where he was, there is no escape from Hermitland so long as his ID tattoo continues to locate his position. 

Which means he’s only trapped himself in this hole. Impulse crawls in the tight space, looking to see if he could dig through. Like he did to escape the city. But he’s met by stone, too strong to break on his own. Impulse listens above him, holding his breath and keeping a keen ear. Xisuma and Cub walk around, trying to pinpoint where he is. 

As their footsteps start to get quieter, more distant, Impulse charges. Through the roots, snapping them in his mad dash to freedom. He stumbles, but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop when he hears Cub and Xisuma exclaim behind him. He doesn’t stop when he hears something clicking, or an arrow whiz past his head. Impulse nearly knocks himself out as he runs into the white bark of a birch tree, careening off it and continuing to run. He can feel his legs aching, tired of running. How long has he been chased? He can’t remember any more.

Lucky for Impulse, he’s faster than Cub and X. Young legs and a limber body, day in and day out of hard work on redstone lines and machinery. He doesn’t stop running until he can no longer hear or see the leaders of the city. Even then, he puts more distance between them and himself. Just for good measure. 

He wants to pass out as he stops. Just to curl up against the bone white birch trees, and let their eyes gaze upon him as he sleeps. At least he knows it’s not the trees that watch for Cub. But that’s something he needs to do before he can even think of resting. He needs to stop from being tracked. 

Impulse sits down, legs throbbing and ankle covered in dried blood and splinters. He turns his arm over, running a finger over the letters and numbers that mark his skin. It’s still warm, the color of activated redstone. They’re still tracking him. 

“Come on, Impulse. You know redstone. How can you get rid of this?” He whispers, looking from his tattoo to the clock still firmly in his grasp. He’s never letting it leave his side. The sun on the clock is rising, firey rays emanating across the light blue sky. 

Fire. Redstone can’t handle high temperatures- it causes the dust to denature, unable to carry the current. Rendering the dust useless. He always had to be careful where he laid redstone lines, making sure they weren’t near hot water pipes or somewhere fire could reach them. Impulse gulps, breathing hitching as he realizes what he’s going to have to do. It’s not going to be pretty. 

And he’s going to have to do it fast. Impulse gathers wood, setting twigs and dry grass into a pile. He digs through his bag, feeling his fingers alight on a small pair of flint and steel. He may be no survivalist, but he does know a thing or two on how to make ends meet. How to make the most out of what little he has. Flint and steel is illegal contraband in the city- nothing that it does is anything Xisuma or his cohorts would want to happen. But it was a tool, made by Tango and his infinite knowledge of underground activities. 

Impulse’s hands shake as he strikes the flint once, twice. Sparks cascade to the grass, burning and lighting the small fire. He feeds the flames, hands shaking as the heat grows. Once it’s burning bright, almost to the point that it’s out of control, Impulse places a flat rock deep into the coals, only a thin end sticking out for him to grab later. Now he needs his hands free, so he places his prized clock on the ground in front of him. He pulls off his white button up shirt, looking at the grass and dirt stains on it. He tugs on the sleeves, then again with more force. The threads snap, and he pulls apart the white shirt. The same white shirt that him and every other person in the city ever wore. It feels good to pull it apart. It feels like betrayal, ripping apart everything he’s ever known, everyone he’s ever loved. 

His hands shake as he pulls the stone loose from the fire, the smooth grey rock hot even on the end that wasn’t submerged in flame. Should Impulse really be doing this? Can’t there be a better way to ruin the ID tattoo’s tracking without hurting himself? He’s sure if he had more time, more resources, more minds to collaborate with, he’d have a better answer. But right now, this is the best he’s got. 

Impulse takes a few small breaths, in and out. Trying to build up the courage to do it. And, in one last deep gulp, he stops thinking and just does it. He presses the heated stone against his skin, crying out into the forest as the heat shocks and burns across his skin. Every nerve in his body screams for him to stop, but he doesn’t let go. Not until he’s sure the redstone has been denatured. He sees the ink of his tattoo fade to black as the skin around it turns a jaded red, and that’s when Impulse finally drops the stone. 

Right onto his clock. The sharp end of the heavy slate rock punctures through the dial of the worn brass face, before the stone collapses across the rest of the face. Impulse gasps, hand holding his arm as he grasps for the clock. Completely ignoring the burning pain as he tosses the rock aside, he gasps and groans with each movement of his arm, picking up the shattered clock face. 

He holds the broken clock close to his ear, silencing his gasping breath to try and listen for the telltale ticking of the gears, the clock slowly turning from day to night and back to day. But it’s silent, immobile. The brass has fractured, dented and broken where the edge of the rock punctured the face. The rest is dented, flattened and bent all out of sorts. Even if the stone didn’t fracture through the clock face, the dents would have ground the gears to a halt. 

It’s broken. The last thing his friends gave him, a little piece of himself back before fleeing, and he broke it. Impulse can’t tell if he’s crying from the pain in his arms or the pain in his heart. Zed and Tango risked being seen to retrieve this clock. They knew how important such a simple little clock was to him. When anyone else would have tossed away as trash, a stupid, poorly designed brass clock, they knew it was his most precious possession. They gave it to him, thinking of him. And he broke it. 

Impulse struggles to wrap the shreds of his shirt sleeve around his arm, protecting the burnt tattoo from further harm. He needs to keep moving. He can’t stop. He can’t afford to stop, not this far in. Not after everything. 

But his pace is slower, sprint falling to a jog, and tears streaking as he carries the broken clock close to his broken heart.

#hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft cub #hermitcraft doc #hermitcraft xisuma #cubfan135 #docm77 #xisumavoid #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits #tw violence #violence cw #cw burns #tw burns

[theguardiansofredland]

“Knock on wood, but I’d rather stay alone. And isolate intuition from unknown. You’ve bent my world now I’ll never figure out. What it means when I see infestations in my dreams.”

-Entomologists by GHOST

#edolas impulse #edolas hermits #dytopia child is traumatized #give him hugs #impulsesv