#phil your kindness is to your detriment

[justabunchofcrows]

[ Peg slips into Death’s Realm like a second skin, comforting and familiar. He was made here, born and raised here. ]

[ Soft, lovely void is dotted with the endless pockets of soul’s resting places, lush little islands in the vast expanse. He knows at its center is Her home, all glittering chiseled marble and amethyst that sings underfoot. They know the Phil they’ve just left sees Her as a moth - and wonders what Phil-who-dies sees. They see a beautiful woman, cloaked in shiny iridescent black feathers, her massive wings mantled behind Her. ]

[ Almost too quickly, he’s swept through by the path they’ve made. They emerge on the other side with a pop!, and shake their feathers out to look around. They breathe a sigh of relief to have materialized on a bed. They’ve made it to this Phil’s spawnpoint. ]

< @crows-father >

[justabunchofcrows]

[ The best he can do is press themself close to Phil, feathers fluffed up on end. ]

[For once, Peg is speechless. ]

[He meets Phil's eyes, their own wide and uncomprehending. They'd expected the Fed to punish him, not Phil's family. He'd made no attempt to hide himself, had been the one to pour the lava - he'd expected to have to protect chat, not the fledgelings. What a stupid fucking oversight. He's an idiot. ]

[Their beak parts, but no sound comes out. ] 🎗

{ red text reads: idiot }

Phil makes a huffy almost-laugh, more horrified than anything, noise and shakes his head. He has nothing to say. There's nothing he can say. What do you do here? In a situation like this? He says lingering on the wall, having sent Tallulah and Missa back inside. He stands amongst silent crows, nothing but the wind to speak to them.

[thewertsearch]

GG: last time i talked to you i was asking for help and you were just nakking at me GG: what was up with that bro??? TG: ok i dont know what youre talking about it was probably just some horrorterror chirping at you during one of your nap bubble mindfucks

I love how blasé Dave is about Jade's hell-dreams. By this point, you have to just take these things in stride.

TG: i just saw you [...] TG: you appeared for a second TG: shooting at an imp [...] GG: those stupid things are impossible to kill :( TG: no you can kill them TG: youll get better dont worry

I wouldn't be so sure, Dave - these aren't the same Imps that you've been fighting so far. I don't see how any Player could kill them, short of alchemizing a First Guardian weapon.

TG: hey its pretty fucking cold [...] TG: so im gonna go some place warm be back in a while later -- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] -- GG: wait! GG: dave!! GG: uuugh stupid lousy cool dudes -- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] -- TG: ok im back

That's a neat trick. Homestuck's time travel may be restrictive, but there are still plenty of cool ways you can apply it.

TG: i guess im sorta used to it by now i dont think of hours going by the same way anymore TG: i mean TG: they are my hours but not everyone elses theyre kind of like private hours all to myself TG: while everyone else is sort of in slow motion stuck in the thick of the alpha

Time loop posts are currently fashionable on Tumblr, so I've been thinking a lot about the benefits and detriments of the classic Phil Connors scenario.

For the first time ever, your time is truly yours. No matter how disorganized you are, there are no consequences for your inactions. You can finally actually take your time, instead of constantly having to convince yourself you're not wasting it can you tell I have ADHD

Anyway, the clock isn't ticking quite as loud for Dave as it is for the others - although, unlike with an actual Groundhog Day loop, he doesn't have infinite time. He might say he's disconnected from the Alpha, but he's still beholden to the actions of his future selves.

[missycolorful]

omgg, i saw a few posts about the glass child stuff but never really got too into it bc i felt like they were always missing something. i wasn't really sure what that was until i saw your post, where you mentioned lullahs abandonment issues, and everything just clicked. it just all makes sense now bc i know one of the biggest proponents to the "chays STILL a glass child" is qphils seemingly continuing to prioritize lullah over chay, when looking back at most of said moments it does feel more like a dad making sure the child who was abandoned doesnt feel like that ever again. i also feel like some of the issues come with qphils falling into habits, lullah hasn't really needed extra help in a while, but i don't feel as if that notion has fully into qphils mind yet. i would just love if both lullah and chay got one on one time with qphil bc i love them together, but i think each of them often times holds something back for the others' sake, y'know? lullah and bads and/or chay and tubbos recent solo hangouts kinda showcase the difference in dynamic. anyways, tl;dr you have amazing insight and an attention to detail that i, and i feel like a majority of others, missed out on, and i would love to see more character analysis/insights done by you, if you're interested of course!

oh my goodness, thank you you're far too kind, haha!! 😭

yeah, tbh, I'm kinda surprised that part of Phil's reasoning was either not considered or even ignored. When he mentioned them "being alone," Tallulah's abandonment issues instantly came to mind; it's a huge part of her arc, y'know? So, yeah I can't see this as him accommodating Lullah's disabilities while disregarding Chay; rather, it was him thinking about her literal trauma. If it were switched (Chay had these issues, not Lullah), Phil would go for him in a heartbeat. Why people spun it as "he wasn't worried about Chay" is wild to me.

i also feel like some of the issues come with qphils falling into habits,

mhhm, that's about the crux of it. Yes, q!Phil has trained Tallulah in PVP , and neither he nor Chay recently hover over her during pvp, but when it comes to adjusting to how much his kids have changed, we're still getting there. And not just cuz of, like I said, being separated during Purgatory makes it hard for Phil to grasp what they went through. But bc he himself isn't quite in tune with his own emotions/trauma. It's a detriment to helping his children and growing as a parent, and is part of his own character growth that he is surely yet steadily going through.

And YES! I'd LOVE for the kids to have one-on-ones with Philza. They usually come in pairs, which y'know, is what makes a lot of these issues so difficult. The kids don't have time to be alone with their father, bc they're typically online with him at the same time. I crave that sole father/son bonding, not just bc they need it, but because I love their dynamic so much <3

tbh, i usually limit my character analysis to my main POV, sometimes others if I feel confident enough (i.e. Missa, Baghera). Last thing I wanna do is write analysis that does injustice to a character - any cc!phil fan knows this pain, both in this fandom and others lol! and also some characters I'm admittedly… kinda scared to talk about bc some fans get uber defensive if you talk about any of their negative traits; all fanbases have people like this, of course, crows are NO exception, but this one specifically just… I'd need to be prompted to discuss this character whom I won't specify haha. regardless, if you or anyone else ever wants to ask about my insights on qsmp characters, whether q!Phil or others, I'm more than willing to at least give it a try. thank you again! :)

[god1ngs]

━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.

[justabunchofcrows]

COWARDS. THE BOTH OF YOU

would you rather fight 10 bears (the animal) or 10 bears (the gay men)

.........................................................................Hm.

[justabunchofcrows]

[ It’s the growing feeling of dread in his gut more than the silence. Flying alongside Phil again should have felt right, like a puzzle piece clicking perfectly into place. The sky, their oldest friend, the wind in his feathers. ]

[ The closer they get to the coords in the book, the harder it feels to breathe, the muscles stretched across their breastbone taught as bowstrings. The trees are gorgeous, and the songs of countless birds fill the air - it doesn’t lift the suffocating malaise that surrounds this errand. ]

[ He tells himself that it’s because they’re cooperating with the Fed. ]

[ Phil’s voice is desperate when they reach the door of a beautiful wooden house, one whose shape is disturbingly familiar. They follow at his heels, eager to find the fledgeling. The shape and feel of the outside stay stuck in his brain as he frantically searches for Chayanne, blinking rapidly to keep their vision clear in the dusty air. ]

[ It looks like a birdhouse. A cutesy one a little old grandma would put out on her backyard tree. ]

[ They want to make a sound, a call, but some deep-rooted instinct stills the noise in their throat. Something in his bones feels hunted. ]

[ He does not think a kindly old woman built this house. ]

[ The door slams shut. ]

[ A Cage for a Cage. ]

Red text reads: a cage for a cage.

[mariaiscrafting]

political science nerd coming in w thoughts on anarchy on the dream smp

no one asked for it, but here I am to rant about and overanalyze how different characters on the SMP relate to anarchist beliefs

anarchy is, basically, not just wanting to live without government, but wanting to live without the unjust social hierarchies set up by government. 

technoblade, for example, made sure that part of his manifesto states no one will be forced to fight against their will; on the other hand, under a government, everyone is expected to fight for the nation’s agenda - ranboo was expected to follow the butcher army, eret’s knights are expected to fight for the dream smp, etc.

tubbo is probably the best example of someone non-corrupt who is simply diametrically opposed to anarchist beliefs. he is not just representative of the government because techno uses him as that villanious figurehead. tubbo genuinely believes that society best functions under leadership that can be provided by government; but with leadership, comes unjust hierarchies. tubbo wants leadership because he thinks society is most stable and able to function properly when there is a leader at the top to oversee society, people working under that leader - as executioners, enforcers of the law, an administrative body, etc. - and the citizens that live under the government. the creation of hierarchies isn’t inherently a bad thing, in tubbo’s mind; it’s actually necessary to ensure civility and stability.

another person who wants government, but for selfish beliefs that aren’t really against anarchist theory itself, is quackity. quackity benefits from those unjust hierarchies enforced by the existence of a government. his position as vice president or on the cabinet gives him power - soft power, as in, influence over the leaders (getting close to schlatt via romance, manipulating tubbo to follow his plans), and hard power, as in, the authority to make laws and enforce them when he sees fit. quackity wants government not because he thinks it’s necessary for society to function properly, like tubbo, but because he is one of the privileged few who benefits from the power government provides. he would be anti-anarchist simply because anarchists threaten the systems that provide him with power.

eret is... interesting. he seems to understand that the ways governments have functioned in the dream smp and l’manberg have been flawed and actually detrimental, in the long-run. while tubbo still believes in government because the concept makes logical sense to him, so he wants to keep pursuing the experiment until it works out correctly, eret has seen how governments have failed and might want to give up on the concept. eret said that he only wanted to be king because he thought his kingship would allow him to change people’s lives for the better. these are the words of a benevolent leader who thinks their position of power could be enough to dictate people’s lives and steer them towards improvement. but because his kingship never had enough authoritative power - that is, it was never truly seen as legitimate to the people, besides his knights - he never was able to fully harness it to enact these improvements. so now he’s left empty and directionless; the functions of his government were never fulfilled and cannot be fulfilled, so what now?

phil’s pull to anarchism is pretty straightforward. he witnessed how government and the yearn to regain a position in government drove his son to madness, driving phill to kill him at his behest. he’s also a witness to l’manberg’s relentless pursuit of “justice.” for the l’manberg cabinet, a criminal needs to receive retributive justice at all costs, no matter the perpetrator’s current character or actions. phil sides with techno because he’s against this idea of retributive justice - an eye for an eye, a murder demands the death of another. he knows who techno is as a person - someone who combats their own bloodlust everyday, someone who struggles in social situations and with peer pressure - and he knows that techno has changed in his ways, and for phil, that’s enough. he doesn’t think justice needs to be enacted as long as the friend he is defending is not the same person who enacted whatever crime was committed - an ideology directly in contradiction with most governments, which usually enact retributive justice under their justice systems.

ranboo’s character is more a critique of the loyalty governments demand from their citizens, than anything else. governments are created within society under a contract (yay, bringing in john locke into this minecraft roleplay analysis, we love to see it): citizens give up some of their alienable rights in exchange for the protections that come from living under a government. in l’manberg, one of the expectations of this contract is that, if ranboo wants to be included among the citizens of l’manberg and take shelter in its buildings, he is expected to follow their doctrines and join in their cause. but ranboo doesn’t like choosing sides; that is, he doesn’t like showing exclusive loyalty to just one person or group of people - including governments. ranboo thinks loyalty should lie with whoever that individual chooses to trust - the people who show you kindness and mercy and companionship. he doesn’t believe in loyalty towards a nation or even a collective group based on the sole nature of that group; that is to say, just because you are a citizen of x place, doesn’t mean x place should expect your loyalty. does that make him an anarchist...? i’m not totally sure.

[miaclemeverett]

"PHIL, YOUR KINDNESS IS A DETRIMENT. ONE DAY I WILL USE YOU"

[justabunchofcrows]

NOTHING NEVERMIND

wait why am i surprised theres cops this is a fuckjng prison

[amintyworld]

I'm Like You - Origins SMP Oneshot

A/N: So... Origins SMP may be over but that won't stop me from posting this-! :D

Origins SMP please come back

Anyway here's some hurt/comfort more on the fluffy side. - Minty

TW: Blood/gore, mention of death, kidnapping, mention of chopping one's wings off, mention of selling body parts, almost drowning, cursing. (Let me know if I need to add anything else!)

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Phil remembered the day they found him - he was tangled in some seaweed and reeds, floating along in the water, leaving a trail of crimson red in his wake. The teenager's right wing was a shamble of blood and feathers, bruises and cuts littering his skin that ignited Phil's anger - he had half a mind to find that damn village and set it ablaze. But, his mind made sure the boy was the priority. Phil untangled him, thankful that the ocean hadn't let him float out to sea, and pulled him on land, quickly searching for a pulse and practically sighing in relief when he'd found one. Phil wondered how long the kid had been out here - he felt ice-cold to the touch, skin ghostly pale.

He remembered, holding the teenager close in his arms as he took off in the air, wondering why. Why would someone hurt a kid, a child, for something they couldn't control? Why would someone have so much hate in their hearts to land deadly hits on a defenseless person? Why then, after everything they did to him, did they leave him in the river to die? Phil never really got an answer that night as he returned toward Ghostbur's mansion on the mountain. He guessed that maybe the world just didn’t have an answer, or rather, they just didn’t have an answer he wanted to hear.

Phil’s roommate, a good-natured phantom called Ghostbur, practically rushed the kid upstairs to a bed, grabbing supplies before Phil even had a chance to explain what happened. “Ghostbur, you really shouldn’t-!” Phil huffed as he launched himself to the second level, grabbing his friend by the arm, feeling his friend’s body shake with adrenaline, emotion. “Wil, he’s got a broken wing - wings are very sensitive and extremely delicate, we need to be careful.” His hand reached up to steady his phantom friend. “Can you grab a couple of potions, bandages, as well as a needle and thread for me? I’ll work on cleaning him up.”

The phantom took a deep breath, silently phasing through the floor beneath his feet to grab the items Phil requested. He understood Ghostbur’s worry - damaged wings for winged creatures could quickly turn detrimental, it was a natural part of who they were, how they felt, and sensed danger around them. Without it, they’d feel incomplete, empty, but most importantly - they’d be in their most vulnerable state.

Phil’s fingers were soft and light as he cleaned out the wounded wing, picking out and straightening feathers that were stuck, misshapen, or out of place. Gently, using lukewarm water, he washed the dirt, rocks, and dried blood from the wound, careful to move slowly so as to not cause alarm to the kid. Ghostbur floated up next to him, placing the things he asked for on the bedside table, crossing his arms, and looking over to the teenager. “Is he gonna be okay, Phil?”

“I…” Phil sighed. “I dunno. The wound’s deep, half his flying feathers are gone… thank gods whoever left him had a shit aim, it looks like they were trying to take the wing off at the source.”

“Can you fix it?”

“...I can try.”

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Tommy’s head pounded, his body wrapped in a comforting warmth that practically screamed at him to sink into. His muscles ached for rest, but Tommy knew he needed to get moving. His head ached so much it made his brain go fuzzy as he struggled to remember what happened yesterday. He and Tubbo were moving to go collect some honey… Did he fall asleep again?

Tommy would admit it wouldn’t be the first time he found a good sunlight patch to catch a nap and the shulker hybrid had to carry him back to their base on the mountain. How long had he slept? Why was he still tired?

His ears perked up as he heard shuffling around him. His instincts began to flare, sending signals up his spine. Wait… the hunters… the hunters took him… Tubbo’s in danger-

He felt someone touch his wing, gently moving it toward themselves. His wing… they tried to take his wings, they wanted to sell them for money-! Tommy’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t home. He didn’t know where he was and a stranger was touching his wing.

dangerdangerdanger-

Ignoring his body’s protests to rest, he leaped up, surprising the attacker as he tackled him toward the wall quickly to restrain him, pinning his neck with his arm. A crash sounded behind him but Tommy didn’t care. He was getting out of here and saving Tubbo no matter what. His eyes bore into the ill-intended stranger, ready for a fight. “Where am I?!”

The stranger’s eyes flicked up toward Tommy’s, at first matching his intense gaze before quickly softening, silent as he became acutely aware of the razor-sharp talons digging into his leg. “You’re in my house.” He did his best to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Where’s Tubbo?”

“Who-”

Tommy slammed the man back against the wall. “Don’t act dumb you fucker, where’s the shulk?!”

“I don’t know, okay?! Just-!”

Tommy’s eyes flicked over toward the window - an escape! He needed to get out of here, clearly Tubbo got taken somewhere else if the stranger didn’t know him. He needed to get free and… and come up with some kind of plan...yeah! Adrenaline pumping like mad from the close encounter, the stranger noticed his gaze as realization hit him.

“Wait… hold on, you really shouldn’t-!”

Tommy felt the wind flow underneath his wings, perched on the window ledge. They were achingly sore - who knows how long he’d been trapped here? Moving to crack a tense spot in his back, Tommy felt a sense of relief. He smiled, knowing that his wings wouldn’t be sore for much longer. They just needed to stretch.

Phil rushed forward, an inch too late as Tommy leaped from the building.

The teenager stretched his wings out to catch himself on the breeze, confident for the span of at least a minute. He closed his eyes like he usually did to better focus. Why couldn’t he feel his wings picking him up? Why wasn’t his body doing what he needed to - it was as simple as taking a step! Just stretch and glide on the breeze.

Stretch, and…

For the first time since the avian learned to fly, Tommy found himself crashing down onto the grass. Shame welled up in his stomach, paired with confusion. Hearing the door bang open behind him added to it all a twinge of fear. He stumbled, trying in vain to gather his bearings. Ignoring the sting of scratches from the crash, he ran into the forest.

“Wait! Mate, just wait for a second!”

The wind picked up through the trees, tangling through hair and setting practically every nerve on Tommy’s wings aflame. There was danger. He needed to fly. He needed to fly away, but… but he couldn’t. He was trapped and alone with hunters chasing him down to finish the job they started. He couldn’t stop running. He couldn’t, because if he did he could say goodbye to flying ever again. He’d never grow his wings back, and he’d look like a useless disgusting human.

He’d be normal.

Flying was the only hybrid skill, the only uniqueness about him. Tommy would rather die than ever have that stripped away from him. Chopping away bone, muscle, and feather - all in the interest of earning a few gold coins! Well, fuck them. His body barely running on energy as it was, his legs gave out on him as he fell to the ground again.

No. Please.

He heard footsteps, flipping around to see the blonde man. Pure fear gripped him for the first time in his life. He scooted backwards as the man tried to approach. Another pathetic attempt at escaping - why was he even trying anymore? His back hit a tree trunk, his wings shrinking back, as scared as he was. Yet, the blonde man moved closer.

“Stay back! Stay back, or…” Tommy struggled, quickly moving to grab a rock, holding it up in some sort of threat. As if a rock could take down a hybrid hunter. “...or I will mess you up, bro!”

The blonde man stopped walking forward. “Look, I know you’re confused and scared, I would be too. But I promise, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Liar! I won’t let you take them!”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Take them…? I…” He looked down at the teenager in sympathy. “I don’t want your wings, I swear!”

“Bullshit!” Tommy yelled. “I know your game, stop acting so innocent! You can’t lure me in, you can’t make me trust a single word you say, hunter!”

“I’m not... I’m not a hunter, okay?” Phil said, stepping closer and making Tommy tense. He sat down four feet away from the teen, taking a deep breath before shouldering off his green robe, leaving the white tank. Immediately, a pair of translucent, metallic wings unfurled from his back, so large Tommy almost felt intimidated. Tommy wanted to say something, but words died on his throat. Phil shrugged his shoulders after stretching his wings out looking up toward the avian. He awkwardly smiled. “...well mate, I’m like you.”

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General Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added/removed!):

@bones-sprouts

@benzel

@foolishcaptains

[bonesandthebees]

Stars! At the start of the chapter when Tommy leaves to train with Techno, Wilbur already shows off that paranoia and trust issue which has just been exponentially increasing. He doesn't want to go to training to improve himself or connect with Tommy or Techno at all, his main reason is to find out what Techno is feeding Tommy and what information Techno is getting as well. It's like the gears in his head have completely switched and it's detrimental to his mental state, yikes.

Wilbur staring at his hands, watching the "blaziphane" slip through his fingers is one of my favourite paragraphs in this entire chapter. I love myself a good analogy!!

The amount of ice comparisons for this planet and its people is actually kind of interesting. A cold person and emperor, icy looks on the faces of the guards and even an icy stare on Phil's face, the atmosphere almost always being chilly even in terms of tension and socialising, goddamn.

- ❄️

hi finally getting to answering these sorry for the delay snowflake!! lol yeah wilbur is NOT doing very well mentally, though he literally hasn't been in a good mental state since chapter 1 so

aaa thank you I was very proud of the blaziphane analogy. i thought it just gave a very pretty mental image while also acting as a great representation of wilbur's mental state.

also you nailed it, zephys iv is rooted in ice metaphors and descriptors on purpose. it's the antarctic empire for a reason. the capital planet is cold, and the emperor and his people are even colder. they're sharp, frigid, and deadly but in a controlled way. sometimes, the threat isn't a raging wildfire that you have to escape from. sometimes, the threat is an icicle hanging over your head which you know is eventually going to break off, you just don't know when :)

[justabunchofcrows]

Man I thought we only had to deal with weird totalitarian company owned island shit and now there’s cops. Look out for the bullets chatters

Oh now I'm getting attacked by crows. Well, thank the federation I have an installed gun.

[mihidecet]

SBI d&d AU: Tommy (2)

I’m back! This is the second part of Tommy’s POV for the au, and it’s directly connected to the previous part!

There is a third part coming, probably in a couple of weeks! ((I’ll be a bit busy due to Writober starting today, but I really want to keep adding to this AU! Also, if you maybe want to check out what I’ll be posting … You’ll find them on AO3, even tho they’re not mcyt related))

Also!! Soon we’ll have another character sheet! A special thanks to @spout1nk for bouncing off ideas with me about Techno’s, which will come in the future!

And as always a special thank you to @whatimevendoinhere , who is an amazing and incredible friend and also a super poggers artist!

There are slight trigger warnings for this chapter: there’s characters getting injured twice, and mentions of blood. There’s also a brief example of d&d level of violence. Let me know if I should add more or underline possible triggering parts!

Thank you all for readign and for all the wonderful support, all the follows and likes and comments! It really means a lot and it gives me so much encouragement to keep writing!

For the next couple of months, rumors of the kid that beat Technoblade - the shadow thief, the most infamous assassin of the realm - spread like wildfire. 

At first, it’s just Tommy coming up with stories. 

He vaguely mentions besting Techno in hand-to-hand combat, then says he’s had it since they met and it’s the reason why he was allowed into the group. One time, he states he stole it from under his nose. Another time, he tricked Techno into drinking a sleeping potion and pocketed it as he was unconscious. 

His personal favourite is: one time, as they were sparring, he backflipped over Techno’s head and grabbed the knife from his very hand; Techno was so impressed by his moves that he gifted it to him out of respect. Phil wheezed so hard when he heard it that he lost his voice for almost half a day, and because of that nobody believed his story, but it was still worth - just for hearing Phil laugh. 

Then one night, in a squallid tavern, Will sings the song of the young warlock who tricked the thief, sold his soul just to steal a knife, and it kicks off a whole new wave of rumors. 

And everything goes perfectly well. 

Everyone focuses on the rumors, the stories. Their popularity increases, their job offers multiply. 

Tommy gets to show off half of his present, and get to keep what’s really meaningful all to himself.

It works perfectly well, up until it doesn’t. 

With fame comes a peculiar kind of danger, one that is born from the mind of really, really dumb people that like to think that if they’re prepared enough, they might have a shot at defeating them - as if an ancient black dragon hadn’t already tried his best against them and failed. 

Still, this one particular time, the whole team realises quickly that whoever is trying to get to them has come prepared. 

They attack in the middle of the day, which is unusual but efficient: everyone in the team can see in the dark, so attacking at night would be useless, or even detrimental if whoever was attacking had to rely on torches. 

They also attack in the middle of the street of a crowded town. Techno and Phil had realised they were being followed a couple of days prior, and they’d decided to head to the nearest village in hope of covering their tracks, or at least buy themselves some time to find out how many and who was tracking them, assuming whomever it was wouldn’t attack them out in the open. 

Instead the first knife flies directly towards Phil during a late morning, while they’re looking for a place to eat. Phil dodges, then curses and raises a hand to still catch the dagger, which would have otherwise hit a farmer he had been talking with - blood splatters on the poor man’s face as Phil yells at everyone to get away. 

With the crazed crowd of a Monday market, most of the team has to restrain themselves. Tommy can’t really summon a demon in public, Phil won’t be able to transform into a bear and Wilbur will have to rely on his swordmanship, instead of destroying his enemies’ eardrums and minds. 

Still, it’s not like they don’t have anything else at their disposal. 

The Tommy of two years prior would have never been able to survive, but while his stories of beating Techno are mostly false, the two of them have been sparring for a long time. Techno is an incredibly strict teacher, but that just means that he has more control of where his spheres of fiery eldritch power land. 

He sees Phil direct a handful of people away from the danger, while Wilbur makes sure to attract most of their enemies’ attention by hurling insults at them - one of them stumbles back, hands moving up to clutch at their head as Will’s words echo inside their mind. 

There’s a flash of colour, then a figure falls to the ground: Techno stands behind them for a moment before throwing one of his daggers at an incoming enemy. 

Seeing him fight is always an incredible spectacle, but this time Tommy doesn’t allow himself to be distracted. 

There’s nowhere to hide in the big, empty square they’re fighting in, and there are still innocent people trying to escape. Phil is expending spells left, right and centre, creating walls and shooting out healing magic in order to prevent people from dying and getting targeted - Tommy sees a figure jump in front of a cobbler, blade drawn, and then lock up, muscles freezing as Phil takes hold of his body with a clutched fist and a shaking arm. Techno swoops by a moment later, taking care of the paralyzed fool before disappearing again. 

There are enemies appearing from all sides, and it gets more and more clear that this is not only a well organized group but also a group with enough money to spend on people willing to be cannon fodder for them. 

Tommy keeps his distance, shoots anyone that approaches him and picks off enemies that threaten his teammates (family) whenever he can. Each time someone falls to the ground, he hears a joyful whoop ring inside his head, usually followed by an exclamation of “another one for my collection!”, and feels his strength increasing - small wisps of flames circling around him, and he knows his eyes are glowing after the fifth one.

It takes some time - there are a few moments when Tommy knows that if he weren’t so focused he would be getting bored - but eventually the number of goons approaching starts to dwindle, and then stops. Tommy only needs a quick look at Wilbur’s heaving chest, Phil’s limp and Techno’s tired frame to decide he’s going to get up close and personal to finish the last three remaining enemies. 

One would think that someone, seeing a half-demon glowing with fire and shooting spheres of dark red energy, would back off with the rest of his retreating friends. Apparently that is not the case, as one of them is dumb enough to try his hand at fighting him the moment he sees him approaching the group. 

And the thing is, normally Tommy wouldn’t even blink and incinerate the man, but he has been casting a lot more spells than usual in order to keep everything at bay, and he is in the process of shooting a ball of fiery energy at another dumbass cornering Wilbur - who’s clutching at his rapier with both hands, arms shaking with exhaustion. 

So the attack comes out of nowhere, from his left, and he only notices the man when it’s too late: one moment he’s there, the next there’s a thin, vertical gash running from the edge of his elbow up to his shoulder. 

The pain is there, but not much - he’s young, yes, but he’s also been an adventurer for a while - but then he feels a small pressure alleviating from around his upper arm. 

Oh no. No no nononono- 

His mind is suddenly filled with shock. Then rage, as he unleashes the ball of energy he’d been in the middle of casting right into that bastard’s face with a loud snarl - one for him, and one just a moment later straight to the leg of the bastard threatening Wilbur. 

But he’s not even aware of that because this guy *just broke Techno’s friendship bracelet*.

The stranger falls to the ground silently, lifelessly, but Tommy’s already sitting down on the ground, frantically tearing at his cut open sleeve as he mutters curses to himself, tears of frustration pricking at his eyes. 

A moment later a pair of hands are on his, and he looks up at Phil’s worried but reassuring eyes. 

“Don’t worry Tommy, it’s just a scratch-”

“No no no you don’t get it! He- he cut the bracelet!” Tommy protests; he hates how his voice pitches up and how Phil’s eyes soften, but at that moment Techno and Wilbur join them, also looking worriedly down at his bleeding arm, and Tommy slips the bracelet free of his arm. The onyx bead is still hanging on by a thread, and the young warlock has to carefully keep the whole thing in the palm of his hand - the edges where it got cut are already undoing themselves and Tommy is so *angry* about it-

“You kept it?” Techno asks, having the gall to sound surprised, and Tommy can’t help but sputter in indignation, waving his injured hand around - because his non injured one is cradling the broken bracelet, despite the frustrated hum Phil lets out as he prevents him from cleaning the wound. 

“Of course I did! What did you think, that I threw away your gift?! I might be rude but I’m not an asshole!" 

"Point taken.” He mumbles back, and after a moment of quiet awkwardness Wilbur elbows him in the side. The two of them share one of those silent eye-conversations that they love to take part in, which Tommy is absolutely not jealous of. Then Wilbur claps his hands together and announces he’s going to call the guards and make sure no townsperson got injured. 

Techno lets himself sit down silently as Phil grabs his arm and starts cleaning up the gash. The thief lets out a tired sigh: Tommy can see from the corner of his eye how tired he is - being the only one of the team used to up close, one on one fighting in urban streets, probably made him feel like he had to compensate for all three of them. Which is true, he indeed had, but Tommy knows he’s probably more tired from the adrenaline and anxiety that though caused than the actual fight. 

“… I’m sorry it got cut up. I thought if I kept it here it would be safe.” Tommy comments at one point, while Phil is unrolling a gauze from his healing kit - the fact that he’s not using magic to close the cut is a testament to how hard that fight was. Or maybe he’s just being cautious, in case the goons change their mind and decide to come back, or in case there are more coming soon.

“I mean, we can always make another one.” Tommy’s head snaps up so fast that he almost gets whiplash.

“We can?” He asks, unable to mask the excitement and awe in his voice - it’s worth it, because it does bring a small smile to Techno’s face. Phil finished tying the bandage around his arm at that moment, letting out a huff of breath and standing up.

“After we’ve gone back to the tavern and eaten. We’re laying low for a while.” The elf states, staring both of them down as he offers Tommy a hand to help him up. 

“Alright, dad.” Techno sasses, rolling his eyes, but Phil’s face just lights up and the thief instantly looks pained and regretful.

“Right, I forgot that’s not an insult to you.” Phil’s grin just gets more brighter as he pats the thief’s back and nods towards where Wilbur is approaching them, followed by a handful of guards.

“Come on, sons, let’s go get your brother.”

[bugboyisdumb]

"Phil, your kindness is a detriment. One day, I will use you."

-Tommyinnit

[justabunchofcrows]

Okay OW

But. On the bright side. There IS a hole in a window now and I am capable of fitting in many holes.