#cameos by various other dsmp and tiredtwt members

[zero-cycle]

The dark at the end of the light

for @cestusss

(Fair warning: I have never written Purpled before so the characterization might be a bit wonky. TWs for (mostly implied) character death, non-exhaustive description of injury and lots of thinking about killing people. so just standard dsmp things, really.) AO3 link in comments!

“We used to be good people,” Hbomb says and the sun’s evening rays drench him in blood. “This server has a way of twisting people, making them into something they’re not.”

“You maybe,” Purpled answers. The sun touches his face. There is no sun in Bedwars, just eternal light that you’re never quite sure where it comes from. “I’ve always been like this.”

***

The void becomes dark when you go deep enough.

It’s not something that most people know. Even if you play Bedwars regularly, normally you respawn faster than reaching the point where the void becomes dark and empty and unbearable. Purpled had only seen it once, after a game glitched and he got caught on the brink between death and respawn in a doubles game. It had taken Walli the longest ten minutes of Purpled’s life to get an admin to teleport him out.

The void is dangerous, Purpled learned on that day. All Bedwars players treat the void with a certain respect, but if you play long enough, most of the fear vanishes and turns into resignation instead. It’s a part of their life, just like he’s heard Illumina talk about the void at the end of each world. The void marks the end of a round, of a game, of a life – but only temporary, just like there’s always more worlds for speedrunners to beat. But still, the void is dangerous and should be treated with respect. It may not leave marks like the swords and axes he’s learned to handle but it is vast and eternal and dark and not to be trifled with.

There is no void on the Dream SMP. There is no end to the game, or even just one war. No void to treat with respect, just endless ground and even more endless conflicts. Crossteaming is allowed here and even when he does it himself during the Manberg war, it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Schlatt doesn’t deserve his support but the ways the rules he grew up with are ignored or even flaunted makes him shiver sometimes. The Dream SMP is a lawless land and Purpled has to live by the only rule that still counts here: Adapt, or die.

***

“We used to be good people,” Hbomb says and the sun’s evening rays drench him in blood. “This server has a way of twisting people, making them into something they’re not.”

Purpled didn’t mean to find the other man. He was out searching for an untouched place to build a little base in case he’d ever have to abandon his current one and stumbled over the Savannah village entirely by accident. He’s never been friends with Hbomb but it still felt rude to just leave without at least announcing his presence. Back home, his friends would have had his head for it.

Back home, he’d been killing people in games daily.

“You maybe,” Purpled answers. The sun touches his face. There is no sun in Bedwars, just eternal light that you’re never quite sure where it comes from. “I’ve always been like this.”

He doesn’t stay long enough to decipher the emotion on Hbomb’s face.

***

“So what do you think is worse, fire or the void?”

There’s not really a lot of topics left to talk about, which leaves Purpled grasping at straws.

“Fire,” Ponk answers with no hesitation and turns so he’s no longer facing the wall. Purpled looks away from the bloodied bandages around his friend’s arm. He can never change them fast enough that they stay white. He wishes for a moment he’d be back home. There are no scars in Bedwars. No injuries, no ruthless (ex?)boyfriends to hunt somebody down.

“Why?” he asks instead and swallows the anger and the bitterness that aren’t his to feel. Back home, it’d be as easy as to relentlessly target somebody, crossteam on them for a bit, to make somebody pay. Here, with Sam behind iron walls and netherite armor, Purpled feels as helpless as when he got stuck in the void.

“Fire hurts.” Ponk’s tone makes him sound like he thinks Purpled is an idiot.

“So does the void,” Purpled protests.

“Fire hurts more.”

“You don’t even know that!” It’s true. Ponk, born on an SMP, has never touched the void. He’s told Purpled himself, so he knows that his friend is talking out of his ass.

“Okay then Mr. Wise Guy who’s seen so much, tell me fire doesn’t hurt more than the void.”

“Fine,” Purpled sighs, because Ponk is right, as much as he hates to admit it. “Fire hurts more.”

“See?” Ponk grins and it’s the first time Purpled has seen anything other than tears or barely-masked pain on his friend’s face since The Incident.

“You’re right, you’re right, I said it!”

“I’m always right.” Ponk looks smug. “Also…”

“Yeah?”

“Fire leaves something to mourn.” Ponk’s voice is flat. “You can still see the place where it ate through whatever you gave to it. At least the void kills cleanly.”

Purpled thinks of a lemon tree in sunlight, days and hours spent carefully carving it quite right and oh-so-flammable, and swallows.

***

The explosion is hotter than it seems.

Purpled’s first thought after the explosion of his home would probably have been something different if he was a normal person but he isn’t. Bedwars has taught him explosives through the mark of fireballs on his clothes (but never on his skin) and tnt launching him through the air (but never burning him). In Bedwars, explosives are tools to remove things, but they don’t hurt, and they certainly aren’t hot.

This TNT is going up in a fiery blaze with his base in the middle of it and it is as hot as the sun on his face on that evening with Hbomb that seems long-distant now.

Purpled turns and sees Quackity’s face and while the UFO has never been home, he thinks that if they were in a Bedwars game and he had the opportunity to break his bed, he’d shove Quackity into the void instead and watch him suffer for as long as the admins would let him.

***

“What do you think is worse?” Purpled asks on a lazy afternoon, lying on the cold floor of Hypixel’s lobby behind the statues that warp you to Bedwars games.

“Fire,” Walli claims immediately. “Of course it’s fire.”

“What?” Astelic exclaims. “Nononono. It’s void, obviously.”

The two of them start to bicker, just like they did in the doubles game they played earlier despite being teamed together.

Purpled looks over their heads and meets the mismatched eyes of Eighty. The older player looks tired.

“Fire,” he says with his usual calm.

“But…”

“Fire leaves scars.”

Purpled thinks of a blasted-out hole in the ground where his UFO once stood and nods. Eighty, blank, scarless face and arms covered with his signature grey hoodie, nods back.

***

It’s raining.

There’s no rain in deserts, but Las Nevadas has never been normal. Purpled is unnaturally calm. The lever he’s playing with is cold and slippery but he’s played while being shaky from no sleep or completely exhausted after a long day of matches. He has never dropped a weapon and he’s not about to start now.

Everything is prepared.

It’s almost laughably easy, to get Quackity and slime to where they have to stand. Slime opens the chest and like if he’d be buying wool in a bedwars game, Purpled uses his distraction and places the block.

Quackity turns.

Purpled flips the lever.

The hole they drop into has cost Purpled basically all of his free time since he’s arrived in this unnatural desert, this fake home. He thought of Walli and Astelic and Eighty and Sammy and David and Chazm and the others while building it and their faces float in his mind when he makes his way down.

The sky above them is dark. It’s thundering. No stars are visible against the ink-black darkness. Purpled thinks of the void he was trapped in which feels like ages ago. He’d fallen through the light until he’d hit a pit of darkness like the one above them and he’d stopped knowing what was above and what was below.

It’s different, here. The darkness is high on top and the light is here below, fizzing under their feet, the lava hissing angrily against the rain.

“What the fuck are you doing, Purpled!” Quackity yells and Purpled knows he wants him afraid, wants him to reconsider.

He won’t be doing that.

He gets down, finally, and there’s fear behind the anger in Quackity’s eyes. Purpled knows that fear, knows it from sweat on his neck and light in his eyes on his fifth game that morning. It’s the moment the Noobs realize they’re out of their depth, that they’re facing a master.

Quackity talks and Purpled answers on autopilot and nothing comes from it. He knows what he has to do and no talking in the world will stop him from his plans.

He throws the pearl.

Slime is standing there, unaware of what’s about to happen.

Quackity’s eyes go wide, panicking.

There is no dark void here, gentle if only you respect it enough. Instead, fire waits hungrily at the bottom.

Fire leaves scars, Eighty whispers in Purpled’s memories.

Purpled stares at Quackity who’s voice goes high when he realizes what Purpled is about to do.

“No, NO!”

Purpled stares at Quackity and thinks of a ruined hole in the ground and that fire leaves scars.

He pushes.

#purpled #dsmp #nare writes #oh my god am i really gonna bring that tag back lmao #been a while #cameos by various other dsmp and tiredtwt members #gratuitous image of imagery because of course i am #have fun callas :D