#double life smp fanfic

[happy-hermit]

Just a Desert Duo Double Life snippet because they're taking over my brain :]

(Ao3 Link)

Scar knows what people say about him. 

He hears the whispers, and the sighs, and the muffled laughter. And he knows that they don’t mean it in a bad way. He knows they’re just teasing. He gets it, he’s an easy target, and sometimes it really is funny. 

It works out, then, that they’re always getting thrown into worlds where there’s not much else to laugh about. 

The first time it happens, he gets three lives. They all do, and in true Scar fashion, he doesn’t hold on to his green life for long. 

He doesn’t get to be different, here. He gets to die early and drag the person responsible off to their own corner of the world to build a sandcastle, like they’re kids at the beach playing at being royalty and pretending that it won’t all just get washed away when the tide comes in. He gets to listen to Grian complain about being stuck in his service, gets to hear him warning others not to trust him, gets to hear him scream his name as he falls to the bottom of that stupid ravine. 

Scar gets to wake up with red eyes and a voice in his head telling him to kill, and he gets to stop on the way back to Grian to pick flowers, and Grian stays. Even after his debt is paid, he stays.

He lives with that kill-kill-kill voice in his head for a long, long time before it turns its attention to Grian. (It had been easier, he supposes, to keep it pointed in other directions when there were more people to target.) And then, when it’s just the two of them left in the whole empty world, they go back to their ruined castle and they fight until one of them dies. 

It is no surprise to anyone, that Scar is the one to go. Grian had kept him alive for weeks. It’s not shocking that Scar doesn’t last long after he stops trying. (And maybe Scar stops trying, too.)

—------------

Two minutes or a million years later, they get thrown into another world — a world where they have the option to share. The Universe sees fit to give him more lives than almost anyone else, because apparently even the Cosmos is in on the joke. Everyone knows that Scar can’t go two seconds without dying in some cartoonish or stupid way, and this place, this arena of death—

Well, Scar supposes it just wants a good show. 

He gets seven lives. He gives one to Grian, and watches his eyes turn from bright yellow to neon green, and for a few seconds it’s like they’re back in the desert, like they could be a team again, and maybe Scar can get it right this time. 

He tries to get Grian to come with him, later. He tries. But Grian doesn’t owe him a debt anymore, so there’s no reason for him to stay. Scar can’t just pick him flowers and ask him to be his friend, anymore, so Grian goes off with his shiny new group and Scar lives on a mountain alone.

And he stays that way, mostly, unless someone wants something from him enough to seek him out. He takes the enchanter so that they have a reason to visit. He tries to gather loyalty, and he tries to sell fake crystals, and he is alone, because no one who isn’t obligated would ever want to stay.

Scar isn’t built for being alone. It settles as a heavy weight in his chest that he can’t quite shake, and it sends him tumbling into deaths left and right and all at once, stumbling blindly towards danger for the promise of someone at least being close enough to see it happen.

(There is a trap, between him and Grian, and he knows this because he told him about it. The Southlanders with their spyglasses and jokes and fortress built a trap in their doorway, and Scar walks right into it. All he’d seen was the distance between them, and hadn’t been able to ignore the urge to shorten it. It costs him.)

He wakes up with red eyes and the faint itch to kill, and he thinks that he would rather die with witnesses than live all alone. 

(Scar, of course, doesn’t win the game.)

(No one ever does.)

—-----------

They appear in a new world, and it has new rules. They can all tell immediately, that their heart isn’t just their own anymore. There’s a sense of connection, there. A bond. He feels it as he explores; the odd jolt in his legs from his soulmate hitting the ground a bit too hard, the sharp sting of an arrow that didn’t quite hit its mark but didn’t miss, either.

An anxious knot forms in his throat to accompany the ever-present weight in his chest. It’s hard to speak around it, when he runs into Grian and Etho and Joel and wonders absentmindedly how long it will be before they leave. 

He finds an Allay and names it Minnie, and he gives it a dirt block so it will stay. (He tries not to think about a different world, then, and flowers to buy a friendship. He tries.) He finds a jungle with Jellie-Pandas, and thinks that at least he’d have company, if he settled there. At least it wouldn’t be quite so quiet, and he could pretend that he wasn’t talking to himself.

He watches Grian as they explore, and tries not to look at him too much, and he hears the jokes. Hears how they lament over whoever gets stuck with him, whoever has to babysit him, and Scar thinks that maybe it would be kinder to his Soulmate if he didn’t find them. If he didn’t try. He’s had some practice being alone, now. Better alone than a liability. Better alone than a burden.

Grian hovers around him for days, like some kind of judgemental shadow, though Etho and Joel’s presence makes it seem less strange. He meets people, he meets pairs who have found their other half, and he smiles in a way that feels painful and strained and he laughs when they ask him if he’s found his soulmate, and he changes the subject because it’s easy. It’s expected. 

He’s Scar. Carefree and reckless and accident-prone, and anyone’s absolute last choice for someone they’d want to share a life with.

He goes back to the Jellie-Pandas, and he finds an empty cave, and he thinks that maybe it’s even worse to be alone in a world specifically designed to prevent it. 

It isn’t even 24 hours before Grian shows up in his little jungle, something determined and sad in his eyes that makes Scar taste blood and sand in his mouth before he registers that those eyes are still green. He hangs a stalactite from a tree, and Scar knows how this game goes, so he stands under it like he asks. He can be comic relief, he thinks as he eyes the stalactite. It isn’t high enough to kill him, or even hurt that badly. His heart still speeds up.

“Alright, okay,” Grian says, a faint anxiety in his voice that Scar doesn’t quite understand. “Now look at me. Look directly at me.”

Scar looks at him, meets his eyes, and thinks that green really is a better color than red. 

“Okay, I’m looking directly at you,” Scar says, holding bamboo in his hand so that the Jellie-Pandas won’t wander off. 

One of them makes a noise just as Grian starts to mine the stalactite, and Scar turns to it as a welcome distraction, cooing and laughing. The spike impacts his head and breaks apart into pieces on the ground, and Scar winces, but continues to feed the Jellies bamboo in a slightly shaking hand. 

“Scar!” Grian sounds frustrated and frayed. 

Scar barely resists flinching, a spark of annoyance and confusion burning in his chest. Grian is a lot of things, but he isn’t cruel. He’s not. But Scar doesn’t know what he wants from him. 

“Scar— Okay, I can only do this one more…” Grian places another stalactite over his head, and Scar looks up at it and blinks, frowning. “Look at me, Scar.”

Scar swallows hard, and he looks. Grian stares back at him with a flat mouth and uncertain eyes. He can count on one hand, the amount of times Grian has looked unsure. The guy usually seemed more like a force of nature than a human being, like he was some kind of mischievous deity more than a man. 

Scar looks. 

Grian breaks the stalactite. 

There’s a moment where time stretches and slows, where Scar feels like he’s been holding his breath for a thousand years, like he’s been holding his breath since they were stuck in that desert. 

Then the stalactite hits, and Scar watches as Grian winces when Scar does, watches his eyes flash red the moment it makes contact, the way his hand twitches at his side, and he can finally make sense of the way Grian is looking at him, like an apology and a condemnation and hesitance, all at once. 

“Oh my god,” Scar says, embarrassed and tired and disbelieving, and Grian breaks out into laughter. 

“You knew this whole time?” Scar asks, several recent events suddenly making more sense. 

Grian grins, relieved and teasing, nudging his shoulder. “Why do you think I’ve been so concerned about your health and safety?”

Okay, maybe that hurt, a bit. He’s an obligation again. Their soulbond was the only reason Grian was here. (All this World wanted was a good show, and who didn’t love poetic cinema?)

There was another part of him that felt relief, that felt warmth blooming in his chest. Of course it would be Grian. Of course. 

“You let me walk around with no idea who my soulmate was,” Scar says, playfully accusing, and really not surprised. 

“I might’ve been working through the five stages of grief,” Grian says, shrugging and putting his pickaxe back in his belt. 

Right. Because being tied to Scar means you’re as good as dead. It’s a sobering thought. His plan of never meeting his soulmate has gone out the window so completely that it seems like it was always doomed to fail. Everyone in this world is doomed to fail. Everyone but one. Or rather – this time – two. 

Grian has received a death sentence for a soulmate. 

Grian is turning around. “Come on,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ve got a base started. It’s looking pretty cool so far.”

There’s a knot, in Scar’s throat. He wonders if Grian can feel it, too. “Do we have to base together?”

Grian pauses and turns back around to look at him, his eyes a little confused, a little wounded. “Well, I mean, I guess not,” he says, taking a half step closer. “But it— it might be nice. To look after you.”

“I have a cave,” Scar says, gesturing a little uselessly in the direction of his little home. He’s giving Grian an out. He’s giving him an option. 

Grian’s brow furrows in slight confusion. “I have sheep,” he says. “And chickens.”

Scar blinks, wondering why it feels like they’re bartering, or like there’s something between the lines that Scar’s not understanding . It’s like Grian wants him to come with him, but it doesn’t make sense. No one ever wants him around.

Maybe Grian feels like he doesn’t have a choice. Like if he leaves Scar alone he’ll get them both killed. It’s not exactly an unlikely assumption to make.

“You don’t have to,” Scar says, resting a hand on a Jellie-Panda where it stands at his side. 

“I don’t have to… I don’t have to what?” Grian asks, tilting his head like a bird.

“I’ll just stay around here,” Scar continues, breaking eye contact to take in the secluded area. “I won’t get into trouble. I won’t even talk to anyone.”

“What?” Grian’s voice sounds strained. “Why would you do that?” 

Scar shrugs and musters up a grin to contrast Grian’s frown. “To give you a chance?” Scars says. 

Grian sighs and rubs at his forehead. “Scar, you’re not making any sense.”

“We’re bonded,” Scar says, almost desperately. This whole conversation feels like ripping off a bandaid as slowly as possible. It’s painful and necessary. “And I’m—” Scar laughs a little. “I’m me.”

“Believe me, Scar, I’m well aware who you are.” Grian huffs in irritation. “That’s why we need to stick together.”

“You don’t need to babysit me, Grian.”

“Yes, I do!” Grian shouts, and then he winces, looking down at his hand. Scar makes a conscious effort to uncurl his fingers, well aware of how hard his nails had just been digging into his palm. Grian had been able to feel it.

They stand in tense silence for a minute, Grian looking down at his hands, flexing them, and Scar wonders if he can see the blood on his knuckles the same way that Scar can. Wonders if he looks at Scar and still sees someone who betrayed him, once. Wonders if either of them ever left that desert.

“I wasn’t surprised that it was you,” Grian says eventually, quietly, finally letting his hands drop back to his sides. Scar watches him. “Angry, yeah, but not surprised.”

Scar finally feels a twinge of irritation. “Look, I’m sorry you got stuck with me again—”

Grian cuts him off with a bitter laugh. “I’m not angry with you, Scar, I’m just— I can’t—” He stops, taking a breath.

“We don’t end well,” Grian says, with such a deep well of pain in his voice that Scar’s own stubborn knot of hurt aches in sympathy. “We just end.”

The Jellie-Pandas make faint sounds off in the distance. Scar tries to scrape himself back into a shape that’ll fit into this conversation. Or anywhere at all.

“We’re still here,” Scar says, because they are. Because they don’t get to have anything as mundane or cathartic as an ending.

Grian blinks in muted surprise and finally meets his eyes again. There’s a bruise on his forehead that matches Scar’s. 

“And we’re still there,” Grian says, a wry, sad smile on his face, and Scar can’t help but laugh a little. Because it’s true.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” Scar says, deceptively light and conversational. “For killing me.”

“Really?” Grian barks a self-deprecating laugh. “I do.”

“I betrayed you.” Scar shrugs. “I deserved it.”

“No,” Grian says, shaking his head. “No. You didn’t deserve that.”

It hadn’t been a quick death, that final one. Not like his first two. Hands weren’t really made for killing. 

The sun is sinking lower in the horizon, and the wind is blowing, and the greenery around them feels a bit like it shouldn’t be real, and suddenly Scar is tired of the past. Maybe the Universe or whoever put them here is trying to tell them something. Telling them to try again. 

“Wanna call it even?” Scar asks, cracking a tentative grin, and Grian lets out a startled laugh, which makes Scar smile wider. 

“Not even gonna ask for my shoes?” Grian teases, tension leaking out of his frame. 

“I’m about to move into your house,” Scar says lightly, starting to walk towards him. “I think you’ve got other things to worry about.”

“Oh, tons.”

They walk through the forest towards where Grian’s set up base, bickering and teasing and tentatively falling back into the familiarity of being a team. A pair. Something like hope is chipping away at the knot in his chest.

There’s still a long way to go from here, but it doesn’t seem quite as daunting, anymore. They’ll either win together or they’ll lose together, and neither of them will be alone.

“I’m going back for those Jellie-Pandas, by the way,” Scar says eventually, and smiles to himself as Grian puts up a dramatic protest without quite covering the amusement in his voice.

In this world, there is no desert.

#double life smp #desert duo #goodtimeswithscar #grian #double life smp fanfic #i love throwing angst at things #this time my target was desert duo <3 #anyway hope you like it if you read :] #jay’s journal

[underground-monarch]

Moses' Basket

Summary: Tango doesn't deserve the curse of being soulbound to the Canary. Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone you care about is to let them go, no matter how much it hurts Jimmy to do so. Rating: T Additional tags: Angst, Fluff, Soulmates, breaking the soulmate bond, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canonical Character Death Chapter word count: 2.4k

Chapter 1: The Injury of Finally Knowing You

The knowledge that his own terrifyingly delicate life force was held in the power of another person was a weight that Jimmy wasn’t sure he was comfortable bearing.

The knowledge that he, in turn, held that same power over that same other person’s own life force added a second layer to the burden, especially given his track record in the preceding games.

But the complete lack of knowledge as to who that other person might be was possibly the worst part of this whole gimmick.

If it was one of his close friends – Joel or Martyn or Scott, or even Grian – then he might feel less pressure, knowing them well enough to predict their reactions and be able to laugh with them about the inevitable blunders that would occur. But the likelihood of it being someone else – someone he didn’t know as well, one of the Hermits who he hadn’t really had the chance to meet properly – had him stepping far more lightly than he would normally as he explored the cavernous and mountainous map in search of early-game resources.

He found the intermittent ticks of pain extremely disconcerting, as disconnected from his own actions as they were; it made him wonder what his soulbound partner was doing, and made him mutter inaudible apologies whenever he himself tripped or got hurt, knowing that his counterpart also felt it. This mechanic would definitely put an interesting turn on the game; he just feared that it would not be a turn in his favour.

Continue reading on AO3

#team rancher #double life smp #dlsmp #double life smp fanfic #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #life series #trafficblr #life series smp #traffic life series

[briarlovesclara]

(c!s not cc!s!!!!)

Scott knows a lot of things.

Now, this isn’t to say that Tango is dumb-- on the contrary, he could do redstone that could blow Scott’s socks off-- but the cryptic man always seem to know things he didn’t. 

Specifically, about Jimmy.

It only took a short while into the game for Tango to realize that he was falling head over heels in love with Jimmy, and vice versa. Of course, Tango didn’t know that at the time, but it was true nonetheless.

As a thank-you for their windows, the ranchers were holding a little campfire with Scott as the sun went down. They talked and laughed, and at one point the chatter died down enough that, in the warmth of the fire and Tango’s arms, Jimmy drifted off. The silence was comfortable, Tango humming softly, and Scott looking at them with a sort of gentle heartbreak that Tango didn’t know quite what to do with, so he ignored.

“He likes you, you know.”

Scott’s comment broke Tango out of his head, heart immediately pounding as he looked across the fire to meet his blue eyes. 

“What? What do you mean, like me?” He managed to get out, tongue tripping over its own words as he scrambled to catch his bearings.

“It’s obvious, really.” Scott drawled with a smug smile, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees and keeping the eye contact. “Really, Tango, do you think he acts like that with everyone?”

Tango looked down at the man sleeping peacefully in his arms and blushed.  “We’re just buddies, Scott. This is what buddies do!”

“Mmmm-hmm. Yeah. Okay.” Scott was obviously holding back laughter, and Tango felt a brush of indignation. How dare he! Scott obviously had no idea what he was talking about.

Except...

Except Jimmy did smile at him a lot more than at other players, maybe even too much for just being soulbound. And those times Tango had noticed his own heart speeding up randomly, only to look and see Jimmy staring at him. But that was just platonic stuff, right? Scott must be insane. And besides--

“How would you know, anyways?” He snapped lightly, quickly looking down to check that he hadn’t woken up his partner. Scott’s eyes seemed to dim for a moment, smile slipping slightly, before his face lifted back up to normal.

“Because I know everything.” Scott said, and Tango could swear he heard a slight tremor in his voice. But before he could press further, the other was standing up and wiping off his pants to leave. “Well, I must be going now. Thank you for the lovely campfire. Tell Jimmy thanks as well, of course.” Tango opened his mouth to say goodbye as Scott turned away, but paused when he turned back for a moment. 

“Oh, and really, it’s getting annoying watching you two dance around each other. Just get on with it.” And with that, he whisked away. 

It was infuriating that Scott was right.

Tango told Jimmy two days later, and was surprised at the speed in which he found himself in his soulbound’s arms, pressed tightly against him as Jimmy squealed in joy.

“Really?” Jimmy asked breathlessly, looking up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Yes, really.” Tango chuckled, holding him in a bone-crushing hug and spinning him around.

He never told Scott or Jimmy that that night had given him the confidence, only jokingly confessing to his partner later that he couldn’t resist his sleeping face, but Scott knew. 

So when Scott walked up to him after a gathering and whispered in his ear, “kiss him,” Tango did, not even hesitating to wait for privacy. 

(And if Scott tried to keep his smile from being bitter with middling success, no one was looking at him to see it.)

inspired by “I love that for you (but I love you too)” by lexiconks on ao3!

#wow this got........... Long #double life fic #okay to quickly clarify. i have a post that talks about remembering when u win a game and it explains #how scott kind of remembers 3rd life but no one else does #ik it doesn't make a lot of sense but go check that one #tldr: scott remembers being in love w jimmy and last life and jimmy and tango dont remember either #double life #double life smp #double life smp fanfic #jimmy/tango #trafficshipping #traffic smps #past flower husbands #rancher duo #team rancher #soulbounds as romantic #for them specifically #team rancher fanfic #rancher duo fanfic #solidaritygaming #tangotek #scott smajor #scott #tango #jimmy #jimmy fanfic #solidaritygaming fanfic #smajor fanfic #tango fanfic #tangotek fic

[marimoralesx]

Just Session 4 Things

#double life smp #double life scott #double life etho #double life joel #smallishbeans #double life smallishbeans #dlsmp fanart #double life smp spoilers #ani arts #double life smp fanfic #doodles while i work on my bigger Thing

[krynoss]

⚠️TW: this following story contains topics such as death, possessive behavior, and gore. Viewer discretion is advised.⚠️

:.Love was a powerful feeling that some people would experience. Love was something that could be a burst of euphoria and happiness while also being just as dangerous. Love could be simple, easy. While also being hard and complicated. Love was what joined two, or even more, people together. Love was a riddle. Love was a choice. Love was love.

Joel discovered love in many ways before in his past lives, but none of those experiences was something like this one. He was never forced into it, but that didn't bother him. He was never tied down to someone unwillingly, but that didn't bother him. He stood still as his hand gingerly caressed Etho's cheek, his head tilting back ever so slightly to watch the taller male's eyes flicker from his, then to their chests, then to their conjoined hands as each finger intertwined with the other's. Etho's other hand was thrown around Joel's waist, and Joel sheepishly put all of his body weight onto it. He suddenly felt too tired to stand on his own, feeling his knees give out underneath him and causing his figure to slump slightly in Etho's arms, but the male only continued to hold him up. Etho's eyes were beginning to fall heavy, blinking away the drowsiness that seemed to take them both over. Joel finally closed his eyes, feeling something warm stick to his chin as he embraced the peace. Neither of them spoke a word. Etho's grip around Joel's waist falter and their conjoined hands slowly unraveled, falling limply to each of their sides. Etho hugged Joel closer, as if his life depended on it. He Joel guessed it did as he felt the half of the diamond sword plung deeper into his back while the other half plunged deeper into Etho's chest. Joel's hand slipped from Etho's cheek as Etho's fell from his waist.

Together forever.

Love was a weapon..:

#smalletho #smallishbeans #smallishbeans fanfic #etholabs #etholabs fanfic #double life #double life smp #double life fanfic #double life smp fanfic #dlsmp #dlsmp fanfic #MY POOR BOYS I AM SOBBING #KINDA PROUD OF THIS ONE NGL !!!

[thedialup]

one thousand burning eyes, three lives, two beating hearts

words: 1451

content warnings: blood

inspired by this post by 0xeyedaisy.

grian stares at his soulmate. one thousand burning eyes stare back | in which soulmates gain traits of each other, but only grian can remember their past together.

reblogs >>> likes!

#double life smp #scarian #desertduo #trafficshipping #dlsmp #scarian fanfic #desertduo fanfic #double life smp fanfic

[platonicwizard]

Saving You

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39911871

A rewrite of Impulse, Bdubs, and Etho's during the second session of Double Life.

--------

“If you are not feeling comfortable with your alliance, Impulse and you could potentially go get some enchanted gear for us” Bdubs spoke softly as he looked directly at Etho, smiling at him lovingly. Impulse knew from the way Etho looked back that he was hooked again by Bdubs, a look he often gave him in Last Life.

“We could set you up a third bed in the house” Bdubs looked to Impulse, giving him the same look. Impulse felt his heart fluttered as he formulated the plan in his head, “Yep, could do”

They both looked to Etho, who slightly blushed, “Yeah, yeah that’s an idea. I would go for that”

“You would?” Bdubs’ eyes lit up brightly, a grin breaking across his face as Etho nodded. “Off you go! To adventure! Be gone, I have a house to build”

It had all started when Bdubs said he wanted to play homewrecker to the other pairs on the server. He said it was to make allies, but Impulse knew it was because he wanted Etho on their side, he had even said so himself. But, nonetheless he went with it, especially after hearing how Scar reacted about the white lie. It was a decent play in the short run too, with the potential to have each pair hurt each other possibly letting them win.

So when Etho came by and Bdubs started talking about how he should be careful, Impulse with it. Etho had seemed to be unsteady, both of idea of his counterpart and of the duo themselves. He even was surprised that the two of them were still hip to hip after a week on the server. Impulse observed Etho as he had hurt himself after Joel got hurt, showing signs that the two of them had grown slightly unstable. Who would purposely hurt their partner after they get damaged? (Impulse realized later that it seemed more common than he would have originally thought)

While Etho wandered around them for a bit, after getting the horses set up comfortably, Bdubs turned to the other two.

“If you are not feeling comfortable with your alliance, Impulse and you could potentially go get some enchanted gear for us” Bdubs spoke softly as he looked directly at Etho, smiling at him lovingly. Impulse knew from the way Etho looked back that he was hooked again by Bdubs, a look he often gave him in Last Life.

“We could set you up a third bed in the house” Bdubs looked to Impulse, giving him the same look. Impulse felt his heart fluttered as he formulated the plan in his head, “Yep, could do”

They both looked to Etho, who slightly blushed, “Yeah, yeah that’s an idea. I would go for that”

“You would?” Bdubs’ eyes lit up brightly, a grin breaking across his face as Etho nodded. “Off you go! To adventure! Be gone, I have a house to build”

Etho and Impulse laughed at Bdubs' proclamation, following him into the house to grab some items. Impulse showed Etho the sound mechanism that he would use down in the Deep Dark before they headed off. Bdubs took a hold of each one's hands before lightly kissing them each, winking at Impulse after Etho had turned his back and headed out the door. “Be careful down there, and don’t forget to bond with Etho he can join us” and with that, Impulse was pushed out of the house.

Impulse showed Etho the way down, watching as the other carefully climbed down to him into the ravine. They walked far down into the ravine and entered the mineshafted, twisting and turning around corners as they inched closer to the Ancient City.

“So I’m a little worried Impulse, I feel like Bdubs was trying to get rid of you there, I don't know if you noticed that” Etho muttered as they turned down another shaft. Impulse turned back to him, a confused look on his face as he responded, “You think so?”

Etho looked him in the eyes, unreadable and closed off, but concern was something could feel as the other rung his hands together, “He was like, ‘Please take Impulse get out of my hair’”

An ache set in his heart at the thought, but he knew Bdubs wasn’t trying to throw him away. He, himself rubbed his hands together, let off a bit of anxiety as he continued down the cave, Etho still following him. “Well, we’ve pretty much been inseparable since day one so I don’t blame him. Everybody needs a little me time, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. With Joel man, I needed a break from him too” Impulse smiled to himself as he heard Etho’s words. “Yeah, he told us”

Etho let out a laugh as he came up behind Impulse, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leaning down on him slightly, “oh did he! Did he really?”

The familiar stab of anxiety raced through Impulse’s chest as he patted Etho’s arm and ducked away from it, “Well, we did, uh, we promised- I can’t say anything” his voice lowered as he continued on.

“Uh huh” Impulse could feel the way that Etho didn’t believe him, dripping acid as his own heart twisted as he nodded along, trying to stray away from the conversation at this point. “I’m going to have to have a talk with that guy”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea. See what’s up with that” he didn’t turn back, as he began to mine his way down through the deepstone. Etho didn’t push him for much of a conversation after that as they dug down. Impulse was thankful, letting himself push away the thought of each of their soulmates to instead think of a plan for how to get to the enchantment table. When he finally dug through the wall and found the Ancient City sat beneath them, he let out a sigh of relief. He turned back to Etho, who wasn’t very far from him, mumbling something about his health and Joel.

“You found it?” Etho rushed over to him, looking down onto the broken arches. Impulse took his arm lightly, holding onto him. Etho laughed lightly, as Impulse himself let out an anxious laugh. They turned down and began to mine and build a staircase down to the cave floor. Etho glanced every once in a while at it, eventually he asked if they could bring the Warden to the surface.

Impulse shook his head as he laughed quietly, hyper aware of their surroundings, “not with your armor, you’ll be dead in two, three hits”

Etho’s eyes widened, clearly uninformed about the monster that guards the decrepit city around it, “So this is dangerous, is what you're trying to tell me?”

“Super. Super, super dangerous” Impulse watched as Etho all at the same time he said that became much more guarded and anxious, standing behind him as they finally reached the floor. He turned away, carefully watching the area as he took in everything. Etho grabbed onto his arm, a shield in his other.

Impulse has known the other for a long time, and he has known him long enough that the cold exterior that he showed laid a rather anxious man. Etho has always been considered strong and brave to outsiders, but he knew better than that. He was cowardly at worst, and cautious at his best. People knew him for keeping himself together through stressful times, and even at one point considered a great fighter in other worlds. But, that title has long since faded, overpowered by the new combat skills taught but new fighters. So, to have Etho pressed against him, quiet anxiety hazing through him shouldn’t have caught him off guard at all.

But, it did. He jumped, causing Etho to lose grip on his shield as it dropped to the ground. Impulse could see as a few sculk sensors went off around them, but they didn’t alert anything else. He bent down and grabbed Etho’s shield, and when he turned to Etho he noticed him just staring at him. Fear was written across his face and on his tensed shoulders.

“We’re okay. There are no sculk shriekers around so nothing bad happened. We’re safe Etho” he put his hand on Etho’s shoulder as he handed him back his shield. Etho adjusted his shield as he leaned against Impulse’s hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that” Impulse laughed lightly as he patted the other lightly. Etho untensed as his hand was grabbed Impulse’s own. Quietly, he started to walk on the wool path in front of them, placing down wool themselves along the way.

Etho pointed to the large building, “maybe the enchanting table is over there?” Impulse nodded, and began to make their way to it.

As they got closer, Impulse accidentally tripped on a block, falling onto the ground. Multiple sculk sensors went off, and suddenly a sculk shrieker went off. A wave of blindness settled around them as Etho helped Impulse up and pulled out his sword. Impulse placed his hand Etho, stopping him from moving. Etho looked at his grip on his sword tightening. Impulse put a finger to his lips, silently shushing him. Both of them looked into one another's eyes as time ticked by, unable to take in anything else in their surroundings. Finally, the blindness ceased, and nothing was around them. Slowly, Etho put his sword back in its sheath, not moving his gaze much from Impulse.

“It was just a warning, when they go off three times the Warden will come out. We will just have to be more aware of our surroundings” Impulse nervously rubbed the back of his neck, letting go Etho. Etho grabbed onto his hand though, his grip tightening. They stood for a bit, gaining their breath as they let go of the anxiety in their chest. Impulse felt a pinch in his arm, bringing him back to the point of this trip. He wonders if Bdubs feels his anxieties.

“We should go enchant our stuff and get out, I think I see the enchantment table actually” Etho nodded, and started his way to the large building, Impulse not far behind.

Finally, they got to the building, and like Impulse said he saw before, the table sat in front. Both of them started to set out their items and armor and began to enchant. Off in the distance, though, they both began to hear the voices of the other players on the server. They looked to one another and began to put on their enchanted armor.

Grian was the first to reach them, freaking out the entire time as he stumbled his way to them. Not too far behind Ren, Big B, and Martyn followed, jumping over to the area they stood in.

“Is it safe? Have you done it already?” Grian said as he moved over to the enchantment table, quickly enchanting all of his things. Impulse gave him a dumbfounded face, “No it’s not safe. It’s never safe down here”

And as if on cue, the minute the other three stepped closer to the table, a shrieker went off. Martyn began to panic, causing everyone to panic. Blindness took over all of them, and the sound of the ground ripping apart as the Warden took its first steps to them set everyone haywire. Impulse grabbed ahold of Etho’s arm, dragging him away from the noise the four of them were making as they ran away. He pulled them higher onto the building, and began to build high, prompting Etho to do the same.

Impulse took a deep breath when they built high enough away from the Warden, and sat down. Etho did the same, sitting down right beside him and leaned against him. Impulse was done with this place. He wanted to make and get Bdubs armor too but, he can already see the others coming back, which just meant more trouble and a chance for his own soulmate to be hurt. Etho looked over it too, as he pulled out his pickaxe and looked at the ceiling.

“Let’s leave, we got enchantments. No point of staying” Etho pulled out some blocks

“Yeah, not with these guys around. Watch Grian be the reason he and Scar go to yellow” Impulse said, making Etho laugh lightly. Impulse felt himself grow lighter as he released the fear the Ancient City had caused him. Both of them began to build to the roof of the city, and when they reached it, the sounds of screaming beneath them grew quiet.

They slowly made their way to the surface, and when they finally broke through the ground they were met with the sun. The warmth on their skin was much better than the cold touch of the broken city. Impulse laid onto the ground, making Etho laugh loudly as he plopped down right by him. He laughed too, relieved that they were both safe.

They laid for a while, just taking in the sounds around them and the warmth that covered them both. And when they finally sat up and stood, they made their trek to the house. Etho stuck by him, never too far away from him. He now walked differently than he did underground, though, much more relaxed. It brought a smile to Impulse’s face. When they saw the house upon them, Etho stopped, grabbing onto Impulse’s arm one again. This time, he looked directly through him as he spoke, “I’m going to go talk to Joel. But, I don’t know if I’ll be coming back over here today. I know Bdubs’, so be careful, don’t let him trick you into anything too devious. He may be sweet right now but he's going to turn. If he hasn’t already that is.” He gave Impulse a knowing look, lightly squeezing Impulse’s arm.

Impulse widened his eyes at Etho, caught off guard, “Wait, you seemed okay with staying earlier, what changed?”

“You are a horrible liar, Impulse. But, so is Bdubs” Impulse sighed in defeat, rubbing his temple with his hand. “I mean it though, be careful around him. Take it from me, I was his partner last season. He is super loyal but he causes a lot of problems that lead to people getting hurt. I care for you both, but you can at least stop some of his plans.”

“You care for me?” Try as Impulse might, he couldn’t let the deep sorrow sound his words gave as he spoke. Both of Etho’s hands went for his own, and he held tightly onto them. Impulse felt like his heart was going to implode in himself.

Etho blushed deeply, unable to hide it even under his mask, “Well, yeah, of course I do. You did protect me after all. And you know, all the other mushy stuff. That’s besides the point, just be careful is all.”

“I thought you liked Bdubs though” Impulse looked over to the house, but didn’t see his soulmate. Etho sighed, making him look at the other again.

“I do. Both of you. But now isn’t the time for it. Joel is my soulbound of this world and Bdubs is your soulmate too. A death game doesn’t sound like the best place to learn about new feelings either” Etho let go of his hands, and looked to the sun, now setting over the hill. Impulse looked too, but was caught up in Etho’s words.

“New feelings? Wait, last week, when you asked if we were actually a happy couple. I thought you were angry that Bdubs wasn’t your soulmate” Impulse looked to Etho. Etho shrugged his shoulders, “Not really. Come on, it’s me of all people, I just like to make problems”

Impulse sighed as he shook his head, “What is it with me being in love with people who cause problems on purpose.” Right after he realized what he said and covered his mouth. Etho laughed brightly, leaning onto him as he laughed harder. Impulse let out a groan as he felt his entire face glow red with embarrassment. After a moment, Etho stopped laughing and took Impulse’s face into his hands. Impulse could tell that he was smiling though, which relieved him.

“Aww, how sweet of you. I really do have to leave though. Maybe, once this is all over, you, Bdubs, and myself can talk about us” Impulse hummed slightly before nodding his head. Etho let go of his face, but pushed his forehead against him. Impulse felt soft as he leaned against the other, letting himself feel content in the moment. They took a deep breath together before pulling apart.

Finally, Etho moved away, “thanks for the help with the enchantments though. I’m never going back down there again though”

Impulse laughed loudly at that, lightly tearing up to it. Etho snickered before he started to walk away though, waving to him. Impulse waved back before turning back to his home. He sighed as he walked to the house, still unsure if Bdubs was there or not. When he got to the door, he could hear his other muttering to himself.

Impulse pushed open the door, yelled out, making the other jump, “Honey, I’m home!”

Bdubs turned to him, and smiled. He came up to him and pulled him into a hug, “You made it!”

Impulse spun the other around, taking in the laughter he made, “I did! Sorry I didn’t get you a set of enchanted gear, I was going to make it but then we ran into some.. problems”

“Don’t worry about it. We are tied together, anything you receive, I receive” Impulse put Bdubs down, still slightly concerned for his partner. Bdubs let out a huff, “I’m fine, I’m all geared up anyway. We can go down there anytime anyway. Don’t worry your pretty little head with that.”

Bdubs did look to the door though before turning to look at Impulse, “What happened to Etho, though. I thought you two were getting along fantastically?”

Impulse blushed slightly, before he slumped his shoulders, “We were, but Etho said he wanted to go talk to Joel. Also he said that you are a bad liar.”

Bdubs let out a dramatic gasp before huffing loudly, “What a pain he is! We’ll win him eventually though. He can’t beat our lovable charm!”

“I don’t think he will, B” Impulse grabbed Bdubs’ hand, “He seemed rather, how do I say this nicely. Um, he seemed rather disinterested in working with you again because of last season though. Said he still cared for you though!”

Bdubs let out a sigh, burrowing into Impulse’s chest, letting the other wrap him into a light hug. He muttered incoherently to himself before pulling away slightly to look up to Impulse, with a smile.

“We’ll catch him next time, whether he’d like to or not, maybe we’ll have to drag Joel along too, maybe even form an alliance with them” Bdubs began to scheme out loud to him before stopping all together and pushing himself back into Impulse. Impulse lightly laughed, smiling down to his counterpart.

“Also, he mentioned how all three of us should talk about us after the series” Bdubs made a confused face before it lit up brightly, letting out joyous sounds. Impulse laughed, feeling his face heat up again from just the thought of the three of them together. Bdubs grabbed onto his face and kissed him.

“We’ll just have to work extra hard to show Etho that we are worthy partners!”

They smiled at one another, feeling the other’s love flowing through them, and hopefully soon, the third will feel the love too.

#trafficshipping #trafficblr #impdubs #ethdubs #double life smp #dlsmp #impulsesv #bdouble0 #bdoubleo100 #etho #ethoslab #dlshipping #dlsmp fanfic #fanfic #double life smp fanfic

[fromthedeskoftheminister]

Its silent for a moment, and Impulse looks around at the very familiar faces in the circle before someone, hes not entirely sure who, says “Well.... Bye!”and the group scatters into the woods. Each and every one of them, he’s certainly no exception, wandering off to the corners of the Realm that they’ve found themselves in. Or well, allowed themselves to be pulled into, Impulse supposes as he starts to fell a birch tree. He really needs to pay more attention to the things Grian proposes to the group. He’d really only heard “Another small game” before getting distracted with the designs for his base this season and saying “Sure! Sounds like fun!“ and not registering literally any of the details, because... well, it was Grian. Which meant it was a death game. Which meant that he needed to set an Anchor, so that he didn’t have to get Tango, X, and Mumbo to summon him back to their current dimension after the game ended.

Its not the Soulbound thing. No really its not. It would be rather weird for him of all people to have issues with the Soulbound thing. Especially given that he comes from a place where being Soulbound is the norm.

All right, fine! He admits to himself as he watches the magic spread within the boundary and settle, a slight hitch in his breath as it pulls tight. It is the soulbound thing. and the fact that his life is not only his own. As it normally is. The strangeness, he supposes, comes from the fact that for the first time in a very long time, he doesnt know who his soulbound is.

#dlsmp #dlsmp fanfic #double life amp #double life smp fanfic #impulsesv #trafficblr #i think that tag still applies #here internet a Drabble just for y’all #i have so many ideas about this it’s not even funny #this may or may not turn into a longer thing #seriously this series is gonna kill me #i am all over soulmate things #like they are my jam #esp because I think it does a giant disservice if all spulmate things are automatically assumed to be romantic #but yea here internet for you #entirely unbetaed #we post with no edits like jimmy dying with no context for his death #idea possibly to be continued

[spruceplank]

Hey y'all I'm apologizing for this in advance

I can't let go of the golden apple concept, it doesn't really matter how long it would work in a very specific scenario. After all, there can only be one player left standing to end the game.

"You would never turn on me, would you?"

"Nope. Your life is my life and visa versa, we have to take care of each other."

TW: Major character death, suicide

"Impulse! Impulse what are you doing?!" Bdubs felt his heart pound harder the higher Impulse towered.

Even with the pouring rain he knew he was loud enough that Impulse should have heard him. But Impulse either didn't hear his frantic cries or he ignored them. Bdubs didn't know which option he wanted to be the truth.

Making sure his water bucket was in hand he too, started to tower up into the sky. His mind was racing trying to think of anything at all as to why Impulse was doing this. Shaky hands placed block after block below him as he tried to think of what was going on.

There hadn't been any weird behaviors or strange comments that he could remember. Everything had gone exactly according to plan, the tnt trap went boom and that left them as the winners. Yet here was Impulse climbing into the sky one cobblestone block at a time. As long as Bdubs stayed below Impulse's tower he could place the water in case Impulse fell. Impulse wasn't trying to fall right? They didn't have to die to win, they had already won!

The game didn't end until only one player remained standing. He should have noticed sooner that Impulse had taken off his armor. Should have noticed sooner the way Impulse was crying as he kept building. Should have noticed sooner, the golden apple missing from his inventory.

It was something so inconsequential when it happened. He was to lure the other remaining pair to the tnt trap. He had passed Impulse the golden apple just in case it looked like he wasn't going to run away fast enough or their enemies trapped him with them. He knew Impulse wouldn't have eaten it anyways even if he had wound up within range of the blast. They were in this together, until the end.

Why did it always have to end this way? Why was he always betrayed? Why was he always left alone? Surely he was loved right?

It feels like an eternity before Bdubs finally catches up to Impulse. They're at least 200 blocks in the air. The rain has turned into snow they're so high up. He can barely see their house below them through the clouds. Impulse is shivering, standing hunched over atop the pillar he'd constructed towards the heavens.

"Impulse," his breath catches at the look on Impulse's face when his soulmate turns to look at him. Desperation, sorrow, despair, and regret. Impulse doesn't meet his eyes. But he won't give up on his soulmate, not now. Not ever, "Impulse what are you doing? We, we won, we can leave victorious now. Let's go home, together."

Impulse chokes back a sob. It would break his heart but his heart feels frozen in his chest. He can hear it pounding in his ears, but the creeping dread of despair has completely taken hold of his heart. He's scared. Bdubs is scared. For the first time since this game started, he feels alone.

Impulse still won't meet his eyes.

"Impulse, please. Please let's go back home together. I don't know what you're thinking Impulse but we either do it together or not at all. You would never turn on me right?" Bdubs pleads. Once more asking that same question he did in the beginning, to remind Impulse they were in this together.

Impulse finally meets his eyes.

No. No, no, no, no, no. No. He knows that look. He knows what that means. No, no, no. What is Impulse doing? If he jumps, if he jumps they'll both die! That's not winning!

Impulse tries to smile at him, but it's a sad smile. One that matches the tears in both of their eyes at this point. He's at a loss for what to do.

Impulse winces, hunger damage, he can tell. Their inventories were in disarray after the final confrontation. Had Impulse dropped his food in order to pick something else up? But why was he already starving then? Wait, why didn't he also take the damage. He remembers Impulse has the golden apple.

He's already too late.

"I, I-I'm sorry, Bdubs." Impulse takes more hunger damage. His own heart is caught in his throat, his feet feel frozen to the spot. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't think there's anything he can do. Impulse smiles, the same smile he always gave Bdubs except its not right. They're both crying. They both know what is going to happen next. He cant stop it. Impulse meets his eyes one final time and says, "It seems I've run out of time."

ImpulseSV fell from a high place.

#I wrote this instead of going to bed #double life smp fanfic #double life fanfic #tw suicide #tw major character death #This isn't canon it's just a what if that's plagued me all day so now I'm inflicting the idea upon others #Really hope I have tagged this according and also correctly #I also hope my stupid phone keyboard who's autocorrect is broken from me keysmashing hasn't betrayed me when writing this

[frostyaleria]

tbh this is my first timing posting smth on tumblr but uh YEA I WANNA MAKE SCOTT AND PEARL ANGST 🤲 THERES NOT A LOT OF SCOTT AND PEARL ANGST SO I'LL BE MAKING MORE ✨

#double life smp fanfic #double life smp #double life spoilers #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname

[pixiemage]

Most other SMP crossover fanfic universes: every server has portals to the server hub, players visit each other all the time, only barrier is a server whitelist, communication is easy

Post-Double-Life Team Rancher fics: they might never meet again outside the Life games, they have to break into each other’s servers to visit, they’re shocked when their soulmate appears in Hermitcraft/Empires, they defy the laws of the universe to see each other again

#every damn time #and I love it so much #Team Rancher #Hermitcraft #Empires SMP #Double Life SMP #Trafficblr #Traffic Life SMP #DLsmp #Rancher Duo #Fanfic tropes #1k #2k

[kratergate]

”I want to believe you,” Impulse says, voice shaking. “I want to believe you so badly. But nothing good has ever come out of letting people in, not for me. I don’t know how to stop being afraid.” They fall into silence, breathing heavily as the words hang in the air. “You haven’t forgiven me, have you.” Bdubs says. His voice tight with bitterness. After a beat, Impulse shakes his head. No sense in lying anymore.

A scene from be as you've always been, an impdubs fanfic, commissioned by @wisepuma23 ! <33

Support me on Kofi! :]

#impulsesv #bdubs #impdubs #trafficship #impulsesv fanart #bdoubleo fanart #bdubs fanart #bdoubleo #bdouble0 #trafficshipblr #trafficshipping #hermitship #mcyt #hermitshipping #hermitshipblr #double life #double life smp #dlsmp #double life fanfic #commission #ryan's art

[briarlovesclara]

When you win a life game, you get to remember. 

Grian couldn’t believe what he was hearing when the other Hermits denied having what they insisted must be his dreams. Hadn’t they seen it? Hadn’t they felt it? He sent letters off to everyone he could think of, pestering Xisuma constantly, even knowing how hard some of the deliveries were. ‘MCC, Grian?’ He’d asked. ‘You know how hard it is to contact them.’ And in the end Grian had shut up, closed his mouth, and kept going, through Hermitcraft, through Last Life, through, through, through.

Scott felt it in his bones that no one would remember when he went to Empires. He gave Jimmy the flower, and something almost seemed to click, but it was just taken as a friendly sign and nothing else. He brought him on hollow dates, equally needing Jimmy in his life and wanting to throw up every time he saw him. He didn’t send letters. 

Scott and Grian run into each other one night during the first session, still looking for their soulmates. It’s dark, and they quickly make a campfire and some temporary walls. They both cringe at the aesthetic, but it will have to do. On opposite sides of the flame, they look at each other. ‘You remember.’ Grian says. ‘I do.’ ‘But not the first one.’ ‘No.’ They look into each other’s eyes, searching, thinking, each bringing their conclusion that they had formed a long time ago. ‘We move on.’ Scott says. ‘Alright, then.’ Says Grian. 

They move on.

(I’m adding this after, because I just thought about it-- Scott was always afraid during third life that his memory would fail him in the future. When Jimmy died, he told the ground all of his memories and cried them into the flowers he planted. When he won Last Life, he remembered that too. That love and loss. But nothing else. The memories were the last gift, the last curse, that Scott gave him.)

#ficlet #3rd life smp #trafficblr #last life smp #double life smp #life smp series #briar talks about the traffic smps #traffic smps #grian #scott #smajor #mcc #fanfic #3rd life smp fanfic #3rd life fanfic #last life smp fanfic #last life fanfic #double life smp fanfic #double life fanfic #scott fanfic #smajor fanfic #grian fanfic #dangthatsalongname #empires smp #flower husbands #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #empires smp fanfic

[thetomorrowshow]

Joel thinks it’s stupid, really.

Once they figure it out.

Soulmates, Grian messages them all. I think it’s soulmates.

Which makes sense, with the random pains shooting through his legs that he feels on occasion. He’s sharing a life with someone—or, three lives—and they feel each others’ pain.

Which is dumb. Because Joel doesn’t need or want a soulmate, and he doesn’t care much for the idea of having to share his life with someone and make sure they’re safe. He’s not here to be babysitting another player.

That’s what he would be doing, he’s sure. Babysitting someone. Not that everyone would be, of course—there are some players that he knows instantly will be paired up, because if such a thing as real soulmates exist, they would be them. Grian and Scar. Scott and Jimmy. Bdubs and Etho.

No one for him.

No one for Joel because he’s always been a loner. For as long as he can remember he’s been on his own in these games—in the first one he had his cottage on the hill (so long ago that he can barely remember what it looked like, he can only remember it burning and the flames licking up at him and melting his skin and the smell of his hair and he has to put it out—), and in the games since, he’s been alone. Alliances that last little more than a week, here and there, and somehow he always ends up at Grian’s side at the end of things, but he’s never actually teamed up with anyone else.

He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want another player going through his things, walking through his space, just being near him when he’s angry and needs time alone to cool off.

But there’s a morbid curiosity, he supposes. Because he can’t help but wonder who on earth the universe would think to pair him with.

So every person he sees, he socks in the arm (and if he hits a little harder than is considered friendly, he can blame it on adrenaline).

He actually witnesses a soulmate pair find each other before he finds his own.

And, strangely, it’s Bdubs and Impulse.

For a moment, he thinks that can’t be right—he can envision Bdubs with Etho, or Cleo, but not Impulse. And while Impulse is easygoing enough, Bdubs is a wildcard. Impulse’s sense of order is going to be completely upturned by Bdubs and his harebrained ideals.

Maybe. It’s not like Joel actually knows either of them very well.

And then they’re all mining together, and Etho trips.

And Joel feels his knees sting.

-

Joel doesn’t want to settle down anywhere, at all ever, but after a bunch of fooling around with Grian and Scar (soulmates, just as he’d predicted, of course), he starts. . . .

Not laying down roots. He really ought to get something started, just like everyone else, but that’s just it: everyone else has something started. Everyone else has planted crops and fenced in some animals and set out to get building blocks.

Prime opportunity for raiding some new farms, and to his surprise, Etho absolutely agrees.

For a moment, Joel can forget that they’re linked—he’s just hanging out with a group of friends, laughing at Jimmy, stealing a bit of wheat when nobody’s looking, the norm. Then Etho takes an absurd amount of damage—Joel definitely doesn’t fall back against the crafting table they’ve set up for making armor, definitely doesn’t gasp and clutch at his chest, like he can stop his heart from leaping out of it—and he’s rather rudely reminded that his life isn’t solely his own.

Oh, he hates this already.

Etho calls an apology, but Joel can’t see him through the woods—if they die here and it’s Etho’s fault, he’s never going to forgive him, soulbond or no—so he heads forward, only to find Etho panting beside an enderman in a boat.

“Tricky getting him to walk into it,” Etho says offhandedly, and this could be ender pearls for them if they play their cards right.

Ender pearls are perfect for quick escapes, and if they decide to go with Scar’s absolutely insane plan of trying to take over that outpost, he and Etho are going to need an escape.

He swings with his axe at the angry creature. Easy. Easy pearls, the thing stuck in the boat like a sitting duck.

And then he swings again.

And he hits the boat.

Within seconds, he’s dead.

It’s dark at spawn, and Joel can barely keep from crying in frustration. The enderman had been in the blummin’ boat! All he had to do was hit it a couple of times and they were set!

“I’m so sorry, Etho,” he says, and he hates it. He hates that he has to say that.

He’d been worried about having to babysit another player, keep his lives safe in their hands, but here he is, having stolen a person’s life from them.

He lost Etho their first life, smart Etho who would never mess up killing an enderman in a boat, and now he has to own up to it and live with it.

“I know I messed up first,” Etho says, his eyes crinkling a bit in a way that, combined with the flat tone of his voice, tells Joel he’s definitely frowning. “But I think you messed up way worse there.”

Joel’s familiar with anger—very familiar—but it feels foreign coming from Etho. He ducks his head, runs back through the darkness to wherever it was that they’d died. Something akin to shame is curdling in his stomach, and it’s his fault that they died and Etho’s being weird about it and not yelling, meaning he’s the type to go all cold and calm with anger.

They gather their things from Impulse and Bdubs, then mess around a bit with boats—and maybe he’s just hiding it really well, but Etho doesn’t seem angry, it’s the strangest thing and Joel almost dreads the moment they’re alone together—before joining Grian and Scar on that horribly stupid plan to take over the outpost. It fails, of course, but no one gets seriously hurt and they get to lure a bunch of Pillagers into Bdubs’s stupid little house that he’s building for Impulse.

They hop around for probably a week, never alone, just watching everyone else start on their bases, before they finally set down a couple of chests and furnaces and get to work.

And Etho . . . isn’t mad.

In fact, as Joel starts laying out the foundation for his—their base, Etho comes up beside him, silently surveying, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t blame you for us being Yellow, by the way,” he says casually, and Joel almost chokes on his own spit.

“Sorry, what?”

Etho shrugs. “It was going to happen to one of us at some point,” he says. “And in my eyes? Better you than me, ‘cuz now I get to tease you for it.”

Is that. . . .

Was that a joke?

Etho leaves, and Joel’s left alone with his thoughts and a bunch of wood planks.

He’d thought Etho was boring. He’s always been the quiet, redstone-y kind of guy that Joel can’t stand—not that there’s anything wrong with that! Joel just needs somebody fast-moving, on his level, ready to burn down a building without questions or hesitation.

It’s just one joke. Anyone can make a joke, that doesn’t mean anything about their personality or character. For instance, Joel makes jokes all the time, and he’s a total jerk.

Etho can’t be likable. Sure, he was fine to wander around with for the past couple of days, causing general chaos, but he’s a bore and likes redstone. He won’t be able to keep up with Joel.

But Etho hovers there while he works, occasionally giving little suggestions to the build, and after he wanders off for the afternoon, he comes back with his eyes crinkled over his mask and bragging about some wool farm he’d built.

He doesn’t need help to build this ship. He doesn’t need to depend on anyone to get wool. He especially doesn’t need to depend on Etho, all dry looks and gloating and frowns.

Joel works alone. He always has.

But his indifference to Etho isn’t making him leave, so Joel decides to do what he does best.

Be annoying.

-

“I’m his biggest fan,” Joel boasts to anyone who’ll listen. “You guys know I looove redstone. Just like Etho. He’s perfect.”

Grian gives Scar a look. Scar doesn’t notice.

“We’re very happy—we have a lovely ‘Relation’ship, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re the best pair on the server, actually.”

Scott gives Cleo a look. Cleo does notice.

“Etho’s probably the best at everything in the world. He’s so good at . . . redstone. And . . . all the stuff you do with it. That’s why we’re practically made for each other.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, you sound kind of. . . .” Jimmy trails off, glancing over at Tango for support.

“Like you’re compensating for something? Unhappy? Inadequate?” Tango suggests helpfully.

“A-absolutely untrue!” Joel sputters, then clears his throat and turns away, nose high. “I’m going to get back to working on me and Etho’s perfect ‘Relation’ship, thank you very much.”

“You’re short!” Jimmy calls as parting words. Joel ignores him.

In total opposition to what he’s been spending the past couple of days declaring, once he finishes the bedroom space of the ship, he places his bed and Etho’s bed on opposite sides of the room.

“You stay over there, and I stay over here, all right?” Joel says that night, pointing to their respective beds. “I’m not a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space.”

“But Joel, I thought you were my biggest fan!” Etho wheedles. There’s a glint in those crinkled eyes that tells Joel he’s heard the stuff Joel’s been saying.

Which is frustrating, and immediately takes all the fun out of it. He’d wanted Etho to be mad about his obnoxiousness, to refuse to speak to him, to mock him in return until their partnership inevitably dissolved.

But Etho—his eyes are crinkling, the way they did back when they first died and when he finished the wool farm and then later, when Joel showed him around the ship’s process and he silently nodded before walking off.

“It’s okay, Joel, I know you love me even if you need space,” Etho tells him now, mirth clear in his voice, and Joel realizes that maybe that look isn’t one of anger or disapproval, as he’d first thought. Maybe Etho is . . . smiling.

That’s not good.

It’s not good at all, because if Etho likes him, then Joel. . . .

Joel has to at least try to like him back, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s the worst guy to be around, after all. He was actually a lot of fun in that first week, running around and stealing and bothering people together.

Maybe he was wrong.

-

As it turns out, when Joel decides he can like Etho, Etho becomes a whole lot more likable.

Etho’s brave—he goes out and enchants his stuff, and Impulse tells the story of them being chased by no less than three Wardens and Etho somehow surviving (Joel’s heart skips a beat in his chest at the most tense moments of the story, and Etho casually slugs his shoulder when he looks up to check his soulmate’s okay). He’s strong—not everyone can just run around the Deep Dark all day in full armor and live to tell the tale.

And he totally gets Joel’s sense of humor. He snorts at Joel’s contrived puns, mocks Martyn’s house relentlessly, finds Jimmy’s failures just as hilarious as they actually are.

Joel can’t remember, in recent memory, ever having someone like this. Someone he actually enjoys the company of, someone whom he appreciates and who appreciates him in turn. Someone to talk to, to listen to—and while Etho is a bit quiet, it’s not because he’s boring and isn’t thinking about anything. Joel thinks he just forgets to speak sometimes, and will gladly talk about anything if Joel asks him to.

Sure, he’s had friends. He’s always gotten along with Grian and Jimmy and, really, everyone on the server, when pressed. But none of them are Etho, exactly.

Which is bad. It’s bad because Joel is getting attached, he’s getting complacent, he’s getting happy—

That’s dangerous. This is a death game.

And maybe all that emotional-friend-love stuff works for the likes of Scott, but that’s just not Joel’s modus operandi. He can’t—he can’t be like that. He can’t get close.

“Redstoners and builders don’t work out together, you know,” he says to Etho early one morning. They’d both risen before the sun, for some reason (anxiety, perhaps, as more players become Yellow and fire proves to be a very useful tool) and had decided, without discussion, to sit in the crow’s nest, legs swinging in the air.

Etho hums quietly in that way that means he’s listening, the way he always does when Joel comes over to bother him. Patient, mellow, waiting to see where he’s going with it.

“Seriously, it never works,” Joel continues. “Their brains are too different. You’d think they’d work well, ‘cuz they cover different bases and all that, but it’s the opposite. They just butt heads all the time. It never works.”

“What about Bdubs and Impulse?”

Joel shrugs. “I mean, they both know a good amount of both, right? That’s different.”

There’s a smile to Etho’s voice when he speaks. “Tango and Jimmy?”

“Only if you’re calling Jimmy a builder,” Joel snorts. “In which case, you’re dead wrong.”

Etho makes a show of thinking—he props his chin up on his hand, taps his finger against his cheek. “Hm. You must be right. I can’t think of any other redstone-builder pairs.”

For some reason, something painful sinks through Joel’s stomach. He swallows it back, lets triumph color his tone. “Exactly. They’re too different.”

Etho drops his hand, lightly elbows Joel in the ribs. “Except for you and me, of course. We’re the exception.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry. He clears his throat. The pain vanishes, healed over with hope, surprise, a desperate need for attention filled—and he can’t even make himself disagree and argue, like he’d intended. Instead, all he can do is repeat it.

“We’re the exception.”

As he goes about his day, he barely even processes his actions—Etho thinks they work well together. Etho thinks they’re a match. Etho likes him, and his company, and his building skills, and his humor, and his bluntness, and everything about him.

And Joel’s really starting to think that he likes everything about Etho as well, as hard as he’d tried not to at the beginning.

They go down to the Deep Dark together the next day, and Joel’s trying very hard to ignore whatever his feelings may be on Etho. They can just—they can just be friends, right?

Friends who install proper stairs, of course. The way down takes forever.

“Creeper, behind you!”

Joel spins around, axe up, ready to defend—nothing. Etho huffs a little (again something now familiar that Joel had once taken to be a sign of disapproval), eyes crinkled almost all the way shut when Joel whips back around to him.

“Just kidding.”

“Oh, you cheeky devil—we need to trust each other,” Joel says, no real anger behind the way he shoves Etho lightly.

His palms seem to burn at the contact.

“I just need to make sure you’ll pay attention to me,” Etho says, and Joel has to wonder for a moment if he’ll ever have the problem of not paying attention to Etho again.

He doesn’t think he’s properly ignored his soulmate once all game, and in recent days, he can’t seem to pay attention to anything but Etho. He feels like he’s constantly thinking of him, wondering whether or not he’ll like the touches on the ship, wondering if he’s safe and who he’s with and if he’ll come home all right.

He hopes, a little enviously, perhaps, that Etho has similar worries.

“I am paying attention,” Joel says, and it’s perhaps the most honest thing he’s ever said, in all the games. “I always pay attention.”

When Etho responds, the mirth feels forced, and for a moment Joel feels almost as if he’s seeing Etho without his mask on. “You won’t ignore me in our ‘Relation’ship?”

“No, no, no. I never do.”

It’s true.

It’s so true, it hurts.

Joel—he doesn’t trust people. He can’t. And he’s sick of having to tell himself it again and again, but this just isn’t meant for him.

And then he forgets about it all, because they go into the Deep Dark and it’s bloody terrifying.

(Well, mostly forgets. Because he does walk behind Etho most of the way through the city and Etho—well. It’s a good angle for him, is all.)

That night, Joel lies in his bed on his side of the ship, and stares at the other side of the room. Etho’s sleeping—he hopes, at least—curled up on his side, a blanket pulled up over his head despite the summer heat.

Etho’s always cold, it’s practically his trademark. He’s always got that coat of his on, and gloves, and a mask.

He doesn’t wear the mask to sleep—Joel’s caught glimpses of his face while getting into bed, but he always looks away quickly—, but Joel has no clue if he wears the rest of his ensemble. Just the covers alone ought to be sweltering. Imagine a coat on top of all of that.

If they shared a bed, Etho would have to do away with that extra blanket. Joel could maybe tolerate a bedsheet, that’s it.

If they shared a—where did that thought come from?

But . . . well, Etho’s asleep. And thought isn’t a crime.

So Joel lies there, staring across the room at his soulmate, and wonders. Wonders about what it feels like to hold Etho in his arms, whether his elbows and knees are as bony as they look. Wonders if his hair is quite long enough to grasp between his fingers. Wonders if he’d still be all smooth words after Joel pulled down his mask, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him on the mouth.

Joel falls asleep a little red in the face, and the next morning when Etho does that silent crinkly-eyed laugh, he can’t help but stare and turn red all over again.

He pushes it out of his mind, and it’s through a feverish haze that he even gets through the week, even as they sneak around looking for sugarcane and messing with Scar and running from a Warden on the surface, of all places. He’s really quite occupied, but none of it quite computes when Etho’s right there, being devilishly handsome with that quirked eyebrow and white hair ruffled by the wind.

And the night after they’ve run from the Warden, Joel comes in a bit later than Etho—he’d been out gathering wheat a bit longer—to find that his soulmate has pushed their beds together.

His brain short-circuits as he blinks at the sight: Etho, one hand on the back of his neck sheepishly; the other still holding the blanket he’d been throwing across both beds.

“Is this all right?” Etho asks. Joel turns his blinking gaze toward him. “I just. I wouldn’t mind a bit of cuddling.”

There’s something in the way his eyebrows raise that tells Joel Etho knows exactly what he’s saying, exactly how Joel feels. The part of him that realizes that, that knows that Etho knows, wants to clap and holler and kiss that sexy man.

The rest of Joel, the main part of him, is trained to survive.

“Sure, whatever,” Joel shrugs, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. Etho can’t know. Etho can never know—and not that Etho can’t know just because he has a crush and it’s awkward, but because liking Etho is a weakness and Joel doesn’t have weaknesses, thank you very much.

And if Etho’s shoulders slump a bit at the response, Joel pretends he doesn’t notice.

And then the problem is, Etho doesn’t stop.

Joel makes it clear that he wants his space in bed, and Etho doesn’t encroach on that. But he does steal bites of Joel’s food, and sling an arm around his shoulder when they’re visiting the others, and boop his nose playfully when Joel starts to get angry at Grian for hoarding the sugarcane, and slowly look him up and down with a wink whenever he gets up for breakfast—

It’s maddening. It’s maddening, and every single night Joel lies there stiff as a board, inches away from Etho, trying to not let his thoughts wander to where they have so many times before.

He’s right there.

Every time Joel gets away on his own, he lets out a short, frustrated scream. And then he jumps off a hill that’s maybe a bit too high, if only to try and get Etho back for his teasing.

-

The fishing rods are possibly the stupidest thing they’ve ever done.

Not surprising, seeing as Grian’s at the head of this whole thing.

But Joel’s never been one for playing things safe, so he stabs the hook through the back of his shirt (he tugs on the line a few times, just to make sure it’s secure), then waits for Grian’s signal.

The first time is thrilling. The first time he flies up into the air, lands hard and laughs from the sheer adrenaline. Then he hooks Pearl, and Pearl hooks Etho, and they go up—

And Joel knows he’s in trouble for a split second before he’s dead on the ground.

He wakes up gasping, and there’s fire in his veins, there’s fire spreading all across his body and he wants—he needs to kill Pearl, needs her blood—

He rolls out of bed, scrambling for his chest and spare stuff, and then he hears someone else roll out of bed with a groan.

Joel turns, and Etho’s there, hungry fire in his eyes, and Joel needs him.

He practically tackles Etho, yanking down his mask—his lips are pink and soft and hot against Joel’s mouth, molten and perfect and everything he needs to stoke the burning inside—

Etho pushes him off (gently, somehow), and holds up a hand. Joel, somehow, manages to hold himself back. Etho’s—Etho’s right there—

Etho takes in a deep breath, and when he looks up, his eyes are crinkled in that perfect way and he’s smiling.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, and Joel lunges for him again.

-

Their next kiss is slower than that.

After they kill Pearl, and the pounding bloodlust in his head has quelled a bit, Joel leads the way back to the ship. He leans against the railing—and Etho leans next to him—and they  kiss.

It’s lazy, Joel thinks he would say. But not lazy in the way he might be with a build—skipping details and panning over mistakes—, lazy in a comfortable, staying-in-bed-late kind of way.

He kisses Etho, lazy and lovely, warm in the evening sun. And he really, really doesn’t care if anyone’s watching.

Let them watch, he thinks, with an almost vicious pleasure. Etho’s mine.

That makes something deep in his chest silently purr, almost, and when he pulls away to breathe, he clears his throat in a contented kind of way (not a growl, not a purr, but the closest he can get without outright embarrassing himself). Etho perks up at the sound.

“I forgot to tell you, I figured out what that sound you make reminds me of,” he says, and even the excited way he speaks sounds lazy and perfect.

Joel clears his throat again—and yeah, he does do it a lot, come to think of it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Etho sighs a little bit, tips his head onto Joel’s shoulder. “A tiger. Have you ever heard a tiger chuff?”

Joel laughs at that—his soulmate thinks he sounds like a tiger chuffing, and it’s the most stupidly adorable thing ever.

“Why are you laughing?” Etho asks playfully, nudging Joel. Joel doesn’t answer, just chuckles and clears his throat—or, chuffs like a tiger—and plants a kiss on Etho’s head.

“We could go threaten Scar,” Joel offers after a moment. His blood is starting to boil again, and he knows from lonely experience that only violence can scratch the itch.

Well. Probably only violence. He does notice that it’s a decent bit quieter when he’s aggressively kissing Etho.

Etho stands up straight—taller than Joel when he does that, which is blummin’ obnoxious of him—and slowly, gently, lazily kisses Joel. It’s warm and measured, his tongue teasing at Joel’s slightly parted lips, and it seems to Joel that he only pulls away when he’s memorized the feel of Joel’s lips.

“That sounds like a good date,” he murmurs.

Joel grins, and Etho grins back, his eyes all crinkled, and Joel takes off at a run to swing himself over the opposite railing and climb down the ladder.

Etho catches up moments later, mask fixed back on his face, and Joel pulls out his spyglass to check out where the residents of that giant cake-thing are.

They’re right beside it, as it turns out.

“Scar’s holding a flint n’ steel,” Joel warns, shoving his spyglass in his pocket. “He already took down the Ranch, we might want to be careful of that.”

Etho only scoffs. “If the ship burns, everything burns.”

Unsurprisingly, Joel finds he agrees with that—not that he can ever imagine disagreeing with Etho. He nods.

“If the ship burns, everything burns.”

-

And after everything burns, they burn too.

They’re dying, Joel had come through the portal to find lava and pain, and he screams for Etho to turn back but even if he had they’d still be dead—

He doesn’t even have the chance to glance back at his lover before he burns.

He drifts for a little while, the bitter disappointment of his loss somehow distant when compared to the loss of Etho. The next game will start eventually, and when it does, there’s no way of knowing that Etho will even be there. After all, it’s picked up new players and dropped others as time passed. Joel can’t even remember the original line-up, it’s shifted so much and so many times.

When he lands in the next game, he doesn’t even check his comm before punching apart a tree.

The gimmick isn’t soulmates again, he knows instantly. He’d grown so accustomed to the pull in his chest of Etho that it aches now to not feel him.

(Or maybe that’s just his heart. Same difference, really.)

So Joel tries to put Etho out of his mind and move on with his life. They were never meant to last, anyway. That’s the thing about redstoners and builders—they never work out.

He knew that. He knew they never work out, and he tried to do something with Etho, anyway.

It had been fun while it lasted, of course. It had been . . . perfect, even.

But Joel’s always been a loner, and now that he’s got that Green-life clarity, he can go back to it.

He takes down another tree and has a crafting table and some basic tools put together when someone clears their throat behind him.

Joel jumps, spins around—

Etho’s there, leaning lazily against a tree, and—his eyes are crinkled in that way—

“Miss me?” he teases, and Joel barely has time to drop his wooden pick before he’s storming over, pushing Etho against the tree, tearing his mask down—

The kiss is hard and messy, teeth clicking together and lips sliding apart, and when Joel pulls away to gasp in some air, Etho’s cheeks are flushed and lips bruised and he’s still got that blummin’ smile.

“Right,” Joel breathes.

“Wanna build us a house while I go mining?” Etho offers, and forget whatever loser thoughts Joel had been moping about with! He’s got Etho, there’s no need to be on his own anymore.

Maybe they can even win it, this time. After all, they’re together from the start here. No more acting like an idiot about wanting to be alone or whatever.

Joel watches Etho head off into a cave, stone pick hefted over his shoulder, and can’t help the way his heart skips a beat.

Etho’s his, and when everything burns, they burn together.

#double life smp #traffic smp #trafficblr #smalletho #THE SMALLETHO IS ROMANTIC!! #BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING THEY MAKE OUT A LOT! #double life fanfic #mas writes #061323 #this will be uploaded to ao3 under the title 'when everything burns' #idk why but after a dlsmp rewatch i had a bad smalletho itch #dlsmp #again this was queued in december #so while i very much appreciate comments and will love you forever #i won't see em immediately #and also i'm not back yet from my break #but lmk what you think! #love you guys

[krynoss]

:.Etho watched helplessly as Joel walked away from him, their once attached-to-each-other string dragging behind him with every aching step he took. Tears were rolling down his face now, Etho couldn't understand why he did it.

He thought they were happy together. He loved Joel.

"This isn't working out..."

"I heard golden apples breaks the soulmate thing..."

"Lets do that."

Etho blinked harshfully to get rid of those thoughts before looking down, watching as his hands formed into fists then fall out of position again. He watched as his end of the string awayed slightly in the wind. He hated it. He hated heartbreak. Etho glanced back up at Joel just to see him disappear around a tree, never seen again. Etho wanted to scream. To shout. Ask why Joel wanted to leave him so badly. But Etho didn't. So he stayed silent as his tears soaked his mask.:

Wanted to write Smalletho angst with this doodle I randomly drew :)

Enjoy

#etholabs #smallishbeans #smalletho #double life smp #double life smp fanfic #dlsmp #dlsmp fanfic

[paradoxlemonade]

Mirror Mirror

Fandom: Double Life SMP

Dynamic: Etho & Joel

words: 1313

Warnings: body image issues, insecurity

Ao3: Here!

Summary: Etho doesn't like how he looks. Joel does not know this. Hurt/comfort ensues. (This is my @mcytblrholidayexchange present for @kyleknight! I hope you enjoy ^^)

— — — — —

Joel likes to think he’s a pretty funny guy in his own humble opinion, thank you very much. People laugh when he starts cracking jokes, and those that don’t are probably just peeved that they’re the subject of his mockery—after all, when there’s a punchline, someone has to be the one to get decked. It’s all in good fun!

It’s… disconcerting when someone who’s supposed to be in on the joke isn’t smiling along with it. 

And it’s not like Etho’s even the one on the receiving end! The whole point of the thing is how they—as soulmates—can ruin everyone else’s thumbnails together!

It’s a bit of Etho’s that Joel has always found fun as long as he’s known about it: hiding another layer of visual data in his player code only visible upon lookup is a fantastic prank for messing with one’s friends, since it’ll only show up when they pull his image to build the thumbnail. Etho himself, who doesn’t bother with that sort of menial technicality and just whips out a camera from his back pocket when he spies a good thumbnail, is immune. And sure, sure, Joel doesn’t actually know how to replicate the effect and just went for a plain t-shirt with the face painted on in crooked lines, but it was still funny and would show up on the lookups (And Etho’s pictures, but that’s what hiding the shirt with armor is for).

Joel was grinning like mad as he showed off the creation, hands waving and detailing the concept. Etho gave an affirmation, but he hadn’t seemed particularly enthused with the concept; the mask hiding his face stretched with a smile even as his eyes skittered to the side and hid under knit brows.

So. Joel tries not to let it bother him and simply enjoy the thought of his friends being annoyed with him.

He picks at the hem of the t-shirt as he paces about the Boat Boys (not Small Etho!) base area. The day passes as usual: chaos reigns, problems are caused (all on purpose if asked, mostly on purpose in actuality), and Joel enjoys Etho’s company. Really, the man is a delight—Joel knew of him more than he knew him personally before the latest season, but every new interaction reveals something new about Etho that he didn’t know, and Joel’s actions and mannerisms in turn to him.

Everything seems fine, until. Until, until, until.

Etho removes the secret layer. Joel finds out about it in between sessions and tries (fails) not to take it personally.

It… stings.

The start of the next session and Joel’s ire do not roll in like thunder, but instead stumble in on unsure legs like a fawn. Sure, he’s irritated (and a little offended, and a little hurt), but it’s Etho. So Joel leans on the edge of The Relation Ship and drinks in the sight of the server.

A creaking floorboard from behind him and a gentle wheeze of breath belies Etho’s awaited arrival. 

Without turning around, Joel begins, “I see that you’ve changed your skin?” It’s light as he can manage with a slight chuckle of incredulity, but from the tightness in his jaw, it does little to masquerade much of anything.

“I did, yes—”

“You took the face off? Was it because I—”

“Yeah.”

Joel huffs. “Wow, brilliant.” He pushes off and turns in a single motion, and—

Freezes.

…Any plans Joel has for a polite (but frigid, but pointed, but sardonic) questioning evaporate once he gets a look at Etho’s face.

He looks tired, bags like smudges of coal languishing, shifting with every blink. Every step is upheld with an air of casual nonchalance, but the slight tremble in his fingers betrays him. His pale hair is dull and falls over his scarred eye.

“...You look like a wreck.”

Etho scowls for a bare moment but beats it down to a practiced neutrality. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Joel snorts. “Considering that I hadn’t asked but you tried to deflect anyways, say that I don’t particularly believe you.” He grabs Etho by the wrist and slides past, leading him down to their chests. “Did you sleep at all between now and the last session? Because your eyebags have eyebags. Bet we could fit a whole stack of items in there.” Before Etho can respond, Joel pops the lock on a chest and picks out a loaf of bread. He drops it into Etho’s hands with a nod of finality.

“I slept just fine. And I ate too, if that’s what you’re getting at by this.” He gestures helplessly with the bread. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Joel shrugs. “And I said I didn’t believe you. I can play this game all day, especially since your face isn’t helping your argument.”

Etho scowls again. “Stop saying that.” 

“Saying what? That you look like you’ve been fighting phantoms? And losing?”

 “Joel, please…” His shoulders are drawn in close and his grip on the bread grows tighter, more desperate.

Joel falters.

“Are you… okay?”

Etho makes a face and stalks back onto the ship. “You don’t need to rub it in, you know.”

Joel trails behind him, his sense of assurance drying up. “You’re gonna need to be a little more specific than that, mate. Rub what in?”

He laughs. Laughs. Something dry, something quiet, something brittle. Etho keeps his gaze trained on the bread crust he picks at aimlessly. “I know I’m nothing nice to look at. I’ve known that basically forever. So you don’t need to rub it in; I already know.”

Joel blinks. He stops following Etho’s pacing and stands in place. What does he say to that? “You’re kidding, right?”

Mm. Probably not that.

Etho gives him an unimpressed look. “Why would I be kidding about this? You’ve been saying it yourself all morning.”

Wait, he thought that… and then Joel…

Oh, goddammit.

Joel rubs a hand across his face letting it trail up to drag through his hair. “You look tired, man, not ugly. You’re not a supermodel—so what? Neither am I. And neither is anyone else that we hang out with. You’re in pretty good company.” His feet finally unstick from the floor and he manages to scoot next to Etho, their shoulders brushing. “You’ve been thinking about this the entire break, haven’t you?”

Etho shrugs, as if it hides the way his shoulders droop with the weight of his thoughts. “I don’t… I try not to think about my face too much. Not ever since”—he waves his free hand at the long, ropy line bisecting his face��“that. No mirrors in any of my builds or anything. I guess your silly t-shirt just reminded me that everyone else is looking at me when I talk to them.”

Joel kinda feels bad for taking that personally, now.

He shakes his head. “If you told me what was up, I would’ve ditched the shirt. Here, like this.” He reaches up with one hand and yanks it off by the neckline, tossing it across the ship in the same motion. It hits the wall and slides to the floor in a crumpled heap. “There, now it’s gone.”

Etho takes a minute to gather his thoughts. After a pause, his eyes trail over to meet Joel’s. “Thanks.”

Joel leans over and bumps him, never breaking eye contact. “Bothering people is fun. Hurting them isn’t.”

The moment passes, and Etho turns his attention back to the bread. He slides his mask down and takes a hesitant bite.

— — — — —

Joel leans back and kicks a foot over his leg. “Besides, I can still think of, like, at least three different people who would throw themselves at you in a heartbeat if they thought they had a chance of getting you into bed with them.”

Etho chokes on a mouthful of bread.

#double life smp #trafficblr #life smp #boat boys #ethoslab #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #double life fanfic #mcyt #idea writes #idea original post