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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

#secret life smp #a bee fic #not tagging everyone in this because it's. everyone #anyway i have wanted to write this for like TWO WEEKS so i figured that now's as good a time as any #anyway this is probably as thinly disguised as my character meta gets #we talk a LOT in this fandom about curses #we talk about whether we like them as fanon we talk about whether we dislike them we talk about who has them we talk about why #we talk about if they're here or broken or anything else #so i'd like to think the characters have an opinion on curses too after how much talking about them we've been doing #...at least the characters around to tell us their opinions do.#(anyway for all I claim this is thinly disguised character meta it IS actually of note that this isn’t actually about if they believe)#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)#(hence why half of them don’t even answer the right question)#(this is why I’m not good at character meta btw)

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smallishbeansshouldwinplease · 1 year

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Life Series Grian meet eachother

Continuation from THIS

MORE INFO BELOW!

"X CHARACTER from 3L meets their counterpart from Y series version" AU.

3L Grian is a loyalist to the end even when Scar somewhat betrays him. A great trap-maker though he has his moments of it backfiring on him (Ex. His TNT trap not damaging anyone but his team on the fight against the Red Army). He is blood-thirsty therefore less trusting of strangers other than his allies.

LL Grian is somewhat loyal but is punished for it when he gets exiled from the Southerners. Great in combat, managing to secure kills on many players on pvp.

DL Grian is not loyal to Scar but even his with BigB's a bit flimsy though much more stable, has actively made enemies through killing Etho & Joel. Though his stalactite kill is spectacular, it is his one and only intentional kill which ranks him lower than the other series version.

LL2 Grian is loyal until his remaining teammate die, which is reasonable in a logical standpoint. Unfortunately, his survival is at all time zero because of the undeniably stupid deaths he's had this time, along with killing his teammates repetitively which ultimately lessens his own group's chances of survival. Managed to secure another alliance with Nosey Neighbors after his own group die which is smart. Though his many very preventable deaths, he has more than made up with it with his numerous kills on others through TNT carts.

(NOTE: I am a bit rusty on the previous life series except LL2, so correct me if i'm wrong!)

(Upcoming : Jimmy, Joel, Scott, Cleo, [Maybe Martyn & Pearl?])

(UNRELATED NOTE: I thought it was only me who liked the X! Character meets Y version of themselves and talks about their experiences and reacts haha. It was such an underrated trope that looking for it was a bit of a pain!)

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tunastime · 9 months

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no place for strangers

in which BigB realizes that there are a significant number of difference sbetween him and his friends, and in which BigB decides he doesn’t really care that much.

(2333 words)

A portion of the night sky, night for only a fraction of time, is blotted out by the shape of two dark, mottled-grey wings.

He supposes he's a little jealous of that, the wings, how they shed loose feathers, how they flutter and swish and practically make no noise at all when extended. He's a bit jealous of Grian, known Watcher, much more powerful, hands twisted in the reigns of his own creation—the games. He's as much a pawn in this one as he has been in the others. But unlike BigB, he's hungry. The killing doesn't do it for him. Neither does the dying. Grian’s new—the Watchers don’t let him stay full. They chastise him for a million things and make sure he suffers, and at this point, BigB watches it happen. There isn’t much left he can do. He does less Watching and more supervising.

Maybe he's jealous of Pearl, with thin black and gold wings like a moth, ears wispy and pointed up toward the sky. The way her drooping eyes never dim, the way they both glow, silver and gold. She’s got it just as good as him, doesn’t she? Secretive and distant. Away enough to matter but not enough to cause a fuss.

But maybe he isn't. Isn't there something lurking behind his eyes when he stares at his reflection too long? Wouldn't redstone glow in his presence? Wouldn't the forest go silent and the earth hold its breath as he waited, as he watched? Wasn't there the purple remnant of where he once stood?

It doesn't matter. BigB stares up at the messy splotch that is Grian against the night sky and sighs something profound. He tried to understand him. To love him. But Grian is a widow, and everyone that loves him suffers the same. They just have, actually. Joel and Jimmy. And now Grian perches and watches and BigB watches him and there's a muted sting behind his eyes as he does. Grian doesn't turn. But his wings flutter.

"Good to know that some things stay the same," BigB says, cutting through the warm night air with a voice he hopes matches it, but he isn't sure. Grian hums, mostly questioning. His feet stay planted. BigB starts to scale the wall.

"Don't know what you mean by that," Grian questions. He turns his head slightly to the sound of BigB climbing the ladder to the top, but doesn't do much else.

"You," BigB huffs. He rests his hands on the top of the wall, pulling himself over the flat edge. He swings his legs over, and his heels bounce against the cobbles. It’s an uncomfortable resting place. He watches Grian shift from foot to foot, and wonders if the same cobbles are digging into the soles of his feet, the same way they dig into the underside of BigB’s thighs.

“Me?” Grian parrots. His eyes flick over to BigB, quick, but not so quick that BigB doesn’t catch the nervous glint of them. He rests back on his hands. The rough rock presses back against his palms, cold and uncomfortable. Luckily, the air around them is thick with humidity, heat, and a faint metallic smell. And the hum of cicadas. Their drone blocks out everything else, except the words bouncing around in BigB’s head.

"You're still no good at the emotions thing, are you?" he asks. He tilts his head as he says it, cocking it to one side as he looks over at Grian. He watches Grian’s nose wrinkle, the beginnings of his teeth baring back, as if he could bite and make anything more than an impression. BigB almost laughs. He gets it, he really does.

The thing about Grian is that he’s not an easy shape to love, and an even less easy shape to hold. Like every bird, he fears being caged, and arms are no more than a cage, and someone holding his heart is no more than a cage, so he can’t sit still, even now, even on the edge of a wall. BigB watches his wings twitch. They’re gorgeous, but there’s a sharp line through them where the flight feathers should be. They’re not much more than deadweight. Anyway—where was he? Right. Grian. Impossible to love, impossible to hold. A widow, of sorts. The words tumbled out of Scar’s mouth one time, scorned and scoffed. Grian was no more than a widow mourning the first partner he took—Scar—trying to find someone who fit the hole but wasn’t him.

But Grian kills. Who could say it was even his fault? Scar. BigB. Jimmy. Joel. Everyone he tries to love, in any shape, dies. He’s forced to starve. He’s forced to feed a higher cause.

BigB can see Grian’s calloused fingers from here, at least the pale shape of them, balanced over his shins as his wrists drape over the sharp edge of his knee. He studies him in the dim lighting before he looks away, feeling something curdling in his stomach. BigB knows his time is short. Unremarkable. And normally forgotten. That doesn’t really bother him, though. He knows the importance of his impression, here. But he wants to tug this string, just once. He knows where all the strings lie—even his own, unfortunately. Maybe that’s the one thing he knows better than Grian—he’s aware of the outcome before it happens. He doesn’t have to stop to wonder what his odds are.

“That’s not nice,” Grian begins, and BigB shrugs. The cicadas stop singing. BigB’s voice cuts through the night like a knife, cool and even.

“I’m just being honest,” he starts. He watches the stone of the clock tower for movement, eyes flicking over the shape in the dark. “Jimmy and Joel just died and you’re already trying to replace them.”

Grian huffs. He sounds indignant, almost twinged with hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

BigB raises his eyebrows, tilts his head again. Grian catches his eye for a second longer, this time, and his eyes are dark and wide. His jaw is tightly set. He looks like, at any moment, his lips might curl back and expose blunt, powerless teeth. BigB wonders what that might feel like—surely unpleasant, to have someone bite down on you with the intent to do harm, but he wonders if Grian could kill him on purpose and if it might rid him of anything. It might make the smell of guilt worse, actually.

“I think you do,” BigB says.

“Enlighten me, then,” Grian grits out, teeth closing around the words with a sharp snap. “Since I can feel you trying to figure me out.”

“Not me,” BigB says. Grian shuts his eyes, pinching his eyebrows together, before he twists his body around, fast enough to hear the slight pop of his spine as it cracks. BigB can feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as Grian searches, eyes scorching the earth for any sign of—

“Pearl—”

BigB hums, but it sounds more like a laugh.

“You’re just no good at it,” he says after a beat. Grian resettles, but his wings stay fluffed, body tight with tension. He radiates energy like a coil tightly wound. BigB can feel it seeping into the seams of him, and shifts as it prickles over his skin. He leans back on his hands a little further, hoping they can carry the weight. He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what that means, BigB,” Grian sighs, short and through his nose. His hair blows into his face. “What d’you—” He sighs again, cutting himself off with a wave of his hand.

He seems annoyed about the whole prospect of their conversation. It’s not unfounded, honestly. BigB did just climb up the ladder and start unpacking years worth of issues in front of Grian, trying to dig at the soft, bleeding center of the thing. He’s pretty sure Joel’s blood is still under his fingernails. He’s not sure if he saw it all happen. He definitely didn’t see Jimmy’s body hit the ground. Lucky, that. He’s not sure if he could watch people so used to flying be unable to use their wings when they needed it most. He thinks he might’ve seen Joel in the moment before Jimmy disappeared—Joel who was never one to let fear and grief trump anger. Or maybe the anger was his grief, like it was Tango’s, or Scar’s. Not that he saw much of that, either. Stories, mostly, things that get passed around a dim campfire at the end of the world.

Jimmy was probably just a near-lifeless body in Joel's arms, right before he was gone. Poor guy. Grian didn’t even get to them in time before it was too late. He was too late for Joel, too. Joel was ash before Grian could even make his mouth into the shape of his name. BigB wonders if they got a grave. Grian was good at building graves, so he’d like to think so. It only made sense. Grian seemed to get over it faster when there was something to mourn to.

BigB takes a second to think, pressing his tongue between his back teeth. The air is quiet around them, still, like it, too, holds the tension in Grian’s spine, like it might be twisting it taut.

“You just don’t understand how it works, you’re not good at grieving, and you’re not good at the whole grief thing, either.” BigB shrugs again, shoulders lifting just enough to be visible. He’s still not watching Grian, as much as Grian isn’t watching him, aside from the hum of them both, something wholly inhuman brushing shoulders with something that craved humanity more than anything else in the world, but could never figure out how to get it.

“You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Grian starts.

“No, you don’t,” BigB turns toward him, finally, furrowing his eyebrows. “Grian, dude—you’re faking this whole human thing to begin with, and it’s not working—”

Grian whips around to face him. His face is sharp, jaw set. “Stop—”

BigB waves him off. His voice, unlike Grian’s, stays level, twinged with annoyance, rather than anything else.

“You don’t understand what you should be guilty of, but you’re feeling it like it’s like…rotting something inside of you but you still don’t know why, and jeez, Grian, you’ve made it a crime for you to feel something.”

He sighs, waving his hands around as if it could help bolster his point any further. He feels something ache in his chest—something aching to explain it in a way that Grian could understand, in a way that he wouldn’t just fight. Grian visibly bristles, feathers on his ears rising, the red and yellow tips of them stark in the night, even in the lantern light.

“You’re on this planet too, you know, you’re allowed to let yourself feel. Messy and gross as it is. I mean, they died, man, is that anything?”

Grian swallows. BigB doesn’t watch the bob of his throat, or the way his feathers are still raised in alert as he jerks his head away. He follows Grian’s line of sight down the clock tower, where Bdubs and Cleo are talking. Bdubs looks over after a second. BigB feels a cold line run down his spine, but refuses to break his gaze. There are no sounds now, not even of his own heartbeat.

“No,” Grian manages.

BigB relaxes. Something of an easy smile finds his face, softening the shape of his eyes and the line of his jaw. He shakes his head. Grian shies away from him, but his feathers lower, and his posture sinks. He finally lowers himself to a sit, throwing his legs over the side of the wall. His hands cradle in his lap, and he stares into the palms of them. BigB remembers them as calloused, cold, and hard to hold properly. But he’s sure someone out there enjoys them.

“You’re a really bad liar,” he laughs. Grian shakes his head. His voice is much quieter as he speaks.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.”

BigB turns his head. There, for a short moment in the moonlight, he watches the shape of Grian’s left shoulder turned toward him. They rise and fall as he breathes, shudder when he sniffs and sighs, move as he shifts his body, likely feeling those same, cold, hard cobbles pressing into the soft back of his legs. He sees where the back meets the wing, where the wing relaxes down and where feathers brush stone. He sees where they rest against the cobbles, half held and half upright, as if he wants to be ready to leap at a moment's notice. As if he doesn’t know that he, too, would die on impact. BigB reaches out, settling one soft hand on his shoulder. Grian tenses, but does not jump.

“‘S alright, buddy.”

Instead, Grian deflates. BigB runs his thumb over the side of his shoulder, a friendly, comforting thing, as Grian leans back to his hand. His posture sinks to the touch, muscles weakening, wings folding back and down. Every molecule of his body, and BigB almost feels this in the air, grows heavy and tired at the subtle comfort. Grian draws what he can from it before he speaks. His voice sounds even, now, and tired.

“I miss them…” He starts. He swallows. “I missed you, too. I missed Scar.”

BigB sighs, giving Grian’s shoulder a long, warm squeeze before he lets go. Grian sways but catches himself on his hands. His body stays curved into itself.

“I know,” BigB says. “But you’ll never be over it if you never break that cycle.”

Grian shrugs. The steel starts to slip back into his voice, firm.

“I will when I win.”

BigB smiles.

“Maybe,” he says. He’s not sure he can see the end of that string yet, but the results don’t exactly look promising. “Who knows what’s in the cards?”

#bigbst4tz2 #bigbstatz #bigb #grian #limlsmp #limited life smp #limited life fic #limited life #mcyt fic #mcyt #fics #text #:3 i love bigb so much #i dont know what possessed me to write him but i plan on doing it MORE #MORE BIGB!!!! MORE THINGS ABOUT HIM #HE IS SO SPECIAL TO ME!!#this was also called 'no place for strangers' i'll probably link the ao3 when it gets posted

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zedif-y · 9 months

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Joel's gone soft on him.

It's true– Really, it is, Jimmy thinks, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Joel's gone soft.

Don't get him wrong, it's not a bad thing. 'Cuz Jimmy isn't like that and softness doesn't mean weak... It's just that he's not used to it.

Like. At all.

He's not used to this side of Joel, the one that sleeps with Jimmy keeping watch, snoring and curled up on his side. Joel's a light sleeper, and it kinda shows. His face scrunches up when Jimmy stops playing with his hair, idly combing through them for no other reason than because he can.

They're still touchy, always have been, and Joel's never been one to shy from playing rough. He's the same, same old Joel, except sometimes he isn't. Sometimes he's more.

Joel shifts in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath. Jimmy's hand stills, fingers between soft strands.

For a second, he thinks that maybe Joel wants him to stop. But then Joel's making that face again, the pinched expression with the small frown that Jimmy's come to know as why’d you stop? And Jimmy obliges, keeps his hand moving and drags his fingertips gently on Joel's scalp, keeps at it until his features smooth out and Joel's snoring again.

It makes Jimmy's heart squeeze, just a little. He's never seen him so– vulnerable.

Idly, he wonders if Etho's ever done this.

Joel doesn't talk about Etho a lot.

Jimmy makes a face. Okay, no, that's not true. He does. He talks about him, but it's in that like, angry sort of way where his voice pitches up and his hands get all jittery. He scowls a lot when he does, Jimmy noticed, and after a while it gets obvious that it's not exactly the best subject.

He replaced me with a cow, Jim! Joel lamented. A bloody cow!

Surely I was worth more to him than that!

And Jimmy wasn't sure if he was, like, genuinely upset for a second. Honest. But he looked and Joel's hands were shaking a little, and his glare on the horizon looked a hair away from hurt. So Jimmy wasn't thinking when he patted him on the back, saying, with as much sincerity as he could muster, You're way cooler than a cow.

(It's a miracle he didn't start laughing on the spot.)

He kept going, If it makes you feel any better, you're worth at least three.

That startled a laugh out of Joel, Think you mean a hundred, mate.

Jimmy laughed, his shoulders relaxing at Joel's grin.

Yeah, 'course.

–The point is, Jimmy wonders.

Wonders if Joel's ever had this, someone watching over him while he rests. Wonders if he's ever had his hand held just for the sake of it, wonders if anyone's ever wanted to keep him warm.

Jimmy wonders if he's the first.

Joel shivers, snapping him out of his thoughts. With careful hands, Jimmy takes the end of the blanket out from under Joel's arm, pulling it over his shoulder. In his sleep, Joel makes a soft, insistent noise.

Jimmy smiles, just a little. Gosh, he really likes his hair played with, huh?

(He'd tease him for it, but he knows better.)

Jimmy combs Joel's hair back, pushing it away from his eyes. Joel relaxes under his touch yet again.

Yeah, Jimmy thinks. Yeah.

Joel could use a bit of softness. Just a bit.

(And Jimmy's more than happy to provide.)

#ryan's writing #smallidarity #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #trafficship #trafficshipblr #trafficshipping #trafficblr #limlife smp #limlife #limited life smp #limited life

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goldenwitherphoenix13 · 10 months

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A long post is under the cut, but I think we, as a fandom, moved on far too quickly from the endings of empires smp season 2.

Almost everyone got a happy ending.

Fwhip resigned from the role of the Goblin king.

Joel accended to true God hood.

Sausage grew old in sanctuary and raised Hermes to be an interdimentional warrior.

Gem finished Dawn and chose to stay in Hermitcraft because it was the best choice.

Katherine cured the curse plaguing her land.

Joey got to go on all sorts of adventures after defeating his arch-nemesis Skeletron.

Pix, while not finishing his work, got to tell the story of the ancient ruins.

Lizzie created a fully functioning city of animals to live as they want.

Shelby became one of the most powerful witches and got that date with Katherine.

Scott went off into the sunset with Owen to discover new lands and treasures to steal.

Heck, even Oli got out of debt, even if he ended up accidentally time travelling.

And while False never uploaded her finale, we can easily infer that she continued to expand her empire and make her name for herself.

Who did I miss?

Sheriff Jimmy.

The sheriff, who all the other emperors abandoned. The sheriff, nearly loosing his own identity to a joke. The sheriff, who lost his town to the fae.

Let's not forget Jimmy never left tumble town willingly. He was booted out when the fae corrupted his lands, spreading it throughout his home. He and the old sheriff, Roswell, made the best of a bad situation. I mean, what else can they do? Fight the fae? Fae are powerful creature. Not to be messed with. Fighting them is a one-way ticket to death if they don't decide to hold you a prisoner in their realm.

Jimmy also never got the chance to say goodbye to anyone. Everyone had already left him behind. Joel had accended without saying goodbye to his supposed best bud. Sausage never thought to check in on tumble town. There was no final passing of words—just a note from Fwhip.

And, let's not forget this big bit of information, the thing that still grinds my gears about empires season 2. He is the only villain of season 2 who got no closure, redemption or apology. Shelby was uncorrupted and saved. Sausage supreme was fused into Sausages soul. Skeletron was killed by Katherine, Joey and Shelby. They all got an end to their villainy, wether through being saved or killed.

Jimmy got nothing.

His ending was, in multiple ways, left unfinished. He was still bitter towards the emperors. He was still lacking any human respect. He wasn't given any apology or forgiveness. He was forced out of his home by powerful creatures, trying his best to make good of the darkness left to him.

But it's not all darkness. This isn't a bad ending. I think this end has an underlying subtext not even Jimmy planned for. Something I've seen almost no one talking about.

The sheriff walked away from a toxic environment.

Now is an excellent time to remind you that this is all about the characters. Not the actual content creators. Got it? Good.

Let's be honest. None of the characters in Empires Season 2 were 100% innocent besides maybe Katherine. Some were thieves. Some were filled with pride, some made dubious choices, and some were even a little corrupt. And Jimmy isn't an exception. He was a lil bit dishonest with power sometimes and a lil bit prideful in his name. But the sheriff wasn't evil at first. He still did things to help people. He helped Katherine arrest Joey for theft. He did his best to follow the rules, and he actively sought to stop those committing crimes and try to understand the issue at hand, like with Shelby. And his reward. Constant teasing and mockery.

Everyone, including his allies, still made fun of him. Even his best bud said things behind his back. And this is what made him snap. Not the jokes, but that no one, not even his allies, seemed to show any human decency to him.

And he never got an apology or a moment to put them in their place to tell them that they have done goofed. The sheriff was barely given a chance to build, hardly a chance to breathe. He knows he probably couldn't take them in a fight, but they didn't even give him a chance to talk. They made him sit there and take it like he had no choice.

The sheriff instead chose to walk away. Everyone had left him behind. And with the threat of the fae above him, he decided that the best course of action was to leave the toxic lands behind. Lands full of pranks and mistakes that would only ever remind him of his negative attributes.

The sheriff stayed with the one person who ever showed him any sliver of true friendship—the old sheriff. The old sheriff helped reverse the effects of the lore potion with an unnamed potion he found at Shelbys. He helped Jimmy defend the town from a raid. He stayed with him through thick and thin. Sure, he isn't the best influence, but he's better than the world around them.

Ultimately, Jimmy's finale wasn't the good ending like everyone else's. Villains rarely ever get those. Instead, it's a bittersweet goodbye from the two sheriffs off to find a new home far away to the lands of one that brought sorrow, even if at least one of them has some anger issues to work through.

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spiritualviolation · 11 months

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yknow what? fuck you. *hi-fi rushes your cod duo*

anyways i’ve given this au a slight bit more thought so click read more to see my inane ramblings which are. not much.

- it’s literally just an mcc9 pink parrots x hi-fi rush au where nothing really changes except for the main heroes... yeah. i was 3 months late to martyn’s hi-fi rush playthrough...

- tbh i’m not sure whether i should put cc’s as the bosses or just keep them the way they are... i’m apprehensive because the bosses are kinda ableist and putting a mcyt character in their place feels... wrong. the alt option is making ocs but even that i’m kinda bleghhh......

- ANYWAYS martyn is korsica bc ‘self-proclaimed datastream defender’, ‘head of security’, it’s literally right there. martyn is trying so hard to keep a straight face at his own accidental ‘strong arm’ joke during his boss fight. his backstory largely remains the same as korsica’s, except martyn leans more to wanting to work in a position where he could also help people the way he has been helped, rather than korsica who wanted to work at vandelay because she idolised the company. martyn is somehow more and less stubborn than korsica.

- joel is macaron because i think it would be funny but also just could not genuinely think of anyone else. (maybe would’ve used big b...) joel’s backstory is the one that deviates the most from the original, if only to fit his personality, but i kinda think it parallels zanzo a little (as former head of r&d) which would be fun (also hermes is cnmn)

- as seen above, jimmy is chai and grian is peppermint, their backstories remain pretty much the same as chai and peps’, except jimmy isn’t as adamant on being a rockstar as much as chai is, just thinks being a rockstar would be an easier way in life.

- 808 is pearl! i considered using maui at first, but i thought it would be nice to reference both pearl (grian’s cat) and pearl (pearlescentmoon) for 808

i wish there’s more character content bc i genuinely do love the main team a lot

#hi-fi rush #mcyt #hermitcraft #i do not know what to tag this.#empires smp #evangenny aus #this all stemmed from picturing jimmy and grian as chai and peppermint #just cause of the silly sibling dynamic both duos have #i can guarantee you that now it's out of my system it'll probably fully disappear from my head #in about a week #give or take #evangenny art #i applaud people who can draw chai's guitar btw bc Jesus Fucking Christ #hi fi rush #solidaritygaming #grian #solidaritygaming fanart #grian fanart

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mochiwrites · 4 months

Text

( tags via @cranewivess )

I’M MAKING A WHOLE SEPARATE POST TO TALK ABOUT THEM BUT NO YOU’RE LITERALLY SO CORRECT

I need you to imagine with me right. right. hotguy seeing a “suspicious” figure out in the middle of the night. in front of the barge. and going “hey that’s grian’s place, someone’s trying to break in!” so naturally he does what any good friend (he uses that word loosely since grian doesn’t seem to like him very much :( ) and hero and apprehend the criminal!

except he approaches them and oops! it’s grian! he’s closing up shop late! and now hotguy’s walking him home! because he’s a gentleman!

and now they’re talking and hotguy pretends to be surprised when he hears that grian is the barge’s owner, expresses his love and appreciation for the good pastries and sweets. and grian tells him he’s been thinking about doing hotguy and cuteguy cookies.

maybe hotguy makes a joke about taste testing for him, and grian’s face goes red and he’s like “you’re probably a pretty busy guy! I’d hate to bother you with cookies of all things” and hotguy Very sincerely says he wouldn’t mind at all and oh grian’s done for.

hotguy comes around a few days later to taste test some flavors, meanwhile grian needs the ground to Actually swallow him whole because there’s no WAY this is happening right now. and maybe. maybe that establishes a pattern. maybe hotguy starts coming around the bakery more often. maybe they start hanging out.

and it’s weird because grian has to make sure that he doesn’t clue hotguy in on the fact that he’s cuteguy. and hotguy gets to see grian without all the grumpiness and thorns that scar often gets.

but they’re blushy fools the entire time and SO silly and their bond forms because of mutual respect and admiration.

( joel and jimmy tease grian Relentlessly for this btw. they’re menaces. absolute menaces. grian threatens to fire them. he never follows through. )

there’s just something So important to me about scar getting to see grian at his most genuine, but only when it’s the mask. and grian gets to see hotguy when he’s relaxed, not crime fighting or saving civilians. they’re awkward and goofy but friends. and… wow

#momo rambles #scarian #hermitshipping #hot n cute au #friend moment

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roryintheir90s · 4 months

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Something is wrong…

From the moment Jimmy woke up, he felt like something was missing; something important. But he doesn't know what's wrong.

He did the only thing he could think of and asked Martyn about it

“What'd ya mean something's wrong?”

“I mean something's wrong”

“Well then, what is wrong?”

“I don't know! I know that it's something important, but I just cannot for the life of me figure out what's wrong!”

“Alright… now, you're losing me. What about a different question then, why is something wrong?”

“Why- I- what?”

“Describe what you feel and why you think that there's something wrong”

“Okay- umm, well, something's like- missing? I think. And everything feels off, like- Ugh! I don't know! It's just this deep sense in me that's telling me that somethings wrong- like my soul is telling me that i'm missing something”

“Yeah, no, I don't know how to help with your predicament. Maybe you could ask someone else?”

Jimmy tried to think, ask someone else? Who would he even ask? Grian? No, not Grian, he'd probably laugh at him. Tango? Tango… could work. Yeah! He should ask his soulmate. Tango knows him more than he does sometimes

“Okay then, I'll ask someone else, I'll be going out okay?”

“Alright, be careful though, you made a lot of enemies last week and we haven't gotten our tasks yet”

Jimmy made his way to the Heart Foundation to talk to Tango, strangely enough; the indescribable feeling was increasing as he neared his soulmate's base. The island was empty except for the hundreds of cherry blossom petals that scattered the area, but he does see some movement in the giant heart shaped tree in the middle of the heart island

“Tango! Are you up there!? I need to talk to you!”

Instead of hearing his beloved rancher’s voice call out from the heart tree, Skizz's voice rang out as he quickly scaled down the ladder of the tree

“Woah, woah, woah! Back up there Jimmy, don't think I've forgotten about what happened last week! What makes you think you can come up here after what you tried to do huh?”

“Look Skizz, I just really need to talk to Tango right now, is he here?”

Jimmy wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, that gnawing feeling he's been feeling since this morning is now suffocating him for reasons he can't understand

Skizz opened his mouth to retort, but another voice from the top of the tree responded

“Skizz? Who's at our base and why are you yelling at them?”

“Uh- Tango, buddy, could you come down here real quick? Jimmy wants to talk to you”

The weird feeling just increased tenfold when he heard Tango. What happened to him? Why is his voice like that? It sounds exactly the same as last week, but it still felt wrong wrong wrong wrong wron-

The sound of petals crunching under someone's shoes brought Jimmy back to reality, but the second he laid his eyes on the blazeborn, his mind and soul screamed at him

That is not Tango

Somewhere else on the server, someone felt oddly at peace, like a puzzle piece has just come together... He should probably meet up with the other Heart Foundation members

I've decided to give you a headcanon in the form of novice writing! Just like how Joel recognized Lizzie in Limited Life. Jimmy can tell that whoever is walking around looking like Tango is not his soulmate. Meanwhile, someone else hasn't seen their soulmate yet, but I'm sure he'll recognize him when he sees him :)

OK NO YOURE GONNA MAKE ME GO FERAL ABOUT THIS

This is such a good idea, I love it.

Jimmy feels the connection between him and his soulmate being gone, not even realizing it being there in the first place. Only to have a huge urge to find tango, but he just isn't right....

Meanwhile both Ren and bigb would finally feel at peace.

For either of the perspective it just seems cruel

Whether it is Jimmy's, bc he now would be restless and straight up desperate.

Bigb and ren bc they going to have to see their soulmate only for it to be ripped out from them once again

Or even tangos, who's gonna return to feel exactly that void feeling jimmy felt bc Jimmy's dead.

Yucky, love that a lot

#any askers???#jimmy solidarity #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #tangotek #renthedog #rendog #bigb #bigbst4tz2 #bigbstatz #traffic smp #trafficblr #trafficshipping #traffic series #secret life #sl

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

Text

kiss of not-drowning

summary:

“Ugh, you know what I mean, you dick.” Martyn drags a hand down his face. “I only meant that I’d appreciate you maybe giving me more than a split second to come to terms with everything before I'm inhaling a lungful of water.”

“You're fine.” He waves it off. “A little water never hurt anybody.”

(ao3 link)

(2,967 words)

He twitches slightly as sleep begins to roll off of him, like waves retreating from the shoreline. The very last dregs of sleep cling to him as he stirs, but he fights his way to the surface anyway, shaking those last few clinging threads of dreams away; he blinks, eyes opening to darkness. The sun isn't even beginning to peer over the horizon, the sky above remaining dark.

He glances to the side, ears straining for what might have dared to wake him at an hour like this- it’s ridiculous being awake this early! No one but insane people are awake at this time. Like Joel, because bad boys don't have bedtimes. Frankly, Scott thinks they're all being ridiculous, and Jimmy would have been able to avoid almost drowning if he didn't listen to Joel and Grian as much as he does. Jimmy’s just lucky Tango finds his idiotic tendencies endearing rather than stressful.

Martyn lies in the bed parallel to his, face smushed into his pillow and mouth slightly open. He can hear him snoring, but it’s nowhere near loud enough to have woken him up. He only considered smothering Martyn in his sleep once before he got used to the snoring, anyway. His arm hangs over the edge of the bed, knuckles just barely grazing over the wooden floorboards as it hangs there, with Martyn looking like he’s moments away from sliding out of the bed completely and making the floor his new home.

His ears twitch, mostly human right now, as the sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He doesn't move his head, continuing to lie on his side as he listens. The sound of shifting sugar cane gave them away, probably- was likely what woke him. Unless they walked in through the front door, with its artfully creaky hinges that alert them whenever someone steps foot onto their island. He hardly dares to breathe as he listens, worried he might miss the moment they begin up the steps to where they sleep- maybe they should have chosen a more protective home than the one they currently use, but anything more and it would have been far too warm to sleep and they'd have ended up outside anyway.

There’s the sound of muffled voices - two voices - a small back and forth between them as something is discussed. It’s almost too quiet for him to hear, especially with one ear still pressed into his pillow and mind fogged with sleep; he hears it anyway. He can't hear enough to make out what they're saying, but it’s enough to identify their location.

The sounds of movement stop after several more long and torturous seconds, pausing just below where they're both asleep. He swallows, looking back at Martyn again. His teammate sleeps on, face still pressed deep into his pillow and oblivious to the panic beginning to race through Scott’s system. The intruders- whoever it is, obviously know this island. So it’s someone that has visited them before, which…doesn't actually narrow it down all that much. But they're sheltering just out of sight from where he currently is, so that even if one of them did wake up they certainly wouldn't see them.

He swallows thickly, then freezes, worried that the sound was too loud- carried too far and alerted the intruders that he’s awake and listening. He listens, waits for one, or both, of the intruders to cry out and rush up the steps- too fast for anything to be done except pray for a quick death.

But nothing happens, and he exhales softly, listening as they begin speaking again. The hurried whispers barely reach his ears, hardly audible over the sound of the crashing waves. The crashing waves. The same crashing waves that are probably too loud, too distracting, for the intruders to hear anything over. A plan forms in his mind, only half-planned and halfway thought through, but it’s enough to get both him and Martyn out of the immediate line of fire- and Martyn’s great at thinking on his feet! Far better than Scott is, but he needs Martyn awake for him to begin thinking, and waking him is another matter entirely.

He slips from his bed, sheets falling back onto the mattress with a muffled thump (too quiet to be heard over the crashing waves, he reminds himself, too quiet). He could wake his teammate, could pull him from the land of dreams and hope that he remains quiet enough that the intruders do not hear him. But that has many, many ways for it to go incredibly wrong (Martyn can be incredibly loud, most often with his laughter, but waking loudly now is the last thing Scott needs- he needs quietness and secrecy, enough for them to escape unscathed).

He avoids the squeaky floorboard as he creeps towards Martyn, ears remaining pricked for any indication that their intruders are on the move once more, that they've ended their hushed conversation and come to a decision (surely it’s a bad idea to approach another base with so little of a plan that they have to stop halfway to discuss what they're going to do- Scott can only thank them for their lack of planning). They are not, their whispered conversation still drifting towards him on the salty breeze as he deliberates, hand hovering over Martyn’s shoulder.

It rises and falls, just slightly, with the motions of sleep. He still doesn't so much as twitch, even as Scott’s shadow falls over him (him and Martyn certainly need to have a conversation after this, if he doesn't so much as wake even if someone looms over him as he sleeps- he could be killed so easily, and then Scott would be alone, again-).

If he wakes Martyn before making another move, it has several ways in which it could go wrong. The largest of those being Martyn making a loud sound- something to alert their intruders. Something which he does quite often when woken from his slumber unexpectedly. He has a habit of waking with a yell, which is probably due to surprise, but Scott can't think of a nicer way to be woken than how he already does it (and, in fairness, he lets Martyn sleep in rather often, even if it means he has to check on the sugar cane alone- the silence whilst also knowing that there is someone else there is almost comforting, and he takes the small comforts where he can in these games).

No, the second option is far easier, even if it will be a far ruder awakening.

He spares a momentary apology to Martyn, offering it up slightly - but it is better to seek forgiveness afterwards rather than ask permission and risk being horribly murdered, he reasons - and grabs Martyn by the shoulders, hands closing around both skin and fabric. He doesn't give Martyn even a moment, hearing his choked-off yell, strangling its way from his throat as Scott begins pulling him- yanking him towards the small balcony.

He only hesitates for a moment, Martyn’s yell still ringing in his ears, faintly registering that Martyn is gripping onto him as well, nails digging into his skin. The sound of a scramble below reaches his ears as well- their intruders obviously realising that they're awake and currently in the process of escaping. He doesn't hesitate a moment longer, hearing footsteps echoing up the steps behind him, slamming over the wooden flooring-

He throws himself over the balcony, thankful that he chose to build so close to the water (for this exact reason, for when people began sneaking in during the night- attempting to strike when the moon is at its highest; underhanded tactics, and not something he can't respect). Martyn resists a little, but Scott can only hope he follows willingly now, because he risks both a dislocated shoulder and death if he doesn't. Resistance does not meet him- his arm is not suddenly jerked back as Martyn fails to follow. Instead, he continues falling, releasing Martyn’s shoulders and hoping the other remembers to hold his breath.

The water swallows them easily, bubbles streaming from his nose as he ducks beneath the water, eyes squinted shut against the salt- against the stinging of his eyes as the water rushes into his nose and attempts to choke him. His hair swirls around him as he darts backwards, reaching out to pull Martyn with him, retreating into the shadow of their island.

An arrow shoots into the water around the same time the numbness in his legs has spread to his knees, steadily climbing higher. The arrow plunges into the water with enough force to send bubbles spiralling upwards- a force that can only ever be achieved with a crossbow. He breathes out, a stream of bubbles leaving his nose, gathering in a small pool below the island, shining faintly in the water.

Martyn continues to hold onto his arm, nails biting into his skin a little less, though his grip is no less tight. He flicks his tail back and forth, shuddering as the last of the transformation washes over him, shutting his eyes against the vertigo that threatens to disorientate him. Only once the dizzying feeling has vanished, does he dare to open them again, squinting for a moment as his eyes readjust to the darkness of the water.

“Aw, c’mon,” a voice from above reaches his ears, distorted by the water and land between them, but it reaches him nonetheless. And with relative clarity. “I thought we had them.”

“We almost did, but you sneezed!” Scott didn't even hear one of them sneeze, he’d been far too focused on leaving and planning their escape route to notice someone sneezing- which is actually a little worrying now that he thinks about it.

“When a man’s gotta sneeze he’s gotta sneeze, Pearl.” Ah. Well, he’s just managed to identify their intruders. Martyn squeezes his arm, where he’s still gripping, but Scott ignores him for a moment longer, following the conversation.

“Your sneezing’s cost us half an hour each.” He can almost hear the frown in Pearl’s voice, though it’s offset a little by the small giggle he hears a moment later, warping oddly with the water. “Aw, I really wanted to kill Scott as well.”

“Yeah, well, they're long gone now- did you know Scott was that fast of a swimmer?”

“Nah,” Pearl pauses for a moment. “He hasn't gone near water for the entirety of this go-around, and then he just jumps in the water immediately! I thought we had him cornered!” And this is why you should never make assumptions! Only ever work on facts and pretty-much-a-fact facts, that’s how you get consistent information and a good idea of how people work.

Martyn yanks at his arm, threatening to pull it from its socket, and he turns to look at him, gills fluttering in annoyance as he’s pulled away from the conversation above- he was waiting to see if one of them would turn on the other. If they turn on each other, there’s one less person to worry about-

Martyn gestures frantically at his face, a few more bubbles spilling from his lips as he gestures, panic written into every feature of his face, and- oh, oh dear. He panics for a moment, brain whiting out as he struggles to come up with any solution- anything that might stop Martyn from drowning in this moment, because it looks like a pretty close thing. How long can humans hold their breath for? He could've sworn it was something like ten minutes- is it not? They've been under for barely two minutes, maybe his facts were wrong?

An idea crashes over him, like a particularly violent wave, and he doesn't stop to consider it for longer than necessary- because letting Martyn drown would actually be really embarrassing, for both him and Martyn.

He brings his hands up carefully, aware that he’s slightly larger than Martyn in this form, allowing his hands to frame his teammates face carefully. Martyn stares back at him, eyes wide, one of his hands coming up to wrap lightly around Scott’s wrist. Pearl and BigB are still talking above them, but it fades into background noise as Scott draws Martyn a little closer, close enough for their noses to brush against each other.

He connects their lips, half-faded memories of short bursts of power being granted by kisses like this one. He doesn't focus on those memories for too long, too caught up in the way Martyn runs that hand - that same hand that had previously encircled his wrist - up his arm, brushing over patches of scales in a way that makes him shudder, a shiver crawling up his spine despite the warm water surrounding them.

He sinks deeper into the kiss, Martyn’s lips warm against his own. His teeth scrape against Martyn’s lips and he exhales, feels Martyn drink the short burst of power in- he can feel the exchange of it, the small shifting beneath his skin. Martyn hardly seems to notice, pulling a hand through Scott’s hair, tugging harshly on the strands before he allows the grip to fall away once more.

Scott pulls back a moment later, bubbles spilling from his own lips as he stares at Martyn. Small patches of scales seem to have appeared around Martyn’s eyes, but he can see several of them already melting back into normal skin once more- not something that lasts then, only enough time for Scott to pull them to safety.

Martyn looks up at him from beneath heavy-lidded eyes- Scott doubts he can actually see anything but he appreciates it anyway, and- nope! Can't get distracted, because they only have a few minutes before Martyn starts drowning again.

He darts down into the water, away from the island- the conversation above had faded several moments ago, so there’s nothing left for him to listen to there. He ducks beneath a large branch of coral, pulling Martyn behind him, then pushing him in front, directing him towards the small gap in the seabed.

It’s unnoticeable unless you view it at this very specific angle, and he watches Martyn struggle to see it for another few moments, eyes squinted shut. He gives him a small nudge closer to the gap, watching as Martyn finally spots it, grabbing onto the rock around the rim of it to pull himself forward, disappearing into the small gap.

He waits a moment before following, fins flattening as he darts through the small tunnel, twisting slightly to move around the bend before surfacing again. He inhales quickly, only coughing slightly as his lungs rid themselves of the residual water.

Martyn is still spluttering, leaned against the edge of the pool, chin resting on the rock beyond. He looks rather miserable, something that is not at all helped by the lacklustre light from the singular lantern (maybe he should have invested in more lanterns for this place), and the way his hair drips over his face.

He looks like a cat that has been given a bath against its will.

He’s shivering as well, despite the warm water they're both still sat in.

“I’d appreciate a warning next time,” Martyn groans, tipping his head to the side so he can look at Scott. He coughs again, though it sounds rather put-upon.

“Ah, right, yes, of course.” He nods, swimming to the small ledge Martyn is currently resting on, leaning an arm against the rock lip. “Sorry, next time I’ll be sure to wake you and give our attempted murderers plenty of warning, so that they can still murder us.”

“You're fine.” He waves it off. “A little water never hurt anybody.”

“I almost drowned.”

“Almost!” Scott grins. “Not did. Come on, Martyn, you think I’d let you drown?”

“You stole my breath away with that kiss,” Martyn grins. “Though I do believe you were trying to do the opposite.”

“And it worked.” He says, then quieter. “Thankfully.”

“I- Scott!” Martyn smacks at him, sending water scattering across the cave. “You did that without knowing if it would work! What if it didn't! What- just, ah well, guess you're gonna die now. But at least you got a good snog out of it?”

“I-” he breaks off into a laugh. “Would that be good enough for you?”

“No!” Martyn’s laughing too. “You're a good kisser and all, totally not complaining, but it was underwater and I was actively drowning for the first half of it!” Martyn pauses for a moment, then he grins- which is not at all worrying at all, the sudden switch from complaining to grinning at him like that does not make something in his stomach swoop. “Though…I could be convinced otherwise.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. You owe me a little more than one kiss to make up for that. I think that might be worse than when you thought smothering me would be a good way to wake me up.” Scott hadn't actually meant to wake him up with that, it was done because Martyn just continued snoring. Not that he needs to know that.

“How demanding of you,” he swishes his tail in the water behind them as Martyn inches closer, slightly drier than before. He brings a hand up to the side of Martyn’s face, trailing his fingers across the skin there almost reverently. Martyn watches him back.

“How many do you need before it’s enough?” He asks, whispered into the small space between them.

“As many as you can give.”

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

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Joel sort of gets dogs.

Not just in the he-has-sharp-teeth-and-wants-to-tear-people-up way, though he has that, and sometimes he wonders if he always had that, always had the pounding red mist in his head or if it had wormed its way in somewhere inside a wizard’s mountain and never gotten out until he couldn’t remember what it felt like not to have it chewing away at him and. He thinks he borrowed the sharp teeth from dogs, and sometimes he looks in the mirror and thinks, huh, he hadn’t always been like this, but frankly it’s sick as hell to be so visibly a monster so like, who cares, he’s badass—

Anyway.

The point is. He doesn’t have to be some kind of animal to get dogs, or like, that’s not the angle he gets dogs from. Or, he gets them like that? He doesn’t know, he’s bad at metaphors, god, why does he do this to himself? The point. The point is that he could get wolves but not really get dogs, if he wanted to, but he gets dogs too.

He didn’t always, really. Like, all he really needed was blood beneath his nails and between his teeth. Not really doggish, that. A wild animal. Dogs are all domestic. But…

So. Never tell Jimmy this. Joel will never hear the end of it. But he patted Joel on the head and Joel—maybe it’s silly. It’s a little bit silly. Jimmy is all… weak and floppy or whatever. Except he’d patted Joel on the head and really kept sticking around and Joel went:

Ah. Yes. I’ll die for you now.

And so like—he gets dogs, is the thing, because he’s a wild animal and he wants to kill and bite and he’s a monster and he’s proud of it and he’s not not a monster anymore it’s just… Jimmy put his arm around Joel last night and Joel almost cried, is the thing. Not sure how to explain that other than…

There are benefits to being a domestic monster?

No, that sounds weird. He’ll workshop it. He’ll workshop it.

#limited life smp #joel smallishbeans #a bee fic #consider this the companion to the jimmy one #have I ever mentioned how much I love traffic!joel #he wants to Kill #but he has also discovered clear straightforward loyalty this season hasnt he #he just wants to be loved….#anyway I think traffic joel os probably touch-starved and does not know how to explain it #so this is the closest he’s gotten

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shitakimooshrooms · 1 year

Text

Here’s an Empires SMP au idea. So they all go to a this extremely prestigious school that is in Animalia, and they are all children of diplomats or other famous people, except for Pix, who got in because of his insanely good grades. I imagine that Joel, Katherine, and Gem are the extremely high class, Fwhip is just below them because I decided that his father was the diplomatically elected king and that fwhip would not inherit the throne after his father passes, then below him is Joey(who’s father defeated Skeletron), Scott(who’s father is the most well known collector in the world, and whose mother is the head of the dye making industry), Shubble(who is the prized pupil of the witch academy, but she can’t perform magic off school grounds until a certain age so even though she finished the entire curriculum she still couldn’t do magic so she was enrolled in this school), Sausage(who’s father is the protector of Sanctuary), and Jimmy(who’s father is the one who enforces the world wide laws and such), then there’s Oli(who’s father is a well known musician), Lizzie(who’s mother is the mayor of Animalia so she got enrolled), and False(who’s father was an incredible architect who recently passed, False already had memory issues and hearing that her father died made her an amnesiac, but she had already been enrolled so she still attended, unaware of who exactly she is), and then finally Pix, who’s mother works in a library and who’s father is a history teacher, he who got enrolled because of his massive brain. I am probably gonna write this but maybe not. Please enjoy this au idea though!

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spiderziege · 6 months

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omg i love the 3rd life horses so much <333 do you have a thought process for the specific breeds you assigned people, along with the horses’ armor pieces and such? also, i know you said you’re doing 3rd life horses, so do you have any headcanons for what kind of horse life series players that weren’t in 3rd life like pearl and lizzie would have? (like even if you don’t end up drawing them)

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK!!! i do have thoughts!!

i dont have specific breeds picked out for all of them but ill just go through each one :]

cleos horse is a clydesdale, i knew i wanted some big draught horses for cleo and ren specifically, and i just looove clydesdales theyre so beautiful. for bdubs i wasnt as sure, his is maybe a quarter horse or something? definitely something fast and versatile. and both of their tack is meant to be fancy but not too over the top (cleos horse has a couple flowers that match the ones in cleos hair, and bdubs' horse has a clock and a red cloth that matches bdubs' headband)

rens horse is a shire, wanted his horse to he as big and imposing as possible. for martyn i also wanted something strong and big, but not as fancy and eyecatching. so that its obvious from looking at the horses who's the king and who's the hand. i think his is maybe a cleveland bay? and then both of their tack is very medieval knight-esque, which i think fits their vibe pretty well.

for joels horse im not really set on a specific breed, but i wanted something small and agile for him, something used for hunting. his tack is also a lot simpler than the crastle & dogwarts people

for etho i was kinda struggling tbh. the first breed that came to mind was something like arabian or akhal-teke, but in a third life scenario it just doesnt really make sense to give a desert horse to anyone except desertduo lol. my other option was some kind of ancient breed - like sorraias/tarpans. but those are pretty small and i wanted something a bit bigger, so i ended up with just kinda. generic gray horse. i wish id have made the markings a darker gray instead of white, and added a stripe on the back, i think thatd work better. he also has pretty minimal tack, and he's the only one who rides without stirrups cause he just seems like that kinda guy (same)

for the other third lifers - desert duo get either an arabian or akhal teke, like i said. kinda leaning towards arabian. they also only get one horse because they still have pizza too of course

imp & skizz & bigb all get bigger working horses similar to martyn probably. i think imp & skizz get very similar horses, and for bigb im thinking maybe black forest horse or something?

tango gets a mustang, i dont really have a reason for that it just feels right

jimmy gets a haflinger because thats like the golden retriever of horse breeds i think

for scott im not sure either - he could be a lusitano kinda guy, but tbh i think flower husbands can just share one haflinger with a million flowers woven into its hair

and then the ones that werent in third life - pearl definitely gets a marwari horse. im not sure what it is about those horses but thats just. the pearlescentmoon horse to me. maybe its the ears, they kinda look like little antennae

for lizzie im not really sure generally, but i think specifically for the last life fairy fort she gets a unicorn. thats just the only kinda horse i can think of that makes sense lol

mumbo gets a trakehner or some similar warmblood breed

gem gets an irish cob i think. definitely something thats strong but not super big

#as you can see i have many ideas now i just need to. actually draw them. some day #life series #asks #long post #life series horse au

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tunastime · 1 year

Text

On Life Series Season 4

for those of you who voted for jimmy and tango: this is for you.

also known as: I have very complex thoughts about rancher reunion for season 4 and monolith is a group of known enablers.

(1545 words)

It’s the end of the world. Or, at least, it feels like it.

The grass is green and the sky is orange and red and Jimmy Solidarity is alone. He’s standing, half-stilted, leaning hard against the weight of the sword in his hands. It’s stone, just like the building. The rough cobbles form a tower. A defense. It’s all he’s got, here, in another death game. He’s got that, and another chance to die for nothing.

He tries to breathe normally, like he’s taught himself to keep level headed. It’s not doing much, considering that Jimmy feels something odd and aching boiling over in his chest. He feels like an unwatched pot, tipping over his lid, and his arms shake with it. It’s a feeling that pools in his wrists and the back of his knees, sharp and prickly. He can taste something vile in the back of his mouth. Words, laughter, bile. He isn’t sure.

It’s darkening. His building is on fire.

“Jimmy!”

It’s a voice he’s memorized. Gravel on the low notes. Whispers in the middle. Footsteps in the dirt. He thinks there might be blood under his nails, but he thinks it might also be soil, because nothing smells like blood and nothing about him stings. The voice that cuts through the dusk is too familiar, too safe. He staggers.

Jimmy’s house isn’t on fire, he is. He feels it coiling in his chest, licking at the inside of his lungs, hot, too hot, or maybe not hot enough. If he breathes out he fears it might be smoke. His hands are shaking. He swallows. He can’t make his lungs inflate.

Part of him thinks he deserves this, to know he’s mocked from the start, because he can remember the words about his house, about the rumors around him, he can remember the anger boiling up to an overflow. His house is burning. He made it out of stone this time. That wouldn’t burn, he thought. But his hands are hot. There were words he said, isn’t there? Things that punched out of him as soon as he saw a familiar face that had to crane to meet his eye again. What was it that he said, when he ran into Scar first? Joel? When they told him good luck both times? Was it something cruel to match the curling in his chest? Was it the brief glee on Joel’s face, knowing he got under his skin, that made him snap back? Who else was there?

There are other words being said to him.

What happened back there? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone said you nearly punched Joel? And Scar? Jimmy—

Feet on the grass. He’s not there though, on that hillside with Joel, not anymore. He’s staring wide-eyed into bright red eyes, arms stretched out, a perspective that forces him to look at only him, at Tango in front of him.

It’s Tango, terrified. It’s Tango, and Jimmy can swear he can feel Tango’s heart thudding away helplessly in his own chest. It’s Tango, and for a moment he feels like his hands are burning and that the noise is deafening around him.

Except there is no noise. He fights to get forward, lands himself into Tango’s shoulder, hears the audible thud and oof as he does, as Tango digs his heels into the earth and refuses to be pushed aside. Tango pushes him back, trying to hold him steady.

“Jimmy—that wasn’t—this isn’t you,” Tango says, and his voice borders on confusion, on despair. Jimmy makes a noise somewhere half in his chest in response. “Snap out of it.”

“He’s just—he—he’s—” Jimmy struggles for a moment, squirming against the arm that holds his elbow. He didn’t see Joel like Tango did, scared and alone. He was the sneer over a wall Joel built. He was feeling himself picked up by the scruff, unable to fight back. He was watching a town crumble and it wasn’t even his fault. He was bleeding out on a bridge and someone was laughing. It’s gloating, it’s—someone is laughing and it isn’t Tango and it isn’t him.

Jimmy struggles. Why is Tango stopping him? Isn’t this what he should be doing? Standing up for himself? Jimmy deflates. Wouldn’t Tango be proud of him? Isn’t this what he wants? Every nerve in his body feels like it’s lit up, hair standing on end. Something watches (it isn’t Tango, and it isn’t him.)

“This isn’t you,” Tango manages.

Jimmy feels himself pushed back, but the hands are firm on his shoulders as his arms start to ache. His shoulder feels aflame where Tango holds it, warmth spreading from one point of contact through his muscles. He’s looking at Tango now, just for a fraction of a second before looking away, not able to hold his eye. His vision isn’t clear. It goes fuzzy around the edges, unfocused like he might be drifting off into space. He’s seeing bright red eyes under the brim of a hat. He’s seeing blue flames across the way. There’s someone in the pocket of his side and he is safe.

He takes what feels like the first breath of air in a long minute and his mouth doesn’t taste like smoke. He feels a hand peel from his shoulder, something that slides up to his face. It cradles his jaw in one warm palm, then two, fingers curling around the shell of his ears. He blinks, even has his vision blurs completely. The back of his throat burns. He feels like his nose is pinched shut. He swallows, and it takes everything in him to focus on the warmth of the hands over his cheeks.

“Jimmy, look at me. Look at me,” Tango’s voice tugs at him, firm. He lets his eyes drift back to a face that he knows. Tango’s eyes are wide, eyebrows upturned, lips in a fine line. He’s swaying, maybe not on purpose. He’s shivering, maybe not on purpose. The sky was never burning, it was just red. Jimmy feels his weight start to drop. It’s Tango. It’s Tango.

“It’s me, it’s Tango, your rancher,” he watches the wisp of a smile form on Tango’s face, through the wobble in his voice. He inhales sharply. “Remember?”

Cows! a voice calls from the doorway as Jimmy tries to circumnavigate the small herd chewing at the bundle of hay in his hand, on the sleeve of his shirt. This was many months ago. This was the first instance. There comes a day where Jimmy will sit a little too close and Tango will decide to slot himself in the curve of his arm at night and soon enough one bed was enough space and too much all at once. Hands fitting hands. Arms fitting around shoulders. We’ll rebuild, his voice says, to wipe the look of desolation from his rancher’s face as they stand in the broken husk of a house. It was never the home, anyway, was it? It was the people inside.

Something in Jimmy’s chest twists the strings of his heart in a knot. He sees Tango expression wavers as he shuts his eyes, swaying forward. He only manages a breath before it breaks.

Jimmy collapses into his arms and the smell of burnt matches is like coming home.

Tango sags with him, sinking them to the ground. Jimmy presses his face into the side of his neck, and safe, held close, he cries. It’s a horrible sound, one that pulls from him brokenly as he buries himself in Tango’s arms. He chokes on the sob.

“It’s empty,” he says, and the words are haunting and choked into his shoulder. Tango holds to the back of his neck, to the base of his spine, even as Jimmy’s hands tangle uselessly in his sweater. It’s all Jimmy can manage. He repeats it in the inhale that he takes: It’s empty. I’m alone.

Tumble Town is empty, and he knows it’s his fault.

Or maybe it isn't. Because what else could he have done, except convince them to stay? What could’ve been done that hadn’t been already, that he hadn’t already tried? What could he have done that would’ve made any difference, anyway, besides leaving himself?

Jimmy cries. Tango’s hands run up the base of his spine. They pull Jimmy to him, holding him close, holding him tight. Tango’s voice is a barely audible thing, through the gasps for air, between the calculated inhales and exhales Tango tries to have him copy. He repeats it like a mantra, pressed into the side of his head, into his hairline: “You’re not alone, I’m here.”

I’m here now and I won’t leave. Your home won’t be empty and your hearth won’t be cold. Your arms won’t be empty and your chest won’t be cold. I’m here.

Tango holds him in the grass and the dirt. Even when the sky is no longer pink and orange, even when the stars have started to peek out in the blue that blends with the fringes of sunset.

If only by one person, he is loved.

Jimmy breathes.

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