#i want so desperately to see cleo protect pearl

[iridescentis]

we've had a scott and pearl duo. we've had a scott and martyn duo. we've had a cleo and scott duo. we've had a cleo and martyn duo. we had a martyn and pearl duo kind of off and on.

i need cleo and pearl to team. please. please give me rabid revenge wives. i want the most dangerous, the most fed up with your shit, the most 'you can fix her i can make her worse' duo PLEASE.

#this is coming from me going through the pearleo tag #i think we are all in agreement that they deserve to be dangerous wifeys #i want so desperately to see cleo protect pearl #but also fully encourage and influence pearl to go absolutely nuts #just full on violent rage #i think they both deserve to have a teammate they can let loose all of the crazy #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #trafficblr

[bluebblurry]

In relation to this post I started up on a full au and made a little concept sheet!

Grian

Grian, in the public eye, appears to be a simple scarlet macaw avian that likes to make pretty, aesthetically pleasing builds and play lighthearted pranks on his friends. He lives with his best friend, Mumbo Jumbo, the redstone extraordinaire.

And Grian is a Watcher. Very few people know, such as Mumbo, his twin sister Pearl, and Cleo (because Cleo knows everything for some reason).

Behind closed doors, Grian has fallen in love with Mumbo, but will refuse to say so. He and Mumbo have kissed many times, even going quite far with it sometimes, but they never talk about it.

With Grian’s powers, he’s developed a sort of obsession with watching Mumbo when he isn’t at home with Grian. He gets very jealous of anyone Mumbo may happen to flirt with, and becomes very protective of him.

Mumbo

Mumbo is a vampire, and a vegetarian one at that. He doesn’t want to hurt people, so he drinks blood substitutes and eats regular human food, mostly just hoping to live normally. He keeps himself disguised outside of his home, as vampires are one of the most feared creatures in Hermitopia. Mumbo thinks a lot about how people perceive him, so he is always as kind as he can be to everyone around him.

The situation with him and Grian has always been a little confusing. Of course Grian is his best friend, but with the.. activities they get up to, it really jumbles up Mumbo’s perception on relationships. Seeing as he’s never had one, he doesn’t really know how it’s supposed to work. He and Grian never talk about it. Mumbo has feelings for Grian, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to feel that way about his best friend. So he stays quiet, and almost desperately tries to get himself to fall for someone else, in case Grian suddenly decides he’s bored of this game he’s playing with Mumbo’s heart.

Scar

Vex. The most dangerous creature known to Hermitopia… they hide in plain sight among the people, posing a huge threat when they’re on the hunt for their next victim.

Vex are cannibals. They don’t eat each other, no no, not that kind of cannibalism. They eat people! They used to eat just humans, but over time, more and more hybrids have begun appearing, so they’ll include those lovelies too. However, some vex may find they are allergic to certain types of hybrids, the most common being avians. Scar himself is allergic to most bug hybrids, like moths or beetles.

Scar lives and runs a business with his best friend Cub, who is also a vex. They protect each other fiercely (i have a whole vex headcanon sheet i’ll post later), and while they’ve never been explicitly romantically involved, they show each other casual affection quite often. They don’t feel any pressure to label it, it’s just how they’ve always been (They’ve both dated other people and agreed that they don’t feel that way about each other, they just like to kiss sometimes. It makes sense to them).

Scar goes out on a hunt one day, wanting to bring someone home for both himself and Cub for dinner. He finds someone walking alone on the path to the village market, and he curiously approaches…

The story is gonna start there, soooooo ;]

#i’ve never made a concept like this before but i like this format quite a lot! #i’m so excited to work on this ahdksbjd #this might be a fairly short one #still lol #hermitcraft #grian #gtws #mumbo jumbo #hermitshipping #hermitblr #mumscarian #grumbo #redscape #scarian

[scribbling-dragon]

Juno. please do write the essay about howl and majorwood. please

yes. yes! i can do this :D for anyone that doesn't know, i've been using lyrics from "Howl" by Florence + The Machine for several of my mer scott fics, because the song is just so majorwood-coded. to me

so, what i can gather from the song is that it is very much about love, and two people being in love. but it comes across much more as an almost obsession that they have with each other (like not being able to rest until they're with each other etc.) and i feel like that's a lot of the ships that come out of the life series! because the life series itself is a short thing, it doesn't last long, and these relationships explored in fandom are normally very quick for people to get into- so this was the first point i made in my brain. because with the life series, all of the duos/ships/couples- whatever you want to call them, are very intensely reliant on the other most of the time, like, they are in a death game and they have a handful of allies that they are trusting to defend them etc. and allies that they would also defend.

but! that is not the only thing that i associated with it, the biggest association is the use of language that's here: it's all rather violent. the lovers (in the song) are described as hunters. over and over again, a thing that we actually SEE a lot of the time in the life series- every time that the server becomes predominantly red, there is a hunt for the remaining yellows (and we got more than one of these hunts this time!). and it happens pretty much every time! and it's great, i love it, love watching it. because it's like a pack of wolves and they go hunting.

but there is several other instances of violent language being used to describe the love between the two lovers in the song- and this violence lends itself rather well to a feeling of desperation (something that is reflected in the sound of the song itself, actually, which i like). which! that's, again, the whole life series pretty much: desperation! desperation to win, to protect your allies, to not die first- it happens in every single one! it's a common theme, something overarching with the series.

but juno? i hear you ask, how does this relate to majorwood? why choose them and not some other ship? well i am so glad you asked!

scott is fiercely loyal to every single one of his allies- if he chooses you as his closest ally (jimmy in 3l, pearl and cleo in ll, cleo in dl, martyn in this series) he be loyal to you! that's his whole thing (well, not really, but you get what i mean) the guy is loyal! and he's good at that.

and martyn! his whole thing is being selfish, at the end (as we see rather nicely in the finale, but he's also done it in previous series as well. this isn't a new thing for him) but he also cares about his allies. he cares about them a LOT. in all of his series he cares about his allies- that love, that isn't quite loyalty, is the major reason i associate this song with them. because the song is about young love, and i am no way near an expert on love hdsjhdsj (<- aroace) but a lot of the time young love is portrayed as something rather intense and almost obsessive, something that florence leans into with this song 100%

i. am not sure if that makes sense of if it's just the ramblings of a person that has thought about this for far far too long- but yeah! listen to howl :] it's a great song

#not quite an essay. but here it is! #i hope this makes at least a little bit of sense #and convinces someone to listen to the song! because it's a great song! fantastic!! #(the best part imo is the last segment. because it feels like it portrays the desperation the best? if that makes sense?) #asks #anon #trafficshipping #<- just in case #majorwood

[ficdirectory]

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 45

(To listen, click here) - 20:41

Even though Carla’s gone - even though he never had to see her - or speak to her?  Levi can’t stop shaking.  The time in the bedroom with Pearl, Dominique, Mariana and Francesca had been hard:

Pearl shut the door, and then opened it again, sticking her head out to hear.  Dominique insisted Francesca stay on the far side of the bedroom, in a corner, out of view of the door.

“But I wanna listen!” Francesca whispers.  “What if Jesus needs us?”

“Jesus has Dudley,” Mariana whispers, putting an arm around her.  “Dudley will protect him.”

The minute Levi hears Carla say she’s Pearl’s mom, Levi darts into the bathroom.  Shuts the door.  Locks it.  Outside the door, Cleo yips and sends Levi lurching for the toilet.

The last thing they need - he needs - is for Carla to be alerted to exactly where they are.  Levi knows how strong Carla is.  Remembers how she grabbed him.  Pulled him toward her.  Pulled his clothes off.  Snapped, “Get in the shower,” like she was just so over him.  And then how he’d stood as she directed, braced against the wall of the shower, his back to her, as she…

Levi can’t hold it in anymore.  He’s throwing up.  Afterward, his hearing tunnels so he can’t make out any sound at all.  Levi’s vision dims a little.  If he can’t hear, how will he tell if she’s coming? How will he tell if she’s close?  His hearing doesn’t clear until he’s been sick again.  Until he has nothing left inside.  

Even though he’s terrified of Carla hearing the noise and coming to investigate, Levi flushes.  The next thing he knows there’s a knock on the bathroom door.  Levi glances around.  He’s perched on the closed toilet.  Arms wrapped around his knees, just like then.  Like he’s still doing what she told him to years ago and not moving a muscle.  Not making a sound.

Now, he’s out, but it feels like it doesn’t much matter.  Levi feels so exposed.  Hates that everyone can see how weak he is, because this is no lowkey shaking this is full out, just-escaped-a-predator shaking.

He doesn’t feel like he should be around Jesus at all right now.  For one thing, Jesus is the one who handled Carla.  Who apparently knew what to say to make her go, and even give her key back.  If Levi weren’t so weak, nobody would’ve reacted like they had.  No one would’ve gotten so scared.  It would’ve been no big deal.  But Levi made it one.  He made it so Jesus had to deal with Levi’s trauma even though Jesus has his own to deal with.

Levi’s on his feet and on his way out the door before he can really think it through.

“Levi!  Hey!”  Dominique calls, catching up to him as he fumbles for his keys.  “Stop for a sec.”

He’s so ready to jet right now, and Levi can tell that Dominique can see it, too.

“Remember what we said,” she explains, taking a slow breath, and letting it out.  “You don’t have to take off when you feel like screaming.  Get in the car.  Close the door.  Be by yourself.  Scream all you need to.  But don’t leave.”  Dominique’s watching him.  All but begging.

Levi keeps his eyes on her.  Unlocks the car.  Tosses her the keys.  Then, he gets in and locks the doors.  He waits until she turns away.  Until she’s walked all the way back up onto their porch.  

Then he screams.

(All of his stuff in his room at Pearl’s - rifled through.)

Screams.

(The old phone somehow untouched, lock box in the mess in his closet.  Just where he left it.)

Screams.

(The blankets on his bed thrown aside, when Levi made his bed every day.)

Screams.

(Her three days ago, looking for Pearl.)

Screams.

(Her going through his lane saying nothing, just looking at him with that look on her face.  Like he was disgusting.  Like she hated him.)

Screams.

(Her waiting on him and his mom at The Barn in June.)

Screams.

(Her telling him to turn around in the shower.  Her face as she sprayed off his legs.  And doing more.  And him screaming.  Screaming.  Screaming.  Her saying, “Stop.  It doesn’t hurt!”)

Screams.

His voice is gone.  But what good was it anyway?  What the hell good was it?

Finally, Levi gives up, laying his forehead against the steering wheel.

--

Pearl needs something to occupy her mind.  Years of attempting to cope through miserable anniversaries have taught her that nothing soothes her quite as much as being in the kitchen.  And nothing soothes those around her quite as much as her homemade hot cocoa.  She gets the okay from Mariana before commandeering Frank’s crockpot and starting the largest batch that she has ever made.

“Cleo wants to see,” Francesca says softly, bringing her closer.  Cleo licks Pearl’s arm.

“Careful out here,” Pearl urges, though she hasn’t even plugged in the crockpot.

“What can I do?” Francesca asks, undeterred.  “Mariana said I needed to come out here and practice positive coping.”

“What now?” Pearl asks, tuning into what Francesca’s saying.

“Because I still feel like I’m a bad sister...and I like...sometimes do bad things to myself when I feel bad.  But I told Mari and she sent me out here, to see how you cope.”

Somehow, an anxiety-riddled smile comes to Pearl’s face.  “Well, I don’t always cope in the best ways.  But making hot cocoa definitely counts as a positive way to deal with stress.  Plus,” Pearl lowers her voice, “This is something Jesus really likes.  So, maybe if we make it, and bring him a cup, and set it down near him, he’ll have some and feel a little bit better.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to cope right now,” Francesca insists.  And Pearl notices the desperation in her eyes.  Just how hard she’s trying.  Cuddling Cleo.

“Okay.  So, find a bowl for me?  A small one?” Pearl coaches.

Pearl spots Francesca as she climbs on a chair and finds a bowl.  Climbs down, while making sure she doesn’t step on Cleo, who’s sniffing around Pearl’s feet.

“Next, we need to mix the baking cocoa and the sugar together.  We need to make this recipe for six.  So what’s 1.5 times 6?”

Francesca looks at her blankly.

Pearl tries again:  “1 times 6?”

“Six,” Francesca answers.

“Okay, good.  Now .5 that’s a fancy way of saying ½.  So, do this for me.  Each of your fingers is ½.  Count them until you reach six.  Like this,” Pearl demonstrates.  “One-half, one, one-and-a-half, two.  You’re up to four fingers right now.  Can you do the last two?”

“Two-and-a-half, three?” Francesca asks, holding up six fingers.

“You got it.  Very good.  So now.  Last step to figure out how much cocoa and sugar for six people.  Six plus three?”

“Nine.” Francesca says quickly.  “Addition’s easy.”

“You figured it out!  So we need a tablespoon.  Can you find that?” Pearl asks.

“T-S-P?” Francesca asks, pulling out one.  

“Almost.  You want 1 T-B-S-P.”

The next one Francesca pulls is correct.  Finally, she’s ready to measure out cocoa and sugar.  Pearl turns the crockpot on low and stirs the milk while checking in with Francesca.

“How’s the measuring going?  Count out loud if you need to.  That helps me keep track.” Pearl advises.

“What if it’s too heaping?” Francesca worries.

“Don’t worry about it.  No such thing as too much chocolate, right?” Pearl winks.

“Oh gosh, you’re right.  What was I thinking?” Francesca flashes a bright smile.

Pearl’s urging Francesca to mix the sugar and cocoa together.  Then, sends her to find vanilla.  Then the Junior Mints.  Francesca does.

“Here you go!” Francesca beams, holding out the Junior Mints.  

“So, you think vanilla, or no vanilla?” Pearl checks.

“Oops, I forgot.”  Francesca goes to the pantry and finds it.  Brings it back.  “Jesus’s favorite candy is Junior Mints.  Did you know that?  Is that why you got them?”

“Actually, Levi got them.  And he didn’t know they were Jesus’s favorite.  He just guessed.”

“Mmm, he’s a good guesser then.” Francesca approves, sneaking a Junior Mint.  “Are you okay?  You know, that your mom’s so mean?  And from your traumaversary?” Francesca checks.

“You know, it’s been really hard? But I can’t imagine how much harder it would have been without you guys.  I really appreciate you all coming to support me.”

“You’re welcome,” Francesca interjects sweetly.

“And baking with you is helping me, too.  So, thank you for that,” Pearl nods.

“We help each other.  It’s a thing,” Francesca shrugs, a mirror image of Jesus.

“You shrug just like your brother,” Pearl points out.

Francesca laughs.  “Everyone says that.”

--

Dominique’s still sitting on the front porch, when Levi glances up.  Hesitantly, he gets out of the car.  Walks toward her, eyes down.

“Sorry,” he apologizes.

“Hey, no…  Actually...I was wondering…  Could I have a turn?” Dominique nods at his car.

Levi does a double take behind him.  “What?  Yeah.  I mean..  Yeah.”

“Could you stay out here?  But not...watch me?  Not listen?” Dominique asks.

“I won’t watch.  But...you couldn’t hear me from where you are, right?” he checks.

“No, but I have a feeling I’m gonna be loud…” Dominique ventures.  “And I wanna know you’re here.  But I don’t wanna...I don’t know...and think…  Can I keep the keys?  Not forever, just...you know...until…”

“Yeah.  I’ll sit with my back to the car,” Levi tells her, his voice a hoarse croak.  “I won’t watch you.  Won’t listen.  Keep the keys if it makes you feel better…”

Dominique strides across to Levi’s drive with a confidence she doesn’t feel.  Well aware that it hasn’t been long at all since Pearl’s mother was out here.  In this space.  Trying to do her thing - manipulate and dominate and control.  Just being in proximity to toxic shit like that sends Dominique back through time.

Sure, she’d guarded Fran well enough in the bedroom.  But Cleo barking back there had scared Dominique so bad she’d temporarily lost control of...well...everything.  

Francesca had looked at her with a combination of confusion and alarm.  Mariana said it was okay, and kept urging Francesca to stay quiet.  Once Levi cleared out of the bathroom, Dominique went in and changed.  Pulled on sweats.  Double checked the floor in the corner, to be sure it was clean.

Now, Dominique shuts herself in Levi’s car, locks all the doors, hunches over in the seat so her face is hidden from the windows and screams.  Harsh and hard and loud and long and all the ways she’d never been allowed to before.

Scenes flash through her head like a stop-action film.  

Hands over her mouth.  

Being grabbed out of a parking lot.  

Bandage changes in the hospital.  

Taylor.  Men.  Fire.  Agony.

Dominique screams about all of it.  And just like he promised, Levi doesn’t turn around.

When she gets out she feels tense.  On edge.  Like she might really deck somebody if they even look like they’re gonna come toward her.

She’s walking up the porch steps to give Levi his keys back when the cabin door opens.  Dominique acts on instinct, moving in front of Levi, in case.  (She can’t forget the way he and Pearl looked, realizing Carla had gone through all their stuff.  So shaken.  Levi still hasn’t lost that look.)

“Hey…” a little voice says, stopping where she is.  “It’s Francesca…  Blanket?” she offers, holding out the grey one Dominique brought along but has yet to use.

She nods.  Takes it warily.  Watches Francesca offer a giant fleece blanket printed with moose to Levi, who takes it, and covers up gratefully.  Behind Francesca is Pearl, with cups.

“Hot cocoa.  If you want.  I’ll leave it here,” she says, setting the cups on the table nearby.  

Then, they retreat back into the cabin.

--

Pearl and Francesca have just been through the living room with hot chocolate.  Jesus doesn’t want anything resembling food anywhere near him, but Francesca tells him:

“You can drink this if you want to, Jesus.  There’s Junior Mints in it.  For extra protection.”

Even Francesca knows the story of how Mom knew it was really Jesus at a police station in L.A. by saying his secret safe word: Junior Mints.  Saying it, meant he was feeling in danger.  Somehow, though, over the years, it’s morphed into proof that he is safe.  Like Fran says.

She’s giving him a once-over.  “You got your yellow blanket and your yellow scarf.  And your hot chocolate,” she says like she’s reviewing everything.

“We’ll give you guys space,” Pearl nods, shepherding Francesca back to the kitchen.

When they’re gone, Jesus eyes Mariana.  Then, the hot chocolate.  “Are you gonna make me?”

“Make you…?” Mariana asks, confused.

“Have that?” Jesus asks, nodding at the cup.

“Jesus, if you wanna drink it, that’s your choice.” Mariana insists gently.  She has her own cup in her hands.  A bright pink blanket across her lap.  Somewhere, Jesus is glad the other Avoiders haven’t forgotten her.

“Not always…” he ventures.

“No, not always.” Mariana echoes, sad.

(It feels weird knowing that Jesus has the full context for being force fed, and Mariana doesn’t, but might think she does.  There’s some deep shame in him, that makes it impossible to even share with Mari about Moms and what they did.)

“She said I was like Him,” Jesus offers, staring straight ahead.  “Because I wouldn’t let her see Pearl.  Like I was keeping her against her will…”

Mariana’s eyes narrow.  “She can go...jump in a lake…” Mariana manages, seething.  After a minute, she keeps going.  “She was lashing out, Jesus.  Because you weren’t giving into what she wanted.  It doesn’t mean what she said was true.  It means she’s abusive and immature.”

“But what if I am?  Like Him?  I did manipulate her,” Jesus points out.

“I think...you learned...from that situation.  You learned how to survive.  You learned...how to protect yourself.  And others.  That’s not bad.  That’s impressive.”

Jesus considers this.  Then offers more of what he’s mulling over:

“She said I have Stockholm Syndrome,” he says, disgusted.  Finally, he picks up the hot chocolate.  Takes a sip.  “God, the 2021 version of Pearl’s hot chocolate’s even better than the 2014 version…” Jesus sighs, relieved to taste something so wholly comforting.

Mariana smiles, but then it fades.  “I learned at school...and more importantly from you?  That Stockholm Syndrome is a thing people say...when they don’t have all the facts.  When they can’t, like...grasp the fullness of what trauma like that does to a kid.  It’s easier for her to blame you.  To say this bandaid explanation.  Stockholm Syndrome.  Than it is for her to actually...accept that trauma is a thing.  To accept that children are humans with rights to boundaries and safety.  Her saying that to you?  Was her telling you the truth about her perspective.  About how she has zero respect for kids.  For boundaries.  But she wasn’t telling you the truth about...the reality of what happened.  I don’t know if anything I’m saying is making any sense…” she hedges, laughing nervously.

“I hate that Moms have spent the last 13 months basically making you doubt yourself,” Jesus tells Mariana honestly.  “I get that some things are harder for you now.  I see that.  I respect it.  I respect you.  Your accident?  Doesn’t change the fact that what you have to say makes a lot of sense.”

Mariana looks away.  Sips her own hot chocolate.  “Okay…” she ventures, covering the hurt she obviously feels at Moms’ treatment with a smile.

“You notice things, Mari.  You noticed Francesca was having trouble.  You sent her out to make hot chocolate with Pearl.”

“Yeah.  And?” she asks.

“And that helped.  She’s gonna remember that.  So maybe next time she starts feeling overwhelmed she’ll reach out to you or me or Dominique instead of going all internal.”

“Don’t.  You don’t have to try so hard…” Mariana says, waving away his comments like they’re annoying.

“They feel like I’m trying too hard…” Jesus starts, making an effort to slow down what he’s saying, because he hasn’t really been paying attention to it.  “Because you’ve pretty much only heard the opposite.”

Mariana sighs.

Jesus winces, pain rippling through his back, reminding him that Hell Week is still lurking in his subconscious.  “I know it’s not the same thing?  But I spent a long time being told every word that came out of my mouth was dumb.  It’s been ten years since He last said any of that to me, and I still fight against it.”

“I know,” Mariana says, quiet.

“When I say stuff you do well?  I’m helping you fight against it,” he explains, gentle.

“You don’t have to,” she insists.  

“I want to,” Jesus tells her honestly.

“Can I do anything...like to help...your other trigger situation?” Mariana asks, rerouting the conversation.  Diverting the attention from herself.  Jesus recognizes the tactic.  He’s used it himself - an early kind of boundary.

“I feel...like I just got the shit beat out of me…” he confesses.  More than he has said to anyone about Hell Week ever.

Jesus can see his own pain reflected back in Mariana’s eyes.  “That sucks,” she says.  “And I know it doesn’t make it better...but...I’m here.  Which means, you’re not There.  Not really.”

“Trauma thinks I am,” Jesus comments sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, Trauma should drink some Junior Mints hot chocolate.  ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s another thing it didn’t have There.”

Jesus takes a sip.  Closes his eyes.  “More proof.”

“Proof?” Mariana asks.

“That trauma’s wrong.  As usual,” Jesus leans back, trying to breathe.  Trying to relax.

“But it does make sense.  Seeing as you did just deal with a giant peanut butter cookie and her nonsense…”

Jesus snickers.  “You call her that and she seems so…”

“Ridiculous?” Mariana fills in.  “That’s kinda the point.”

“Trauma’s a thing, but I’m not?” Jesus checks, opening one eye to look at his sister.

“You’re a human being,” Mariana reassures.  Not mocking his need to hear it at all.

“I can be Jesus?” he asks, super soft.

“You are Jesus,” Mariana insists.  “You never have to be anybody else.  Okay?  That’s over.  Trauma doesn’t know it.  But it’s over.”

Jesus reaches for his hot chocolate again.  Catches sight of the first nail on his right hand.  It’s perfect, except for a tiny scar by the first knuckle.  He bends the finger.  Testing.

It doesn’t hurt.

He picks up the cup.  Take a drink.

It’s small.  But it’s progress.

Maybe the truth is finally starting to get through.

#fic: somewhere inside