#Cleo is just dying while laughing

[evilrat-sabre]

I can't stress enough how funny a Joehills in distress is. This has been living rent free in my mind for days now. Mr Joe Hills is really clever just not that time lol <3

#hermitcraft #joehills #xisuma void #hypnotizd #zombie cleo #Cleo is just dying while laughing #Joe is so distressed #I love then #I still didn't had time to watch Joe season 10 #I guess I know what I will do after therapy today #Anyway this is from Xisuma Hermitcraft Season 8 episode 1012 time stamp 15:12 #Pls go watch it #Its so funny #I love them

[catherinnn]

"Can you kiss me again?"

just a little blurb bc I was bored and I can't get this boy out of my head.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun setting on its sunset hours—or golden hour, as Kie called it—you were all at the château after a day of surfing and swimming in the ocean. The guys with Cleo were playing a game of poker, Sarah with Kie and I weren’t paying much attention since we weren’t really good at it, so we just stick to chatting among ourselves right next to all of them like a happy family—just like JJ always said.

“I’m out” Pope sighed and threw his cards on the table.

“Nah, I’m all in” John B. confirmed moving some of the poker chips on the table. “JJ?”

“I’m in, bro” he did the same.

“I didn’t listen to his new album yet, is it good?” Sarah talked with Kie.

“It’s amazing, one of his bests so far. Did you listen to it?” Kie asked you.

“A few songs, not all of it yet. But I liked it so far”

“I think you win this one, I’m out” Cleo continued with the game.

“But what about SZA’s new album, I’ve only listened to Kill Bill because of tik tok, but I’m kind of obsessed with it” Sarah commented.

“Oh my god, It’s amazing, I’ve had it on repeat since it came out” Cleo ignored the guys while they kept playing and joined our conversation.

“Yeah, me too, especially Kill Bill, like you said, Sarah”

“I know, it’s so good right-“

“Wait! No! That’s cheating!” Sarah was cut off by a screaming JJ, who suddenly started jumping on his seat next to you on the couch.

“That’s not cheating! What are you talking about?” John B. defended his move.

“Pope, check if it is cheating, help me out here” JJ demanded.

“It’s not cheating man, he’s right, he won” Pope confirmed.

“Oh, come on man!” he complained.

“You’re just a sore loser, deal with it JJ” John B. grinned.

“That’s so not true,” JJ started again, leaning back on the couch and resting his head on your shoulder, “They’re cheating”

“What happened, J?” you asked in a sweet voice as if he was a baby.

“My cards were higher than his, they’re just complotting against me ‘cause they don’t like when I win”

“Oh, don’t pout like that!” you were dying ‘cause of how cute he was right now. Your hand started stroking his hair to make him feel better, which was working because he just loved your attention on him.

“I’m not pouting” he lied.

“Yes, you are” you told him. You realized you needed something more to make him feel better again, and the best idea popped into your head. “Come here” he looked at you again and the hand that was on his hair came down to his cheek, you leaned closer—more than you already were—and you left soft kisses on his other cheek, moving closer and closer to his lips. One, two, three, four kisses. Until your lips touched his, not yet kissing, you teased a little, touching them with yours for a moment. As you realized he didn’t complain to this, he just stayed there accepting and enjoying your every touch, you dared—without thinking twice—and started kissing him, very slowly, very softly.

He moved his lips just the way you were doing it, like he was following your moves. You moves away, making it a short kiss—after all, this was your first kiss together. He opened his eyes and looked at you as if you were something magical, he was completely mesmerized.

Suddenly, you were brought back from your own little world when you heard hysterical laughing from the boys sat in front of you. JJ happened to be thinking the same because of the way he looked at them, frowning and the little smile he had before long gone.

“Did you see his face?” Pope managed to say in between all of his laughs.

“Was that your first kiss ever, dude?” John B. mocked him.

“That, or he clearly just fell in love” Kie joined in in the mocking.

“Shut up” JJ said. You smirked. After they calmed down a bit, they asked for a round two.

“You wanna play again?” John B. asked picking the cards up from the table.

“No” he simply answered him, later to move his head towards you. “Can you kiss me again?”

You smiled. “All of the kisses you want”

“Oh, he’s gonna be so whipped now” Pope complained.

“Now? You’ve clearly never noticed before” Sarah commented.

“Yeah, he’s been whipped long before that kiss” Kiara confirmed.

“Could you shut up and continue without me?” JJ shut them up and turned to you again, “Now, where were we?”

The evening continued with Pope and John B. trying to teach the girls how to play while you both ignored them, coming back to your own little world together, sharing more kisses with little comments and laughs between you two.

a/n: idk anything about poker so if you do and you read this, I'm sorry lol.

#jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank drabble #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank

[vexcraft]

Writing prompt:

Cub and Scar have had naturally white hair ever since they sold their souls to the vex. They dye it though cause they just prefer having black/brown hair.

However, nobody except them are aware of this fact. Not because they’re hiding it or anything, it’s just cause it’s never really considered it a possibility. It’s a bit of a shock to everyone when eventually news gets out.

There’s a tug at Cub’s hair and he instinctively tries to shy away from it, only to create a painful pull on his scalp. 

“Cub’s getting old again! His hair’s getting white!” Bdubs yells and Cub hisses at him from where he’s crouching on the floor trying to fix redstone so they can continue playing the game. The other man lets go of his hair and Cub turns to glare at him. “I knew it was some magic trick that’s now wearing off!” Bdubs adds almost proudly, more directed at Cub than the others. 

Cub rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not getting old,” he says a little defensively. Scar had told him he looked fine earlier!

“That’s not what white hairs from age look like,” Etho comments, leaning over Bdubs’ shoulder to inspect the crime scene. “Bdubs, you should know that.”

“What?!” the man gapes. Cub watches Etho take a few steps back before Bdubs turns around in faux rage. It’s quite amusing. “What do you mean I should know, are you calling me old?! Wait, how would you know what those look like? All of your hair is white!”

“I’m not stupid?” Etho suggests and there’s a wave of laughter from the few other hermits present that are actually listening to their conversation. 

“Etho’s right,” Cleo says, walking over. “That’s definitely root growth.”

“Like from hair dye?” Bdubs questions, his intense gaze switching between Etho, Cleo, and Cub’s hair at light speed as he tries to make sense of the situation. “You dye your hair?” 

It feels a little demeaning to have everyone stare down at him – especially at his apparently not very well dyed hair – while he’s just trying to fix his game mid event. 

“It probably wouldn't look like that if I just did it myself,” Cub grumbles. “Where did Scar go? I have a few words to say to him.”

“Scar dyes your hair?!” Bdubs asks unnecessarily loudly. “Dude, I would not let that man near my precious hair with hair dye in a million years!” 

Cub almost disagrees and points out that Scar isn’t too bad with it, before remembering the very situation he’s in right now. Speak of the devil and he shall appear – Cub watches Scar walk over, probably alerted by Bdubs’ yelling.

“Who’s talking about me?” he asks with a wide grin, too-sharp teeth on display. Cub gives him an unimpressed stare.

“Is it true you dye Cub’s hair?” Bdubs questions instantly and Scar looks a little taken off guard by the sudden question thrown his way.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies casually. “It’s a vex thing, the white hair. What about it?”

Bdubs stares at him like he just said something more outrageous than that, clearly not impressed by the nonchalance. “A vex thing- does that mean your hair is white too?!”

“It is, yeah,” Scar shrugs. “I prefer brown though. I thought you knew this, my hair was white in Last Life when I didn’t feel like dyeing it.”

“I thought your hair just kinda did that or something!” Bdubs tries to defend himself and Cleo snorts. “Don’t laugh! He could’ve dyed it white or something, I didn’t think he'd been dyeing it brown for like, what, seven years! And Cub too, he does not strike me as a hair dye kinda guy! Don’t act like you guys knew about this!” 

Etho and Cleo both shrug. The other hermits don’t disagree, though Cub knows Joe already knew this but seems to have decided to remain quiet, probably for his own entertainment.

“Well, the more you know,” Scar replies cheerfully. “I don’t think I’ve really talked about it to anyone to be fair. How did this come up anyway?”

“You said I look fine this morning,” Cub finally speaks up and Scar turns to look at him. “But apparently I have root growth. Scar, I look stupid.” 

Realization finally dawns on Scar’s face as his gaze shifts from Cub’s sour face to his hair, noticing his mistake. His smirk turns into a sheepish smile. “Whoops?”

#asks #cubfan135 #bdoubleo100 #ethoslab #zombiecleo #goodtimeswithscar #jules hc txt

[jellieland]

“If you don’t get your act together soon you’re going to make me a liar, Martyn,” says Scott, by way of greeting.

Martyn looks up from the chest he was searching through and raises an eyebrow. “Well hello to you too!” He glances around at the fairly empty interior of his and Jimmy’s house. “Wasn’t expecting guests. I would’ve made the place a bit more presentable.”

Scott smirks knowingly. “Oh, would you now?”

“Nah, but it’s a good excuse, innit?” He shrugs. “Anyway, what were you saying? I’m going to make you a liar? That’s a new one.”

“Oh, yes. The other day I said you knew what you were doing,” says Scott.

Martyn snorts. “Ouch. I see. Bold thing to say to a red name.”

“It’s not my fault you keep getting yourself killed!” says Scott, cheerfully. “I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“On purpose?” says Martyn. “I mean, not sure why you think that, but I think I’m going to take it as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you!” says Scott. “You know, trying to go out first after you won, just for the drama. Trying to best Jimmy’s curse.”

“No,” says Martyn flatly. “I wouldn’t do that, and you know it. That’s more your style, actually.” He sounds oddly defensive.

“Alright.” Scott holds his hands up in capitulation, expression softening. “Just wanted to make sure.”

Martyn stares at him for a long moment, as though judging his sincerity.

Scott looks back, open.

“Good.” Martyn brushes past him and out the door to stand on the cliff edge, looking towards Scar’s courthouse.

Scott follows.

The sun is setting.

He looks over at Martyn. He’s staring out over the server, but his expression is far away. It doesn’t take long, though, for him to sense eyes on him.

He turns his head abruptly to Scott, grins, and gestures over the landscape, drenched in red-orange light. “Everything the light touches…” he says dramatically, “is my kingdom.”

Scott snorts, and opens his mouth, but Martyn keeps going.

“A king’s time as ruler,” he says, mock-solemn, measured, “rises and falls, like the sun.”

“Uh huh.” Scott gives him a look as amused as it is fond, as Martyn keeps quoting The Lion King at him. “Scar would be loving this, you know.”

“One day, Scott,” continues Martyn, and hesitates.

Scott can see in his eyes the moment he fully commits to the bit. He’s never been one to do these things halfway, after all.

“One day,” Martyn says softly, “the sun will set on my time here.” He places a hand on his heart, and gazes at Scott with something that looks so close to sincerity as to be indistinguishable. The light behind him makes it hard to see his eyes.

“And?” asks Scott.

“And what?” asks Martyn.

“I might be misremembering, but I think it’s supposed to rise with me as the new king,” says Scott.

“Nah,” says Martyn. “That’s not how it works. You already had a go, leave some for everyone else.”

Scott laughs slightly. “If you say so. I do think it’s our kingdom, though.”

Martyn frowns. “What?” He looks taken aback. Almost upset, even.

Scott raises an eyebrow. “In the film? It’s our kingdom, I think, in that quote. Not my kingdom.”

Martyn blinks at him. “Oh. Right.” He recovers quickly. “And that dark place over there.” He points. “That’s Bigb’s hole. You must never go there.”

Scott snorts. “Low hanging fruit, Martyn.”

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get,” says Martyn.

“You should’ve heard Jimmy earlier. Cleo and I may have been bullying him a bit.” He looks around. “Speaking of which, where is Jimmy?”

Martyn looks at him for a moment, wary. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk to him,” says Scott mildly.

“…Right. Right, of course.” He sighs. “Not sure, over by the Secret Keeper maybe? Wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to yell at it for a while.”

“Thank you, Martyn,” says Scott.

He considers leaving.

Martyn is staring out across the server again.

“How was dying in the void?” asks Scott.

Martyn pauses for an unusually long time, before he answers. “…Slow,” he says flatly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Started out at thirty hearts, so I was falling for… a while.” He looks away for moment. “There was nothing I could do. I was already dead. Just had to fall through the darkness and feel my time run out.” He sighs. “Wasted a golden apple and everything.”

“What, you ate it? Why?”

“Guess I panicked.” Martyn shrugs. “I mean, I had to do something other than just wait to die. Wish I’d chosen something else though.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” says Scott. “If it made you feel better, it doesn’t really matter.”

“No,” says Martyn heavily. “It doesn’t.”

Scott frowns.

“How-” says Martyn, and pauses. He gives Scott a calculating look. “How would you do it?”

“Do what?” asks Scott.

“I died,” says Martyn. “It was pointless. It was stupid. It didn’t matter.” He stares at Scott as though trying to look into his soul. “How do you- how would you make it matter?”

He is, Scott decides, being a bit too obvious to let it slide. “How do you make anything matter, Martyn?”

There is a flash of betrayal in Martyn’s eyes, barely there before it’s gone. “I- I don’t know. Stakes, maybe?”

“Maybe,” says Scott. “But there’s a difference between finding something to care about, and daring the universe to kill you.”

Martyn glares at him, for several long seconds.

Scott looks back.

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” says Martyn, eventually. His voice sounds tight. “I’m not.”

“Why did you go into the dragon fight on yellow, Martyn?” asks Scott, pointedly.

“I wouldn’t have been on yellow if we healed like normal,” says Martyn.

Scott gives him an unimpressed look. He's not entirely sure that's even true.

“Jimmy did it too,” snaps Martyn. “Why aren’t you interrogating him?”

“Maybe I will,” says Scott. “Why won’t you answer my question?”

Martyn opens his mouth, and pauses as though hoping he’ll be let off the hook.

Scott looks back at him.

“…I can’t stop now.” Martyn looks at him, as though pleading with him to understand.

There is an edge of desperation to his voice.

“I can’t stop now,” he says softly. “Nothing else will.”

Scott sighs.

“Haven’t you heard?” says Martyn. “Red names don’t get free time. We just have to keep going until we die.”

“Everyone has to do that, Martyn,” says Scott, tiredly.

“You don’t understand!” snaps Martyn. “I had something to care about, I found something to care about, and that was winning. But now- but- but now…”

Scott takes a step back, and looks at Martyn. Something about him puts Scott in mind of a dog, left behind, alone, in an empty house, and throwing itself at the locked front door, over and over again. Barking and clawing and fighting, to the point of exhaustion.

There’s no point in arguing with him on this.

There’s nothing to be gained in pointing out that “caring” is very broad term. That Scott isn’t convinced Martyn ever actually did care about winning, and not just the idea of it.

Scott sighs again.

“How come, after everything, you still get to be good?” says Martyn. His hands are clenched into fists. “That’s not fair.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Martyn,” says Scott. “But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Martyn exhales slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Very deliberately, he relaxes, putting a casual hand on the hilt of his sword. “I know. Forget I said anything.”

“I won’t!” says Scott brightly.

Martyn gives him a look.

“Ok, ok, sorry,” says Scott. He pauses for a moment, considering his words carefully. “You just have to find another thing to care about. And then another, and then another. And so on.”

“That sounds exhausting,” says Martyn. That sounds impossible, say his eyes.

“Less than the alternative, I think,” says Scott. They stand in silence for a little longer, before he smirks. “Besides, if that wasn’t my philosophy then I never would’ve let you win, now would I?”

“Let me- excuse me?!” says Martyn indignantly.

Scott laughs. “It’s a joke, don’t worry,” he says, to soften all the ways that it isn’t a joke, really. “You know me, I would never bend the rules!”

Martyn looks at him, and then his eyes dart away to look across the server, and then he looks back. “I really don’t know how you do it,” he says, voice light enough that anyone else listening would think he didn’t mean it.

“It’s not easy, but I manage!” says Scott, as though he doesn’t mean it, either.

“Yeah, well, that’s sort of the only option, isn’t it?” says Martyn. He looks up at the darkening sky. “You know, you should probably head back before the skeletons start showing up.”

Scott nods. “What would I do if I didn’t have you looking out for me?” he asks sarcastically, eyes soft.

“You know, somehow I think you would live,” says Martyn. He voice is just as sarcastic. His eyes are distant again. “If I see Jimmy, I’ll tell him you were here.”

“Right. Thank you, Martyn,” says Scott.

“No problem,” says Martyn, and turns away to stare, once more, out across the server.

Scott leaves.

He gets back home before night falls, because he knows what he’s doing, and he doesn’t take risks by accident.

He doesn't see anyone.

He hopes Jimmy wasn't caught out in the night. He hopes he was right about Martyn, as unlikely as that’s starting to look. He hopes he isn’t made a liar.

He’s not sure he can take caring for another canary.

#secret life smp #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #my writing

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

Gem opens her book and immediately something pinches her mind, a sharp sting that dulls into a headache behind her eyes. She's sure no one noticed her wincing, and as she reads on she's grateful for that.

She'd never seen the boogeyman curse. Or, well, Lizzie-as-Pearl had had it when she was Gem-as-Cleo, but that had all been very removed from her tasks of doing a bad British accent and murdering Etho a lot. She's heard Impulse and Scott talk about it. Sometimes they talk about past games around the campfire at night, and sometimes it's giving Gem some tips, sometimes it's laughing at old memories, and sometimes one of them tells a story and it gets very quiet.

The boogeyman stories tend to be conversation killers. Scott's said how hard it was to resist the urge to kill, how he kept thinking of just taking out someone when their back was turned, but he just couldn't. Impulse had nodded along, spoke of the paranoia a boogeyman caused, where you couldn't get to cozy in your alliances because you just never know, how he'd considered getting a quick kill in on one of his teammates. Gem had wondered about it, morbidly curious. Lizzie-as-Pearl had seemed relatively put together when they spoke. Guess it's her turn to find out.

--------

There was blood on her hands, metaphorically, and she'd never felt better about it. The only way she could feel any more pleased would be if Bdubs had died directly to her, but zombies seemed pretty thematically appropriate. He'd been mad and shouting but once he read the book he understood. He'd been a boogeyman. Impulse said he'd been the very first one. How appropriate, then, to have him.

Gem finally understood the bloodlust aspect of this. Scar had shot her into the pit her tnt trap made and when she was crawling out of it, shield protecting her face, she found herself smiling. Her heart was beating fast and she wasn't quite thinking straight and she'd been shot with an arrow but she was smiling. She wanted to laugh. She wanted Scar dead yesterday.

She hummed cheerfully as she rigged Trader Scar's to blow. Hopefully she could catch Scar in it, but she found she didn't actually care. The more, the merrier.

—————

Impulse was practically begging to be killed. Gem caught his choked “thank you” as Bdubs stabbed him in the chest. She watched from the sidelines with a glowing pride. It was almost better than getting a kill herself, the idea of an army of infected at her disposal, following her orders. Almost.

Surely being the boogeyman can’t be so bad. Impulse talked big about being afraid of it, of himself when he was cursed. But now? Now when it came down to choosing, he put himself at the pointy end of the sword and asked. It can’t be bad as all that, really. Gem felt more vibrant than she had for a while! It can’t be so bad.

------

They all really needed a leader, Gem thinks, because look how easy it is to get them to fall in line!

She's always felt a bit like a natural leader, but this is so much more fulfilling than leading a little trio. This is an army.

Sure, it was nice and cute to be the unofficial leader of Gem and the Scotts, but she was made for more than that. She wasn't put into this game to supervise building cute cherry wood cottages and chide people when they start getting silly. She was brought here to open the End, to send an army to kill the dragon, to send an army to kill everyone

In a way it's similar to how She-as-Cleo was, when she was trying to lead the Clockers. Because she actually did something about their enemies. She killed them. These are death games, are they not? Last one standing wins? She didn't understand this dancing around rivalries and enemies, avoiding taking too many hearts. They all need to do something, and they need her to tell them what to do. And what they need to do is kill.

Finally, she gets to slice open Joel's neck and watch the dying panic slowly leave his eyes. She smiles as he falls. Another soldier recruited.

---------

Gem is red because Scar shot her through the skull and it's bloodlust on bloodlust and Scott is trying to talk to her but she can barely focus. She can't hear him over the fog in her head, over the sword in her hand. He's just chatting.

She doesn't need to hear him though, because she knows what he's saying. He wants to die. Just like Impulse. Scott's practically on his knees begging for her to kill him.

The Boogeyman isn't as scary as all that. She feels finally free, finally powerful. Everyone else agrees. Gem knows Scott must be so tired of resisting, he'd always said how difficult it was. He needs an excuse to let his guard down against her infection, and she can be that excuse.

Even as he backs away, fear in his eyes, making some bullshit up about leaving, Gem understands. He has to put up a front, but it's so obvious to her. He wants to die and be reborn infected. Everyone does. Scott's so obvious, he might as well be holding her swordpoint to his heart and crying for it.

She slashes him a few times and he runs away. Gem doesn't give chase. In due time, she will. The number of uninfected is being chiseled down. They'll get to Scott. There's no hurry. Gem wants to be the one to kill him.

#slsmp #secret life smp #geminitay #i literally needed to write this i was possessed #i like gem being scary and i support women who kill maim and do other wrongs

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: First of all, I would like to apologize for my father's— *gives Malleus a quick glare*— rude behavior towards you.

Cleo Kingscholar: I don't know if your apology would be enough. I've got beaten up into a pulp just for being a son of a former lazy housewarden.

Leona: Who are you calling lazy? *frowns*

Maze Rosehearts: *raises his hand*

MC: Yes?

Maze Rosehearts: *smiles* You don't have to apologize. My dad explained to us the situation.

Maze Rosehearts: It's just that these utter fools were not competitive.

Vito Schoenheit: Oh, please. Do not pretend you didn't eat dirt like the rest of us.

Maple Felmier: Guys, let's not fight in the presence of our families! *shimmer shimmer*

Vil: Wow, Epel. Your son seems to know how to use his charm more than you do.

Epel: My biggest mistake was introducing you to him.

MC: Again, I apologize. And also...

MC: WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ALL HERE?!

MC: Leona! You're the physics teacher!

MC: Vil! You're the potionology professor!

MC: Kalim's working in the cafeteria!

MC: Jamil's the school nurse!

MC: And every single time I turn around, I see all your faces!

Floyd: Calm down, Shrimpy. It's all Nudibranch's idea.

Jade: That's right. He requested all of us to accompany you.

Jade: Unfortunately, Azul won't be able to since he's too busy in his business.

MC: Don't you all have your own career now?!

Leona: We just want to see you graduate this time without pulling a crazy stunt again.

MC: *got stabbed with that* S-Sorry...

Malleus: *goes to hug them* Now that all is well. Let's go walk around the school and check out the new gargoyles.

MC: ...There are new ones?

Malleus: Yes. I've got a glimpse of them while playing with the kids.

Cleo, Maze, and the others: ...

Leona: We're going back to our classes now.

Vil: Right. And Vito, we have to talk about your daily routine as the new housewarden of Pomefiore.

Vito: *mumbles* It's like I didn't leave home at all.

Leona: Cleo.

Cleo: *sigh* I'm going.

Jade: *chuckles* I wish I have kids too.

Floyd: There's someone courting you, right? Why not give her a shot?

Jade: I'm not interested to go in a relationship, Floyd.

Floyd: You and Azul will end up dying single.

MC: ...

MC: I feel like this is going to be an enjoyable freshman year for me.

Malleus: *smiles*

MC: Thanks, Pa.

Malleus: You're welcome.

Kalim: MC! Here! *waving at them* Today's food is great!

MC: Isn't it always, Kalim?

Jamil: *sigh* I'm the school nurse, but I couldn't just let him do the kitchen work.

MC: By the way, Jamil, I heard your son is the new housewarden of Scarabia. *smiles* Congratulations.

Jamil: *smiles* Thank you. But Ahmed should be the one hearing your praise.

Jamil: Speaking of Ahmed, he should be here now.

Ahmed Viper: Zain! I still have things to do! *being dragged*

Zain Al-Asim: But we're going to run out of food if we don't hurry!

Jamil and MC: ...

Jamil: Let's not bother them.

MC: *laughs*

Maze Rosehearts: I'm letting you know that we're going to have a housewarden meeting later this afternoon.

MC: I'll be there.

Maze Rosehearts: And also, please drop by in Heartslabyul. My father wants to see you.

MC: ...

MC: Do you need help, Maze?

Maze: *smiles shyly* Yes. There were two students who arrived late in our dorm and he was not happy about it.

MC: I see. Don't worry. I'll see what I can do.

Maze: *smiles* Thank you.

Cleo: *has approached* Already getting close with the Diasomnia housewarden, huh, Maze?

Maze: *frowns* Cleo.

Cleo: *smirks* Anyway, please come by our dorm too. I'll give you a tour.

Zain: *yells as he passes by their room* Whoo! PDA!

Cleo, Maze, and MC: ...

Maze: What "PDA"?

Zain: *runs back* PUBLIC DISPLAY OF ADMIRATION!

Cleo and Maze: ...

Cleo and Maze: *decided to chase him*

MC: ...

MC: *chuckles*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst leona #twst floyd #twst jade #twst jamil #twst kalim #twst epel #twst vil #cleo kingscholar #maze rosehearts #maple felmier #zain al-asim #ahmed viper #vito schoenheit #mc draconia

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

Fic about Scar after Secret Life? I noticed that he got the same task again after winning and it got me thinking. Apparently Martyn had the same idea but I swear I didn’t get it from him it was just me

I did get the idea of going insane from him but the rest is me

***

Scar normally detested routine, but now he was craving it and there was nothing to be done.

It had been five days. Five days since he’d pressed that succeed button, five days since the last ghost had left the game.

He’d tried to leave, just after pressing.

He couldn’t. It was as if there was some virtual barrier that was stopping him from disconnecting every time he tried.

Then, he’d tried dying.

Just as he’d thought of it, the fail button was no longer there.

He’d grabbed at the thin air where it used to be, then pounded his fist onto the hard stone beneath it and screamed until his hand bled and his throat was sore.

He jumped into the ravine. He stood in lava. He plunged underwater and didn’t hold his breath.

What had happened was that there was all the pain that came with dying but none of the final relief, of seeing that death screen and the pressure lift up. He’d looted some golden apples, devoured them just to stop the pain.

His hearts just wouldn’t go down.

Normally he couldn’t stop them from going, but now, just when what he wanted to do most was to die, the Secret Keeper wouldn’t let him. It was a cruel joke.

“I’ve already won!” He yelled at it. “I’ve already won, let me leave!”

He’d pressed the reroll for hard, but he just got the same “Win Secret Life.” book over and over again. The succeed button merely gave him more hearts and flashed “You have succeeded.” at him, as if taunting him.

Now, on the fifth day, he didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t eaten at all, and his hunger bar stayed empty, but his hearts wouldn’t go down.

He leaned against the side of the Keeper, his stomach hollow and his head aching.

The sun was particularly piercing today, but he stared at it stubbornly, not caring if it would make him go blind. It hung in the air, resolutely staying but not helping at all.

He wondered what it would be like if everyone else was here.

Surely, they would all love him and congratulate him on his win. He’d wake up with a smile on his face, pop around to the Mounders and have a chaotic breakfast, then maybe go off to practice archery at Grian’s base, probably have some joking banter with Scott. Then…

It hurt to think about it.

He’d already buried them all.

Jimmy and Mumbo had long been buried, and Lizzie’s final resting place was the void, of course, but he’d gathered up everyone else.

He’d cleared the leaves at the Heart and laid Skizz, Tango, and Bigb to rest. The Scotts and Tots were likewise given a simple grave at their base, and Etho and Cleo at theirs. Mum and Dad.

He’d killed them, laughing, all towards the goal of winning, and in the end he was left alone in an empty world filled with dead bodies. All his previous grudges seemed unimportant now.

He’d buried Grian at Sunflower Valley, near the mess of blocks that used to be Trader Scar’s.

It seemed selfish but there was no one around to judge, and he still recalled the whisper of his ghost that day.

She’s dead, Scar. You won.

It was just words. He hadn’t won.

Winners were supposed to be happy.

He’d found Mumbo’s grave by the patch of fresh grass by the man’s own mound, and put Bdubs and Joel next to him. He couldn’t bring himself to bury Pearl at first, but leaving her in the ravine seemed like letting the Keeper win, so he’d done it as well.

Letting the Keeper win. As if there was still a game to play.

It had felt weird at first, burying his friends. But after a while he didn’t feel any sorrow when burying them. They were all dead anyway.

He was going to be dead anyway, if not by the Keeper’s hand then by his own. He anticipated the day the Secret Keeper would get bored and just kill him off.

But there was nothing to do now.

And sitting by the Keeper, on the brink of death yet forbidden to tip over, Scar laughed.

He laughed and laughed, unsure if it was the heat of the sun, or the unrelenting silence of the Secret Keeper, or maybe the despair of his own mind that was making him do it.

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He hadn’t won. He never would, and he would never finish this last task, left to rot, alone, in the world that he had created for himself by killing and killing until there was no one left to kill but himself and he couldn’t even give himself that mercy—

It occurred to him that he might go insane. Or maybe he already was.

What did it matter? He was alone anyway.

#secret life #secret life smp #trafficblr #life series #traffic series #traffic life #traffic life series #life smp #life series smp #slsmp #goodtimeswithscar #gtws #traffic life smp #traffic smp

[memryse]

Martyn didn’t tell anyone about the voices, not the first time around. He didn’t need that - didn’t need the Red Army, and certainly not his King, thinking he was losing it. They were at war, for crying out loud. Who cared whether there was a malevolent- spirit? entity? occupying his brain? It’s not like it was doing anything other than speaking cryptically whenever he lost a life or was on the verge of losing one, so he was relatively okay with sharing a bit of his brain space with It. Whatever It was. Maybe the others had heard It too, but nobody had said anything because they all thought they were crazy too (fair).

They’d talked about death, of course, on those long nights (there had been many, and little else felt meaningful to talk about, because death and dying was the whole point). Martyn or Etho would ask first, usually - what was it like when you died? Did you… see anything? And Ren would launch into a tale as dramatic as ever about his blood spilling on the altar as his Hand decapitated him, and Martyn would feel a little sick at the memory, and Ren would end the story sheepishly admitting he didn’t see anything. Just darkness, and then he was alive again. BigB would laugh and with measured optimism say he didn’t know, and that hopefully things would stay that way. And so they would go around the campfire like that, swapping stories of the… not the afterlife, but the in-between, perhaps, and when it came to Martyn’s turn he’d give a quick “Uh… nothing. Yeah, it was just- just total darkness for me too. Kind of boring, really, you’d think there’d be something.” No mysterious voices were mentioned, not by anyone, and Martyn wasn’t about to be the first.

The second time, It became Them. The first time could have been nothing, just his brain trying to rationalise death, but this time? Either he really was losing it, or they were real. Or… both, as it turned out one very rough morning after Grian killed Timmy and Mumbo. They were… different this time. Less concerned with his own deaths, more concerned with his kills. Kill, singular, really.

They tasked him with killing Grian, in exchange for Mumbo and Timmy back, and he failed. Miserably. He hadn’t minded trying - he welcomed the excuse, really, since Grian had been the one to destroy the Southlands to begin with - but. It didn’t matter. None of it did. He had been naive to think that it would be as simple as that. And there’d been something else, too. Something too much for his dying brain to comprehend, so much so that thinking back on it even as a green life in peak health made him simultaneously feel like his head was going to explode and like he was being spied on. So for a while, he just… didn’t. The third time was a sort of reprieve, in a way. He pointedly avoided thinking about Them at all, and to Their credit, They also did not bother him for once. Having Cleo in the back of his mind was quite enough stress. They weren’t happy - they weren’t even friends - but they had an understanding. He saw too much of himself in Cleo. Enough that he knew that if he told them about Them, they would believe him. She would believe him, and she would see right through him and pity him. And so he played the game. They lived, they survived for a time, and they died, and for once that was all there was to it.

He thought this time might be the same. The constant ticking was enough to drive anyone mad - cynical as ever, he figured that was probably the point, right. But more than that, the fourth game felt like it was designed for Martyn to lose. He wasn’t like Timmy (thank God for that) - he was a survivor. Not a winner, no, but a survivor. What good was that, though, when his time was running out either way? He thought he’d experienced desperation before: desperation to protect his king; desperation to bring Timmy and Mumbo back; desperation to get a kill; none of it compared to the ever-increasing desperation of running out of time, the hyper-awareness of exactly how long he had left to live. He had to get more time. Get more time, and perhaps win one of these damn things for once. Not that it would change anything… probably? He’d have to ask Scott. He’d asked Grian before, what it felt like to win, but all that Grian had said was that it felt like losing.

That night, as they enjoyed a (now blissfully unobstructed) nighttime view, Scott told him, “It felt like being free, for a moment. And then for an even briefer moment it felt like I was looking down on the world, like- like I was outside of it looking through a window, if that makes sense. And then I was dead, so it didn’t even really matter.”

“I might as well not even bother winning, then, I can just go up to Skynet when TIES aren’t looking and that’s basically the same thing.”

“Honestly? Yeah. Not worth it. But we might as well try anyway, because giving up is just kind of sad and I am not letting Jimmy outlive me. Besides, I want to win again out of pure spite, ‘cause whoever’s up there probably already hates me anyway for the boogeyman thing. Both boogeyman things. I don’t kill someone, I get smited literally out of the world for winning, and then when I do kill someone I’m ‘ruining the suspense’! These games are rigged!”

Scott doesn’t notice the change in Martyn’s expression - he’s too busy glaring at the sky to notice something dawning on Martyn’s face, equal parts realisation and apprehension.

“You think there’s someone up there, what, just watching us kill each other over and over?” Martyn asks, his voice measured.

“I mean, maybe? Someone’s gotta be running these - other than Grian, I mean. Grian’s in charge, yeah, but even he can’t change his timer, right? And sometimes even when nobody else is around, like when I’m just mining for diamonds - do you not get that feeling, like there’s someone watching you?” Scott replies.

He was only ever meant to watch.

A fragment of a fragment of memory flashes into Martyn’s mind, and the words spill out before he even consciously processes what it is that he’s remembering.

“Scott, I- I heard them once. Not even once, actually, it was more like, what- five or six times? They’ve never- you’ve never heard them?” he says, but the bewildered expression etched onto Scott’s scaled face tells him all he needs to know.

“Heard them? Martyn, they’re- they watch, that’s all they do, they don’t talk to us. I’ve never heard them. But,” he added hastily, “I believe you. You’re my ally, and there’s just no reason why you’d make that up anyway. What would even be the point, unless this is supposed to be your idea of a ghost story.” Which was as fair a reason as any for believing your friend slash bodyguard’s experience hearing unknowable beings in his mind, Martyn supposed.

“It’d be a pretty crap ghost story to scare you with, seeing as it only ever seems to affect me,” Martyn chuckled a little, his tension already fading away. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never actually told anyone about it before. Never really had anyone I could just sit down and talk to about it. No thanks to you last time around.”

“Yeah!” Scott said simply, in the tone of voice that Martyn can’t help but smile faintly at upon hearing it. “I’ve told you and Pearl like a million times, it was your own fault Cleo and I were better soulmates for each other. You’re not doing bad this time though, apart from, you know, trying to boogey me after we became allies. So I guess I can listen.”

Martyn didn’t tell Scott everything - admitting the context in which they had told him they could bring Mumbo and Timmy back was just a bit too embarrassing. But the rest he explained as well as he could remember - it almost felt like it had happened to someone else by this point, and maybe in a way it had. He wasn’t a Hand of the King, or a grief-stricken Southerner, or alone and hated by a soulmate simply because they were too alike. They were him, but not in the same way that the man stargazing on a manmade island with his friend was him. The memories felt borrowed, almost.

“…And you’ll tell me if they come back? Even if they want you to kill me and they’ll reset your timer in exchange or something?”

“Probably?”

“I let you kill me to give you time. You are not going to find a better friend than me on this entire server.”

“Alright, fine.”

(my friends and i were talking about how if martyn ever did decide to get anyone involved in the watcher lore, scott joining in would absolutely slay. ive never finished a full piece of writing in about eight years and i wrote this in one go and its 4am now be nice to me olease. and also for clarity this is mid session 4 before martyn actually hears the watchers again)

#limited life smp #limited life spoilers #inthelittlewood #smajor1995 #grian #mean gills #mem writes #<- AOUHHG #mean gills my sillies…

[fountainpenguin]

#Riddle Watches Traffic - Secret Life Session 4 POVs - This post contains Joel, Grian, Etho, Martyn, and Scar commentary

Joel POV (My first POV for this session):

Joel, the ex-Shrek, running around dropping lines from "All Star" in conversation is everything I could have wanted.

Joel: If you were a color, what color would you be? Pearl: Red.

Can't argue with that.

Lizzie: You like my path? Joel: I do. Is it going to link up with mine? Lizzie: We've got connecting paths now. Joel: I didn't realize we were that close. Lizzie: To touch paths. Joel: I know we're married, but come on... It's getting a bit crazy now.

slkdjf Joel really does not want to be touchy-feely with anyone this season huh?

Okay I switched to Grian's POV because Joel came up to the rest of the Mounders and they were all giggling and telling him to go talk to Grian, so swapping my liveblog over:

Grian POV

?? Grian's task was to bait a yellow into believing his task was singing everything he says, that feels kinda unfair to the yellows because it doesn't give them a way to call him on it, does it? slkdjf

That is really funny he needs to get someone to call him out in order to succeed, though.

Grian's really good at like, recapping and/or giving context (like pulling up his screen to walk the audience through exactly who the Yellows on the server are). Thanks G.

sldkfjs Scar singing back to Grian... They are soulmates, your honor.

Cleo, trying not to bust up laughing: How long do you have to sing for? Grian, singing: I don't have to sing! It's a choice~!

Grian chasing people and singing while they run sdlkfjsd... Mumbo like "Please stop following me! I don't want to deal with your singing anymore!"

sldkfjsd can we make a reaction clip out of Grian sadly singing, "I am mortally wounded~"

Grian is SO GOOD at this baiting game, though. Despite needing to get a yellow to guess his task, he takes off running as soon as Joel shows up, then when Joel starts talking to him he clams up. Master of manipulation; what a deLIGHT!

sldkfjs the hilarity of Joel smugly calling Grian out and then Grian takes out his book, sighs loudly, and trots off to the Secret Keeper... and hits success instead of fail. omg.

Joel immediately adding "My world's on fire; how 'bout yours?"

Grian: "You are all terrible friends and that's what I needed <3"

lskdjfsdk Scar being like "Wait, that was your task? I thought we were just being musical." Your honor, they are soulmates.

Does... does Etho have my "reference previous seasons / fake moment from previous series" task suggestion?

Switching back to Joel:

slkdfjsldkjfksdl in Joel's POV, there's a bit of lag so when Joel confronts Grian, Grian suddenly bolts across the bridge at light speed and it's hilarious.

Switching to Etho because dying of curiosity:

Etho making cute benches outside his shack.

Cleo: Oh, there there... I was going to pat you, but then I realized... Etho: Pat me with a sword? Clean slice through the head?

sdklfjsdfj househusband Etho strikes again?? Cleo accidentally whacks him with a sword and he immediately spins around like "I'm sorry- I'll do the dishes, I'll do whatever you want! No more, no more!" Love that for him.

Love how Etho said "Aha" after looking at his task even though he hadn't even received that suggestion yet.

You nerds really gonna be like "Etho and I aren't romantic" and "We're besties" and then put a single bed inside your house, huh? What am I supposed to do with that.

?????? Martyn giving Etho the assignment of gaslighting someone into believing a fake moment from the previous series? Does Martyn have my suggested task or did we just same brain on that one? lol.

[More liveblogging under the cut <3 #Long post]

Switching over to Martyn POV because curious:

skdlfj wow Martyn's video is super loud after coming from Etho's. Just gonna turn my sound down there.

??? Martyn does not have my suggestion so I guess he and I just had the same brain wave. Alas. Here were some suggestions I put in Tango's Session 3 comments, for anyone curious:

Reference events from past Life series at least 4 times in conversation with other players (Ex: "This reminds me of that one boogeyman kill in Last Life; remember when X happened?") - [Some ideas that come to mind are that it would be funny to pester players who missed seasons by lightheartedly teasing them about events they weren't around for]

Alternatively: Convince at least 2 players that a falsified event happened in Secret Life or a past Life series [Ex: "Haven't you seen the fanart of this? I'll send it to you later." / "Remember, we were all there? Oh, you didn't play in that series; I guess you wouldn't know."]

?? They took the world border out of the Nether. Untapped escape routes in Hell.

I appreciate "mayor" Scar chasing the Big Dogs away and telling them he was going to send them to the pound.

(Loud sigh). Scar upset with Martyn for peeing on (dumping water on) his base. Martyn is running amok. Unrestrained.

slkdjf Martyn admitting he had read a lot of tasks in the past week and was thinking he'd probably end up taking someone else's idea. Y'know what, good enough for me. Whether we same brained or he read that, I'm satisfied. Also Etho saying "Martyn, you should write tasks because that's a great idea." I'll take it, slkdfj.

Watched a few minutes more of Martyn, he's talking with Joel and I have nothing to say atm, switching back to Joel:

Joel so sad when his cows get loose.

I appreciate how Martyn allowed Etho to buy his silence but then he runs to Joel and starts dropping hints.

slkdjfs Joel nailed his lyrics, good for him.

Joel working on his farms before pressing the success button is mildly stressing me out. (Oh, he was waiting for safe day).

sldkfj Etho giving Joel a chance to take a guess at him and Joel phrasing his words specifically as "Was your goal to bait a yellow into guessing you're saying 'Aha?'"

I always admire Joel's commitment to getting the right colored resources, especially wood. He takes so much pride in his builds even in the deathgame.

One of my other task suggestions was to break game rules for part of the session and I used the example of wearing a helmet. If Scar has that task, that will be quite funny. He's being super sus about that helmet and even talking like "I can take it off! I'll take it off right now" which would line up with my 50% of the session suggestion. I'll have to check on him next.

Gem's Yellow life heterochromia.

lskdjfslkjdf Boat Boys, my beloved...

Etho, parking a boat and making eye contact: Joel. Get in. Joel: The fandom's gonna go crazy, Etho. We can't do this. Etho: We're reliving the past, Joel, right now. Remember the good old days, just me and you? Joel: I do. The Relation ship. Etho: Riding the boats? Etho: ... Back when you cared about me.

skdjf I had to pause to start writing that and it really does just keep going, huh?

Joel: I still care, Etho. It's just... Etho: You still care? We hardly see each other anymore. Joel: I know, I know, but that's because I'm with the Mounders now. Etho: Well, this is where the relationship ends.

What is in Etho's Secret Life water; he is SO clingy and mushy with Joel every episode.

Joel calling Scar out for breaking the rules... is this my task, I am so curious.

Kind of surreal watching this play out. Definitely picking up the vibe that the players screened tasks together before putting them in and so they've got "rule breaker" as a possible option in their minds and that's why they're so quick to jump in and call Scar out on that TODAY despite the fact that he was also breaking rules in previous episodes. Very curious.

Martyn's calling a meeting, seems like a good time to pop over and check on Scar's task. Episode title is him calling himself a server villain so it might not be my task, but that's very funny anyway. Let's see.

Alas... It is not my "Break the rules for 50% of the episode" task suggestion, but the task he does have is really clever (Do the opposite of what people tell you to do).

Gonna bounce back to Joel and finish his episode and return to Scar later, but that will be a fun watch <3 Still getting the vibe that they screened my task ideas and maybe we will see it another day. We shall see.

I like the mental image of Scott looking up, covered in mud and dirt, as the Task Force comes barreling over the hill like "We caught you mud-handed!!"

Also enjoy the mental image of Joel catching Gem at the bottom of his water slide.

Joel @ Gem about The End: How come they went? I wouldn't go. Gem: idk, bunch of improv nerds. They just kept saying 'Yes.'

Yeah that tracks.

Gem: I just saved you a heart. I don't think I have to give you one.

I love how Joel is always like "Everybody likes me because I'm really popular." Like that's his actual dialogue. He's so fun to write and it's always funny to remember that he really is just Like That.

Congrats to Joel for finishing a nice fence around his base, lighting it up, and chopping down the trees to prevent skeleton spawning! He's doing pretty well this season.

MARTYN FIRST RED... He fell out of the world. what an idiot /affectionate.

Jimmy too... Jimmy. Jimmy, my man who has been out first four seasons in a row... is also on red life now... Jimmy, you are playing a DANGEROUS game.

Done with Joel's POV, switching to Grian's (after leaving a nice comment and a like on his video ofc <3)

Grian: The reds work slightly differently, but I'll explain that when we get our first red. Me: ... ah.

It's fun to see how careful and skilled Grian is. He's been a very high-heart green name for several episodes and it gives me 3rd Life vibes again.

That said, he lost a bunch in the caves... but I get why, gotta do the mining. Oh geez, zombie kid with a sword hits hard. Ouch.

Loving his dramatic music, though. It was interesting a few months ago when I went back and started binging some early Hermitcraft episodes, because you never appreciate the skill these guys have with subtle music until you compare them to their older videos which feel more awkward and empty. gg.

Holy GEEZ, Grian's dropping hearts like mad. Also watching him panic as his hunger meter drops because he's out of food is super funny. Yeah, that'll kill you.

Grian Session 4 would be a good early watch with that kind of tension... Also I love him limping into his base and devouring berry after berry.

Scar unable to take off his helmet because everyone keeps going "?? Take off your helmet!" and he can't.

The hilarity of:

Grian: Can I use your enchantment table? Scar: YES! ... Wait........ Grian: /turns around Scar: Noooo... Grian: /cracks up

Scar indicating he's okay with Grian using the table by using a sarcastic sing-songy voice to tell him it would be a bad idea to use it skldfj

Scar following Grian's instructions but doing so with a delay while Grian stands there confused sdlkfj

Grian: Scar said I could use it! How else would I know you had it? Cleo: ?? Why would Scar be in charge of our enchanter? Grian: ??? He said it was his??

Etho telling Grian to give his heart to Cleo slkdjf. Etho just really wants to be affectionate to someone.

Grian: What do I have to do to be friends? I hate living in that egg.

lskdjf obsessed with the besties roommates getting a third wheel roommate who brings them golden carrots.

Etho: You've been burning down your bases every episode. One rule: If you move into ours, you're not allowed to burn it down.

<3 Builder roommate!!

slkdfjsk they outsourced the bed shrine to Grian.

Etho: Cleo, you're really going to get along with Grian. He likes burning things too.

Obsessed with Grian asking why Etho waterlogged his chests and when Etho explains it's to prevent TNT damage, Grian just pauses and goes "I have made the right choice." sldkfj. Grian and Etho and Cleo team up! Very exciting; what will they do?

Grian asking Scar if he's okay and Scar saying "I'm neutral." skldjf. Scar is so good at this.

Loving Grian going to visit BigB for his obligatory "let's find out what weird stuff he's doing" commitment (and dragging Scar after him).

slkdjfskldj wheezing:

Grian: Why is Tango hanging around? Mumbo: ??? That's a bit rude? Someone partaking in a conversation and you're like "Why are you here?"

Watching Martyn eyeballing The End advancements in the chat while I know he's this close to dying from jumping in The End is stressing me out.

Mumbo: Grian, let's play a game. You stop. Grian: /stops Mumbo: /takes off running

And there go Martyn and Jimmy...

?? How interesting that red lives can't immediately PVP other players, but that's hilarious that they're supposed to have a never-ending chain of harmful tasks to complete. POV, you get possessed by a bunch of spirits who don't want to release your body. Time to add that to my Secret Life 'fic collection...

Grian's POV is done, going to leave him his like and comment, quickly wrap up these recaps, and sign off for the night.

Etho time:

Coming back in to Martyn's gaslighting suggestion... picking up what Etho does from here. sldkfj that really is my task he suggested, but Etho interpreted it differently. Fun to watch though. Also hilarious that Etho started claiming he came up with the Aha bit. sldkfj. Everyone in this series is nuts.

Shout out to Bdubs: "I want to be Yellow just for the barks."

slkdfj love Jimmy pointing out that in Last Life everyone was cracking up over Aha jokes but now everyone is just sighing at Etho.

Etho possessed by dead Southlander ghost :(

I like Etho asking if Grian wants a bread bridge because it really does sound like he's just bringing up "dead memes."

wheezing at Bdubs like "Wow, someone made the whole world in this short of a time?" and Scott jumps in like "Only a Bad Boy could do that." slkdfjlsdjf

Martyn: I meant something else but :'D (GG)

slkdfjsdljfskl screaming at BigB like "I forgot I was supposed to report to the Heart Foundation."

Etho: I'm a horse girl too. Cleo: I mean, that's what I call Bdubs.

lskdjfsldkjf Impulse jumpscare. Haven't seen him show up in any of my POVs yet. Will probably circle back to him later this weekend.

That wraps up Etho's POV, switching over... I have been watching Minecraft for like 3 hours straight.

Bdubs in Etho's comments launching a "formal complaint" against Etho sldkjfs. That's friendship.

Speedwatching Martyn and then Scar and then we rest.

Picking up 15 minutes into Martyn's episode:

Joel, about his wife: Oh, Lizzie. I forgot her. Not like she's an important part of my life or anything. Martyn: Old news, old news. Separation of work and life.

I do find it funny that Etho was bouncing around like "Joel, want to take a shot at me?"

The "Scar never stood trial" screen is cracking me up.

Again, RIP Scar unable to take off his helmet because everyone kept telling him too slkdjf.

I love Martyn and Pearl going back and forth like "You just told me to give my base a big butt and then walked off."

Martyn: I'm waiting to hand in my task in case I lose hearts so I can recover. Curse of knowledge: ...

<3 Pretty Heart Foundation cherry blossom heart and cool globe in the background.

sldkjf Impulse urging everyone to gift Skizz hearts. The guilt. They are BFFs, your honor.

Martyn's dramatic music while Scar takes off running slkdjf.

Big brain move by Martyn for swiping Mumbo's horse while sussing out his task.

Welp, this is as far as I got before someone came in and pulled me from my computer, which of course restarted in my absence and closed all my many incognito tabs with my videos :') Ugh. Thank goodness for auto-saved drafts though or I would have lost this after 3 hours of watching.

Posting now and if I have anything more to say about Martyn or Scar, I'll do so in another post!

#Joel Smallishbeans #Grian #Secret Life #trafficblr #EthosLab #traffic life smp #traffic soulmates #Secret Life SMP spoilers #traffic spoilers #Lizzie LDShadowLady #Long post #Riddle watches Traffic #Secret Life spoilers #desert duo #Martyn InTheLittleWood #Jimmy Solidarity #Boat Boys #GoodTimesWithScar #Cletho #The Clockers #The Mounders

[abiiors]

2. sincerity is scary // george daniel x oc

a/n: 2 chapters in 2 days simply because i had them ready. like i said—the posting schedule is erratic. reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3 cw: weed, alcohol, mentions of w**dy a**en wc: 3.7k masterlist

“cleo!” there’s a finger on my face, a bony and sharp finger. “cleeeooooooo.”

it pokes at my nose first, then my cheek—anything soft and squishy it can find really. sleep weighs on me like a tonne of bricks, sleep and the exhaustion that’s becoming a permanent fixture.

“go away,” i grumble into the pillow and curl up tighter. 

in this one blissful moment, i have no recollection of the past or any worries of the future. there’s only me, now and this bed.

and a body that suddenly plops onto me.

“ow!” i yell, well and truly annoyed now, and flail my arm vaguely in its direction. it finds its mark, and seconds later, someone hisses in my ear. 

“what the fuck!” it’s matty’s voice. it’s him. suddenly all of it comes rushing back. london, matty’s house, his bed. matty. 

i scramble to sit up and rub my eyes to get rid of the last traces of sleep. his whole bedroom is bathed in golden light, the same light that forms an angelic halo around his head. and matty grins his signature devilish grin right at me. 

my first instinct is to slap my hand on my mouth to keep myself from squealing. all emotion hits me all at once—i’m seeing him after years. years!!! sure we kept in regular contact through texts and phone calls and stupid facebook posts. but seeing him in the flesh after almost four years has me tearing up. 

before i know it, i’m being engulfed into the hug i had been waiting for all day. matty, ever surrounded by the smell of weed and cigarettes and everchanging perfumes, holds onto me tightly as we melt into each other’s arms. 

“you look like shit,” he laughs, sounding suspiciously wobbly. moments later, a tiny, quiet sniffle follows. 

“you abandoned me!” i smack the back of his head lightly, “can’t believe after four years you didn’t pick me up at the airport.” my voice is thick with tears as i try to make a lame joke. but i am not angry at him, far from it actually. i am just grateful that he’s willing to help so much when i asked him at such short notice.

i tighten my arms around him. “i missed you, matty, so much. and…thank you.”

matty pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and inspecting my face. “you know i would have always come through, right?” he asks. his thumb rolls soft circles on my shoulder and the golden sunlight turns his eyes into pools of honey. 

“what happened, cleo?” he asks softly. “your voice on the phone…it scared me.”

my mind flashes back to the day i called him while on the verge of a panic attack and surrounded by the remnants of my shattered life. how i could barely string together a sentence through the gasps and hiccups. how in the end i’d only managed to tell him two things. 

i’m coming back to london tomorrow. i need a place to stay. 

i look back up at him, at his searching gaze. he’s expecting an answer. of course, he is. i’m in his house and currently in his bed without even asking, of course, he wants an answer. 

“i—” my throat closes up and tears prick at the corner of my eyes.

“it was—” i try again. i choke up again. 

the words are there on the tip of my tongue. i want to tell him about everything, about the mess i made. he would understand even if no one else did. matty would. but i can’t get myself to spill my heart out. 

not when everything is still so fresh. 

“hey…” matty wipes away the one stray tear that’s managed to escape. “it’s alright, love. we can talk about it when you’re ready.”

when i’m ready…

i nod and smile weakly, grateful for everything. but most of all i feel grateful for matty—this boy who’s been my best friend through all of it in every sense of the word. looking at him now makes a tiny seed of hope bloom in my chest. i have him in my corner. it won’t be so difficult with him at my side. 

“alright,” he claps his hands together, smiling brightly, “no more crying! we have some catching up to do!”

i smack him again, laughing at his offended face. “and you have some making up to do dickhead, don’t think i’ve forgotten.”

fifteen minutes and a frankly worrying amount of bickering later, we settle on having a movie night. matty whines about going out on town—it’s a lovely night, he says, tells me that i need to get reacquainted with the “london nightlife” but i moan about severe jet lag.

truth is, it’s the thought of going out to party and being carefree is what makes my stomach turn. and i know if i have enough alcohol in me right now, all the words will come out in a sloppy and messy word vomit that won’t make sense to anyone. 

“how was george, by the way?” matty asks. it’s an innocent question; my best friend wanting to know if i got along with his friend but i still have to carefully rearrange my features into neutrality. 

“he was fine.” 

what i really want to say is, i don’t know how you’re friends with that bastard. he’s an utter piece shit and should be kicked out of this house right now. but i smile and hold two thumbs up. as far as matty is concerned—george was fine, we drove home in silence, i said thanks, he nodded and left. 

but that isn’t the reality. and he hasn’t left. in fact, i have a dooming sensation that he is somewhere in the house right now, probably indulging in routine animal sacrifice or bullying kids online or whatever else guys like him do in their spare time. 

i wrinkle my nose and matty laughs. 

“did you go all awkward and shy on him? come on, i’ll introduce you properly.”

a stone settles in the pit of my stomach because that is the last fucking thing i want right now. i can keep my mouth shut, i can be civilised and cordial. but george is a heathen with zero manners. 

“no, no it’s fine,” i respond hastily, “we talked, it was great.”

i am sure my eyes are wide in an effort to not avoid eye contact with him. if there’s one thing matty can do well, is tell when i’m being skittish. 

“come on, cleo.” matty pulls on my arm, “you guys are housemates now, i can’t have you awkwardly existing around each other.”

i almost scoff at him for reminding me of the unfortunate reality. ideally i do not want to exist around george at all but for matty’s sake i would stick to being cordial. clearly, he has a whole different plan for us—he wants all three of us to be best friends. one big happy family. i can see that glint in his eyes.

“don’t make me manhandle you,” he warns and i hiss at him like a feral cat. 

“matty, i’m fine here. stop!”

“so you don’t wanna see your room? hmm? you’re not taking over my room, you know that right? wouldn’t want you finding the magazines under the bed—”

“ew, matthew!” i wiggle away and out of his grip, squealing. “ew, don’t touch me!” 

but he’s faster and before i know it, i’m being lifted off the bed and into his arms like i am nothing but a ragdoll. he laughs maniacally, twirling me around until i’m dizzy and he’s stumbling, knocking us both into the wall. 

“i told you,” he speaks in a sing-song voice, sounding more like a horror movie witch than a person, “i warned you.”

“i am going to smack you so hard,” i threaten but it’s overshadowed by my breathless laughter. my ribs hurt, so does my stomach. my head spins as i gasp for air between fits of giggles but it feels good. 

laughing with matty as if we’re 14 again and back in my childhood bedroom feels good. 

until we collide into something and i hear a yelp. 

matty stops in his tracks, trying and failing to control his giggles, and i already know what—who—we collided into. 

“oops,” he grins, clearly unfazed by the fact that i’m grimacing, still held up in his arms and looking over his shoulder so i won’t have to look at george, who is undoubtedly glaring at us (me) right now. seriously, i can feel his burning stare on the back of my head. 

“matty,” he sighs, and then in a low voice, almost spit out like a curse, “cleo.”

“this is her,” my friend introduces and finally sets me down.

“you’re making a racket.”

i want to mimic him in a really childish way—you’re making a racket. instead, i stick to glaring up at him from matty’s side. which, it turns out, is a big fucking mistake. 

because in front of me, stands a very shirtless george, wearing nothing but black basketball shorts that sit low on his hips. like before, i notice all the tattoos on his arms again, colourful and stark against the sweaty skin. his chest glistens with sweat too—a direct result of the hot summer day and the lack of an ac. my eyes roam over his body, unable to look away, unable to do much of anything else other than feel the heat creeping up my neck. burning my face. 

“are you done?” george asks right as my eyes dip to the beginning of his happy trail. 

his voice is a shock enough that my gaze instantly snaps back to his face. 

george is staring at matty, pretending like i’m not even in the room, but something tells me the question is directed at me. and something tells me that the pink tinge on his face is from more than just summer heat.

“i am not watching another tarantino!” i cross my arms in front of chest indignantly and challenge matty with a raised eyebrow. 

for fuck sake, this argument has been going on for fifteen minutes now. behind us, the popcorn has long finished popping and the laptop has gone back to screensaver mode but we simply can’t seem to agree upon a film to watch. 

“and i am not watching legally blonde for the tenth time,” matty retorts, mimicking my stance. 

this is a stalemate situation. both of our nostrils are flared—a mirror image of each other just as matty and i have always been. 

“how dare you? elle woods has more talent in her little finger that you will have in your entire stupid—”

a loud crunch interrupts followed by the unmistakable smell popcorn. matty and i whip our heads simultaneously, eyes narrowed and trained on george who holds the giant bowl all to himself, another handful of popcorn almost to his mouth while he swallows his first mouthful. 

“no, go on,” he drawls, stuffing the popcorn in his mouth and going back to looking bored as ever. “this is better than movie night.” 

mercifully, he’s wearing a t-shirt now on top of the basketball shorts. his hair is wet and curling on his forehead, some strands almost falling into his eyes that i have the uncontrollable urge to brush away. so fine, he’s not ugly to look at. but his dark, depraved, blackened heart makes up for it. his voice comes out muffled from the popcorn and i have dark thoughts about him choking on a stray kernel. i reign them in and focus on matty. 

“come on, cleoooo,” he pleads. “it will be fun. he makes art, you know? you’ll like it.” 

“weren’t you supposed to make it up to me?” i point out, walking up to george and grabbing a handful of the popcorn. he sneers, looking like he wants to slap my hand away. i sneer back. 

matty is too busy groaning into his hands to notice this exchange. 

“fine,” he sighs, “fine you’re right. you pick the movie. and the pizza. but please let me pick the weed. don’t want more bad trips.” that last part is more of a grumble to himself. i huff, contemplating bickering with him further but matty looks like a puppy, all big eyes and a pouty mouth crumbling away my resolve. 

“emma’s for pizza, obviously,” i mumble, about to make my way to the stack of dvds when a tendril of horror snakes down my spine. “emma’s is still around isn’t it? say yes matty or i’ll cry!” and i know how true that statement is. 

emma’s isn’t just a pizza place, it’s an institution! a tiny kitchen on a small corner in east london, emma’s holds countless memories that are so near and dear to me—satisfying my munchies after being high for the first time. stumbling inside drunk and giggling after my first clubbling night. celebrating with matty the night i got my acceptance for new york. big and small moments all celebrated over an uneven pepperoni pizza and an off brand beer that only they stocked. 

i could feel my lip wobble simply at the thought of it being gone. 

“matty…” my voice goes whispery when he doesn’t answer immediately and his eyes widen. 

“no, fucking hell, it’s still there! christ cleo i didn’t think that would actually make you cry.” 

i contemplate hitting him on the head then, contemplate snatching the big glass bowl from george just so i could bonk it on my best friend’s head but matty raises his hands in surrender. 

“the menu is on the fridge,” he says, “and before you declare that you don’t need to see it. they updated it.”

with a chill creeping down my neck i run to it. hitting matty can wait. right now my body craves the taste of familiarity. if there’s anything that can make me feel like i’m home, it’s that damn pizza. 

i only breathe a sigh of relief when i see that they haven’t made any cuts to the menu, only additions that i do not care about. by the time i’m back, george has left the room, the bowl of popcorn half-finished and matty is on the phone, presumably making sure emma’s is delivering. i start making my way through the stack of dvds, waiting for him to finish. 

pulp fiction. meh, watched it enough times. frozen? absolutely fucking not, don’t need matty humming let it go in my ear all night. i eliminate them one by one for seemingly arbitrary reasons—too long, too short, didn’t pass the vibe check before my fingers still on a dvd with a familiar cover. 

annie hall. the case as old as our friendship. 

i remember watching it with matty for the first time back when we used to sneak out and get high. i remember romanticising new york, how it had made a permanent mark on my weed addled, pubescent brain. 

i trace the flimsy plastic, lost in memories. 

“cleo?” matty’s hand is on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality. his brows are bunched, a look of confusion settled onto his face. “you alright? i asked if you wanted your usual.”

i nod in a daze, clearing my throat and his gaze shifts to the dvd in my hands. 

matty smiles. “annie hall! oh, that’s your favourite, let’s watch that!”

the words curdle in my stomach. yes it is my favourite, yes i practically know every scene, every frame by heart. i even know the exact expression matty has on his face during truman capote’s cameo, how he points at the screen every time. 

i know he will ask me if i saw all those places for real. i know he will want me to talk about my life back in new york. my stomach churns. 

“no, let’s not…” i tell him, trying to keep my voice as normal as possible, trying to hide the cracks. “watched it a million times now, it’s boring.”

his mouth twists into a frown but thankfully matty doesn’t push it, he just shrugs. 

“pulp fiction sounds good, actually,” i say, giggling in earnest when he groans. matty takes the stack from my hands, placing the rest of them aside while he opens the one i picked. 

i settle onto the sofa, snuggled under the blanket and waiting for him to turn the tv on. matty smiles when he sees his spot is empty—“his” spot… right next to a small coffee table where he can pile on half-empty mugs with stale, cold tea or coffee still inside that he never finished. it’s infuriating. it’s also familiar. 

i sigh, happy to spend time with my best friend, about to say a thanks to the forces of the universe that george has left, when, like an omen, he slinks back into the room, holding three joints in his hand. 

a sense of calm descends over me, something i haven’t felt in a long time, so long in fact that i try to count in on my fingers, running out and starting again in confusion. the joint smoulders in the ashtray, only half-smoked. 

matty prattles on about something, but i’m not entirely paying attention. i’m more focused on the pizza, the way the cheese melts in my mouth, the burn of the spicy pepperoni—everything is exactly how i remember. 

everything feels wonderful—eating the food i love, being with someone who cares about me. the warmth of the blanket that george has tried to steal from me twice now. 

every time i feel a tug, i glare at him. 

“go get your own,” i snap through a mouthful of pizza. 

george makes a disgusted face. “this is my blanket.”

that makes me throw it off of my lap. “ugh, shoulda told me that before. don’t want your disgusting germs on me.” 

george gapes at me. his pupils are wide, the smell of weed clings to him along with the sweet, earthy perfume i smelled earlier and the joint dangles carelessly between his long fingers. my brain chooses to hyperfocus on his full pink mouth every time he takes a drag of it, inhaling the smoke and holding it in his lungs, letting it get to his head. 

his voice comes out low, much deeper than it usually is. it does something funny to my stomach—probably making it flip with disgust. 

he takes a drag of the joint again, leaning in unexpectedly to blow the smoke all over my face. “there,” he smirks, “more ‘germs’. what are you gonna do? cry about it?”

“real mature, george,” i scoff, hurrying to grab my own joint, taking a hasty drag. i realise my mistake too late as the smoke lodges itself in my throat, making me cough and splutter, gasping for air as my eyes water. 

george laughs then. he actually laughs. i didn’t know his facial muscles could even do that. my insides burn from embarrassment and then anger. 

“i could have died,” i mutter between more coughs and gasps. “that would work out great for you, wouldn’t it, you… you pig!”

“oh how creative, cleo…” he spits my name again like a curse, letting his eyes roam all over my angry face. a slow, insufferable smirk makes its way onto his mouth and i have the intense urge to smack it right off, so much so that i clench my hands into fists, turning away and facing matty who’s watching us with an indescribable expression—almost as if he’s watchin two animals fighting in a cage. 

no one pays attention to the movie as vincent and mia start dancing. 

“what…” matty splutters, opening his mouth and closing it again. then shakes his head in confusion. 

i have had enough. enough of being right next to george who reeks of smugness, enough of his stupid weed and this stupid movie. i huff, picking up the remaining slice of my pizza. 

“tell this idiot to never breathe in my direction again,” i pretend that george is not even in the room, glaring at the back of my head. 

“tell her not to steal my blanket then,” he retorts. matty looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“and tell him i hope he chokes in his sleep.” indignation burns bright through me as i turn to george without even realising it. 

we are so close now, noses almost touching. his angry eyes burn into mine, his mouth is twisted in a grimace. 

“and tell her i hope she—”

“alright! alright!” matty springs up from where he’s sitting, physically pulling me back with enough force that i’m wrenched from my sit and into his corner of the settee. 

“i don’t know what the fuck you’re on about,” he slurs his words sightly, an effect of the beer and the weed, “but george, you’re in timeout.”

i feel a rush of vindication as george sqwaks in protest. it doesn’t last long. 

“so are you, cleo! fucking hell…” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, “acting like children, making me act like the adult…” and muttering some more that i tune out in favour of glaring at george once again. 

my whole body buzzes in anger, so much so that i almost miss it when my actual phone buzzes in my pocket. once, then once again. 

two text messages in a row. two distinct pings that i set for one specific person. nate.

i know i shouldn’t look at it, i know it’s a bad idea even before the anger in my body is replaced with dread. and yet i’m like the cat willingly walking to its demise just to satisfy some curiosity. 

with shaky fingers, i swipe my phone open, trying to burn holes into it by staring alone. 

no such thing happens. instead, two text messages stare right back at me. 

hi baby

don’t think i’m giving up on us just yet.

just as i’m about to delete the two, a third pops up, chilling me to my very core. every other thought disappears, george and his protests fade away in the background as my entire body vibrates with…i don’t even know how i feel. i don’t even know what to make of the message in front of me. 

i’m going to find you, cleo. i’m going to make it right. 

lemme know what you think <33

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#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x oc #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #enemies to lovers #george x oc #george x reader #george x you #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #keep your enemies closer

[mxnsterbabe]

Female Tiefling/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,302 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist Tags & Warnings: unhealthy relationships

Your relationship is dying, you're in love with your best friend. What are you to do?

You stood in the middle of your living room, shoulders set as you glared at your girlfriend. She stood with her arms crossed, glare matching yours as she stared you down.

"Why are you always like this?" Louise's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. "We had plans, you know that!"

You could feel your patience wearing thin. "You’re the one who said you were too busy. It’s always about work with you, Louise; there’s never time for us."

"So now it's my fault for being committed to my career?" Louise retorted, her tone laced with disbelief. "You knew who I was when we started this relationship."

The words stung. You could feel the frustration boiling inside you, making your skin itch. "It's not about your career. It's about us, about finding a balance. You're always too busy, too preoccupied..."

Louise crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "Maybe you should just leave if you're so unhappy."

That was the last straw. Suddenly blinking back tears you grabbed your keys from the table. "Fine, I will."

You stormed out of the flat, the slam of the door echoing through the dingy hall. Descending the stairs to the car park, your mind raced. The cool night air did little to soothe the heat of your anger and the chill of uncertainty that had settled in your heart.

Reaching your car, you paused for a moment, leaning against it. The argument replayed in your mind, each word a painful reminder of the growing chasm between you and Louise. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something fundamental had shifted, that perhaps this was more than just another argument.

With a heavy heart, you opened the car door and got in, the familiar space offering a small comfort. As you started the engine, the reality of the situation began to sink in. This wasn't just a lover's quarrel; it was a breaking point, a crossroads in your relationship.

Driving away from the flat, the city lights blurred past you, mirroring the confusion and turmoil in your mind. You knew you couldn't go on like this, but the thought of what lay ahead, the decisions that needed to be made, filled you with apprehension.

As the distance grew between you and the flat, a sense of uncertainty nagged in your mind. Where would you go? What would you do?

As you drove aimlessly through the city streets, the neon signs and streetlights blurred.. Without realising it, you found yourself pulling up outside a familiar café, its warm glow inviting in the cool night air.

Sitting in your car, you watched as a group – two tieflings and an orc – laughed and chatted, pushing open the cafe door and disappearing inside. Their easy conversation made your heart ache.

Your mind raced through a list of people you could call. Your parents, always loving but often too busy to understand your life. Your sister, who would offer support but was wrapped up in her own world. Friends who cared, but perhaps not enough to handle the depth of what you were feeling.

Then there was Cleo.

The thought of Cleo brought a mix of emotions. She had always been there for you, a steadfast presence in your life. Her kindness, her empathy, her unwavering support – they were a balm to your troubled heart. As much as Cleo represented a safe haven, she also represented something far more complicated – the unacknowledged feelings that you had been harbouring for her.

Sitting in your car, you watched another group enter the cafe, the light spilling out onto the sidewalk before the door swung shut. The idea of leaning on Cleo, yet again, weighed heavily on you. She had always been so kind, never asking for anything in return, and you feared taking advantage of her generosity.

More than that, though, was the fear of being so close to her while your own relationship was crumbling. How could your heart handle being near Cleo, basking in her warmth and light, while dealing with the heartbreak of your failing relationship with Louise? The very thought sent a pang through your chest.

Cleo was more than just a friend; she was the person who occupied your thoughts in quiet moments, the one who made your heart flutter with just a smile. Being near her felt like standing too close to a flame – wonderfully warm but with the potential to consume you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You knew you needed someone, and deep down, you knew Cleo would be there for you, without judgement or expectation. Could you bear it? Could you sit across from her, pour out your heart about Louise, all the while suppressing the feelings you had for her?

You hesitated, your heart pounding, but when you dialled her number and Cleo's voice came through the phone, warm and concerned, it was like a lifeline in the chaos of your emotions.

"Cleo, it's me," you began, your voice unsteady.

"Hey, what's wrong? You sound upset," Cleo's voice was tinged with worry.

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out. "Louise and I had another argument. I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

There was a brief pause before Cleo spoke, her tone decisive. "Come over, right now. You shouldn't be alone."

You found yourself nodding, even though she couldn't see. "Okay, I'll be there soon."

Ending the call, you started the car again, driving through the quiet streets, each turn bringing you closer to Cleo's place. Her townhouse was nestled in a quaint neighbourhood, lined with tall trees whose leaves were turning shades of amber and rust.

Pulling up outside her house, you took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out. The moment you knocked on her door, it swung open, and there stood Cleo.

Cleo was striking, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders in soft waves, her golden eyes shimmering with concern. Her horns, elegantly curved, framed her round face. She wore a simple sweater and jeans, but on her, they looked effortlessly chic.

Without a word, Cleo pulled you into a hug, her arms warm and reassuring. You melted into her embrace, a sense of safety enveloping you.

As she led you inside, the warmth of her home wrapped around you. The living room was cozy, with soft lighting and plush furniture, a stark contrast to the coldness of your own apartment.

Cleo guided you to the sofa, sitting beside you. "Tell me everything," she said, her voice gentle.

You recounted the argument with Louise, the words spilling out in a jumbled rush. Cleo listened, her expression a mix of empathy and indignation.

"She shouldn't treat you like that," Cleo said firmly once you had finished. "You deserve so much better, someone who sees and appreciates you."

Her words, meant to soothe, made you smile. You looked at Cleo, really looked at her, and saw not just a friend but someone you simply couldn’t be without. The realisation hit you with the force of a tidal wave, overwhelming and undeniable.

Cleo's concern deepened as she watched the play of emotions across your face. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked, her hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. Her nails were long and sharp, but oh so delicate.

You nodded, unable to speak. How could you explain that it wasn't just Louise's rejection that hurt, but Cleo’s closeness, knowing you could never have her?

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside. In that moment, with Cleo so close, her golden eyes filled with worry and affection, you felt the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crumble. The truth of your feelings, long buried, was clawing its way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

Cleo's presence, so warm and inviting, was both a comfort and a torment. You wanted to lean in, to close the gap between you, but fear held you back. Fear of ruining the friendship, fear of rejection, fear of facing the truth that had been staring you in the face for so long.

The silence between you and Cleo stretched, a tangible thing, filled with unspoken words and emotions. Cleo broke the quiet, her voice soft but earnest. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nodded, your throat tight with the words you couldn't yet voice. Cleo's hand on your arm was warm, ridged with little bumps almost like thorns. You wanted to say so much, to spill everything, consequences be damned.

Except, you couldn’t.

Cleo seemed to sense your discomfort. "I wish I could do something to make it better," she said, her golden eyes searching yours. “I wish I knew how to fix things between you and Louise.”

"It's not just about Louise," you found yourself saying, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Cleo tilted her head, a questioning look in her eyes. "What is it then?"

The air felt heavy in a way you couldn't ignore. You leaned in closer to Cleo, drawn by a force you couldn't resist. Cleo mirrored your movement, meeting you half way.

For a moment, it felt like the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in her little living room. Your faces were inches apart, Cleo's breath mingling with yours. She smelled of lavender tea.

You could feel the pull, the urge to close the gap and kiss her, to finally reveal the truth of your feelings. Just as your lips were about to meet, Cleo pulled back, a pained expression crossing her face.

"I can't," she whispered, her voice laced with regret. "Louise… it wouldn't be right."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "I know," you said, the words barely audible.

Cleo took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Look, I know your dating history. Humans. Only humans. I don't want to assume that you'd be interested in... well, someone like me."

Her confession hung in the air. It wasn't just about your relationship status; it was also about crossing a boundary you had never crossed before.

You looked at Cleo, really looked at her, seeing not just her twisting horns and textured, teal skin; but her hesitant smile, downcast eyes. She was beautiful, wonderful, and you wouldn’t have changed her for the world.

"Cleo, I..." you started, but the words caught in your throat. How could you explain that your feelings for her were more than she understood? That she had captured your heart in a way no one else ever had?

Maybe you didn't need to say anything. Cleo reached out, her hand gently touching your cheek. "It's okay," she said softly. "We don't have to figure this out right now."

The dam that held back your emotions was breaking, and the words began to tumble out in an unstoppable flow.

"Cleo, I can't wait anymore," you said, the urgency in your voice surprising even yourself. "I need to figure this out now, because... because I'm in love with you."

Cleo's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and something else – hope, maybe – flickering in her golden gaze.

"I've tried to hide it, to deny it, but I can't," you continued, your voice gaining strength as you spoke. "Every time I'm with you, it feels right, like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. When I'm not with you, there's this ache, this feeling of missing a vital part of myself."

Cleo reached out, her fingers intertwining with yours, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

"It's not just because things are bad with Louise. It's about you, Cleo. It's always been about you. When you're near, I feel alive, like everything is more vibrant, more real."

Tears brimmed in Cleo's eyes, her emotions raw and visible. "What about..." she began, her voice a whisper.

"I know, and I need to end it. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to us," you said, your decision clear in your mind. "I can't pretend to be happy with her when all I want is to be with you."

Cleo's hand tightened around yours, a silent acknowledgement.

With new resolve, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. This time, there was no hesitation, no second thoughts. When your lips met Cleo's, it was like a missing piece slotting into place.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration of each other. As Cleo responded, the kiss deepened, growing in intensity. Her lips were warm and inviting as she nibbled at your bottom lip. The world around you faded into nothingness.

She tasted of lavender and honey, sweet and so deliciously fragrant. You wanted to drown in it, in her.

As you pulled away, the need for air pressing against the desire to remain in the kiss, you pressed your forehead against hers, settling between her horns.

"I'm going to break up with Louise," you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of feelings inside you. "I can't hide from the truth anymore. I want to be with you, Cleo, if you'll have me."

Cleo's response was a smile, tender and full of warmth. "I've been waiting for you," she said, her voice soft. "I'll be here, for as long as you want me."

As the significance of your words settled in the air, a sense of liberation washed over you. Cleo's drew you in once more. Without a word, you leaned in, closing the gap between you for another kiss.

This time, the kiss was different, more desperate. As your lips met, a shudder ran through you. Cleo's lips were soft against yours, moving with a passion that matched your own. The sensation was overwhelming, heady, bringing a smile to your lips as you moved down to kiss her soft jaw. You felt every brush of her hair against your skin, every gentle caress, as though it were etching itself into your memory.

You could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, each thump echoing your love for Cleo. The kiss deepened, and you found yourself lost in the sensation, in the taste of her, in the feeling of her arms around you.

Eventually, the need for air forced you apart again, but only just. Cleo's eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed with the intensity of the moment. She smiled, a smile that held the promise of a thousand more kisses, a thousand more moments just like this.

Without a word, Cleo pulled you into her arms, guiding you down onto the sofa. You curled up together, fitting perfectly in each other's embrace. The warmth of her body soothed you, her heartbeat a soothing rhythm against the chaos of your thoughts. You lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, exhaustion slowly lulling you to sleep.

You fell asleep like that, entwined on the sofa, the world outside forgotten. It was a sleep filled with dreams of possibilities, of a future that was suddenly bright with promise.

***

Early the next morning, you awoke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. A cute sunflower blanket was draped around you, and you smiled, snuggling further into it. You sat up, stretching, the events of the night before flooding back.

In the kitchen, you heard the sounds of someone preparing breakfast. Cleo was there, moving about with an ease that reminded you just how much she loved to cook. The clink of dishes and the aroma of coffee filled the air.

You stood, wrapping the blanket around yourself, and walked to the kitchen. There was your Cleo, her golden hair catching the morning light, a soft smile on her face as she turned to greet you.

"Good morning," she said, her voice a gentle melody.

"Good morning," you replied.. The reality of your confession, of the kiss, of the night spent in each other's arms, settled around you like an embrace.

Cleo handed you the steaming cup of coffee, her eyes meeting yours with a warmth that sent a flutter through your heart. You took the cup, your fingers brushing against hers, a small but significant touch.

"Did you sleep okay?" Cleo asked, her voice laced with concern.

You nodded, the comfort of her embrace still lingering in your memory. "I did, thanks to you. I can't remember the last time I felt so... at peace."

Cleo smiled, a genuine expression that reached her eyes. "I'm glad. You deserve peace, you deserve happiness."

You stepped closer, drawn by an invisible force that seemed to connect you both. Gently setting the coffee cup on the counter, you reached up and caressed her cheek. "Thank you, Cleo, for everything."

She leaned into your touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, the golden hue seemed to shimmer in the morning sunlight. Without a word, she leaned in and kissed you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, filled with the promise of new beginnings and shared futures.

The kiss ended, but her warmth lingered. You both smiled, a silent conversation passing between you.

Cleo then turned back to the stove, where a stack of pancakes awaited. "I hope you're hungry. I made pancakes with syrup. I know it’s your favourite."

You were surprised. "How did you know pancakes are my favourite? I don't remember ever mentioning it."

Cleo chuckled, flipping a pancake with practised ease. "You mentioned it once, years ago. I guess it just stuck with me."

Your heart swelled at the realisation that Cleo remembered such a small detail about you, a detail you had forgotten sharing. It was a testament to how much she cared, to the depth of her feelings for you.

"I can't believe you remembered that," you said, your voice filled with wonder.

Cleo shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "I remember a lot of things about you. You're not easy to forget."

You laughed, the sound light and free. The tension and uncertainty of the past weeks seemed to melt away in the warmth of Cleo's kitchen.

You both sat down to eat, the pancakes as delicious as you had imagined. They were sweet and fluffy, paired with bright red strawberries and thick, golden syrup.

As you ate, the early morning light filled the room, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. It felt like a new chapter was beginning, one filled with hope and the promise of a love that was both unexpected and profoundly right.

When breakfast was over, you helped Cleo clean up, the domesticity of the task feeling both ordinary and extraordinary. You were doing something so mundane, yet with Cleo, it felt like an adventure, a glimpse into a future you both could share.

You stood drying the last dish and Cleo came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. You leaned back into her embrace, feeling complete in a way you had never known before.

#exophilia #exophilia fiction #monster x reader #monster romance #monster girlfriend #tag: fxf #tag: tiefling #tag: female monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw

[salemoleander]

This was inspired ages ago by a post from @briseise about rebel leader Impulse gifting Bdubs a clock, and rather than edit it for the 15th time I'm just going to post it + beg forgiveness on the rougher bits.

(This also spawned fics from Ren and Scar's perspective, which I'll be adding to this post bc they're concurrent.)

‐-----------------------------------------------------

Ren lounges at the head of the Square Table, having just read the Perimeter Empire’s Declaration of Independence aloud. His laughter booms, and he thumbs through the booklet as one clawed foot taps a nervous tempo under the table.

“Well, my noble dudes, it looks like the goatman has finally made his move.”

To Ren's right, Bdubs shifts in his seat. He has nodded emphatically and smiled along with every rambling word the king has said throughout the meeting. 

He has absolutely not heard a word of it. 

Under the table and inside a mossy pocket and clutched in his hand, so very safe and hidden, is a clock. 

Earlier, Bdubs had walked into his quarters in the Crastle, and discovered a present boxed up and sitting on his bedside table. A small shulker box, dyed a beautiful mossy green and tied shut with golden wire. There hadn’t been a note, but a scrawled signature on the top of the box left no doubt that it was from Impulse.

When he’d opened it at first Bdubs had been… surprised? Not disappointed, not disappointed! That wouldn’t make sense at all, when his not-disappointment was that this clock was too beautiful, too delicate. It wouldn’t survive- 

He’s not sure what it wouldn’t survive. (He knows exactly what it wouldn’t survive.)

Its gold shines and it ticks perfectly, and he feels terrible keeping it hidden from light in his cloak. He holds it like a fragile creature in his palm, mechanical pulse keeping time with his own. 

A lull in the conversation draws his attention momentarily away from the barely-there feeling of each second ticking. Still, Bdubs doesn’t look up until someone kicks him under the table.

“Hey!” Bdubs yells, indignant. 

He looks up, and his outburst is immediately doused as he realizes that almost everyone was already looking at him. Ah, a helpful kick, then. 

Bdubs quickly appraises the table: Ren stares at him with an eyebrow raised. Cleo’s mouth is twitching in amusement, while Joe takes notes and draws geometric designs on his arm in the gaps of his lime green gloves. Scar, seated as far from the King as the table allows, is checking his communicator. (Bdubs tries not to be smug about that, then tries to decide which direction of that situation to even be smug about, and fails at both.) Iskall and Cub seem to be running a heavily modified version of Tic-Tac-Toe on a scrap of paper hidden from the King’s sight by the massive dragons-head hat. 

Circling back to Cleo, Bdubs assumes that’s where the helpful kick came from. Probably. (Scar has long legs, and Bdubs is never sure when he’s really distracted, or pretend-distracted. And Cleo and Joe are both prone to dubiously helpful shin kicking.)

Skin prickling at all the direct attention, Bdubs sighs loudly and sweeps one hand up in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. “Alright, you caught ol’ Bdubs sleeping with my eyes open! So what! I’ve been up late working on- on Royal builds, and quests, and I’ve been missing my Zs.”

Cub and Scar laugh, and Cleo smiles, and he relaxes his grip slightly on the clock.

He turns to his left, waggling his eyebrows at the King. Normally the flattery came quick and easy, but that was because it was real. Sure, he likes to play up his obsequiousness, earn some laughs, but at the end of the day he’s loyal. He’s loyal, except that loyal hands of the king don’t hide gifts from their number one enemy under the table. 

He sucks a breath between his teeth and tries to mimic his usual enthusiasm. 

“Your Majesty, o illustrious King Ren… What was the question?” And Bdubs thinks he’s done a pretty good job, until-

“I asked, actually,” Cleo says from their spot across the table. She’s toying with half of a broken arrow, spinning and idly twirling it between her green-tinged fingers. Bdubs has a sense of vertigo watching her do this, adoration and fear welling up in concert with each turn of the arrow. He feels like he’s falling, breath coming shorter as some internal process hits an unexpected barrier and goes flying in a new direction.

Cleo is terrifying. She’s immediately the most important person in the room. 

“Ah, of course, classic Bdubs mistake. What do you need?” He pauses for a moment, can’t resist tacking on- “Anything.” His heart sings, blood eager and ready to fall. Anything for the Crastle. 

“Careful, Bdubs, wouldn’t want to seem overeager.” Her voice holds a note of warning, honesty cleverly wrapped in mocking. Cleo was a master of saying exactly what they meant, but using such a sardonic tone about it that everyone assumed they were joking.

Bdubs nods, frantic, but it must come off as comedic because Cub chuckles. He knows it doesn't fool Cleo, though.

Cleo’s eyes stay on him, one eyebrow imperiously raised and one chilly ankle knocking against his in reassurance, well-hidden under the table. That ankle stays throughout her request, and his response, and a good half the meeting after that.

He doesn’t know when he stopped, but Bdubs isn’t holding the clock anymore. It’s still there, tucked into a pocket, but the idea of holding it right now makes him nauseous. 

#bdubs #impdubs #cledubs #hermitcraft fic #s9 #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #implied at least #altho im more interested in everyone being weird neurotic messes i will leave proper ship writing to the professionals #ren the king #3lsmp #salem tag #idk this is very rough but im so tired of it sitting in my edit stack

[norinenglish]

Team Rancher - Guide of Canon - Tango Episode 1

I rewatched Double Life to take notes to help me with canon-compliant fics and decided to share it here so it could help others. The notes are after the cut. They are EXTENSIVE.

I plan on posting everything from Tango's POV at least. Might do more in the future.

Guide of Canon: Team Rancher Tango's Episode 1 - Tango's Episode 2 - Tango's Episode 3 - Tango's Episode 4 - Tango's Episode 5.

Tango's Episode 1: What a start!

Intro: Tango narrates, “We are soul-linked to another player. If one of us takes damage, we both take damage. We share a health bar. And if one of us dies, we both die. So let’s hope we get soul-bound to someone good.” 

*

He refers to his soulmate before meeting them as, “If my partner just plummeted off a cliff, I’m dead.” ; “My teammate just took damage”; “Imma go try and find my partner” and refers to people as being linked. 

*

Tango takes the test with Scott, Grian and  BigB on the Goat Mountain. Later he finds Bdubs in a ravin (Bdubs already found his soulmate but tells Tango to try anyway.) Cleo comes into the conversation and spank-tests Tango.

* 

He goes into the cave without a shield. While he fights two zombies and a spider, a creeper falls on his head and explodes. He screams “Nooo!” for a long time before and after respawning on top of a birch tree. 

Jimmy respawns after a second and immediately says, a tad angrily, “What happened, Tango?”

“Hi, hi. I’m so sorry,” Tango says, instant regrets in his voice.

“Take me through it, what’s happened there?”

“There was some caving, and then there might have been about seven zombies and a spider and,” Tango says as a goat bumps into Jimmy, “you’re being butted!”

Tango descends from the tree. “And then I was focusing on the army approaching me for one direction and uh yeah the old creeper from behind. I'm so sorry!”

“Oh my gosh. Alright, let’s meet up in a bit. I need to go get my stuff before it despawns.”

“I don’t even know where I was, I just lost everything, yeah. I’ve no idea where I was.”

“Oh, my gosh!”

“This is less than good. I have no idea…”

“DUDE!”

“Well, let’s go. This is extra bad.”

“I need to, wait, I need to- Where was my bit.”

Tango seems ready to follow Jimmy, while Jimmy is panicking about his things.

“We’re just wandering around, like panicking in circles and OH NO!”

Jimmy laughs at Tango’s over-dramatising the panics he feels. It seems to calm him a bit. They get on top of the tree (to see their surroundings better?). Tango apologizes again.

“No don’t be sorry, it’s gonna happen-”

“At least we know-”

“I feel like I’m gonna die in the future and you’re gonna have to take the punishment of it.”

Before Jimmy finishes his sentence, Tango is already reassuring him, saying: “That’s fine, that’s fine.”

*

They decide to start again collecting supplies. Tango is still hang up over their death.

“I feel horrible that I died, but I feel worse that I just took you down with me!”

“No, it’s gonna happen all the time! It’s gonna happen all the time today.” (probably referencing other duo dying like this.)

They hear a horn in the distance and Tango remembers that he lost his. 

“YOU HAD A HORN?”

“I was horn boy! And now it’s gone.”

They hide a chest inside of a tree they call a safety box. Tango puts a stick in it.

“At least we don’t have to bother trying to find who our soulmate is.”

“And honestly, how many people had you met before that? I had met like 7 or 8 people.”

*

Jimmy goes to find his stuff. Tango retraces his steps and gets supplies. They settle on the edge of the ravine/river across Cleo and Scott. They talk about their plans with Tango gets rid of the grass and Jimmy jumps around.

“What are you thinking of building?” 

“I think just like a big shack for both of us to.. you know.”

“To shack up in. I like it, yeah.”

“And then we can get a little farm outside and we need to plant some seeds.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I love it.” They start cutting the trees. “And then, maybe we can both go on an adventure. Either way, I’ll go get sheep and you get cows-I think that’s the best.”

“I am on board with this plan.”

“I’m not good with building at all, Tango, so, uh.”

“Oh, I was hoping you would say you were! You’re not the builder? Oh no!”

“Wait, are you not the builder?” Jimmy asks with good humour in his voice.

“I’m not a builder, no! Oh well, we live in a dirt hut.” [laughs]

“We might be in trouble here.”

*

Jimmy leaves to get animals and mine. Bdubs comes to chat. “You found your soulmate.”

“The hard way.”

Seeing Jimmy get the [Not Today Thank You] achievement, Tango says “Jimmy’s down there, he must be dying i should probably help him” and goes into mine with him. Jimmy asks about Tango having a shield, worried about their safety.

“We may have to…. beg.”

“Yeah, I am OK with this… strategy, yeah.”

Tango gives him his boots because Jimmy has no piece of armour and Tango also has pants. “Because if you die, I die, so.” “We’ll share whatever we got, it’s pitiful, but…”

*

Jimmy leaves to beg for iron while Tango starts to build their “super ugly house”. Tango tells him to keep an eye out for animals of any kind - preferably chicken.

“My man said he couldn’t build.”

“Ha! It’s a box, it’s a box! It’s not much!” while laughing.

Tango makes fun of his build with good humour, but Jimmy gives him genuine compliments. Jimmy reveals the bucket of water he got and Tango praises him: “Look at you! You go on a mission and you come back with goods. This is what I like to see. This is what I like in a partner. Well done.”

Tango keeps insulting his house building but Jimmy answers with “I love it.”

When it’s done, Tango places placing the single bed and says: “It’s a humble start.”

“It is, it is! It’s all we need right now.” “It actually looks great. I think you’ve done a great job here.” 

Tango laughs awkwardly and a tad in a self-deprecating way.  

“I’m not just saying it! I think you’ve done a great job!”

“This is the ugliest house ever-”

*

They have three eggs and Jimmy throws them in a hole they made for their chicken operation under the house. The last one hatches and they cheer. 

*

They leave on a quest for chicken (and maybe “future begging”). Tango finds some and escorts them back home. “Come on little guy, you’re destined for greatness, let’s go!”

*

Etho and Joel come by and they chat.

Joel asks, “Is Jimmy- Is Jimmy… OK?” 

It is ambiguous what he’s really asking about. Tango takes it as an inquiry about what Jimmy’s doing. “Well- he’s out. We went out hunting chicken and I’m back and I already brought back three chickens and he’s brought back none.”

They chat a bit more about horns and how stupid trying to build on the pillager outpost is before they leave. 

“If you see Jimmy, tell him we have chickens!”

*

Tango takes care of the chicken operation when he hears Jimmy calling for him. 

“Tango? Hum… Where are you?”

“I’m in the house,” Tango responds right before he opens the door to see Jimmy back, multiple cows in his tow. “OH! YOU’RE AMAZING!”

They praise each other on their respective luck with animals.

“We’re good for something!”

“We’re ranchers. Team rancher!”

Jimmy makes a side room for the cows and Tango takes care of the chickens again but they escape in the basement. “I might not be cut out for this ranchin’ thing.”

*

They want to have goat horns. Jimmy offers him the option to stay in the base or to try and find Grian with him. Tango chooses to go into the caves to get iron because they’re pretty naked, but acquiring a horn is “imperative to team rancher”. 

Tango changes his mind quickly though and decides to go beg instead of digging. He finds BigB, Ren, Cleo and Scott. Begging fails. They discuss bases. 

Scott says, after looking at Jimmy and Tango’s: “You are paired with Jimmy. It’s as good as it gets.”

“Here’s the thing. We teamed up and we were like ‘this is a good spot for a base’ and we kind of looked at each other we just assumed the other person knew how to build they were like ‘nope’ ahah.”

They see Jimmy on a bridge with Joel and Etho and Tango thinks he’s being cornered so he leaves to go help Jimmy. We don’t see whether he gets to them or not.

*

Tango ends up in Impulse and Bdubs’s house. 

Impulse, when Tango asks him about being with Bdubs, responds: “Feels pretty good. My partner’s great, he doesn’t die.” At this point, it’s a jab aimed at Tango, rather than at Jimmy.

Tango comes home at night starving and unable to sprint, screaming “HELP!”. Jimmy escorts him inside.

Joel comes by to steal wheat and makes fun of them for not having proper armour. Jimmy tries a different approach and asks him to take his shirt off but gets axed in the face. Joel gives them a few potatoes because he feels bad and leaves. Jimmy apologizes for trying the new approach but Tango doesn’t mind, he’s hung over the fact that Joel was stealing their crops. They continue tending to the field because they are starving. The episode ends.

#Guide of Canon #GoC: Team Rancher #trafficblr #team rancher #rancher duo #solidaritek #I was just supposed to take general notes of rancher moments #I ended up taking notes of everything #oh well #hope that helps someone else #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #double life

[dronepikachu]

!!SPOILERS FOR LIMITED LIFE EPISODE 3!!

I now know why Martyn said this session would be chaotic.

THERE'S BEEN SO MUCH DEATH AND SO MANY PEOPLE TURNED YELLOW!!

Impulse being the Boogeyman this session was a blast! He was one of the five people out of himself, Grian, Cleo, Skizz and Tango who were never chosen to be the Boogeyman from Last Life, so it's nice to see someone from this list adapt to the curse!

When the TIES realized the bubble elevator was off by one block, you can just hear Impulse's laugh turn more manic and that really sent chills down my spine...

I took down so many notes for this episode and the amount of people that are on yellow is very very concerning.. Pearl and Cleo turned yellow together, Joel was yellow for a bit until he killed Martyn and gained just enough to get himself back to green, BigB also turned yellow somehow, unless I'm missing a previous death apart from him dying to the Boogeyman, and Grian, while being sick during this session and thus stayed AFK, got killed dishonorably and put down to yellow.

Skizz fell off a ladder from Impulse improving the crooked bubble elevator.. can this man ever catch a break? HE'S DOWN TO ABOUT 11 HOURS NOW, WHAT IS GOING ON??

Man, at this point, Skizz is gonna be the first person to go red! But, I'm willing to bet someone else will turn red by Session 4 or 5. Not Jimmy, he only just turned yellow this session, so I'm confident he'll attempt to be more careful.

Who decided to make this season so stressful?

Edit: also just realized that Tango and Scott are the only two who haven't died at all. Looks like they're gonna be targets for next session 😗

#limited life #limited life spoilers #skizzleman #smallishbeans #tangotek #impulsesv #ethoslab #solidaritygaming #zombiecleo #goodtimewithscar #grian #get well soon grian <3 #bdouble0100 #martyn inthelittlewood #smajor1995 #pearlescentmoon #bigbst4tz2 #yeah this session was something else

[macbethz]

I really enjoy your taste in media, recs for movies that will leave me in the floor sobbing?

Thank you sm!! i am what we call a film enjoyer so it means a lot

Kinda a normie picks in that you've probably already seen them but i legally have to say Brokeback Mountain and Moonlight like come on

Also kinda normie but Carrie makes me cry like a little baby. One of the most tragic mother/daughter relationships ever put to screen.

Speaking of mother daughter trauma Night Cries: A Rural Tragedy is a short film about an aboriginal woman taking care of her elderly white mother. Tracey Moffatt the director said it was about "loving and hating your mother" which yeah. it sure is!

Goodbye Lenin! is one of my faves of all time. It's a German dramady about a guy trying to keep his ill avid communist mother from realizing the iron curtain has fallen so that she doesn't have another heart attack. Just a deeply human film to me. will make you laugh and cry

MANDATORY FRENCH NEW WAVE DROP!!! Cleo from 5 to 7 is about a woman wandering the city while she waits for her cancer test results.

If you are ACTUALLY 100% SERIOUS about being on the floor sobbing. You must be mentally prepared for this one I'm serious. Silverlake Life: the view from here is a documentary about a film teacher documenting his lover dying of aids. One of the most important movies ever made IMO and I recommend everyone see it at some point in their lives but one I have only been able to watch once because it is so deeply affecting. Everyone who has seen this film has had a similar experience to me where for a long period after it feels impossible move on or even speak to people who haven't seen it because it really does make you feel like you're grieving yourself.

#im sure as usual that i am forgetting smth but it is what it is #warlock wartalks

[diana-bookfairchild]

@fluffbruary Day 16

“Finally!” Zack called dramatically, collapsing on Ivy, who shook him off with a disgruntled warning not to bother the driver. “That one was hard!”

Carmen spun the box containing the La Peregrina Pearl in her hand. “Mmm, not particularly. For one of the most famous jewels in the world, security was sadly lacking.”

“Only for you, Red,” laughed Player onscreen. “I’d say a hundred guards plus the no-oxygen room, not to mention the thumbprint and iris scanner would be enough for anyone else. Be careful with that,” he added. “It bid for more than 11 million dollars, you know.”

Carmen clicked her tongue. “It’s a good thing Countess Cleo will not be getting her hands on it then.”

“She would certainly love this,” Shadowsan agreed. “We must be careful for a while. The only thing the Countess treasures more than her jewels and clothes is revenge.”

“They’ll never get us, Carm’s too good,” Ivy scoffed. “Bro, if you elbow me one more time, I’m tossing you off this ship.”

“Chill, Ives,” Zack drawled. “Player, any idea what our next mission is?”

Player had his thinking face on, clearly having switched the screen to go through the hard drive. “Honestly, it’s a wait-and-see game at this point. They’ve been trying to switch up their missions and agents recently.”

“Probably because they know boss will come and get them,” Zack said. “And her suuuuper awesome crew. Hi-yah!” He did a terrible imitation of a kung fu chop. “Sensei, when will my training continue?”

“When you’ve displayed any aptitude for the martial arts,” Shadowsan retorted dryly. “In the meantime – or for the rest of your life, seeing as that seems more likely – I would suggest remaining the get-away driver.”

“The get-away sailor this time,” Ivy commented. “And it’s me, and not him! Ha.”

“Want me to make you a little paper captain’s hat sis?” Zack chuckled.

“I’ll smash it over your head, bro.”

“It might be a good thing to have a break between this and the next caper,” Carmen was telling Player as Zack and Ivy continued their argument and Shadowsan continued to bemoan all the life choices that led him to witness it, “We could have some rest. And you could pay attention in school. And do your homework. And go to sleep on time, for once.”

“You sound like my mom,” Player complained, leaning back with his hands behind his head. The tension always in his voice when he guided them on missions – responsible for his team, his family – bled out as he enjoyed a conversation with his best friend. “Besides. I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll find a way to get into trouble even without any capers. I’ll need to stay up late anyway!”

“Don’t sound so happy about that,” Carmen chided. “Seriously, Player, you need to learn to take better care of yourself. Have you eaten today?”

Player waved a plate of noodles and fork mockingly at the camera.

“Something other than that breathtakingly unhealthy stuff?”

“The unhealthy stuff’s what’s tasty, boss,” Zack chimed in. “I don’t get how you don’t like junk food.”

“I grew up on VILE Island,” Carmen replied amusedly. “Not much time for junk there unless it’s valuable or evil.”

“Coach Brunt set a very specific diet for Carmen growing up,” Shadowsan nodded. “I remember Dr. Bellum contributed – most probably why you were allowed any sweets at all.”

“Weird to think of that huge Coach being a mom,” Ivy commented.

“Carm doesn’t need any moms,” Zack snickered. “She’s got Player.”

“Player’s clearly the mom friend,” Carmen agreed.

Player made an outraged noise. “I’m the mom friend? Red, remind me who was just nagging me about bedtime and food like I’m in preschool?”

“Red, did you just get knifed? Where did she get you? Are you sitting down? Did you take the knife out? How much is it bleeding? Do you know how to clean it? You know the rate of people dying of knife wounds in Canada is 0.49 in a hundred thousand people? And you’re like that with someone who’s been trained all her life to deal with things like knife wounds,” Carmen imitated Player’s concerned fussing teasingly.

“You got stabbed!” Player cried indignantly. “That’s different!”

“You’re like that every time someone’s hurt, Player,” Ivy said. “Also, I don’t get how the stats help.”

“Yeah, what’s with that? D’you reckon knowing how many people die of that particular thing will help us recover from it?" Zack asked, puzzled.

Player flushed. Carmen knew perfectly well he ranted without thinking when he panicked, and that solid hard statistics was his favourite thing to recite. “It’s better than your typical habits, Zack,” she saved him from answering.

“Anything’s better than lil’ bro eating his feelings,” Ivy mocked.

“Ow, that hurts, Ives,” Zack said, sniffing exaggeratedly. “More than VILE’s ego after boss kicked their ass for the thousandth time, I’m sure.”

“Nothing could sting more than that,” Shadowsan smirked, for once joining in on the joking.

“Not to mention the rubbing of salt in the wound when we make the return of the goods public and donate the money to charity,” Carmen added lazily, putting her legs up on the couch, keeping an eye on the surroundings. The boat was still rather in the open, and she didn’t need Devineaux and ACME interfering with a successful caper.

“Speaking of which, we need to decide on whom you’re going to be giving the Pearl to, Red,” Player said, stretching his hands forward and typing. “On this one you’ve liberated. . . . Drumroll, please. . .” Zack and Ivy obliged. “Eight-hundred thousand euros from VILE!”

“Woohoo!” Zack and Ivy cheered, and even Shadowsan cracked a smile. Zack began beatboxing, and Ivy began to sing. “The best thief - in the world? Yeah, it’s Carmen Sandiego. Where in the world is – Carmen Sandiego? Where - will she go next – no one ever—”

“So, any ideas?” Player asked over the music and Shadowsan’s annoyed grumblings.

“Jules, obviously, for the Pearl,” Carmen said, leaning closer to the monitor in order to see her friend better. “And just pick a few non-profits from the list, Player. Though preferably an orphanage, for this loot.” Her face darkened and she turned away.

“Hey. Not your fault, Red. You can’t save everyone,” Player consoled gently, referring to the orphan who had gotten killed by VILE simply for being a bystander.

“No, but it would be nice to save someone,” she replied with unusual bitterness.

“You do. You save loads of people,” Player said insistently. “Think of how many people this money will help. Think of how many trees whose oxygen you’ve saved by making sure Tigress won’t be speaking for a week at least!”

That got a smile. “Fair enough.”

Player watched her carefully, even as he quickly arranged for the wire transfers. She seemed okay, but he’d have to keep an eye out. “I’ll book a flight to wherever Juuuules is,” Player extended the name teasingly. “You do realize you’re the only who calls her that?”

“It suits her,” Carmen said nonchalantly. 

“Yeah, and you’ve got a crush,” Player said delightedly. “Black Sheep’s got a crush! Carmen’s got a crush!”

Carmen reached out and tapped the screen, mock threateningly. “Quit it, Player, or I’ll tell Zack all about your antics at the gaming tournament at age eight.”

Player mimed zipping his mouth. “Shut up. Got it.” He couldn’t resist another jab though. “You know you always drop whatever you’re doing to go see her, even on capers?”

“Are we talking about Julia Argent?” Zack said bluntly.

“And Carmen being very obviously smitten with her?” Shadowsan added. Carmen glared at him in betrayal.

“No, we’re discussing how the lot of you are interfering traitors, who are blighting my very good day,” she drawled. Her eyes caught on another boat. “And speaking of blights. . .”

Player caught on, tapping a key, eyes sharpening. “Well that’s a vile blight on the landscape.”

“It is quite a landscape isn’t it?” Shadowsan said, getting up and readying himself. “A perfect spot for taking down more agents.”

“Awesome!” Zack said, tumbling to his feet. “Time for our training to continue, Sensei!”

“Not the time, bro!”

Carmen slipped the Pearl into her pocket, zipping it tightly shut, before taking a flying leap from her boat to the other one, taking two out with a roundhouse kick.

“Grunts!” Ivy called. “Couldn’t send any of the better agents, could you? Haven’t seen the goat for a while.” She blindly swung a club and somehow managed to take one down. “Ha! There’s one!”

Shadowsan efficiently thinned the crowd. “And mine’s six.”

Carmen ducked the blow from the sword, before using a maneuver Coach Brunt had once taught her and managing to knock the owner out with it. “And there’s the last.”

Zack pouted. “I didn’t get a single one.”

“Aw, Zack,” Player said in the intercom. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t either.”

“Hear that, Zack? You’re being compared to a kid sitting a whole continent away.” Ivy laughed under her breath, swinging an arm around her brother’s shoulder as they climbed back on their own boat.

“I believe this calls for a toast.” Shadowsan proclaimed.

“So it does,” Carmen agreed. “Player. ACME?”

“On its way,” he said in satisfaction. “Good day’s work, team.”

“I think this calls for some alcohol,” Ivy said. “Tada! This one’s supposed to be the best around here. Get the glasses, I want to taste it.”

“Cool, sis,” Zack grinned, opening the cupboard to produce the glasses. “Good thing you’re not here Player.”

Player knew he shouldn’t take the bait. He knew.

“Why?” He said anyway.

“’Cause a little guy like you couldn’t drink, and then you’d be all left out!” Zack said melodramatically. “It’d be really sad.”

“Carmen!” Player said in agitation.

Carmen laughed, watching her family bicker.

“Far from VILE Island, is it not?” Shadowsan asked quietly, sipping from his own glass.

“Quite a bit,” she agreed, taking her own glass and holding it in a toast to her best friend who was still angrily ranting at Zack. “And I couldn’t be gladder for it.”

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