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inaris-mage-of-storms · 11 months

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}{ The Canary in the Gold Mine }{ AO3 }{ next part }{

}{ Empires AU }{ elf Scott, canary Jimmy, and goblin Fwhip }{ content warning: imprisonment, suicidal thoughts }{

The problem with living life free as a bird was that sometimes a bird winds up caged.

Scott had found himself in lots of metaphorical cages over the years. Lost in ruins and temples with a few more turns than he expected, tied up in relationships that didn't last, caught between an alley wall and the anger of a misjudged mark, even a jail cell or two. Sticky situations were plentiful for a man with sticky fingers.

The problem with this particular cage was that it wasn't metaphorical.

The very real and very solid metal cage Scott found himself in now dangled over an open cavern at the edge of a goblin city deep underground. Scott didn't mind being underground for long periods of time – his crystalline magic meant he was just as comfortable in the depths of a cave as he was in an open field – but he very much minded not having a choice in the matter. It had been five days now since the elf had tried and failed to escape some old goblin ruins with a gold statuette in hand. He'd almost gotten away, but the blizzard that blew in while he was underground blocked off his exit and allowed his pursuers to catch up with him before he could find an alternate route.

Scott leaned against the bars and scowled in the direction of the buildings that lined the edge of the cavern. One of them contained his guard, a rude man who had taken great pleasure in throwing Scott into the cage and greater pleasure in rummaging through his confiscated belongings. He'd been stripped of everything he had on him except his pants and shirt. His bag, his jewelry, even his colorful coat and hat were gone. Scott's iridescent dagger now hung from the goblin's belt, and the contents of his coinpurse had no doubt been added to the guard's own.

"It took me weeks to get that just the way I wanted it," Scott muttered to himself, more upset about losing the dagger than the coins. Still, it wouldn't be that difficult to replace, having been made from crystals he produced himself. He'd hoped to make another one to pick the lock with, but he needed something solid, preferably a rock or mineral, to act as a core for his magic to crystallize around. For a cage hanging from the ceiling of a rocky cave, his prison was disappointingly clean of debris without even the most minuscule of pebbles to be found.

Scott put a hand over his growling stomach, hoping the guard would extend the mechanical bridge over to him soon to bring food and water. He'd been fed once on day three of his imprisonment, and hoped that didn't mean he had to wait until day six for his next meal. By now he was even kind of looking forward to the meager, questionable serving of pork he'd been reluctant to eat the last time.

After a few more hours of staring at the ceiling and contemplating all the ways he could escape the cavern if he could only get the door open, the creaking and groaning of pulleys and pistons caught Scott's attention. The bridge was in motion, and when it came to a stop just outside the bars of the cage, the guard crossed over to him and unlocked a smaller door near the bottom of the bars. He slid in a fresh bucket of water and a wooden plate with a single pork chop and a piece of bread, while another guard stood across the way and aimed a crossbow in case Scott tried to make a run for it. Scott tried not to show his eagerness in reaching for the food, only the slightest twitch of an ear betraying his interest.

"How long exactly do you plan on keeping me here?" he asked, managing to sound disdainful instead of desperate. The fact he was being given food and water at all meant, he hoped, that he wouldn't just be left in the cage to rot.

The guard shrugged. "Until the king has time to deal with you. And who knows when that'll be. He's a busy man." He gave Scott a nasty grin. "I wouldn't be so eager for your audience with King Fwhip if I were you. The punishment for theft is usually death."

"Seems a bit excessive for a single little statue," said Scott. The guard only smirked and returned to the guardhouse with his companion, retracting the bridge behind them.

Scott ate slowly, hoping to make his meager meal last. He set aside the bread for later, leaned his head back on the bars, and closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds of life coming from the city and the mines, full of goblins going about their business. Picks and hammers rang out, minecarts rattled, snorts and grunts filled the pig pens, and voices called back and forth in the marketplace. Occasional distant explosions sounded from somewhere deeper in the gold mines. Soft clicks and chirrups rose from the cave floor below his cage, evidence of the sculk that lined it. Once a shrieker called out, followed by distant nervous laughter after a beat of silence.

A brief flutter of wings cut through the soundscape, and Scott opened his eyes to see yellow. The brilliant feathers stood out against the darker, dimmer colors of the cave, and for a moment Scott thought he might have fallen asleep and dreamed the canary that perched on the door to the cage. The bird tilted its head, watching him quizzically, and didn't disappear when Scott blinked and rubbed the fatigue from his eyes.

"Hello there," he said softly. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a depressing place like this, huh?" The canary chirped, and he smiled to hear birdsong again. Scott looked at his bread, contemplating, then broke off a piece and tossed it toward the edge. The canary eyed the distance between Scott and the bread, then hopped down to the cage floor and pecked at it.

Scott fed the canary a few more crumbs, keeping his movements slow and some distance between them so as not to scare off the little bird. It didn't take long for the canary to hop closer, peering up at Scott. He smiled and offered another small chunk of bread, setting it next to him, and after eating the morsel the canary hopped onto Scott's knee and chirped up at him.

He kept his hands still, unwilling to risk losing the stray sunbeam that graced his cage just yet. "Pretty bird," he cooed softly at it. "What a beautiful little bird you are." The canary rustled his feathers and tweeted at him again, and Scott laughed. "I'm glad you decided to come say hi. I hope you aren't trapped down here like I am."

The canary sat with him and sang, and for a little while the bars of the cage felt far less confining. Eventually the bird jumped down from his knee and fluttered away. Scott watched it leave, both grateful for the temporary distraction and a little bitter that it was probably the last birdsong he would be hearing for a while.

Two days later the canary returned, and Scott's heart leaped when he rolled over under his single thin blanket to see the flash of yellow. He curbed his excitement in time to sit up slowly instead of suddenly, still not wanting to frighten the canary.

"Aw, my sunbeam came back," he said happily, and the canary chirped. "That or I've started hallucinating after a week here. I think it's been a week, anyway." Scott had been trying to use the ebb and flow of the noises from the city to keep track of the days, but with no sun and nothing to do but sleep, he was beginning to struggle with the count.

He scraped a softer piece from the inside of what was left of his now very stale bread and presented the offering. The canary accepted it, then fluttered up to Scott's shoulder and nudged its head against his cheek before settled into the crook of his neck.

"Oh!" Scott kept his exclamation soft. "Decided you like me, huh?" Carefully, slowly, he reached up a finger and stroked the canary's breast feathers. The bird chirped happily, rustling its wings and leaning into the touch. Scott knew the warmth he felt on the feathers was probably from proximity to some lava stream or factory vent, especially given the time of year, but he pet his little canary and pretended the feathers were sun-warmed instead.

He sat and talked to the bird, regaling it with stories of his adventures and misadventures. The canary made an excellent audience, occasionally tilting its head or chirping at key points of the tale. Scott knew it was probably only responding to changes in his tone, but he smiled and pretended the canary knew exactly what he was saying and was enjoying the story.

The canary was still there when the guard brought Scott's food and water, and the guard scowled when he saw it. "Shoo, little pest," he said roughly. The canary stayed where it was and tweeted indignantly. Scott bit back a smile, not wanting to anger his only source of sustenance, but was grateful the goblin made no move to drive away his bird.

As soon as the guard was gone Scott pulled a bite off the fresh bread and offered it to the canary. "You probably don't mind the old stuff, but this is much better I'm sure." The canary accepted the first bite from his fingers, but when Scott offered a second one it pushed its head against his wrist instead.

"You don't want it?" asked Scott. The bird peeped once and pushed against Scott again. "You want me to eat it?" There was a twitter that Scott took to mean yes, and he obediently ate some of the bread before switching to the pork. The canary seemed satisfied, hopping down to perch on Scott's leg while he ate.

Scott lost track of the days entirely somewhere around the three week mark. As the weeks stretched into months without even a hint to when there might be a change in his situation, the elf could feel the isolation wearing him down. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed in one place for any length of time unless there was something sufficiently interesting to keep his attention. The inside of a cage in a dark corner of a cavern was anything but interesting. Scott paced every step of the small cage hundreds of times over. He slept, shouted, begged, sulked, and repeated the process all over again.

He asked the guard over and over how much longer he would be imprisoned, but if the goblin answered him at all it was only to say "King Fwhip will get to you when he gets to you, thief," or some variation thereof. Eventually Scott stopped asking, his hope waning and his dislike for the unseen goblin king growing. It was only his canary's frequent visits that kept him from contemplating drowning himself in his water bucket or looping the blanket around his neck. Sometimes the bird showed up several days in a row and sometimes it was gone for what must have been five, six, seven days, but it always returned, and every time it rekindled the smallest spark of his dying hope.

It was one of the times the canary was gone for longer that Scott found himself alternating between staring at how thin his wrists had gotten and how much wider the gap between the bars seemed. He knew he didn't have the strength left to pull off the acrobatics required to even have a chance at making it across the chasm he dangled over, but the longer he was imprisoned the less he cared about falling onto dripstone or triggering a shrieker. Assuming he survived the drop in the first place, the roar of a warden seemed like a mercy compared to what he was certain by now was eternal imprisonment.

He was laying on the floor and trying to decide if his head would fit between the bars when the canary returned, landing in front of his face and chirping in greeting. Scott managed a smile but didn't lift his head. "Hi Sunbeam," he greeted in a hoarse voice. "Missed you."

The canary tilted its head and chirped again, and Scott imagined he could hear concern in the lovely notes. "Your bread's over there, if you want it. Sorry, I don't quite feel like sitting up today." He closed his eyes, and the canary sang out more concern before nestling under Scott's chin.

"Pretty bird," he mumbled. "You smell like fresh air again today. Like flowers. Is it spring? Or maybe even summer." He sighed, and the canary chirped quietly. "I miss flowers."

He didn't open his eyes when he heard the bridge extending over from the guardhouse, or when he heard the gate rattle with the latest delivery. What did get him to raise his heavy eyelids was angry chattering from his canary, and he sat up when the bird fluttered away from Scott and toward the guard as he tried to leave. It flapped around his face, seeming to scold him. The guard scowled, making a swipe at it, but the canary danced out of his reach and landed in Scott's hands with more scolding chirps.

"One of these days I'm going to catch you and have a nice canary stew," spat the guard as he walked away. Scott imagined whatever the canary trilled out next wasn't anything suited for polite company should it be translated, and he smiled and pulled the bird close to his chest.

"He's a nasty one, isn't he?" he murmured to the canary. "I'm glad he's not my only company down here." The canary settled further into his hands, peeping happily, and Scott pressed a gentle kiss to its feathered head.

The canary sat with him a little longer before wriggling out of his hold, and Scott felt a pang of disappointment at how soon the bird was leaving him. "Already?" He tried not to pout. It wasn't fair to make the canary stay in a cage any longer than it wanted to just to alleviate his own loneliness.

"Don't stay away so long this time, yeah?" He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I don't know how much more of this I can…" He laughed bitterly. "Look at me, staking my sanity on a bird."

The canary gave a few chirps Scott imagined sounded sorrowful before it took off. He watched it fly up and out of sight, then sighed and lay down again to dream of warm sunlight and wildflowers waving in the breeze. He was dreaming of birdsong when he began to wake up again, and realized the melody was continuing even as he opened his eyes and felt cold iron under him instead of soft grass.

"Sunbeam?" He sat up, not feeling as if he had slept very long, and was delighted but confused at the canary returning twice in one day.

He spotted a glimpse of red against the bright yellow, and his breath caught. "Is that a poppy?" he breathed. The canary chirped around its beakful of flower stem and hopped down to him, dropping the poppy on his knee. Scott picked it up and gazed at it reverently, tracing a finger over the thin petals.

"Thank you," he whispered, and imagined the canary looked very pleased with itself. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Except for you, of course," he added, and the canary's chirping laughter filled the cage until there was no room left for loneliness.

Some of Scott's water ration went toward keeping the poppy fresh as long as he could, and as far as he was concerned it was water well-spent. As the days passed, though, even that couldn't keep the petals from crumbling. The day after he accepted the blossom was a lost cause, the canary brought him another one, and he smiled. When that faded the bird brought another one, and another, replacing each poppy regularly. Scott treasured each poppy almost as much as he treasured the canary's visits. With a poppy in his hair and the canary against his cheek as he spun more stories, he could almost pretend he was exactly where he wanted to be. Most days the canary's feathers were warm from the sun, making the name Scott bestowed up on it even more fitting.

The entire time he had been imprisoned Scott's meals had never been regular, but the bucket of water was enough to last for about three days and it was never longer than that until his next delivery. It had been a while since Scott had thrown a fit and screamed obscenities toward the guardhouse, so when the fourth day without a meal came and went, he couldn't think of a reason why. When his canary came to see him on the sixth day, it landed on the edge of the empty bucket and chirped questioningly.

"Dunno," mumbled Scott in response from where he lay curled up on his blanket. "Drank the last of it three days or so ago. Maybe that's how they've decided to finally get rid of me." He paused to lick his dry lips, but it gave him no real relief. "Guess I should be glad my magic is from thermal crystals instead of water. It'll kill me slower." He made a face at the thought. "Maybe 'glad' is the wrong word."

The sounds that erupted from the canary were angry and agitated, and Scott could have sworn he saw one of the small clawed feet stomp in frustration. He heard the mechanical bridge start moving, and as the guard approached he managed to scramble to his knees so he could reach for the fresh water bucket as soon as it was set down. Scott was so focused on restraining himself from chugging it all at once that it took a moment to register the canary was still chirping angrily as it fluttered around the guard's head.

"That's quite enough out of you – ouch!" The guard was trying to walk away, but the canary had tangled its talons in a tuft of hair and yanked as it pecked at his head. "Rotten thing!" The guard swiped at the canary and made contact, backhanding the little bird hard against a bar of the cage. The canary landed on the cage floor, and the guard walked away and retracted the bridge behind him.

"Sunbeam!" Scott crawled over to the canary and gathered it in his hands. To his relief the canary's chest still rose and fell, and after a moment that must have been brief but seemed to Scott to drag on, its eyes opened and it peeped at him a few times. "Oh, thank goodness," breathed Scott, cradling his canary close to his chest. "Are you hurt?" The canary chirped reassuringly, hopping to its feet and bumping its head against Scott's chin.

It sat with Scott a while longer, nestling happily in his hands and singing just as strongly as ever, and only moved to leave when Scott began yawning. "Come back soon," whispered Scott, kissing the canary's head before opening his hands. When the bird returned two days later, Scott's next meal had been delivered by a different guard, and the canary inspected the pork and bread closely before settling on Scott's shoulder with a satisfied chirp.

Scott laughed. "What, did you have something to do with this?" he teased. "Run this place, do you?" The canary twittered, and Scott smiled before sighing. "Be nice if you did. Maybe you could put a word in with this goblin king I've heard so much about." He rolled his eyes. "He's a bastard is what he is," he muttered into his bread. "'He'll get to you when he gets to you' they keep telling me. Worst imprisonment ever. Zero out of ten for accommodations and service both, would not recommend."

The canary's chirps sounded apologetic, and Scott stroked its breast with a finger. "Aw, it's not your fault, pretty bird. I know you don't really run the place. You can fly anywhere you want and yet you keep coming down here just to see me. I'm grateful for that."

The weeks continued to pass, and other than the new guard, nothing changed. His canary visited frequently, still bringing him a fresh poppy whenever the old one faded. Then a day came when the canary brought him an orange oak leaf instead of a poppy, and chirped at Scott apologetically when he accepted the offering. "It's still beautiful," said Scott, rolling the stem between his fingers and watching the leaf spin as he did so. He was grateful for the marker of time; it must be autumn on the surface now. "Did I tell you yet about the time I - "

An explosion from the mines interrupted him; it sounded like the usual controlled blasts he was used to hearing, but this time much closer, and the cage swayed a little. Scott looked up, wondering just how close to the dripstone cavern the miners planned to get. Another blast sounded, rattling the cage and shaking dust and debris loose from the ceiling. The canary chirped and chattered angrily, then took flight and darted away from the cage.

More dust settled over the cage at the next explosion, and as Scott put a hand on the cage floor to steady himself as it swayed, his fingers brushed against a pebble. It was the only one he could see; the top of the cage had angled most of the falling debris away, but one was enough. With his heart pounding with hope for the first time in months, Scott picked up the little rock and cupped it between his hands.

"Come on, take," he muttered, feeling the heat between his palms as he tried to gather enough magic to crystallize. When he peeked at the pebble and saw the iridescent sheen of a thin crystal coating around it, he almost cried with joy. He kept going, coaxing the budding crystals into a thin, elongated shape. He wouldn't be able to manage anything as substantial as a weapon, but all he needed was something he could use as a lockpick. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the heat of the crystal and the effort of forcing it to grow so quickly with so little strength, but with the possibility of freedom within his grasp, he kept pushing.

The canary returned just as Scott deemed the small crystal to be sufficient for what he needed it to do, landing on the cage bars as Scott reached through to feel for the lock. "Look, Sunbeam, I found a pebble to crystallize," said Scott eagerly in response to the canary's questioning chirp. He slid the pick into the lock and rotated it, feeling for the pins. "I don't know yet how I'll make it across, but I – ouch!"

He almost dropped the pick, staring at the canary in shock. The canary pecked at his hand again, harder this time, and trilled at him sharply. "Stop that," hissed Scott. He tried again to pick the lock, but the canary hopped onto his hand and dug its talons in, pecking repeatedly and fluttering its wings. Scott gave up and tried to pull his hand back inside the cage to try again later, but the canary grabbed the pick in its talons and yanked it away from him. It dropped it over the edge into the chasm, then landed back inside the cage and sang Scott a series of agitated chirps.

"That was my only chance to get out," said Scott in despair, staring in the direction the lockpick had fallen. "I don't have any way to make another one. I don't...I don't have the strength left to make another one, even if I had another core." He'd had a glimpse of a way out of the hell he'd found himself in, and now it was gone. He sat back against the bars and drew up his knees, vision blurring, and buried his head in his arms.

The canary chirped, its scolds turning to sorrow, and fluttered over to Scott's knee. "Go away," said Scott in a muffled voice. The canary nestled against his hair and chirped again. "I said go away!" Scott lifted his head and glared at the canary through his tears. "I don't want to see you right now!" The canary seemed to flinch away from his sharp tone. It warbled sadly and flew away, leaving Scott to cry out his frustration.

Several meals passed without the canary's return; the third was barely eaten, and the fourth went untouched. The bridge rattled with what must be the delivery of the fifth, but Scott remained where he lay with his eyes closed and ignored the sound of the gate opening in favor of going back to sleep. Or he tried to; it must have been the door, not the gate, because hands grabbed his arm and jerked him roughly to his feet.

"Up you get, thief," said his guard, and a second goblin snapped manacles around his wrist while he blinked sleep out of his eyes. "Time for your audience with the king, now that he's back."

"Back?" echoed Scott groggily. "He hasn't...even been here?" If he'd had a little more strength he might have found it in him to be angry about having never been given that particular bit of information, but as it was he just stumbled along when the two guards marched him out of the cage and across the bridge. There was a flash of yellow somewhere near the ceiling, and Scott almost cried to see it. He cupped his hands and held them out as best he could, and the canary dove down to nestle into his hold with a series of chirps and tweets.

"Hi Sunbeam," Scott choked out. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." He lifted his hands, the chains between his manacles jangling with the movement, and the canary pressed itself against his cheek. "Will you stay with me?" he whispered. "It will be nice to not be alone when I learn how I'm going to die. Not that you have to stay for that part," he added when the canary trilled sadly. "I wouldn't ask that of you."

The sounds he'd spent so many months listening to were so much louder as he was led into the city proper, and his ears twitched as he tried to hear everything at once. Curious goblins stared as they went by, but Scott couldn't bring himself to care for more than a passing second about how disheveled and dirty he must be. His guards led him into an ornate building and stopped in front of a grand throne, forcing Scott to his knees as they knelt themselves, and after bowing his head for a brief moment Scott looked up at the man who held his fate.

Despite the grandiosity of the room, the handsome king sprawled across the throne was modestly dressed in what Scott recognized as a typical goblin miner's garb. Only a slightly finer weave of the red and gold tunic belted over the outfit and a simple gold circlet gave any indication of his status. The jewelry that adorned his fingers and ears were no more than any other goblin seemed to wear, and the only unique accessory was a large yellow feather on a leather tie around his neck. The color was familiar, and if it weren't for the size Scott might have thought the feather came from the wings of the canary nestled quietly in his hands.

"We come to present the prisoner to your highness King Fwhip," said his guard. "The charge is theft. He was captured this past winter in the western ruins, in possession of a statue of one of the Old Ones, found to have been taken from an altar in that place."

"Do you deny these charges, elf?" asked the king, staring at him with an unreadable look. Before Scott could answer, the king spotted the canary and sat up straight, raising an eyebrow. "Now that's an interesting friend you have there."

Remembering the previous guard's rough treatment of his little bird, Scott clutched the canary closer to his chest as fear flooded through him. "Don't hurt him," he pleaded. "Please don't hurt him. I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit, just please - "

King Fwhip laughed, and laughed hard. Scott was too exhausted and fearful to be able to tell if the sound held any malice or cruelty in it, and could only hope the canary would be able to fly away if the king ordered for it to be killed as retribution for a prisoner keeping a pet. The canary peeked out of Scott's hands and chirped in a tone reminiscent of its past scoldings but softer.

The king's chuckles died down, and he wiped a tear from his eye before holding out a hand. Scott stared as his canary slipped out of his hands and perched on the king's finger. "Hello there, my little gold nugget," crooned the king as the canary pressed against his cheek. "So this is why you didn't come say hi when I got back." He pressed a gentle kiss to the bird's head. "'Don't hurt him,' he says! As if I could even dream of hurting my greatest treasure."

"What?" said Scott in disbelief as the canary chirped happily at the king. Then in a blink, the canary changed forms. What Scott had taken for a very pretty bird, it turned out, was actually a very pretty man with golden hair, golden wings, and kind brown eyes. He sat perched in Fwhip's lap with an arm around the king's neck and gave Scott an apologetic glance. "...What."

The king settled back in his seat with an arm around the canary's waist and appraised Scott with an amused smirk. "Back to business. Do you deny the charge of theft that's been presented against you?"

Scott stared, taken aback by the revelation that his canary was neither a typical canary nor his, and couldn't find the wit or charm that had saved his skin on more than one occasion in the past. "No," he said simply. "I don't deny the charge."

"Then, as you don't deny that you stole the statue you were found in possession of - "

"A statue that we didn't even know existed and was recovered when he was captured," interrupted the canary, and grinned sheepishly when Fwhip gave him a sharp look.

" - as you don't deny the charges," continued the king, "you are hereby found guilty of theft of a sacred artifact from goblin lands. Now, your punishment." He pretended to ignore the pleading look the canary was giving him. "Is it true the statue was recovered?"

"Yes, your highness," said one of the guards. "It was taken from the elf upon his capture and has been stored safely in the royal vault."

"Good, good," said Fwhip. "Did he make any attempt to escape while he was imprisoned?"

"None, your highness," said the guard. Scott breathed in sharply and glanced at the canary, who was trying very hard to look as innocent as possible.

Fwhip's tail curled thoughtfully. "Well then! We take theft very, very seriously here. But the object was recovered, it's only your first offense in Gobland, you readily admitted to your crime, and you behaved yourself while imprisoned – and more importantly, going by the hole that's currently being stared into the side of my head, my Jimmy has taken a liking to you." He put a hand against the canary's face and pushed him back lightly, getting a grumble in return.

"I sentence you to five years imprisonment," continued Fwhip. "Minus the time already spent in the cage, you'll spend the rest of it as a worker in the gold mines. You'll be given three - " Jimmy whined at him, and he rolled his eyes. " - four days to rest and recover in your new quarters before you begin work."

Scott's head swam as he tried to process the goblin king's verdict. He had entered the throne room expecting death, or worse, to be thrown back into the damned cage. Five years was no small length of time, but he would take five years of hard work over even five weeks of endless confinement and boredom.

His – no, Jimmy – didn't seem quite as pleased with Scott's punishment as Scott was. "Aw, Fwhip," he pleaded, tilting his head and giving the king a wide-eyed look and a soft pout, "he's been down here since before the solstice! Can't he work the fields with me instead?"

"Absolutely not," said Fwhip. "If he's on the surface he'll just make a run for it the first chance he gets. And you'll let him, you big softy." He tapped Jimmy's nose, and his words were stern but the look in his eyes was fond. "There's a reason you're in charge of my farmers and not my guards."

"Rude," grumbled Jimmy, but he was almost smiling. "I would make an excellent lawman, thank you very much."

"Sure you would," said Fwhip sarcastically. Scott could have gagged at the soft look the two of them gave one another, and might have done if he hadn't been busy appreciating how well love enhanced both Fwhip's and Jimmy's already good-looking features. Fwhip gestured for Scott to be taken away, and as the guards obeyed, Jimmy pressed a kiss to Fwhip's cheek before following as Scott was taken to wherever he would be staying.

The guards led him into a room inside a barracks and unlocked his manacles, with firm instructions to remain there until someone came to collect him in a few days to begin his work. Jimmy remained in the room with him even as a key turned in the lock as the guards left, and if Scott hadn't already seen the window he might have been more concerned about that. It was small and barred, but there was enough room for a small bird to fly through easily.

"I hope you aren't angry that I didn't say anything," said Jimmy, and Scott turned from his examination of the room – not much larger than the cage, really, but there was a bed and a dresser and a chair – to see the canary wringing his hands anxiously. "It's just that, well, the last time I showed myself to a prisoner they just got angry that I wouldn't steal the keys and let them out or anything like that."

"You were pretty adamant about not letting me pick the lock," said Scott. "Was it because you knew it would make my sentence worse?" He sat on the edge of the bed; he knew he had surely been on more comfortable surfaces than the thin straw-stuffed mattress, but after almost a year on an iron floor, it was the softest thing he had ever felt.

"I mean, sort of." Jimmy sat on the wooden chair, running fingers through his hair. "That and I could see how weak you were. I didn't want you to fall to your death or anything. But also…" His wings rustled and he tilted his head. "I mean, I like you, I really do. But you're still a prisoner, and even though I'm not a goblin, as long as I live in Gobland then Fwhip is still my king, you know?" He shrugged. "And more importantly, he's my...my partner."

The ends of Jimmy's ears were red, and Scott wondered if the relationship was new or if the canary simply had a modest nature. "How long have you two been together?" he asked.

"Oh, gosh." Jimmy scratched the back of his head. "I can't even remember. Must be six, seven harvests at least." Modest, then. Scott bit back a smirk and the urge to tease him; he never was able to resist a man who blushed easily.

Jimmy stood and stepped toward the window before turning back to Scott. "I'll let you get some rest. They should be bringing you some food soon, and starting tomorrow it'll be twice a day. If not, let me know and I'll take care of it." He grinned, and Scott smiled back. "We're pretty busy on the surface this time of year so I don't know how often I can come see you for a while, but I'll check on you when I can."

Scott nodded. "Thank you," he said, and his throat felt thick. "For...for everything. You didn't have any reason to, but you saved my life."

Jimmy smiled. "I got curious, and you turned out to be a good person," he said. "And you tell good stories. Besides, I doubt Fwhip would have actually had you killed over a single statue. He's too good of a man for that."

Scott shook his head. "I don't mean just the sentencing," he said softly. "Being locked up like that, with little idea how long it had been and no idea how much longer it would be?" He shuddered. "Even with your visits I almost did something stupid more than once. Without them…"

A sorrowful chirp from Jimmy's throat startled him, and he smiled at the embarrassed look on the canary's face. "Can I...is it okay if I hug you?" asked Jimmy.

Scott blinked. "I – sure?" He gave Jimmy a sly look. "If it won't get me killed, anyway. Pretty sure fooling around with a king's lover is a faster ticket to the gallows than any theft," he teased.

As he'd predicted, Jimmy turned red, and Scott laughed. "It's just a hug!" exclaimed Jimmy. "You...oh, you're going to be an absolute menace, aren't you?"

"I certainly try," said Scott cheerily.

Jimmy wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, and if he'd been a little less exhausted from everything Scott might have been embarrassed at how easily the simple touch brought tears to his eyes. He returned the hug and relaxed into Jimmy's hold when Jimmy folded his wings around them both. He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes until Jimmy shifted and startled him out of the light doze he'd fallen into.

"Get some sleep," said Jimmy gently. He stepped away from Scott, changed back into a bird, and flew out of the small window. Scott stretched out on the straw mattress and fell asleep. When a knock on the door and the smell of stew roused him, a pressed poppy lay on the windowsill, and he smiled. Five years was a long time to spend working a gold mine, but he had a feeling the time was going to fly by.

}{ next part }{

#i spent a few nights with no electricity and no running water during this month's debacle #to distract myself from the misery of a humid Oklahoma night with no air con I told myself a bedtime story #enjoy :D #empiresshipping #flower husbands #fwhimmy #imprisonment cw #suicidal thoughts cw #file: storm writes things #canary in the gold mine au

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trafficlife · 8 months

Text

Time Sure Feels Like It's Running Out

Jimmy only had seven minutes left and he was waiting for Scott. Whether or not he was even coming was the last thing on Jimmy's mind, because he trusted Scott. That had always been Jimmy's fatal flaw. And Joel was going to put an end to it.

word count: 2016

AO3 Link

(inspired by this comic)

7 minutes and 14 seconds.

Jimmy frantically looked at the clock in his hand, blinking away the lights that dotted and obscured his vision. He muttered a curse under his breath, the yellow feathers on his forearms bristling. Scar was too insistent on shooting and he could hear Joel shouting at him for killing the canary.

Immediately, Jimmy pulled out his communicator and sent out a frantic message to the main chat. Now he needed Scott more than anything. He barely had any time. Jimmy was heading back to the bridge when he collided with Joel.

"Joel! I have seven minutes left!" Jimmy blurted out, going straight to the chase.

"Seven minutes?" Joel grimaced. Those words left a bad taste in his mouth.

Jimmy nodded, his heart sinking at the fact. "I need Scott now."

Joel shook his head, grabbing Jimmy and pulling him back into the remains of their base. "Scott's on the other side of the map, he's not going to get here in time."

"He isn't that far, Joel. I have seven minutes, and Scott's giving me his time. He's the only one doing that for me!"

"Not anymore he's not." Joel's voice suddenly became deep and almost menacing, which made Jimmy's feathers fluff in anticipation. "Tim, I'm gonna need you to kill me."

Jimmy's eyes widened behind his shades. He quickly shook his head. "No. No, I can't. I can't do that, I-I won't kill a fellow bad boy!"

"Tim, I'm letting you do this. Why on Earth would you pass up this opportunity?"

"I..." Jimmy hesitated. He wasn't exactly comfortable with killing his teammate, even though Joel was consenting to it. It didn't feel right to him, which was pretty stupid. There were a lot of unfair and unlucky things that happened to Jimmy in these games. So why would he pass this up? "I just—"

"Timmy, bloody hell, just kill me!" Joel hissed, grabbing the end of Jimmy's crossbow and pointing it toward his chest.

Jimmy shook his head, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. "I can't just kill you, you know! Scott already promised he'd come—"

"And what if Scott doesn't show up in time? What if he changed his mind last minute? Now, I'm not going to let you sit here for"—he looked down at Jimmy's clock— "6 minutes, 13 seconds, and counting, without being sure that Scott's even going to come." His red eyes pierced through Jimmy's, over the rim of his sunglasses. Joel was always a force to be reckoned with while red. His gaze was menacing and violent, striking fear into everyone he made eye contact with. It made Jimmy very lucky to be allied with Joel. But now, there was a gentleness in his gaze. A gentleness that didn't appear very often.

"Jimmy," Joel continued, voice a low whisper. Jimmy's eyes widened. He was so used to being called 'Timmy' in these games. If he was referred to as Jimmy, it wasn't a joke. "Just do it. I have plenty of time left. It's not like you're the boogeyman, I can get another hour in no time!" He smirked a bit. "It'd be pretty fun for me as well. You know how much I enjoy a good fight!"

Jimmy chuckled softly, glancing down at the crossbow. Joel's clock was dangling off his belt, swinging a bit on his side. Joel seldom told Jimmy or Grian how much time he had left. Usually, he managed to get his time back one way or another. Though it didn't help that most of his deaths were rather stupid—Skynet was Joel's Achilles' Heel now—which made Jimmy more hesitant. "How much time do you have left, Joel?"

''2 hours," Joel responded quickly. "Plus some time."

"2 hours? But—"

"Didn't you hear me? I'll have more than enough time to kill people and get myself back up! Now..." Joel backed away and removed his armor, standing in front of the canary with a small smile. "Stop wasting time, Tim, and get yourself those 30 minutes!"

Jimmy felt his mouth go dry, eyes shifting from the crossbow to Joel. He looked so relaxed, so confident. The moonlight shone through the broken windows, casting a slight halo behind Joel and making the studs on his jacket glow. He raised the crossbow and drew back the arrow, about to fire until Joel spoke again.

"Oh, and Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"I won't let you be the first out again."

Jimmy chuckled a bit, his heart suddenly feeling heavy. A lot of people told him that throughout these games. But it still ended the same way. After all, he was "gifted" these canary wings for a reason. He would always die to the smoke in the mines. It was his destiny at this point. And what a cruel destiny it was.

But the confidence in Joel's voice made him feel a little more secure, a little more convinced that things would be different this time around.

He closed his eyes and fired the crossbow twice. Right afterward, he heard the sound of thunder. Startled, Jimmy opened his eyes and spread his wings. But when he looked outside, there wasn't any rain. The sky was still clear, the moon and the stars visible, and looking down at Jimmy. He turned towards the bed, only to find that Joel hadn't respawned.

"That's odd..." He murmured under his breath. He probably set up his spawn somewhere else and was on the other side of the map. "I should keep his stuff safe for now." Jimmy kneeled to pick up Joel's armor, when his communicator buzzed in his pocket, multiple times in a row. Confused, he pulled it out to read the messages in the chat.

SmallishBeans was shot by SolidarityGaming. <BDoubleO100> ?????? <Smajor1995> omg... <PearlescentMoon> He survived! <TangoTek> OOOOOOOOOOO <ZombieCleo> this is history guys <InTheLittleWood> curse broken??? <Grian> TIM <Grian> JIMMY <Grian> WHAT DID YOU DO

Jimmy was very confused. More messages were flooding the chat but Jimmy didn't know why there was so much commotion.

<SolidarityGaming> joel had me kill him <SolidarityGaming> so i could get more time <SolidarityGaming> he didnt respawn at the bridge. is he at someone else's base?

He put the armor in a chest, glancing over at his communicator again.

<Grian> oh jim... <Grian> look at the player list

Jimmy picked up the communicator to look at the player list.

And part of him wished he hadn't.

His wings felt heavy on his back, and the communicator was slowly slipping out of his fingers. He abruptly sat down on a chest, a wave of nausea rushing over him. His heart pounded in his chest and ears, blocking out any other sounds.

Well, it certainly explained the sudden thunder.

And it explained why Jimmy was confused at first. He never lived long enough to hear the thunder rumble or see the lightning strike at the spot where the person died.

Joel wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't let Jimmy die first.

Joel was out of the game. For good.

And, for the very first time, Jimmy wasn't out of the series first.

So why did he feel so dejected?

Isn't this what he wanted?

If Joel didn't insist on this sacrifice, Jimmy would have been happier. He should have been happier. It was what Joel wanted, wasn't it? And it was good to know that his "canary curse" could be broken.

But it's not like Jimmy was on-board with killing Joel. He only did it because Joel insisted it was going to work out in the end.

"Jimmy!"

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name. Jimmy lifted his head to see Grian, slowly approaching him. There was a small frown on his face, and his wings were folded behind his back. "Jim... I am so sorry."

Jimmy chuckled weakly. "Hey, Grian. No need to apologize! It's just the way things go, right?"

Grian nodded slowly, fidgeting with his jacket cuffs. "I just... Didn't think it would happen so soon," he murmured. "Before either of us knew it, Scar killed you, and—"

"Wait... Did you know Joel would do this?" Jimmy asked. "It sounds like you two had this sort of plan, to keep me alive."

He watched Grian lick his lips nervously before going on. "Well... Yes," he confessed. "Joel was hoping that he could die before you. Which was why he insisted on us getting kills, instead of him. You- You must've noticed that, right?" Jimmy nodded slowly. He always thought it was weird, considering how much Joel thrived on the battlefield. Hell, he was even disappointed to not be the boogeyman.

"About half of the self-deaths, where he fell off the ladders or fell from sky-net, were intentional," Grian continued. "Some of them were complete accidents though... Like when I responded 'yes' without knowing that I was throwing you two off of a ledge."

Jimmy nodded slowly at the recollection. He did notice that Joel was somewhat protective of him. Despite the teasing and the daredevil stunts they pulled, it was obvious that Joel cared for him.

Joel was dubbed the "lone wolf" after 3rd Life but Jimmy didn't think that was entirely true. Yes, he was alone in 3rd Life and he did only have a pack of wolves as company. But in Last Life, he was pretty loyal to Scar (though he did team up with Grian later). And last season, Double Life, his commitment to Etho was commendable. He went as far as wearing an Etho shirt for him and building the Relation Ship for him.

Joel was incredibly loyal when he chose to be. He stayed with Jimmy since day one, despite his curse and his bad luck. They recruited Grian and became the Bad Boys, where Joel's loyalty truly shined. When Grian went AFK, Joel and Jimmy did all they could to protect Grian from the rest of the server. And they put up a good fight, despite being outnumbered.

Jimmy's wings wrapped around himself subconsciously as he thought back to the previous sessions. Joel really didn't want Jimmy to die, did he? No wonder he was so pushy. And with how devoted Joel was to Jimmy, to Grian, everything the Bad Boys built...

Jimmy couldn't begin to imagine what would happen to Joel, if the canary curse struck again.

Joel hated losing the things he cared deeply about. For instance, when the Relation Ship was burned to the ground, Joel picked up the ashes and darkly declared "If the ship burns, everything burns."

(How ironic, that Joel and Etho later burst into flames much like the ship they called their home.)

"Jimmy?" Grian's gentle voice brought Jimmy back to reality. The unfortunate reality was that Joel was gone, and now it was just the two of them. "Are you okay?"

Jimmy smiled fondly at his avian partner, before looking up towards the sky, hoping that Joel was spectating them now. "Well, there's no reason for me to be sad, boys! I'm still alive! That makes me pretty glad, boys. And even though now..." He took a deep breath. "Now we're just a pair of bad boys, we haven't been had, boys—"

Grian chuckled and rolled his eyes, interrupting Jimmy's stream of puns. "Okay, I can see Joel's influence rubbing off of you. But couldn't you at least come up with some more creative jokes?"

"I could. But I don't want to waste any time looking up words that rhyme with bad. Time is precious, after all..." He pulled out his clock to look at it. 30 minutes, 29 seconds. "Do you know where Scott is?"

Grian nodded. "He's on the bridge right now, waiting for you. Even though you got 30 minutes from Joel, he still wants to bring you up to an hour."

Jimmy nodded. "This game won't get rid of me that easily! ... And I know they've tried. And succeeded... But it's different this time! I'll live, for the bad boys!"

"Especially Joel," Grian chimed in.

"Yeah... Especially for Joel."

At least for now, time isn't running out.

#꒰☆彡꒱— karma writes #꒰➳꒱— writings #limited life #life series smp #trafficsmp #trafficblr #limited life fanfic #jimmy solidarity #smallishbeans #smallidarity #limited life bad boys #grian

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kaihuntrr · 7 months

Text

Chapter One: A Canary’s Song

We meet the main cast of the story; the Canaries!

To read the tumblr version, check under the read more!

The sea was dangerous, but humans could conquer the seas.

Ships hardened by metal and wielding powerful equipment could ward off the beasts, and each day the waters were tamed by powerful hunters. Hunters welcomed people from all classes, sorting themselves into different crews and factions with their own requirements and status. There were hunters who killed frequently, taking down multiple smaller beasts, hunters who took on larger and more imposing beasts but had a lesser kill count, and hunters who strove for a middle ground. None of these hunters or factions could compare to those in the employ of the king himself.

The Canaries were one such group of hunters.

“Beast in sight!”

From the waters rose a gigantic turtle-like beast with a set of large jaws and spikes that lined the edge of its scutes. Its yellow eyes pierced out of the oceanic depths, focusing on the hunters as it let out a bellowing roar. It swam towards the hunting ship as its flippers propelled the beast forward, creating waves that slapped against the side of the ship, rocking it back and forth.

A man with raven black hair and a mustache observed the creature with his telescope as it barreled forward, “It’s a class B, boneback! Aim for the exposed flesh, watch out for the scutes!” As if on command, the scutes on the boneback’s shell rose from its back and fired, creating dents on the ship’s metal plating.

Mumbo raised an eyebrow and chuckled, turning to his captain, Grian, a man with dirty blonde hair with a hat holding three parrot feathers. “It’s going to keep firing. I think we tire it out, then we strike back.”

His captain smiled in return, nodding, “Sounds like a plan. Alright everyone, you heard Mumbo, let’s get this ship moving!” The sounds of engines roared, shifting from a slower idle state to a higher gear. The whole ship came to life with the ground rumbling under them. The boneback growled as the hunters sped across the sea.

Grian turned to his brother, Joel, “Hm, ‘might be best if we get those cannons going.”

“I know that, Grian,” Joel rolled his eyes, noticing Scar loading his crossbow from the crow’s nest. Even without direction, the man knew what he was going to do. Joel grinned, calling up to him, “Give ‘em what you got, Scar! Join in on the fun!”

Scar’s smile was infectious, his excitable energy reaching the crew on the deck, “I have you covered! Hawk-eye!” Iron bolts shot out from the weapon, striking the boneback’s shell as it groaned in pain.

“I got an idea!” a voice piped up over the noise the fight caused.

Bdubs hefted a barrel in his arms, heaving as he attempted to run along the deck. He nearly stumbled, almost lost his footing before another set of hands joined him on the barrel. Cleo, one of his best friends, gave her crewmate a grin as she raised an eyebrow. “A stupid one, I’d bet.”

The white haired man grinned as the two hoisted the barrel of gunpowder together, their crewmates watching on. Cleo glanced at Lizzie, “Turn the ship around, Lizzie! We need a clear shot for this sucker.”

A woman with long, pink hair stood at the helm, locking eyes with Cleo as she gave her a shrug and a smile. Lizzie rolled her eyes, “On it!” The boat rocked as Lizzie made a sharp turn, barrels and boxes sliding towards the opposite side with the engine roaring.

Joel, Grian, and Mumbo were mounted on the cannons. Joel grinned manically, “Fire!”

The boneback groaned as the firearms began to hit the fragile spots of its shell, too exposed with all its scutes gone. It tucked its head into its shell before slamming against the hull. A loud resonating noise rumbled across the ship as the metal dented. The ship dashed through the water, the boneback growled as the hunters glanced to see its head duck out, turning around and charging towards them.

The boneback roared, mouth opening wide as Cleo and Bdubs threw the barrel into its open maw.

Bdubs pulled a gun out from his belt, grinning, “Got you now, beast!”

“Get down!” Martyn’s sudden shout alerted the crew as he ran from the lower deck. Bdubs raised his gun in the air.

Martyn’s eyes focused on the beast and he grinned. He dashed towards Cleo and Bdubs, hearing the beast. Martyn crashed into Bdubs, taking the shot at the boneback while the white haired man was still in shock.

The explosion was bright and blinding. There was a split second for the Canaries to shut their eyes and brace for the blow, the loud bang filling their ears. The shock rattled the ship sideways and their ears rang with white noise.

The beast cried out in pain, smoke and blood pouring out of its gaping maw. Its body jerked before collapsing. There was a brief moment of white noise lingering in the hunters’ ears before the sounds of the calm ocean flooded back in.

Lizzie had shut off the engine, the gentle swaying waves brushed against the sides of the ship. “Tie it up,” Lizzie said, “Let’s head home!”

Joel placed his hand on Cleo’s back, “Come on, Cleo. Help me out with the rope; tie it to the ship.” They nodded, grabbing several thick ropes and handing them to Joel, the man jumping down on the beast’s head to wrap the ropes around its neck.

He fastened the ropes together with a hard knot before approaching the cracked soft shell. Bonebacks would use their hard scutes to fire, but once they’re out of scutes the shell was entirely soft and exposed to cracks. Joel saw a small, malformed scute near the boneback’s head and pried it out with his sword.

Bdubs groaned. He threw his arms up, tapping his foot as he huffed at the blonde who knocked him over, “Aw come on, Martyn! What was that for?!”

Martyn chuckled, scratching his head with a shrug, “Sorry ‘dubs, the adrenaline rush got to me.” Bdubs rolled his eyes, clearly not amused, but Martyn sure was.

Joel used the rope to climb back, the scute pinned between his arm and chest. Cleo grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the ship.

“Thanks.” Joel smiled, swinging his legs over the ship’s railing and landing on the deck. She had already finished tying the ropes to the back of the ship, allowing them to drag the carcass behind them. Cleo nodded in return, a small smile crept up on their face.

Mumbo elbowed Martyn’s shoulder, “Say that when you were more involved in the fight.” He straightened out his red cravat, dusting off any dirt on his clothes. “Where even were you?”

Joel approached the commotion, holding the scute. “Why are we suddenly questioning him? Martyn contributed to the fight at least.” Bdubs rolled his eyes.

“But that was my plan!” Bdubs crossed his arms. Martyn patted the man’s back, Bdubs sighed.

“You’ll get it next time, promise!” Martyn looked at Bdubs, smiling as the man furrowed his eyebrows. He was sorry! He didn’t want to miss out on a fight. Martyn scratched the back of his head, “I was just… busy.”

Bdubs glanced at Martyn, raising an eyebrow, “Busy with what?”

Martyn let out a noncommittal hum in response, eyes darting away from the crew. Grian smirked, raising his eyebrows, “Busy on the lower deck, lost in his head daydreaming about him again.” Martyn’s face flushed burning red, raising his hands defensively raising his hands. There was a glint in everyone’s eyes. Martyn hesitated, thinking of something to say, “I- I wasn’t! I was–”

Grian laughed, causing Martyn’s face to flush an even brighter red. Joel gently nudged his shoulder with a grin, “It’s fine, loverboy. We’re going home after this. The king’s expecting us this afternoon, so you’ll see him again.”

See him again.

The thought made Martyn’s heart do all sorts of backflips. Something about him was so- so enchanting, Martyn couldn’t stand the wait to see him again. What he could stand to wait for, however, was his crew openly joking about this. He loved them, but they got on his nerves sometimes.

Martyn covered his face, letting out a sigh, “Joel– ugh. This isn’t funny.”

Martyn could hear Lizzie laugh from the rear end of the ship, “It’s funny to us, Martyn! You get so worked up over it too!” It couldn’t be that obvious, could it?

Martyn’s mysterious ‘him’ was the beautiful Scott Major.

Scott always greeted the hunters with a smile, welcoming and encouraging them to talk about their month on the savage seas. He was a friendly, bubbly guy, and his tavern was always open to those who wanted a place to drink and have a good time.

How Scott acted towards Martyn, however, was a different story.

Scott loved to talk to the Canaries, but to Martyn? Scott winked, playfully nudged, and said things Martyn knew he wouldn’t say to anyone else unless Scott thought they were attractive. God, Scott was flirting with him, and he was falling for every single line.

Martyn adored Scott right back, doing everything he could to flirt back or to talk to him, and this back and forth has been going on for months.

Maybe it was the way Martyn was constantly smiling at the thought of him, or how much his heart raced whenever they came close to shore that made his feelings so obvious to the others. It was probably a bad idea to fall for a guy adamant about remaining on land, but Martyn, mostly, didn’t care.

Martyn shook his head. ‘Best to think of something else for now,’ he told himself, ‘Don’t even think of telling the others how, for a good chunk of time now, you’ve been drawing him in your sketchbook.’

Nope. Definitely do not tell them that.

What were they doing now? Oh, right. They were going home. Meeting the king.

Every end of the month, the Canaries would return with trophies from beasts they’d previously slain and the body of their final hunt. Trophies were to be rewarded with gold and wealth, while the bodies were used for further research into weaponsmithing.

The hunters dispersed into their little groups to relax as the ship sailed back to the kingdom, the engine humming along the waters. Martyn took a glance at Mumbo, writing in his journal. “Writing the gunpowder barrel trick into your notes?” Martyn asked.

Mumbo perked up, snapping his journal shut as he finished, “Of course. Can’t have any killing method go undocumented.” Mumbo was the ship’s analyst and mechanic, and someone Martyn often found himself around. The two would have a calm air of silence as they respectively wrote or drew in their own notebooks. Mumbo had the specific task of documenting the Canaries’ kills and ways they did it, along with any significant change in patterns or behaviors the monsters exhibited. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

Mumbo hummed, “Though it might be best if we don’t use that often. A whole barrel of gunpowder? Just wasted like that? There has got to be a better way to conserve resources...” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he rested his hand on his chin, mumbling away under his breath.

Best not to disturb him. Martyn tilted his head away, signaling to Mumbo that he’d be leaving. Mumbo’s eyes focused on him for a moment and he nodded.

Cleo, Scar, and Bdubs were off on one side of the deck talking about something, their laughter loud and hearty. Joel had joined Lizzie by the steering wheel, leaving Grian by himself to stare out into the ocean. Martyn sighed. Grian shouldn’t be left staring at the ocean for too long.

He approached the captain, a small smile on his face, “Grian?” he called out just before he got there. The captain flinched, turning around to look at Martyn with his shoulders raised before a sigh escaped him and he deflated. Martyn tilted his head, “Am I.. intruding?”

Grian shook his head, “No, you’re fine. Just… thinking.” Grian tried to force a smile, but his shoulders dropped as he stared outwards again.

Martyn glanced at Grian as he stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Thinking about… Jimmy?”

Jimmy Solidarity, Grian and Joel’s older brother, was dead. Been dead for a while.

Martyn silently wished he had been there for them when it happened, but he hadn’t been. It was a difficult situation and he hoped he was doing good by being there for them now.

Grian crossed his arms, “It’s just not right. He can’t be dead. It’s just…”

It was commonplace for Grian to be a bit of a trickster, impressively cunning with an edge of playfulness on the side. He was a fun-loving guy, surprising the crew with pranks and messing with them using jokes and mischievously taking items from a person before returning it with a snarky remark. So seeing this side of their captain hurt. They’d all seen glimpses of it, but Martyn was sure he’d seen more of Grian’s pain than anyone else, save for maybe Joel and Lizzie.

“The ocean’s demons took so much from us,” Martyn hissed, his eyes narrowed. Grian sighed. Martyn turned to his captain, “We’ve all lost people out here.”

Too many important people die out in these waters.

Martyn rubbed Grian’s back, “You’ll find the monster that did it, I know you will.”

Grian shot a glance at Martyn, a smile tugging at his face. “We’ll find out what beast did it, and tear its heart out.” That was a promise.

“And you will,” Martyn nodded, raising an eyebrow, “Leave some of the beast open for the rest of us, though. Everyone on this ship wants a piece out of it too.”

Grian let out a snort, nudging Martyn away with a grin, “We’ll try, but no promises.” Martyn rolled his eyes. At least he was feeling better now. The two shared a laugh as they looked out over the open sea together.

Something caught Martyn’s eyes. He raised his hand to his forehead to block out the sun from hitting his eyes as he leaned in over the railing. “Patrol ships. We should hand this haul over to them.”

Grian nodded, placing his hands on the sides of his mouth to shout down to the crew still on deck, “Untie the beast! They’ll take it from here.”

The whirr of engines rolled closer as the ships approached. The sounds died down as the vessels slowed upon seeing the hunting ship. Two ships sailed in from either side, hailing to the Canaries. “Oh, hunters! What joy it is to see you all alive and well,” the captain on the right beamed, “Wretched thing you got back there!”

“You know it! This isn’t even the biggest we’ve fought,” Joel grinned with a smug look on his face. He shrugged, “Or the most dangerous.”

The captain nodded, “Ah. Your ship must be all tuckered out for the month, then.”

“All tuckered out and ready for proper repairs,” Joel nodded back. He looked at the body of the boneback, “We’re turning in now and getting ready for the next month. I’m sure those researchers are going to enjoy dissecting this one. You can handle taking this back, right?” He gestured to the creature.

The captain laughed, “Ay, I’ll bet! It must be proper beaten then, with you lot being the king’s hunters and all.”

The Canaries were proud hunters. On top of being hunters personally employed by the king, they were out on the wild seas most of the time, so they always brought home many trophies within the span of a month.

“We’ll take it from here, lads.” The captain gave a small salute towards Joel.

The captain looked at the sky, checking the time, “Judging by the sun’s spot in the sky, the king’s court should be over in a couple of hours, so you made it just in time. Welcome home, Canaries!”

The two ships sailed past the Canaries and tied the carcass of the boneback to their stern, sailing away with it. The Canaries’ ship’s engine shut off as the sails came down, the wind blowing inland. Lizzie maneuvered the ship, steering it towards the main gates. Joel approached Martyn and Grian, who smiled upon his arrival.

Mumbo approached where Martyn, Grian, and Joel were standing by the railing, his face scrunched up as he watched the body of the beast get dragged away. “I was looking through my notes earlier.” He opened his journal and flipped to the page for the turtle-like monster. It was full of notes and scribbles of its anatomy, weak points, size charts, and some illegible handwritten notes. Mumbo pointed at one of the notes, “It says here that bonebacks only attack in warmer weathers. It’s the beginning of autumn,” he fidgeted with his notebook, “So this boneback is far too active for this time of year, it’s supposed to be preparing for hibernation.”

Right, winter was on its way. Once the ice freezes over island shores, hunters were to remain on land until the ice thawed and the temperature no longer deathly cold. Those were always the weirdest months. No salty sea air, no adrenaline-inducing monster fights, none of that. Only the cold weather, snowfall, and the chance to catch up on sleep. Other hunters enjoyed the winter because of it, engaging in their own hobbies or going off to do anything else, but not Martyn. Martyn would rather be out there on the waters fighting monsters than being stuck on an island for months! Hunting to him was like an itch to be satisfied, and not hunting made the itch unbearable.

One thought lingered in his mind, however; what if he spent the winter with Scott?

Scott definitely enjoyed his company, and did constantly tease Martyn about his lacking presence in his life. It could be possible. It’d give him something to do other than sulk around or continue to train.

Hunting was an essential part of his life, he didn’t know who he was without it. Hunting made him alive. It gave him a passion. His parents raised him into being the best hunter, and he hoped it showed.

Martyn’s eyes darted around until he noticed Mumbo waving at him. “Martyn? Martyn, are you listening?”

Martyn blinked rapidly, shaking his head, “Wha– sorry, I wasn’t. I remember you mentioning the boneback strikes in warmer waters?”

Mumbo tilted his head and hummed. He glanced at his journal, his eyebrows furrowed as he frowned. “It’s worrying. Maybe it’s a change in territory location, or new behavior in general. We’ll have to look out for these types of changes. I’m not sure what it means yet.” He closed his journal, shrugging.

Monsters act weird all the time. They’re monsters.

It’s hard to understand what isn’t supposed to be understood. Maybe it’s some weird behavior quirk, or maybe it's… but why wouldn’t they just attack the ship instead of sending monsters? Martyn waved the thought away.

—————

The ship rocked slowly as they passed through the stream, Martyn was with Lizzie as she held the steering wheel. It had been a comfortable ride without any monster attacks. The beasts live in the salty deep ocean, so there was nothing dangerous here, nothing but fish for people to catch and eat. Pure bliss.

Lizzie looked at Martyn, “Do you have any plans for winter?”

Martyn paused. He did think of spending time with Scott, but he didn’t ask yet. He shook his head, “No, not really. I was hoping I could just sleep the whole winter away, hibernate or something.” He shrugged, “...Maybe I’ll ask Scott out or something. It’s been eating at me.”

Lizzie let out a little chuckle. Martyn blushed and crossed his arms. She smiled at him, “You should! Sooner is better than later.” Martyn was silent, unsure of how to answer. Lizzie raised an eyebrow at him, a small blush rising to her cheeks, “I crushed on Joel for a while before he confessed to me. Maybe Scott’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

“Is- is he? No- no, no that’d be stupid,” Martyn blushed. He could hear Lizzie’s laugh. He looked away, “I- I’m not- I’m not sure I’m ready yet.” He shook his head with a sigh.

“I understand. Things like this are a serious commitment.” Lizzie looked at her engagement ring.

Martyn felt all warm and fuzzy whenever Lizzie or Joel showed off their rings. They were planning on getting married soon, the date wasn’t set but they were planning it during the winter. That was probably why she asked Martyn if he was doing anything. He didn’t dwell on it.

Lizzie glanced down to where Joel was talking to Scar and Bdubs before their eyes made contact. Joel grinned and waved at her, causing Lizzie to give a small wave back with a little giggle.

She continued to stare at her ring then looked at Joel again. A wistful sigh escaped her, Lizzie catching Martyn off guard with a quick hug, “Don’t rush it. There’s going to be a time and place when both of you will be ready to take the world on together, you just need to wait for the right moment.”

While Lizzie loved to join in on the teasing, the advice she’d give was a constant reassurance.

Martyn placed his hand on top of Lizzie’s. “Thank you, Liz.”

“Anytime,” Lizzie grinned, “It looks like we’re here!”

Before them was a huge gate, walls adorning the sides as layers of steel and nets lowered to provide an entrance to the hunters. They could see the sprawling port town in front of them, and far from here, past the forests and mountains, was the kingdom proper.

The town was nothing too spectacular. It had concrete walls and flooring, and buildings made with different types of stone and wood stood near the entrance. Market stalls were set up in various places of the entrance as the town went further and further in. A forest separated the town from the castle town and rivers sprawled out into the waters.

Martyn glanced at Lizzie as she gave him a smirk. “Can’t leave him waiting, can you?”

They were here.

The ship was docked to one of the ports. Scar laid down the gangplank to connect them to solid ground once more. Scar grinned, spreading his arms out to the crowd, “We have returned!”

The citizens of the port lit up in cheers as they disembarked the ship. Martyn breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, they had made it back in one piece, as always.

Grian approached Martyn, jerking his head towards the town, “Go ahead. We got things covered here. The carriage should be around soon, and we’ll have the others lift the trophies.”

“Get out of here, loverboy!” Joel laughed, giving Martyn a push from the gangplank.

Martyn can hear the other Canaries shouting at him, all friendly and encouraging, but stupidly embarrassing for him. “Go on, Martyn! Tell him we said hi!” “Kiss him already!” “Don’t be stupid!”

Martyn rolled his eyes, fully aware of the blush on his face. “Alright, alright! Jeez!” he laughed, shaking his head as he began a run towards the tavern he and his huntermates were all too familiar with.

He wanted to hear Scott’s laugh again. See his eyes again. See his smile. He wanted to see Scott.

He can’t wait to see Scott again.

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konako · 2 years

Photo

psa, this is bad form, kids. do not try this at your home gym with your own socially awkward assassin, you could get hurt.

#shoot your shot but be careful of heavy weights and possible injury to your joints #dinah lance #helena bertinelli #crossbow canary #bop #birds of prey #fanart #it's been a while hello!#and no i was not inspired by an ig post #nonsense!

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scribbling-dragon · 2 years

Note

A prompt for one eyed Jimmy: Tango helps Jimmy with something that requires depth perception (maybe a crossbow, darts, some type of puzzle, ext) after someone else giggles over him not being able to do a "simple task"

guiding hand

Summary:

He releases the bolt, and it thuds into the wall behind the target. He lowers the crossbow with a huff, wings tensing behind him as he glares at the bolt, the fifth one to embed itself in the wall.

It’s several feet to the left of the target, far too off for him to even try and claim that he had just been a little off. He hears someone laugh, looking over to his left. He has to turn his head all the way around to face the person laughing at him.

(AO3 Link)

(1,190 words)

this is a follow on from Masked Sight btw!

(friendly reminder that reblogs > likes!)

He aims at the target again, lining up the sight with the red dot in the centre. He squints, trying to focus on it as it moves and wiggles, shifting far too much for him to focus on it completely.

He releases the bolt, and it thuds into the wall behind the target. He lowers the crossbow with a huff, wings tensing behind him as he glares at the bolt, the fifth one to embed itself in the wall.

He tries not to feel self-conscious as he sees Scott leaning over the gate to the Ranch, watching him with a smug look on his face. He resists the urge to turn away, hide and cover the scar that everyone on the server has caught a glimpse of now.

He ditched the cod head after they turned red, showing off the scar to try and intimidate others. All it’s done so far is gain him mockery.

“I think you're still a little off, Jimmy!” Scott shouts, gesturing over to where the bolt has landed. He tightens his grip on the crossbow, breathing in, then out. Tango’s out, somewhere else, away from him. Scott only visits when it’s just one of them now, preferring to taunt one when the other can't jump to their defence.

He stalks closer, still clutching the crossbow until he’s on the other side of the gate, glaring at Scott. “You be careful,” he warns, “I’ll shoot you otherwise. I'm red now.”

“I think I’d be more worried if you were aiming for someone next to me,” Scott brushes his threat off with a laugh, and it stokes the fire a little more. He can feel his wings ruffling as he glares at Scott, “Though, I still reckon you’d miss both of us. Maybe work on your sight a little?”

He grabs for Scott’s arm, barely managing to grab on, finding it a little further to the right than he had expected it to be. He still manages to drag him closer, fingers curling around his arm, nails digging into his bare skin. “I’ll kill you.” He swears, “I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill you again. See who the canary is then, hm?”

Scott laughs.

“I’d take a few steps back, Scott.” Tango appears behind him, hand resting on his shoulder, and Scott startles. He jolts back, his laugh cutting off as he finds two of them where there was one before. “We’ll kill you, got it?”

Scott takes one step back, then another, until he’s three steps from the gate of the Ranch, hands raised in the air. Even his surrender is mocking, as he looks at Jimmy with a smirk. He glares back at him, even as his face warms with embarrassment.

“C’mon.” Tango grabs his hand, palm warm against his, pulling him away from the gate. “What was he saying?”

“Nothing.” He manages, hand tightening around the crossbow for a second before he sighs, releasing the tension, “Just that I need to work on my sight.” He laughs, “Obviously I can't do that.”

“That’s wrong.” Tango frowns.

“Anything goes here.”

“That doesn't make it right.” Tango argues, “Just, come here, I’ll help you with it.” He pulls him a little closer, turning them both so they're facing the targets again. He can hear Scott talking to someone, low whispering. He laughs, and Jimmy grits his teeth, focusing on the target.

“I can't get it to line up.” He complains, “It just always goes wide.”

“Only because your depth perception is a little messed up, you're at a disadvantage to practically everyone else trying to shoot something.”

“That doesn't help me actually hit anything.”

“Which is why we’re doing this. I'm going to aim it, and you can get used to the difference in perspective for you.” Tango slips an arm around him, steadying the crossbow with both hands. He’s pressed close enough for him to feel his breath against his cheek.

He breathes in, then releases the bolt as he breathes out. It hits the target, not quite in the centre but not far off. “See?” Tango says, “We’ll do it again so you can get used to it, alright?”

He lines it up again, and the crossbow looks like it’s pointed just a little too far to the left, just a little too far off-centre for it to actually hit the target where they're aiming. They release it, and it hits the target again.

“Oh.” He breathes, staring at the two bolts that are firmly embedded in the target.

“See?” Tango grins at him, their faces still incredibly close, Tango’s arm still wrapped around his waist. He shifts a wing until it’s just behind Tango’s shoulder, not quite a hug but not far off from it.

“Yeah.” He grins, “Yeah, I do see.” Tango bumps their heads together, and he grins a little more, looking back at the target again.

“See!” Scott yells across the wall, “You just need to hire Tango as your guide dog!” Cleo smacks him on the back of the head, and he winces, rubbing his head as he turns to look at her. She mutters something at him, something about them being red that he doesn't quite catch.

Tango hums thoughtfully, the sound vibrating in his chest like the clicking of a sculk sensor. They both watch as Scott and Cleo move away from the wall, Scott sending one last smirk behind him as they leave.

“How would you feel about a moving target practice?” He asks, voice thoughtful.

“I dunno,” he hefts the crossbow a little further into his arms, “Will you help me aim again?”

“Of course.” Tango steps closer, guiding the crossbow over the wall, “The trick is to aim a little in front of where they are, in the direction they're headed. That way,” he lines it up just in front of Scott, “It always hits true.”

They breathe in at the same time, releasing as they exhale. He watches it sail through the air, embedding itself in Scott’s shoulder. He stumbles forward, hand going to clutch at his shoulder.

The blood quickly begins to seep through his jacket, staining the yellow red. Cleo curses, loud enough to be heard from where they stand. He can hear Cleo scolding Scott too, berating him for antagonising red lives. Good.

Tango raises his hand for a high-five. He aims for it, and misses, going just a little too wide. Tango simply grabs his wrist in his own hand, helping him with the high-five as they watch Cleo help Scott stumble home.

He laughs once they're definitely out of earshot, and Tango laughs too. “He’s gonna kill us.”

“Oh definitely, but I reckon we can take him down now, right?” Tango doesn't release his wrist, hand slipping down to entwine with his own.

“Obviously.”

#juno.writes #asks #anon #jimmy solidarity #tango tek #dlsmp #double life smp #dlsmp fic #double life smp fic #ranch duo #team rancher #tangotek #solidarity gaming #solidaritygaming #trafficblr #masked sight au

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dido-main · 9 months

Text

pros and cons of dating dc characters

i will take no critism. i simply am correct. probably part 1 since there is more than a billion characters.

warnings: some sex jokes but not explicit

pros of dating zatanna

rich gf

entertainer so you never get bored

she is HOT as in the hottest ever

cons of dating zatanna

backwards speaking

knows stage magic

dated john constantine

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

pros of dating black canary

milf vibes

can fight

amazing personality

cons of dating black canary

canary cr

blonde

WILL overpower you

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

pros of dating green arrow

radical leftist

rich bf

funny sometimes

cons of dating green arrow

blonde

rich

kinda misogynistic

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

pros of dating martian manhunter

man from a different culture

can shapeshift 😳

really good dude

cons of dating martian manhunter

everything you do is a culture shock

oreos

can read your mind and stuff

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

pros of dating huntress

being the person who dates the best anti-hero in existence

gotham vigilante without necessarily being tied to batfam

crossbows are cooller than arrows

cons of dating huntress

sometimes batfamily

your competitor is the question

had a fling with dick grayson:(

#dc comcis #justice league #zatanna #black canary #green arrow #martian manhunter #huntress #helena bertinelli #dinah lance #oliver queen #j'onn j'onzz #zatanna zatara

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chieftonalshitposter · 2 months

Text

More dungeon meshi x csm stuff: hybrid lore

As promised: lore on how the hybrids work for the dunmeshi crossover. demon-human (all the human races, not necessarily just tallmen) hybrids are creations rooted in magic the ancient ones were trying to use to get a better grip on the demons they summoned. A demon-human hybrid is a chimera of a demon and a member of the mortal human races. Because demons are just extensions of the greater primary demon personality, this process cuts them off from the realm of the infinite and the primary personality of the demon, and thus removes any will or sense of self from the individual demon. Unfortunately for the ancient ones, hybrids did not have access to the limitless mana the demons of the infinite did, although they do have very large mana reserves and regenerate it faster than normal humans. Hybrids do not age past maturity. The chimeric form of a hybrid is identical to the human host's original form as the demon's "soul" is a blank slate and dominated by the host's, save for one detail: a "trigger" taking the form of a weapon appropriate for the host. The demon's form has changed to that of a weapon because the demon's metaphysical purpose has changed from "puppet" (of the greater infinite demon personality) to "weapon" as that was the intent of the ancient creators of this procedure. The host human takes on a form fused with the weapons of the demon when this trigger is pulled. Hybrids have magic abilities fitting the nature of their weapon that use their mana directly and do not require commanding spirits to use. Crossbow can conjure nearly limitless amounts of crossbow bolts to fire from her crossbows, flamethrower can summon up terrible gouts of liquid flame, et cetera et cetera. Hybrids can also learn standard types of magic. Hybrids are stronger and faster than normal humans, moreso in their transformed state. Hybrids can regenerate from wounds via the consumption of blood and flesh as even though they are cut off from the infinite they embody its perpetual and limitless nature tainted by its hunger. There is no known means to permanently kill a hybrid. Some scholars believe the ancients possessed a now lost means to do so. Hybrids have been created in the post-ancient period, typically by elves. The creation of a hybrid is forbidden on pain of death as they present an unknown existential threat to the world by allowing a demon to exit a dungeon. Canaries have capture and neutralize on sight orders for any hybrids. This duty is rarely enacted however, as there are only 8 known hybrids in the world. There is no standard procedure used by the canaries for containing a hybrid. Two have been made canaries through means of restraining spells, although one slipped the leash.

#dungeon meshi #chainsaw man #crossover #devil hybrids

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 11 months

Text

ok so i was gonna draw these but um. i got lazy. so i'm now just going to write up a tumblr post establishing this headcannon so when i eventually post my fic about it i can link to this as an explanation.

so hi gang. back when i first started cosplaying life series characters i wanted to make up a way that allowed me to more clearly distinguish my cosplays in between the seasons, even if it was just something small and for me, and this led me to here.

basically, what happened here is i decided to give each player a little mark/tattoo like thing representing themselves and each season they didn't win. this has now morphed into a headcannon, that all of the life series players have a physical reminder of every game that they don't win from the watchers, to remind them of what they're missing while they're gone, in an attempt to encourage them to come back. (they're not particularly effective, but oh well, the watchers like to commit to a bit). the winners don't get one because they accidentally set a precedent by not giving grian one (they didn't WANT him coming back), and while the same thing applied to scott, they don't quite feel the same way about pearl or martyn. however, it's also just a little bit of cruelty that there's not physical reminder of what you went through if you win. it only lives in your mind, as fickle as your mind can be, especially in these games. it's on brand for them.

i'm throwing everyone's marks below the cut, specifically what they look like post limited life. i will also explain why i chose each of them, because some of them are more obvious than others.

grian: three purple eyes on the back of his right hand. look the watchers are doing this, of course it's a reminder of what he's supposed to be doing instead of playing these games. for him, it's meant to serve less as encouragement to sign up again, but as encouragement to stop. if you hate us so much, why are you letting us give you more reminders of what you are to us?

scar: a (non painful, because it's not real) injury representing the way he died in each season. there's a bruise on his ribs that never goes away, covered by two scars from ren's arrowhead and grian's sword, tinged in a skulk-y blue.

scott: three flowers on the inside of his right elbow. a poppy for third life (duh), a lotus for double life (victorian flower language is "estranged love"), and hemlock for limited life (victorian flower language is "you will be the death of me").

jimmy: four canary feathers clumped together on his left shoulder. no explanation needed.

pearl: the first two phases of the moon (starting with the full moon) on the inside of her left elbow. obviously due to her name, but i think it's also important to note that last life began a few months into s8 and ended a month before the end of s8, so she would've had her first one show up a month before the moon… well...

martyn: three tally marks on his right eyebrow. this one is less representative of martyn and more of his relationship with the watchers. it's a small mark, it almost looks like a deliberate eyebrow slit or a scar if you're not paying much attention. but as time goes on, and martyn's understanding of/connection to the watchers increases, it's harder to mistake. it's harder to hide what's really happening.

ren: three crowns on the left sideburn. also very self explanitory.

bigb: an arrow, a diamond sword, a piece of dripstone, and another diamond sword on his clavicle. each represents the weapon that shows up around him the most in each season. he's killed by a bow and a crossbow across all three of his deaths in third life, he kills cleo with a diamond sword in last life and looses his first life to lizzie's sword, he is killed by mobs only in double life until grian and the dripstone, and bigb is killed by and kills with a diamond sword most often in limited life.

etho: four sticks of tnt behind his right ear. this is less related to his life series and more his general... everything. it's etho, of course it's tnt. the "behind the ear" thing is also very funny to me because it takes etho AGES to figure out where his is- he knows he should have one, everyone but grian has one, but someone else sees it first MONTHS after third life has ended.

impulse: four arrows on his neck, pointing down. his final deaths in third and last life are to bows, and his first (and arguably only, as bdubs looses the other two lives) death in double life is to a skeleton. the limited life connection is a little more sparse but 1. the watchers had already committed to the bit and 2. he killed quite a few people with bows this season, including bdubs and i am nothing if not annoying about those two.

skizz: three hearts on his wrists, one on the front and inside of his left wrist and one on the outside of his right wrist. hearts are the general symbol of the life series, but skizz is also the definition of "heart on his sleeve". in this case it's just on his wrist, cause i think it looks better than his shoulders/upper arms.

tango: lichtenberg scars along on his left ankle that spread farther every time he looses. these are the scars that you get from being struck by lightning. lightning strikes when you die, and tango's deaths continue to be the most frustrating part of every season for him, the part the watchers think he'd most want to rectify. i know the lightning strike on death wasn't a thing in third or double life, but shhhh don't worry about it. i'm retconing.

bdubs: numbers of a clock on his left side. limited life rounded out the 12, 3, 6, and 9. further seasons would fill in the rest of the numbers and the hands. this is also entirely self explanatory.

cleo: four red stitches around her right wrist. (the stitches existed prior to her playing in the life series, but they change colors one by one after every season. were she to run out of stitches, she would either start suddenly generating more on the same area or ones on other parts of her body would start changing color.) for her, it's just something small that she'd constantly be seeing, as she works with her hands often and the red stands out well against both green zombie skin and the more human colored parts. it makes the series stick in her mind, reminds her of what she still wants from it.

joel: four vertebrae outlined down the spine. the bones part comes at the start from his dogs in third life, and then it becomes more of an association with death as the seasons go on. it's specifically outlining his vertebrae because one thing about life series joel is that he has a spine. he is never a coward, even when it might serve him better to be one.

mumbo: one broken heart on his chest. as martyn discussed in his post limited life stream, last life messed mumbo up bad. like, so bad the watchers decided they couldn't put the guy back in. his is very literal- a broken heart over where his real heart is, where he took multiple injuries over the course of last life, for once, in a mostly non malicious way, a reminder that he shouldn't come back. (i say mostly because, hey, nice to give him time to recover, but it's less because they actually care about the guy and more because they know he'd be no fun like this)

lizzie: small fairy wings on her right shoulder. representative of the fairy fort, of course. were she to show up in another season, it would be something else to represent her alliances, because that's always where lizzie thrives in my opinion, with other people (even if fairy fort was a mess, lol).

#trafficblr #third life smp #last life smp #double life smp #limited life smp #eyes and ears #(technically. cause watcher shit. but i am slightly manipulating martyn's lore to serve my own means.)#(the sign up thing. for martyn they're trapped in this forever there is no escape but i think it's far more fun AND ups the tragedy #if they are allowed some agency. if they all keep putting themselves through it willingly because they need to see the people they can't #meet on their home servers. because they don't have a home server and want the brief stability. because they want to win. etc.)#also important note. pearl and scott and lizzie and jimmy's mirror each other's. because they.#my writing #save tag #ADDING THOSE TWO CAUSE THIS TOOK 900 YEARS TO FIND

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