#How do you tag these smps

[kb-cant-comprehend]

“Do me a favor, die for me.” Sounds like something out of a dark romance movie or novel but no it’s actually something Minecraft YouTuber ZombieCleo said to LDshadowlady as they burned down her fairy fort

[pigin-is-so-rad]

The Watchers’ Favourites

[todareistodo]

sooo i recently found these tweets again and really wanted to share them so happy 4 years since the antarctic empire took over the world!!! watching this happen in real-time was insane god i miss them so so SO much i can't believe it has been 4 whole years

[qaze]

Yall im still so abnormal about FableSMP. Like insanely abnormal about it. Thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

I frequently think about the times Centross stayed in bed with Icarus until they fell asleep. Keeping them there, calming them down, comforting them and making sure they know they're *loved.*

you're Icarus, you've just had a very long conversation about *so much* with the person you're slowly growing to call your best friend (maybe more than that; maybe you're more than just best friends at the end of this all) and you're tired. these conversations are so draining, and you're tired, so as the conversation comes to a close, he drags you home. he drags you to your bedroom, watching with a laugh as you crawl into your nest and just flop - so very done with the world. and with permission, he crawls in beside you, sitting back against the bedpost. he runs his hands through your hair, and tells you how he's going to stay at the least until you fall asleep, and you *believe him.* you feel comfortable enough around him to fall asleep, and fall asleep without your coat on, and *take your coat off* around him. you feel safe. *hes* safe, to you. comforting arms that hold and protect when they need to, and words that seep with the deepest admiration as he watches you do the things you feel most passionate about. words that coat with anger for your father you won't understand for months, but when you do, gods you're *glad* he hated him. (even if you wish it was you instead of him for a long long while.)

you're icarus, you're drunk out of your mind and you've been dragged back home. your best friend - a title you've given him with a smile less reserved than most you give, and a title he's accepted with hesitancy - just told you he was going to die; *where* he was going to die. you won't remember this. you won't remember much of this. despite that, it mirrors the last time. he drags you home, laughing at your antics. this time, however, he crawls into your nest first. he smiles at you as you ask him the question on your mind - if he was really staying, *again?* if he was really going to put up with you? (because you don't think you're worth being put up with) and when he says yes - because of course he will - you simply melt. you're vulnerable and uncoordinated but that *doesn't matter* because you trust the man in front of you enough. he does what he did last time, running his hands through your hair as you curl up against him - your wings are a *mess* around you, but that doesn't matter curled up and comforted like this. you're comfortable and *okay* for just a little bit, like this.

you trust him. time and time again. and he trusts you in return. *time and time again.* (and you love him, in whatever way that means to you - you *do.* and maybe he loves you back, with all his might, because no one else seems to get you to *believe it.*)

[slumbear]

Part 2

[salemoleander]

3rd Life SMP Webweave // sources under readmore

Pt. 1: thatsbelievable // Cliffs of the Upper Colorado River, Wyoming Territory / Thomas Moran // Caernarvon Castle / George Elbert Burr // Study for "Science Instructing Industry" / Kenyon Cox // mr_froodo // The Beheading of St. John Baptist / Fortunato Duranti // Wolf in White Van / John Darnielle // Slow Dance / Ron Hicks // Ancient Castle / Georgette Agutte // screenshotsofdespair

Pt 2: Brooding Silence / John Carlson // thatsbelievable // a-doctor-not-a-fangirl // Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead / Tom Stoppard // Tiktok comment by anothersomebodie // mountainqoats // stigmate // Suite Vénitienne / Sophie Calle & Jean Baudrillard 

Pt. 3: Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides / Anne Carson // Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead / Tom Stoppard // God's Idea / Da Loria Norman // Tangiers / Arnold William Brunner // molabuddy

[mojo-yous]

How on earth are the dream defenders going to justify the Sarah simons tweets

[aquaquadrant]

ah, new life series, new influx of people using the hermitcraft tag in all their spoiler-containing posts for no reason.

they are separate series, y’all. if you aren’t actually referencing anything related to hermitcraft, there’s no reason to cross-tag. they have their own tags. try ‘secret life smp’ or ‘traffic smp’ or ‘life series smp.’ pretty please?

[codgod-moved]

VOTE JIMMY

[wayemd]

it’s a shame that my first post on here will be dsmp art (for the sole reason that I do not like dsmp anymore and will be making no more art for it), however, I really enjoyed this redraw sketch.

Hello everyone.

[twomanyfandomshelp]

I watched Scott’s Real Life video first because he and Joel are the main two I watch, which is ironic because of their ongoing in-game feud and very different personalities, video styles, general vibes, etc., but I digress.

My first thought when I saw the title was “Yay, another life series!” My second thought, upon seeing Joel standing in the circle, was “Oh my gosh, Joel, three SMPs at the same time? Why does he do this to himself?” Then, after watching for a bit, I was like, “Okay, never mind, this an April Fools video, still fun though.” And then I proceeded to enjoy the silliness and binge everybody else’s videos.

Let me tell you, watching Martyn’s video before Scar’s and hearing Scar yell that he’d fallen out of his wheelchair, I was really worried, and I immediately searched for Scar’s video to make sure he was okay. I’m glad he’s alright, I bet that was scary.

On another note, do y’all consider Cleo’s win cannon? Cause I do! Go Cleo, she deserved this.

I’m kinda sad it wasn’t Joel or Jimmy though, I got really excited when I realized how well Jimmy was doing. He got, what, 7th place? The canary curse has officially been broken!

This post has gotten way longer than I intended. Oh well.

[l-just-want-to-see]

no let’s talk about cScott’s strategy in the life series being the social game. Let’s talk about how he’ll just kinda play nice with everyone and get to very high placements as a result. Do you wonder if his past allies feel used by him? If they feel like they’re just part of the strategy of his own game? Did you realize how rarely Scott has recurring alliances? Do you think they wonder about if they were just someone Scott could get to a higher result to feel good about? Or someone that could get him the win? Or are you normal

all I’m saying is usually we go on lengthy talks about Scott being nice and sweet and wholesome but this guy (character) is good at the murder game! Really worryingly good! Let’s delve into that some more!

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

(context for watcher/listener!sausage can be found in the “videos” tag on my blog if you want it, but this ficlet can be read without said context)

- - -

“Y’know, of all the Hermits I was expecting to be pulling me into a dark corner tonight, I did not expect you to be first, Grian! I love the initiative!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Grian says in a voice near a hiss. He’s got Sausage by the wrist, leading him into a small area of the upper floor of the tavern in Sanctaury that does look like it was built for the exact purpose Sausage is implying. Grian decides to ignore that as well.

“What are you doing here?” Grian’s straight to the point. He always has to be, with these Things, if he doesn’t want to get trapped in a loop of slant rhyming pleasantries.

“What do you mean?” Sausage asks, shaking his wrist out of Grian’s tight grip and leaning comfortably against the wall. “This is where I live. It’s my home. If anything, I should be asking you mysterious strangers what you’re doing here, but I’m sure you’ve heard that question enough for one day.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Grian crosses his arms and tries his best not to look petulant, but he sure feels like it. “I thought They’d given up on trying to snatch me back, so why would They send you of all people? What’s your game?”

Sausage laughs, honest to god laughs, like he can’t believe Grian’s even asking him such a question. Grian thinks it’s a reasonable question, in this scenario, but what he thinks and what’s reasonable rarely seems to matter with these things.

“They didn’t send me,” Sausage looks him up and down in that way that makes Grian have to physically stop himself from curling inwards. This is why he never talks to Them. “Nobody sends me anywhere, they don’t tell me what to do and I like it that way! I just do my own thing. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No you’re not! You’re not- you can’t be! That’s not how this works!” Grian begins to notice that he’s no longer whisper-shouting and starting to just-normal-shout and takes a deep breath, trying not to draw the attention of his friends enjoying themselves on the floor below. And, realistically, in the other dark corners Sausage seems to have built into this place.

“That’s exactly how this works. You didn’t think you were the only person who’d left, did you?”

Grian opens his mouth, closes it, and thinks. In hindsight… yeah, he had kind of assumed he’d been the only person who’d left. Not for lack of trying, probably- but They’d tried for so long to get him back, kept him closely surveilled even when They’d accepted he was gone- surely some people had caved to that pressure eventually. When there was no sign They’d ever let up, ever let you go… he could understand eventually letting it overtake you.

“Did- did you leave, too?” Grian doesn’t remember the last time he saw Sausage’s face. He didn’t know him back then, of course. He probably would’ve connected the man with the person Pearl so often spoke about sooner. But he knows it’s been a long time, maybe even longer than the last time Grian had gone There. He doesn’t think Sausage had been There, that day. This might explain why.

“Eh, not quite?”

“What-“ Grian flails, both mentally and with his arms a bit. “What do you mean not quite?”

“Exactly what I said! I was never- it’s complicated, y’know?”

“Explain. Now.”

“Well, uh,” Sausage seems to flounder for the first time since this conversation started, which Grian is choosing to take as a victory. “Look, I wasn’t- they didn’t pick me. For this, or for anything, ever. Sometimes things just happen and you get yourself into a place you shouldn’t have and then… they can’t get rid of me, I can’t get rid of them, it is what it is.”

Grian stares at him for a long moment. Really stares at him, in the same way Sausage had looked him over earlier, in the same way that makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. Judging by the sudden nerves in his eyes, Grian can assume he feels it too. Grian remembers his face. That had been the first thing he’d noticed, when the Hermits had arrived. It had been a long time since they’d seen each other, but Grian knew his face. And now that Grian was studying him, really trying to remember… he’s not sure he quite likes what memories he’s dredging up.

“What are you?”

“Grian!” Sausage’s voice drips with mock offense as he puts his hand up to partially cover his mouth. “We only just met, do you think that’s polite?”

“Answer the question,” Grian sighs. How Pearl deals with this man on the regular, he doesn’t know.

“Well, if you insist.” Sausage sighs, somehow even more exaggerated than his previous movements. “It’s just… if you’ll believe it, it’s somehow even harder to answer the first question.”

���It shouldn’t be,” Grian says. “They’re two very different People, you know.”

“But they’re the same species, when it all comes down to it. Like, you might be very different than a chicken, but you’re both birds in the long run.”

Grian pauses, fanning his wings out a bit behind him as he considers. “I don’t think that metaphor’s quite landing the way you want it to.”

“No, me neither. Anyways, let me continue.

When they don’t pick you, things go a little differently! You don’t get sorted onto one side or the other since, well, you’re not really supposed to be there? So I’m… whatever I want to be, really. I think I’m feeling like more of a Listener, today, but we’ll see how the mood shifts.”

Grian flinches at the Name, on instinct. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he files it away to be dealt with at a later date. As for the rest of what Sausage said-

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sausage shrugs. He’s so nonchalant, Grian thinks he might strangle him, if not for the worry that that’s exactly what he wants out of this, somehow.

“Did I? Did I hear you?” Grian wants to pace, but that requires leaving the security of the corner, so he forces his feet to root themselves to the floor. “I thought- I thought you had to- if you wanted to change sides, I thought you had to-“

Grian closes one eye and takes his thumb to it, twisting the finger into his eyelid. The gesture seems to get the point across.

“Well, that’s the funny thing about this, actually.” From the way he’s been talking, Grian assumed Sausage thought this whole thing was funny. He restrains himself from saying that out loud if only so Sausage will finish his explanation.

Sausage reaches up to his left eye, pulls his eye lid back a bit, and unceremoniously pops out his prosthetic eye.

“All these processes and rituals actually have a lot of loopholes.”

Grian doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s enough to make Sausage giggle while he pops the eye back in. Because of course he does. Because this how his day is going, apparently. Walk through a weird portal in his basement and wake up in a world filled with his friends who don’t recognize him and also a guy he only ever saw There, who he was never supposed to see again. Sure. Of course he’s laughing about it. Grian thinks if he was a slightly different person, he’d be laughing too. It is, undeniably, absurd.

“Well, I think we’re done here then!” Grian would probably object if he weren’t so shocked about the loopholes. As it is, he just stands there a bit stupidly.

Sausage turns away to return to the party before turn around again for just a moment, reaching over, and ruffling Grian’s hair. That shocks him enough to shake him out of his stupor and swat Sausage’s hand away, though not before his hair is suitably messed up.

“What was that for?!”

Sausage smiles as he reaches up to rough up his own hair as well. “I assumed you didn’t want your friends asking questions about why you were dragging me into a dark corner, you know?” Sausage even goes far enough to pull his shirt a bit out of where it’s tucked into his pants, because of course he does. Grian tries not to cringe, but Sausage is right about this one thing. It is the easiest way to dodge any questions about where he’d gone off to- at the expense of the many knowing looks and teasing remarks he’ll be getting from the other Hermits instead.

“Have a good night, Grian!” Sausage calls over his shoulder as he turns to leave for real this time. “And remember, drinks are on me for all you guests tonight! You look like you need it.”

[theminecraftbee]

Normally, traitors aren’t frog-marched to the Emperors themselves, regardless of what rank of information they had. These aren’t normal circumstances, though, Techno bemoans to himself. For one, the man is refusing to speak anything but French and a tiny amount of broken Bayesh. For another, on being made, he immediately handed over about three folders of classified information then loudly waited for handcuffs to be put on him.

Phil is lounging in his throne; he’d never been one for propriety. This leaves Techno to be, uh, the actually serious one. The one adorned in uniform, sitting and glowering down. It’s lucky that the traitor isn’t a pigman, because Techno isn’t actually great at glowering, but humans are weird about pigman facial expressions so he should be fine?

The traitor stands before them and grins. In perfect Bayesh, he says: “Finally. It took way too long for you to catch me, bitch.”

Techno pauses. He stares. In Piglish, he barks to his guards: “Everyone out. It’s Leader business.”

They file out. They’ll be waiting outside. Phil straightens in his seat and reaches for his own sword.

Techno, laboriously, drags his hand across his face. He switches back to Bayesh. God, does he regret being fluent in multiple languages sometimes. “What are you doing here, Tommy.”

“Showing you your intelligence weak points, fucker. Do you know how easy it is to slip Bayesh spies in here? I was smooth. A smooth customer. I was hearing classified milkitary secrets—”

“You were caught within two hours,” Techno says.

“That’s—that’s just what you think, innit?” Tommy says. Phil laughs. He’s the real traitor here.

“Tommy. I don’t wanna have to cause an international incident, but I’ve had a really long day, so if you just tell me who hired you to run a spy op, and why you decided it was a good idea to run it yourself, instead of sending one of your experts…”

“No one,” Tommy says.

“Hey, don’t lie you little shit. Techno might not want to start an incident but I don’t care,” Phil says. He grins and holds up his sword. “You wanna wake up in a jail cell and reveal some secrets? We may all be Leaders but it won’t stop torture from hurting.”

“What the fuck, Phil,” Tommy says.

“No one’s torturing anyone. We’ll just bomb them later if we must,” Techno says.

“And I wasn’t lying. It’s—can I take the wig off by the way? It fucking itches.”

“I despise you.”

Tommy takes off the black wig, revealing his blonde hair. “Anyway, I don’t want to work with you guys either, so I figured I’d get your attention by like, acting like we’re enemies and stuff. Got hired for espionage enough back in the day to pick up that much.”

“Who the fuck wanted you as a spy?” Phil asks.

“Fuck you,” Tommy says and doesn’t elaborate.

“Please just tell us what you want,” Techno says. “Please. I can’t handle this much you at any given time.”

“This needs to be Leader to Leader,” Tommy says, and something heavy laces his words. The hairs on Techno’s arms stand up.

“You coulda asked,” he says, in one final desperate bid for normality.

“No, I couldn’t have,” Tommy says. “I think Chip’s dead.”

Techno doesn’t notice that he’s standing until he is.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Yeah. And, uh, I fucking. Need your help to figure out what happened. Before we get blamed. And I know, politically, you’ve got no reason, but if we don’t figure out—”

Techno sits back down, heavy.

“I know you understand Piglish. Let me talk in my native language. Phil.”

“Yeah, mate?”

“Go get the stuff.”

Phil’s eyes darken. “Right. That. Well, I’ll be back.”

Tommy’s voice, for the first time since Techno met him as a newly-minted Leader, standing on a wooden bench and yelling about executions, is small.

“You believe me?” he says.

“Why else would you come here?” Techno asks. “Not like we like you.”

“Good, because I’m shit at infiltrations. Would have been embarrassing if you, like, didn’t know your enemy well enough to know that,” Tommy says. He’s saying something else underneath it. Techno is neither good enough at Bayesh or at Tommy to guess what.

“Let’s work out an excuse to make a treaty. And you tell me everything.”

[mbohjeezart]

something something ranchers